From the archives: an email sent to my friends and sisters, 8th July 2024 with minimal edits
Dear Friends
I am writing to you on my iPad – a saving grace these last 24 hours, to tell you about an awful ordeal that happened in Marrakesh. I should say, I really wanted to love this city and I did completely, until my phone was grabbed by a motorcyclist 30 mins before we headed off to the airport on Sunday afternoon.
I thought I would write to you all now to save myself from a dramatic rendition each time and because somehow, being phoneless has given me a little urge to write.
On Sunday, we had just had lunch in the medina at Otto – a little Mediterranean rooftop spot that looked like it could be in Mykonos. We talked about how grateful and lucky we were to have bonded instantly and Alhamdulillah, nothing had gone wrong. MHA almost teared up and said although she was getting married – nothing compared to the love of female friendship and yet she feels she is leaving behind a phase of girlhood. After lunch we walked further into the Medina and found ourselves in the Jewish quarter which was interesting, seeing the stars of David and Hebrew reminded us of the history of Morocco and layered cities like Marrakesh in particular. It was not as busy as the other parts of the medina and once we saw [redacted]. We bought a few thobes for our nephews, and with half an hour remaining before our driver arrived to pick us up, we walked towards an ice cream cafe. It was then that I clearly let my guard down a little too much and navigated on Google Maps while voicenoting. As we were about to cross a busy main road a motorbike with two people on it almost drove into me and grabbed my phone. It is strange because looking back I felt like I let them take it and almost let my grip go in the immediate shock. I ran after them in my flip flops and shopping bags and gave up within 30 seconds realising I had insurance and would probably cause much more damage by running into the middle of a street.
The girls, who were behind me at the time also thought the motorcyclist drove into me – up until that moment we hadn’t had any uncomfortable run-ins with people and it was probably the busiest street we had been on. We were right near a police station and we went in to file a report in case my insurance needed it. I sat next to two criminals whose hands were handcuffed by one cuff each and told the police officers what had happened. Many times the police officers screamed at the criminals and shooed away my wonderful friends who kept coming in to check I was okay. S had already taken a photo of the street where the phone was stolen and noticed there was a camera while MHA spoke to my sisters and brother-in-law who was due to pick me up from Stanstead later that night.
By this point I had realised my sim was with me and they stole my phone with a Moroccan sim inside. My iPad was also at home so I contacted my sisters via SU’s Instagram and my sisters thankfully marked my phone as lost via Find My iPhone. I had no clue what my iCloud password was and really remained in a state of shock to attempt a login now.
Marrakech airport is also one that requires physical boarding passes so thankfully I had my boarding pass printed in my bag and we were all on the same flight home. It is really telling of all of my flaws but my main feeling after this ordeal was that of defeat. I really did not have enough fear walking around busy streets rumoured to be filled with criminals and scammers and maybe all of this is a reminder to be more alert and stop multitasking. I also wondered whether I need to take up boxing again, clearly, my reflexes are too slow.
We arrived at the airport with plenty of time and picked up some sandwiches and Hawaii. A Moroccan classic drink of coconut and passion fruit-flavoured fizz. The girls, most of whom I had met only four days ago really reassured me and convinced me I could not have done anything more to get my phone back. I felt so grateful to be around such wonderful and caring women with strong faith and found only blessings and ways Allah did not leave me stranded. Alhamdulillah
On the flight home, S and I also had an empty seat in between us and both managed some sleep. In between, I read a few pages of my book: Madonna in A Fur Coat. (Beautiful, melancholic, fleeting love) I found myself replaying this moment and feeling incredibly stupid once again for having my phone out and making myself vulnerable when I was so far from home and ordinary comforts. And perhaps that is the problem with being able to feel at home quickly, you don’t always know when to reign it in a little and tread more cautiously.
We arrived at Stanstead in good time and I could not be happier to see my brother-in-law waiting for me outside. I never did get my ice cream but I think in the 24 hours of being phoneless I’ve felt renewed gratitude for my wonderful family members who sorted things out for me and let me worry only about whether my photos were synced.
I of course used this opportunity to tell my manager about what happened and took the day off work, instead spending the day having a lengthy brunch with RA. I have since contacted Monzo and paid £75 excess for my new phone which will be here in a few days in sha Allah. I think until then I will try to switch off a bit more and use my work phone for Google Maps.
If you got all the way to the end, I do hope you’ve enjoyed my somewhat dramatic retelling and hope you will pray for my safety whether I am near or far from home, and pray that Allah protects me from any calamity whether big or small.
Lots of love,
Maj
☾ The Empowered Prole ☽ 
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