January 29, 2021

Another Tale from the MaghrebBy Julie Mussché

Note: Julie has written about her adventures in Africa before, most recently in

December. If interested, please go to our daily reflections archive for more

background.

At the last point on the journey across the Sahara, our band of adventurers was

getting ready to cross into Algeria. On December 26, 1978, we left Morocco and

headed south along the Trans-Sahara Highway. We would soon discover that

the truck could go about three days before we would need to replenish gas,

water, fresh produce and bread. Before our first stop at the town of Ghardaia,

the first of many stops, we headed off road to briefly explore and visit

the Grand Erg occidental, literally translated as the Western Sand Sea.

What an amazing spectacle, mile upon mile of shifting sand lay before us.

Desolate but beautiful in their starkness, the dunes are a wind-swept wonder.

We camped out by the dunes and rose early the next day for a ten-hour journey

to Ghardaia. Just a quick note, the truck seats were benches lining each side of

the truck bed where we could stash our “luggage” back packs underneath. We

faced across from each other, nine to a side, and rotated spots in the cab with

our driver Eric every day so that there was a break from the hard seats. Our

first stop in Ghardaia was greatly anticipated, and we set up camp outside the

metropolis with the goal of entering the ancient city the next morning.

In addition to picking up supplies, a number of us set out exploring the town, a

uniquely pastel and sandstone vision over a thousand years old and inhabited

by a unique people, the Mozabites. Our group’s mission was to find freshly

baked bread and eventually we found a bakery and piled up as many loaves as

we could carry. The smell of freshly baked bread scintillated our nostrils as we

made our way back to the truck.

We approached an intersection and heard an unusual sound emerging to our

left. At a distance, we could see a parade of some sort with people all dressed in

black. As the marchers approached and the sound grew louder, we could more

clearly see and hear that the people were women dressed in black chadors who

were ululating and wailing and carrying photo placards of a man dressed in

military dress. The members of our small group looked at each other, and

turned back and walked from where we had come.

Crowd energy can be overwhelming and scary and our gut reaction was to

move away from people whose emotions were piqued. Once we got back to the

truck, we learned that the long-time leader of the country, Houari Boumédiene,

had died while we were off the grid. What we had witnessed was a public

display of mourning, and the uncertainty and anxiety associated with unknown

change. The expression was different from what we were used to, but the

emotions were universal and touched all of us who had been present to the

moment and open to shifting paradigms. The unifying fabric of spirit and

humanity overwhelms difference and division and endlessly extends God’s

love.

Photo of Grand Erg by Julie Mussché

Ponderings

Consider a time when your perspective was transformed by a sudden insight, anudge by the Holy Spirit.

How were your life and spirit lifted by this experience?

What are you grateful for in remembering this occasion?

Prayer

Veni Sancte Spiritus Come, Holy Spirit, from heaven shineforth with your glorious light.Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Come, Father of the poor, come, generousSpirit, come,light of our hearts.Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Come from the four winds, O Spirit, comebreath of God;disperse the shadows over us, renew andstrengthen your people.Veni Sancte Spiritus….

Song of Taizé

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