Sitting in the backseat of a creaky taxi catapulting through the narrow streets of Tangier, Morocco, I was shocked to hear a language I understood. I was on the phone with Khadija, the taxi driver’s sister. “Mi hermano no entiende lo que usted necesita,” she said. My brother doesn’t know what you need. Five minutes earlier I had sprinted from a side street to the nearest intersection. Only 10 minutes from the bus station where I was set to depart for Chefchaouen – and 30 minutes from my hostel in the old quarter – I flagged down Ahmed’s taxi.
I had been walking in the afternoon sun with my friend when it hit me that I had left something behind: my iPod. Maybe an iPod is just an iPod. I could have forgotten about the cost value. But I couldn’t forget about the intangible comfort it represented. When I realized it was missing – I had left it charging in the hostel – I looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes to departure. I looked at my friend. I surveyed options. There is something irreplaceable about listening to a familiar song on a long overnight bus ride, something we would be doing frequently. I had to go back for it. “You run to the bus, I told her. “I’ll go back and get it. I’ll make it.” I was soon in Ahmed’s taxi, and the trip felt like it was taking years. There was traffic, roundabouts, and endless one-ways. I looked down at my shirt and saw I was soaking with sweat.
It was at least 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the car. My heart was pounding. I was daydreaming about all the possible ways that this could go wrong. I’m going to miss the bus, I silently wailed. I’ve ruined everything. Nervously, I tried to make small talk. I stumbled over a few phrases I knew in Arabic. Darastu allughat alarabiyya fi aljamiat. I studied Arabic in university. I even mentioned that I spoke Spanish. I was getting distracted and missing the point – I only had ten minutes. I unsuccessfully tried to communicate to him that I was in a hurry. I wanted him to stop by the hostel and wait, then take me back to the bus station. I could tell he sensed my angst, and still tried to smile and cheer me up. Then he held the phone to my ear and I heard Khadija’s voice. She was speaking Spanish! I frantically explained my situation to her. Her comforting voice was on the other end, listening to my worries. We even chatted a bit – she was working in Barcelona and had been there for 30 years.
I passed the phone back to Ahmed and she translated what was going on. We reached the entrance to the medina. Cars are too big to fit through the cobblestone streets, so jumped out. Backpack strapped to my waist, I ran past shouting vendors and laughing children. I burst into the hostel and explained. Quickly grabbing my iPod and sprinting back to the entrance of the medina, I found Ahmed patiently waiting for me. Yalla, yallla! On the way to the bus station I realized we were late. The bus was supposed to have left by then. Ahmed was still in good spirits and trying to make conversation. I had no way of contacting my friend or knowing if she had waited or left.
When he pulled up to the station, I thanked him but was still in a rush. Despite my nerves, he had remained polite and calm the whole time. Not once did he appear annoyed. I was in a place famed for its warnings for travelers – especially female. I did another 100 meter dash and saw my friend waving me to the bus. I dramatically got on and sat next to her. I was panting and my mouth was dry. I couldn’t believe it. Anything could have gone wrong – but nothing did. In a panicked situation, I was cared for. Not everyone goes above and beyond for others. Not everyone uses their personal phone and calls their sister in another country. Not every sister is willing to spend her time to help a random stranger. Not every iPod remains untouched when left unattended. Not every bus waits when you’re running late. When I decided turn around and get my iPod, I didn’t think I could make it. It was a miracle I ended in Ahmed’s taxi, and he responded so patiently to my frantic demeanor. I am eternally grateful for crossing paths with Ahmed and Khadija, the rainbow I couldn’t have predicted. This situation represents more than a missing iPod. It is a reminder of the kindness of complete strangers. Altruistic intentions in a hostile world.
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