Travel diary #1: Tanzania 7635

Antoine, 2 y.

- Lifestyle -

1.2 min read.

- My travel diary -

To kick off our long family trip, we started with Tanzania. It's the first time we've set foot in sub-Saharan Africa. And what a wonderful introduction! We began with a 7-day organized safari with an exceptional driver and guide. His knowledge of geology, biology, botanics and ethology was impressive. Not to mention his driving skills on the trails of the parks we visited: Taranguire, Manyara, Ngorongoro and Serengeti. The 6 to 10 hours of daily driving didn't seem so long, between discussions, breathtaking views and animal watching. Non-exhaustive list: zebras, giraffes, elephants, buffaloes, wildebeests, leopards, cheetahs, ostriches, bustards, baboons, vervet monkeys, egrets, yellow-headed king cranes, vultures, marabous, crocodiles, antelopes and gazelles of all kinds. I have to admit that we didn't manage to retain everything Mahmoud tried to teach us. A bit of Swahili, a bit of geology on the formation of the Rift Valley, a bit of history on the migration of the Maasais to the Serengeti Park and a bit of biology on recognizing the flora and fauna. We then spent a week in Dar es Salaam to complete our visit and immerse ourselves in Tanzanian city life. Once again, a wonderful experience. We stayed in a modest but adequate airbnb. We discovered a new mode of transport, very fun and at a very affordable price: the bajaji (local tuk tuk). We visited the Kariakoo market (a flea market that stretches for miles), had a lazy day on Bongoyo Island, and the Village Museum (Swahili name) with a guide who told us about the customs and habitations of some of the more than 100 tribes present in Tanzania. It's an outdoor museum with houses illustrating the way of life of some of the tribes. I'll always remember Tanzania as a country with very welcoming and relaxed people. Despite a few pushy people trying to sell us trinkets, act as guides or even bodyguards, we never felt in danger. This country, whose population is divided between different cultures and religions, where Muslims, Christians, Maasais and others live together, seems to me to be a good example of tolerance. Next post in about a month about our next step: a road trip.

Antoine

I am the CTO and co-founder of Bluwr. I love designing and writing scalable code and infrastructure.

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Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 232

Aziz Daouda, 16 h.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.1 min read.

There are affiliations that geography dissolves over time, and others that it strengthens as distance sets in. The Moroccan experience undoubtedly falls into the second category. Across generations, sometimes up to the third or fourth, a phenomenon intrigues. Women and men born far from Morocco continue to recognize themselves in it, to feel attached to it, to project themselves into it. They have left the country or never lived there long-term; they were born far away, but Morocco has never left them. How to explain such persistence? Why does this loyalty cut across social classes, faiths, degrees of religiosity, and even nationalities acquired elsewhere? How is a memory so indelible? How does it withstand the test of time, distance, and new cultural acquisitions, if not through the profound weight of national consciousness? Morocco is not merely a modern state born from 20th-century recompositions. It is an ancient historical construct, shaped by centuries, even millennia, of political and civilizational continuity. Dynasties like the Almoravids, Almohads, Merinids, Saadians, or Alaouites forged a stable political and symbolic space whose permanence transcends apparent ruptures. This historical depth irrigates the collective imagination. It gives Moroccans, including those in the diaspora, the sense of belonging to a history that precedes and surpasses them. Being Moroccan is not just a nationality. It is an inscription in a continuity, a composite identity forged by inclusion. Moroccan identity has been built through sedimentation. It is Amazigh, African, Arab, Andalusian, Hebraic. These are layers that coexist in a singular balance, complementing and interweaving without exclusion. This ancient plurality explains Moroccans' ability to embrace diversity without identity rupture. Thus, a Jewish Moroccan in Europe or a naturalized Muslim elsewhere often shares a common affective reference to Morocco, not out of ignorance of differences, but because they fit into a shared historical and geographical framework. This inclusive identity enables a rarity: remaining deeply Moroccan without renouncing other affiliations, with the monarchy serving as a symbolic thread. In this complex architecture, the monarchy plays a structuring role. Under Mohammed VI, it embodies historical continuity and contemporary stability. For Moroccans abroad, the link to the Throne goes beyond politics. It touches the symbolic and the affective, a dimension fully grasped only by Moroccans. It acts as a fixed point in a shifting world, offering permanence amid changes in language, environment, or citizenship. This transmission occurs invisibly in the family, in rituals. It is not a memory but living, sensitive memories. The diffusion and transfer also manifest in cuisines with ancestral recipes, in music and sounds, in living rooms echoing with Darija, through summers "back home," gestures, intonations, moussems, or hiloulas. Moroccan identity is transmitted less through discourse than through sensory experiences: tastes, smells, rhythms, hospitality. Thus, generations born abroad feel a belonging not formally learned, an active loyalty blending affection and claimed will. The diaspora does not settle for abstract attachment. It acts. Financial transfers, investments, public commitments, and defense of Moroccan positions internationally bear witness. This operational patriotism extends affection into action, a duty to the nation, a Moroccan loyalty. Moroccans may be exiles, but never uprooted. For the Moroccan diaspora, attachment transcends oceans. Even in political, economic, or academic roles abroad, Moroccains carry their country of origin explicitly or implicitly. The otherness of host societies reinforces this identity. The external gaze consolidates this sense of belonging to a culture so distinctive that it crystallizes, is claimed, and magnified. This phenomenon, intense among Moroccans, compels us to name what went without saying in the homeland: a continuity at a distance. Neither frozen nostalgia nor mere inheritance, this relationship is a profound dynamic. Morocco is not just a place; it is the bond that spans generations, adapts without diluting, reminding us that exile does not undo all affiliations. Morocco is in our daily lives, in a perennial, solid, and unyielding memory that defies borders and time.

My Pain Qualifies Me 370

Julius Melien, 1 d.

- Health - Philosophy -

1.3 min read.

At an immersion meeting for psychoanalysts, I heard the phrase: “My pain qualifies me,” and immediately, like a lightning bolt, it struck deeply within me and, with the speed of a thought, made complete sense. I was able to perceive it with a clarity that, honestly, I don’t recall ever experiencing before in my entire life. It was so intense that I felt certain I was in the right place, investing in a career that, until not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself pursuing even in my dreams. Although this discovery is recent, given the fascination it caused me, perhaps it had been stored in my unconscious all along, likely as a repressed desire, even due to my own prejudice regarding matters of the human mind. Because of unsuccessful past experiences, I had come to doubt the effectiveness of psychotherapy, even considering it at times as a way of making easy money at the expense of others’ suffering. I believed that a person in distress could simply rely on friends and family to vent, share their problems, and relieve tension, while medications prescribed by doctors would do their part. However, upon hearing that my pain qualified me, now, of course, with a different mindset and studying psychoanalysi, I felt as though I was experiencing a kind of gnosis. I know my pain, or rather, my pains, and I fully understand this statement. When we set out to help someone who carries their own pain, we can even through a simple look, convey to the analysand that we understand what they are going through. This phenomenon is what we call countertransference: emotions, feelings, and thoughts that arise in our unconscious in relation to the analysand. These feelings and emotions are developed by the therapist during a therapy session. In that space, we become aware that there are two souls facing each other, one pouring out their thoughts, anxieties, and traumas, and the other offering attentive listening, care, and guidance, helping them find their path and providing tools to manage their struggles and move forward in life as best as possible. And for the therapist who has experienced, or still experiences pain, it also becomes an opportunity for self-analysis, which undoubtedly gives full meaning to the exchange that takes place between two souls standing face to face with their pains.