Is It Written?

On a gorgeous morning I decided I would visit the Kasbah of the Udaya. Adjacent to the Medina, it was the perfect site to explore on my first full day in Rabat. Constructed in the 10th century this fort was built to defend against the Barghawata Berbers who had established a Kharijite state to the south. As I walked through the monumental gate I admired the curved bands of intricate geometric shapes and patterns. The horseshoe arch was set inside a rectangular frame outlined by a Quranic inscription which I later learnt referenced "God's guidance".

Through the gates I wandered into the citrus scented Andalusian garden, brimming with bougainvillea, red hibiscus, and oleanders whose brightness was only slightly tempered by the lush greenery. The palms stood high offering shade from the bright sunlight. I stopped to admire a long harbored walkway covered in grape vines. The rays of light streaming through provided stunning symmetries of light. I was about to walk through when I suddenly realized that the path lead to a wall. A dead end. I paused and then walked down anyway. I walked from light to shade to light then back. Once I reached the end I looked at the pink stone wall. Weathered in its existence but still beautiful nonetheless. I had no regrets.

I leisurely strolled through the Kasbah taking in the blue and white colours of the many buildings. I was beginning to notice throughout the city how many cats there were. Unlike dogs who always seemed to be on the move these felines were often seen walking slowly or just lazing about, watching people, watch them. The doors of many of the homes differed from dark brown to yellow to blue. I paused infront of a door that had the number 13 beside it. I chuckled to myself thinking about back home. In North America there were no homes with 13. In apartment buildings there was no 13th floor. Somehow because of its association with bad luck people preferred not to have luck stacked against them. Afterall, life was hard enough. I thought about luck and destiny. Were people predestined for a certain outcome? Or are we the authors of our own fate?