Day 25--Off the Coast of Africa enroute to Ghana

17 September. 20° 41”N, 18° 3” W. Course= 182°. Speed= 15 knots.

We’re off the coast of southern Morocco, 100 to 200 miles from the western Sahara, traveling south on what is a very busy ocean highway. Unlike the Atlantic crossing from Halifax to Cadiz, where seeing another ship was an event, here traffic is routine. We pass container ships almost hourly, each carrying a deck full of those corrugated metal boxes full of merchandise that will eventually be loaded onto trucks and, probably, delivered to destinations in Europe and North Africa. We’re on the base of what, from the 15th through the 19th centuries, was the triangle of trade in rum from the Caribbean, goods from Europe, and slaves from Africa. Sobering to think of that, especially when our next stop will be precisely where the European ships loaded the human cargo bound for America.

I played golf with Jim Cooper on our last day in Morocco. Bob Chapel couldn’t play because he had “dean duty,” and Charlie Morris couldn’t play because he was recovering from 3 days on a camel in the Sahara. Dean duty is a burden the 4 deans—academic, student, executive, and assistant executive—rotate during the days in port. They serve as single points-of-contact for any incidents that may happen as the ship’s community scatters out across hundreds of miles from the port.

So our Spanish 4-some became a Moroccan 2-some. Jim and I played at Royal Mohammadia, a course built by the previous king because, not surprisingly, he was an avid golfer. In the clubhouse hung a large portrait of the king holding in a Tiger Woods-like follow-through after slugging what must have been a 275-yard drive. Or so it appears.

The golf was fun despite the constant winds blowing off the Atlantic, which lined 5 of the course’s 18 holes. Caddies were required, and mine, Salaam, was eager to help me with my swing, line up my putts, suggest the best club, reward my good hits with a fist bump, and console me after my flubs. Wish I could bring him back to help me at Thunderhawk. The course was a nice layout, though not well maintained by U.S. standards. Greens fees cost us about $50 apiece, and the caddie fee was about $15 plus a tip—pretty reasonable, and a lot less expensive than many of the public courses in Chicago’s northern suburbs.

Jim and I were back onboard by 1600 (4pm). And MV Explorer pushed away from the Casablanca dock precisely at 2000 (8pm). I think it’s fair to say that most students, faculty, family members, and lifelong learners enjoyed the stay in Morocco—a fascinating culture, and, outside Casablanca, a country full of beautiful sights and new adventures. I also think it’s fair to say that most of us were very happy to see our lovely home come into view as we rode or walked among the ships and loading docks of the port. Morocco was hard work. The language challenges, the almost constant pursuit of our money, the wariness to avoid offending Moroccans in the middle of their holiest month, and the need to be on constant lookout against those who might want to rip us off: all these elements wear you out. Morocco was a feast for the senses. But, as with any feast, we all needed some time to nap and digest.

We’re now back into the college mode. The morning after our departure was clearly difficult for all of us, faculty and students alike. Getting back into the flow of prepping for class—on both parts—was a challenge. But I’m very impressed with the students. They recovered nicely from the long days and even-longer nights in Spain and Morocco, and are now back into the groove of school. I had students in all 3 of my classes prepare brief assignments reflecting on one experience in either Spain or Morocco, and most came to class on Tuesday or Wednesday fully prepared.

The 2-minute tales in the 0800 public speaking class—8am the morning after we sailed!—were especially impressive. One student—the 15-year-old daughter of a member of our medical staff—told the tale of how she was mugged on the streets of Casablanca. She and her mother had just walked through the old city—the medina—and were about to head back to the port when, as she described it, a bearded man came running up to them, looking both angry and scared. He stopped about a foot in front of the girl, stared intently at her, then suddenly brandished a saber-like knife, taking it from behind his back, waving it in front of her face, and pointing at the camera she had been carrying. Without hesitation, she took the camera from around her neck, handed to the thief, and he ran off, disappearing into the crowd. The entire incident lasted no more than 15 seconds. Fortunately, neither she nor her mom was harmed. Her 2-minute tale, told with intensity and vivid detail, had the 8-o’clock class completely captured. I think it may also have served as a bit of therapy for her.

Yesterday was a perfect day: blue cloudless skies, warm temperature, and calm seas. The students who weren’t in class lounged around the 7th-deck pool, studying and collecting rays. In fact every deck turned into a study hall. Today is hazy and much warmer. The day has a definite tropical feel, something we’ll feel more and more strongly as we head south toward the equator.