Celmali Jaime
On Being Black in Africa
And there I was, stepping off a plane and on my way to Morocco. Who would have ever thought that I and seven other young Americans would be traveling across the world, for the experience of a lifetime? Surely I did not think I would find myself in blazing hellish weather, fully covered in hijab under the beaming sun. We landed in Melilla, a small Spanish territory city on the edge of Morocco. The plan was to meet Melody, our underground host, and cross the border by foot. For fear of endangering the Moroccan Christians who were hosting us, she would do all of the talking. I stared at my feet, like we were instructed to do. From the side of my eye I saw a police beating a man on the ground. People casually walked by. I realized this was a typical everyday occurrence. I focused even harder on my feet. Read more