In this article:
- A woman born and raised in US is torn between staying in the States or moving with kids to a Muslim country, Morroco
- Marrakech, Morocco, is the hometown of her husband whose job is firmly rooted in the States
- This dilemma is common for Muslim women married to men from countries other than their own.
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I’m still not sure where my home is. I think of going back to Marrakech, and I’m filled with warmth and excitement for everything that await me there...
Though I was born and raised in the United States, for much of 2012 and the beginning of 2013, I lived in Marrakech, Morocco, my husband’s hometown.
My two young children attended school there, coming home every day reciting the Quran, practicing their Arabic-language homework, and singing snippets of French songs.
I spent my days soaking up the local language and culture, shopping in the markets and roadside food stands, wandering around and exploring my adopted city with other American friends who had found their way to Marrakech.
I was relaxing with my Moroccan family, and just doing my best to carve out a life for myself.
All in all, it was a wonderful experience with one notable exception: I was living this life and having this adventure of living in another country, but I was doing it all without my husband.
When we decided that I would move temporarily with the children to Morocco, it wasn’t a decision we relished, it was one of necessity.
With his job firmly rooted in the States, we had no choice, especially with my decision to introduce my children to the Moroccan culture of their heritage and to a family with which they had virtually no contact.
Little did I know that fateful decision would lead me to ponder whether I should make Marrakech a permanent home, or that I would one day decide to leave it all and return to the States.
I didn’t know that even after returning home, I would again yearn to live in Morocco, or that all of it would lead me to what I am today: an anxiety-ridden mess of indecision over the future course of our lives.
In fact, I’m essentially torn between staying in America with my husband until he can find work in Morocco or going back now without him and living a fulfilling and enriching yet incomplete life in Marrakech.
Many Women’s Dilemma
Despite how strange my dilemma may seem to some, it’s not so unique, especially for Muslim women married to men from countries other than their own.
Take the story of Aisha Chudnoff, an American who hails from New Mexico but lives in Meknes, Morocco, with her two young sons while her husband stays in the United States for work. She said her faith is what brought her to Morocco in 2011.
“The truth is, living for Allah is harder than the words,” Chudnoff said. “When we make a decision to go in that direction, we can’t expect we won’t be tested. But moving to a Muslim country was the best decision I ever made. Even with only seeing my husband for two weeks at a time every three months, I don’t look back and think I should have stayed in the States.”
Chudnoff said there are benefits to living in Morocco that simply cannot be replicated in a non-Muslim nation.
“Hearing the adhan five times a day, seeing my children going to Dar al Quran every week, learning Hadith and good Islamic manners in school,” she said.
As a convert and a non-Arabic speaker myself, it was this type of thinking and desire to live amongst other Muslims that drove me to Morocco in the first place.
When we first reached Morocco while my husband was with us, we enrolled and started the children in school.
We motored around Marrakech on a motorbike; we toured the city on foot and enjoyed its cafes, mint tea, and delicious cuisine; and we spent lots of time with family.
Then my husband left for the United States alone, and I was heartbroken.
Even though I knew his leaving us had been the plan all along, seeing him walk through those airport doors, watching his face contort with pain, and hearing him urge me, “Don’t cry, Be strong for the kids” was almost more than I could bear.
Our initial time alone in Morocco lasted five months before my husband returned, and after a short visit with his family, we all returned home to the States together.
However, during my time in Marrakech—a stint that was supposed to be temporary—I realized that my children were learning a wealth of information in school.
They were speaking Darija (Moroccan Arabic), and they were learning to read, write, and understand classical Arabic, something that would not be so easily achieved at our home in Texas.
As a Muslim convert who herself cannot read, write, or understand Arabic, I quickly realized I couldn’t take my children out of that environment, and a second decision was made for me and the children to return to Morocco after a summer spent with my husband in the States.
So, my two little ones and I returned to Marrakech, again without my husband.
I quickly settled into my routine again, this time meeting more friends and getting out on my own more. Time passed, and my husband was due for a visit, this time for seven blissful weeks.
Looking back on it now, those weeks together were my undoing in Morocco because when that time was over and my husband once again packed his bags and left us behind, we both realized we couldn’t live that way any longer.
I remember sobbing silently on the staircase the day of his departure. It was such a deep sorrow, and I wondered how I could face another airport goodbye.
As it turned out, I couldn’t handle it, and it wasn’t long after he left that I began slowly falling apart. I started to have anxiety attacks and crying jags.
It was as if I couldn’t bear to be apart from my husband any longer, and the quicker I could get home and be reunited with him, the better.
So,I landed back on American soil in February 2013. I was home with my husband, and again I quickly settled into a routine, reenrolling my child in school and finding and furnishing a new apartment.
Though my husband was just as eager to be reunited with us, he feared my decision was being made purely on an emotional basis.
He thought I should take some time to make sure that leaving Morocco was what I really wanted. Knowing what I know now, those were wise words. However, I didn’t heed his advice, and I made the hasty decision to return home.
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