Painting
above my bed in the place we're crashing before leaving Maine... I'm
not sure what this man's intentions are, but I feel mildly apprehensive!
Director Dunn helping to move the great big pile of advance team luggage (170 lbs of medical supplies)
Waves
crash against the footings of the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca (this
is the largest mosque in Africa, with a retractable roof, ability to
accomodate >100,000 worshipers, the tallest minaret in the world
(689') Inside the mosque, glass panels allow beautiful views of the
seabed of the Atlantic. At night a green lasar light points from the
minaret, towards Mecca).
The
mosque was completed in 1993 and has since seen repairs necessitated by
the challenging nature of its exposed location. Saltwater has migrated
into the concrete and corroded hidden rebar. This and over 100
loadbearing pillars were replaced in 2003 in a major repair
undertaking. The mosque now has what is in effect an outer waterproof
hull beyond the original foundation, which protects the loadbearing
elements from saltwater damage.
Next to the mosque is a long seawall with a broad flat top. During our
layover, IMA's advance team joined a large crowd of locals, who seemed
to have gathered not only to enjoy the sun, but also view a succession
of daring human encounters with the sea. Near our perch an angled white
sand beach and a projecting section of coarse riprap worked in concert
to funnel breakers violently against the seawall. This funneling effect
caused larger waves to rush up vertically against the seawall, break
into fine spray over onlookers, and dissolve backwards into a churning
wash of foam and undertow. Local schoolboys made a game of running into
the funnel, then racing back out just in time to avoid the potentially
deadly action of the larger waves. As we watched them, a woman in her
50's slowly made her way down the beach towards the funnel. She was
barefoot and bore a headscarf wrapped around a grapefruit-sized object.
Something was unidentifyably wrong with her expression, and mood she
was projecting, as she slowly entered the funnel and bent, dipping the
headscarf into a series of small waves that rushed in around her feet. Suddenly one of the large waves came in and
she disappeared beneath it. We rushed down onto the riprap to assist
her, balance thrown off by our heavy backpacks. The crowd laughed, then fell silent as people grew concerned and started to rise
to their feet. We were joined by several local men, and together we
helped the woman get back on her feet and up onto the safety of the
riprap before the next large breaker hit. She was not appreciative of
the help, slapping away the proffered hands. We were quite concerned
about her and kept a discreet eye on her afterwards, as she stood on the
roadway for a long while, looking quite upset and angry. Eventually
family arrived and joined her. We never did find out what it was all
about.
We
continued our people-watching atop the seawall. Occassionally a
whistle blew, as mosque security chased off mischievous teens or the
over-amorous young couples who tried to tuck themselves away into cool
dark alcoves of the mosque. Our next risk-taker made his way across the
rip-rap below us. He paused at the end of the seawall, stripped down
to shorts, then produced and donned a pair of green flippers and small
plastic goggles. He had a short military-style haircut and had the
lean, muscled look of someone who works for a living. All eyes were on
him as he entered the water and swam straight for a protruding corner of
the mosque foundation, where a 6' wide whirlpool was created by each
passing breaker. Somehow, he timed his swim to miss the whirlpool, and
swam further and further out, ducking beneath each wave. Finally he
turned, and kicking mightily, caught a breaker and body-surfed in,
almost to the beach. Impression made, he then exited the water, doffed
his flippers, and returned to his pile of clothing.
I made a mental note to carry flippers with me while traveling in the future.
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