I do not know where to begin…
Nor which letter could serve as the key to this tear-laden story, light with faith.
Shall I start from the moment the waters rose, swelling higher and higher?
Or from that moment when hearts drew near, and in their closeness, rose together?
My friends; no, my beloved companions, with whom I have shared bread, memory, and hardship, have entrusted me with the task of writing. And so, I said: there is no opening more sincere than gratitude, no beginning more blessed than to commence with the praise of Allah (God).
All praise belongs to Allah, a praise worthy of the majesty of His Countenance and the greatness of His dominion.
All praise is due to Allah in times of ease before hardship, and in giving just as in trial.
For He, Glorified be He, does not decree a matter but that within it lies a hidden gentleness.
For He chooses for His servants only that which contains goodness, and though human eyes cannot discern the wisdom in it at the moment it occurs, the heart comes to recognize it when it grows calm and tranquil.
After the flood had receded, amidst the heavy moments of evacuation, the ache of loss, and the bewilderment of beginning anew… we learned a profound lesson in faith.
That the ground might tremble beneath our feet, yet the mercy of Allah remains steadfast.
That homes could be emptied, yet true support never abandons.
That what has crumbled in mud can be rebuilt within hearts with unwavering certitude.
When floods raided our city, Ksar El Kbir, it looked like a page drenched in water.
Streets that had once been filled with life had become whispers of sorrow. People evacuated in groups.
Some returned to their families,
some went to refugee camps,
and some carried only the lightest of their belongings,
placing their trust in Allah as they traveled to neighboring cities, their hearts tied to what they had left behind.
Tangier was among the first to extend a helping hand, opening its doors even before they were knocked upon.
In times of hardship, cities are measured not by their buildings, but by their humans.
And here, the meaning of “containment” manifested, not as a slogan raised in words, but as a protective nest casting its shadow over its young until the storm passes.
This nest stretched across the efforts of three institutions that made a real difference.
Tamkeen for Our Humanity Foundation, which does not place you in the frame of a needy person but sees you as capable, believing in you before you believe in yourself, awakening the strength to rise.
Ghaith Association, which descended like nourishing rain upon parched land, bringing solace to hearts even before it reached the homes.
And Darna Association, which was more than a center, it was a true home, offering sustenance and warmth.
That day, we saw people as if they were one heart.
They came streaming from every direction; from Tangier, from Larache, from Kenitra.
It was as if the cities themselves were whispering: That is your neighbor, that is our home.
Each one gave what they could.
One brought a truck, another an oar, another a tractor.
Yet in truth, everyone carried something even more precious
A soul that knows no retreat, and a hand that withholds no giving.
We witnessed men risking their lives,
As if death were but a small detail compared to the call of humanity. Someone said:
"If I die, then I am a martyr… for I have fulfilled my duty to Allah while serving His servants."
Amid those heavy moments, humanity had its anecdotes, small sparks that eased the weight of the scene.
My friend Mohamed Adoudi and I were returning from a hospital,
accompanied by another friend,
when a police officer suddenly pulled us over.
Upon learning we were from Ksar El Kbir, he said:
"Why didn’t you say so from the start?"
It was as if the entire situation was saying:
when hardships grow severe,
formalities fall away,
and only the human remains…
pure, just as he was when he was born the first time.
And in those days, we learned that:
houses are built with stones, but homelands are built with hearts;
Expatriation is not distance; it is the absence of familiarity.
Hardships do not reveal weakness; they uncover the mettle of those around us.
Whoever loses something for the sake of Allah, He compensates them with those who surround them with love and support.
There, I lived the most beautiful days of my life…
I lived harmony as the soul lives,
And I lived union as the pulse lives.
They were not mere words I repeated after each workshop;
They were a truth I lived with all my being.
We were racing toward goodness, like thirsty men race toward water.
Our youth did not sleep, and staying awake into the night was a choice, not a necessity.
Our slogan was clear:
“No one is left in the street.”
We moved as one body;
Some of us coordinated,
Some wrote down names, as though they were preserving hope, not data.
Some drove in haste, carrying families to places of shelter, as if they were bearing dew to thirsty flowers.
We were not troubled by fatigue…
We were troubled by the sight of a family sleeping beneath the open sky on a cold night.
That alone pained us.
We would wake before sunrise;
bringing bread,
preparing breakfast and lunch,
to feed our brothers and sisters…
even though we were among them,
affected just as they were.
Some would ask us,
“Are you from Tangier?”
We would smile and answer with pride:
No… we are from Ksar El Kbir.
What happened to you has happened to us.
We were evacuated, just like you.
The astonishment in their eyes spoke louder than words:
How can one who has lost his home become a home for another?
We did not approach them only to console, but to share in their pain,
for pain, when shared, becomes lighter,
and when transformed into cooperation, becomes strength.
Then came the day of return…
I expected loud joy,
but I saw tears.
They were bidding farewell. As if the light was taken away from the eye, slowly, painfully and in an indescribable way.
They were not merely leaving walls;
they were leaving days that had woven bonds no years could create.
In that moment, I understood: the greatness of a place does not lie in what it contains,
but in what is lived within it.
And some hardships are not remembered for their pain,
but because they reveal the beauty within us.
We returned to our homes…
And we understood then that we had carried what mountains could not. By Allah, we understood.
But we were no longer the same.
We had grown a little,
matured a lot,
and learned that the one who gives, heals;
the one who embraces, is embraced;
and the one who supports, is granted support from every direction by Allah.
And I still say, whenever I remember those days:
There, I lived the most beautiful days of my life…
I lived harmony,
And I lived union.
I came to know that the most beautiful thing hardship can offer…
is to reveal the true mettle of the human within us and within others.
To conclude, I can only say:
Praise be to Allah, who when He tests us does not abandon us;
and if the land narrows around us, He expands the hearts of His servants;
and He made pain a door named:
Containment…
Love…
And humanity.
