I tend to forget small items wherever I go. Either a toothbrush, glasses, a pair of socks, or even my cell phone, my family and friends know me as the one who tends to be unaware of her belongings. As a result, I’ve gained a habit of constantly looking behind me when exiting a room, and especially when exiting public transport.
Taking the petit bleu taxis of Rabat to and from Amideast daily has been quite an exercise in making sure that I am aware of my belongings (especially my phone!)at all times.
After paying the driver and exiting the taxi one evening coming home, I realized that my phone wasn’t in my small purse, nor was it in my back pocket. Though I had quickly glanced back before closing the door of the taxi, I assumed that I must have left it in the back of the car. I began running as fast as I possibly could, while waving my arms up and down yelling ARRET ARRET AFECK (stop, stop – in French, please in Darija). The men on the sidewalk quickly came to my aid, attempting to stop the taxi by whistling or waving their arms.
I soon realized that any further attempts at catching up to the petit taxi were futile. I dejectedly walked back to where Bridget was waiting for me (probably very confused at this point), and told her that I had lost my phone. As we began walking towards our host family’s apartment I opened up my wallet, and there was my phone, safe and sound! (Sweet Relief!)
While I did not lose my phone that evening, the Moroccans on the sidewalk that day were eager to help, even though they did not know me or even why I needed the taxi to stop. They just saw a person in distress, and did their best to help, and for that I am grateful.