Mrs. Real McCoy and I headed out this morning to the medina. The medina, you may remember, is a quite market/bazaar/souq built in the oldest part of town where the streets are so narrow that it's pedestrian only. A giant maze filled with tourists, shoppers, shop keepers all pushing their way through the sensory overload of sights, sounds, and smells. I've always loved places like this no matter what country I'm in, and here is no different.
I'm leaving here in just 11 days, and so now the time has begun to purchase souvenirs, gifts, and stones of remembrance. I'm actually going to go with Teacher to the medina this next week to purchase things, but I wanted to go today and scope out what I wanted to buy so that she and I could get right to it when we go together. So...Mr. Real McCoy offered to spend the day with their toddler so that Mrs. Real McCoy could go and enjoy some female shopping time. We had a blast talking to shop keepers--shocking them that we are learning the local dialect of arabic (instead of modern standard arabic)--and trying our hand at bartering.
We went into one store, and this man, Ali, told us that we could go up onto the rooftop of their building to see the whole medina from above. While we were there, they gave us some traditional mint tea, let us sit in the cool, air conditioned room where they sell their rugs, and practice our arabic with them. It was such a delightful experience. You can see pictures of the rooftop view HERE.
Mrs. Real McCoy is pregnant, and so it seemed like, with all the heat and walking, that maybe we ought to get some food. Shoot...I'm not pregnant, and I was ready for food! We asked Ali where we could find some food in the medina, and he gave us specific directions to get to a "great traditional restaurant." We found it easily, and stood in the doorway checking it out.
I noticed a table with some other foreigners, several of which were women, so I figured it wasn't a "men's only" type restaurant...which they have here. (Coffee shops, mostly). The waiter ushered us in and asked us what we wanted to eat.
"Do you have a menu?"
"No. Well...here." He handed us an arabic-only menu. While we can read arabic, we read it at about a 1st grade level, and without our teacher to help us, we knew that menu would not help us. We handed it back.
"Do you have schwarma?"
"No."
"Do you have kebab?"
"No."
"Do you have brick?"
"No."
"What do you have?"
"Merguez (spicy sausage), and ....abunchofstuffthatwedidn'tknowwhatitwas."
"Merguez, then, with fries."
He brought us our merguez, fries, and a vegetable side dish they serve often here, and we dug in pretty fast, famished as we were. About half way through the meal, Mrs. McCoy looked around us, and leaned over.
"We're the only women in here. There are 40 men, all local, no tourists, and the two of us women." I looked around...sure enough, she was right. I remembered the time that KO had accidently got us on the men-only metro in Cairo, and just laughed to myself. I suppose the women we'd seen earlier when we'd arrive were clueless foreigner women just like us. We were halfway through our meal...what could we do? Honestly, the men didn't seem to care. We finished eating, paid the waiter, and left.
Thanks, Ali, for directing the two of us foreigner women to a men's only local restaurant. It was good...but I won't be eating there again.
While eating lunch, Mrs. Real McCoy asked what I'd learned during my almost four months here, and why did I think that God brought me here for such a time as this? (We've been studying Esther with a group of other expatriate ladies.) On a day that was as perfect as this, it is hard to understand why God is having me leave, and to trust Him in it. I love it here, and feel like I'm just reaching the time when the hardness of culture shock is wearing off (maybe I've sweat all of it out?), and I'm settling into a groove and a happiness here.
It would be easy to say, "I don't want to leave." My fleshly desire doesn't want to at all. But something I saw this week was that I cannot stay in a place simply because I love it there, because it's fun, and easy, and pleasant. (Pause, wait a second! Did I just say that living in north Africa as a single female was easy? Was pleasant? What? Yes...and I really mean it.) I need to be where He wants me to be...and that, for the time being, is still France.
I wrote awhile back about how God has brought me out of my desert wanderings, to Gilgal, and that when I arrived here He showed me that now is a time to conquer my promised land. As I am preparing to leave, it's clear that these four months here in North Africa were my battle of Jericho. Just one small step of beginning the conquering. Of taking one step at a time, walking daily, and trusting that He would knock the wall of my hard heart down in time.
This first battle has honestly been the deepest, richest, most trust building, and amazing time of my life. I wonder if the wandering Children, after many more battles of conquering their land, looked back and thought, "Do you remember when we took Jericho? We just walked around the walls, and they came tumbling down." I'm sure it was an awesome memory for them. So these four months here will be for me. I just took quiet little steps of faith and He crashed all the walls I'd built up against Him until I could fall easily, joyfully, gratefully into the promised inheritance of daily relationship with Him. I wish I could make a few more laps around these walls, but apparently, God thought four months was all that this battle would take.
So while I don't want to leave, and I love here, and days like to today will make July 28th a bit harder... the time has come to leave. I will do so joyfully and with thanksgiving, "for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or questioning..." (Philippians 2:13-14). I won't grumble about His will and I won't question it either. I am content to return to my beloved France, but even more so...looking forward to march on to the next battle He has for me.
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