He strolled across the street with a swagger and a smile. A young, athletic man walking into the courtyard, dreadlocks bouncing with every step, as if there were a song in his head. He wore a fitted sweater, jeans and stylish sneakers. And there, holding up his jeans, was a bold, silver, studded belt. The exact same belt I wore as a teenager when I started experimenting with punk style.
He reappeared a few minutes later, now wearing a long white shirt that went below his knees. I could still see his jeans and sneakers peeking out front the bottom of his outfit and knew that belt was still under there. It was then that we formally met Abdul. He was introduced to us as our guide, taking us on a tour of the village across the street.
On other tours I saw our guides as resources to help me better understand the space and people I was visiting. On this tour, I saw Abdul as a person at work for the day. Throughout our time together, as I listened to Abdul explain the lifestyle and traditions of the people in his village, I couldn’t help but think about who he is in his day to day life. What are his friends like? What does he do for fun? Where does he hang out?
The other people who visited Dar Gnaoua that day will always remember Abdul as one of the many men drumming in that long white outfit. But me? I’ll never forget the image of him walking away at the end of his shift to enjoy the rest of his day, laughing with the young kids around him, studded belt glistening in the desert sun.
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