My iPhone died in the sea in Essaouira, my soul came alive

Essaouira is a small, laid back and multicultural coastal town in Morocco. It’s an Islamic culture with a mystical history rooted in Sufism, and a long coexistence for the indigenous Amazigh (Berbers), Jews and Christians. Flights in May cost me £100 including baggage, a stylish Airbnb £100 each for 2 people for 5 nights, or hostel dorms from £10 per night, and meals made with love for around £6.

I’ve come back from Essaouira rich with souvenirs - material and spiritual. The affordable, brightly woven cushion covers and painted plates aren’t the only things that elevated my interiors. The holy spirit charged through the walls, the sea, the food and people of Essaouira gave me everything my soul was longing for.

What struck me most was its analogue culture and how that has retained its strong sense of community. People have smartphones, but they aren’t as glued to them like in London. In Essaouira, people greet you. They use natural remedies, cash payments, there’s no corporate advertising cluttering the streets and our minds. In fact, Essaouira never even had a McDonald’s (and never will, Inshallah!). It’s just markets, independent sellers, and affordable restaurants with Moroccan mothers and aunties in the kitchen. It was like stepping back in time, and I saw the soul of community that we’ve lost with technology.

And I saw the light of Islam. I have a couple of strong Muslim friendships here in London, but it wasn’t until I was in a fully Islamic culture, seeing it in context, engaging with local men and women, that the beauty of this religion truly clicked.

To me, Islam is the most welcoming of all the religions. In Essaouira I was constantly invited to hang out and drink tea - not pressured to buy things, just to connect. I had never been told “you are welcome” more anywhere in my life. After visiting Essaouira and dressing modestly, I understood why many Islamic women enjoy it, how much safer it feels to be covered. I understood no alcohol culture, how it keeps you present, healthy, and the streets calm. I understood the daily calls to prayer, how it reminds you and your neighbours of your divinity.

And never, anywhere in the world, have I felt more comfortable to be Jewish. Historically in Essaouira, Moroccan Jews and Muslims have lived side by side for centuries. While it has a predominantly Muslim population, it’s also a Jewish pilgrimage site. I told locals I was Jewish, and they simply replied, “you are our brothers”, playfully shared simple phrases in Hebrew with a smile, said how they loved our food or that I’m welcome here.

My trip to Essaouira was an affirmation of everything I already knew in London: smartphones and social media have changed us for the worse. We’ve become more divided. Individualistic. Ruled by consumption. People look more put together and stylish than ever before, but here in London the majority of people lack the confidence to go up and speak to each other or dance with each other. I go to the big music events and more often than not, crowds don’t let loose or interact with each other like we used to. It’s dystopian. 

Now more than ever, I’ve felt disconnected from my neighbours. I too lost the effort to speak to people in public. Why would you, when you can just look at Instagram or use a self service checkout? I’ve been watching the way people are hating each other over politics and traumas as well, how it's dividing the creative communities I used to be a part of. It drove me further away. Made me want to retreat further into my shell “to protect my energy”. What happened to our humanity?

Dropping my iPhone in the ocean with a single motion was the most healing thing that could have happened to me. Immediately, a stranger told me “it’s good for it, all the vitamins”, and I laughed. It died, and he was not wrong. Due to my dropping it, I had a beautiful interaction with this same man and his nephew from Casablanca. We laughed, exchanged cultures, and they asked me who my dream man was. I said, “someone who sees me for my soul”.

5 minutes later, further down the beach I bumped into a handsome kitesurfing instructor on the beach, he asked me for the time. We walked for a while along the water, talking about spirituality, French philosophers, his property rental business and my art. I told him how I loved his Islamic culture and told me he loves Jews - he has Jewish friends and loves the food and the art. We ended up having 2 special dates in a beach café by the sea on that trip. We agreed if we lived in the same town, it would have been a different story.

Due to dropping my phone, I stopped worrying about posting on Instagram. I sat in restaurants and ate my food and was present in the moment. No YouTube, no Spotify, no WhatsApp. Just engaging like everyone else, with my food (made with love), my surroundings, my thoughts, my prayers.

Due to dropping it, I wrote about my reflections on the plane home in my notebook and made a vow to connect with my neighbour. As I did, my pen ran out, and the man sitting next to me gave me his and I told him about my revelation. He was an actor and heavily influenced by Buddhism: we spoke all the way home, laughing and sharing esoteric knowledge. He doesn’t have a smart phone either. He is a new friend and has invited me to come and collaborate in his art studio here in South London. I also made friends with two gorgeous bubbly ladies from South at the airport, who invited me to a yoga retreat in Essaouira later this year.

I’ve returned to London with new energy. I’ve been through a portal and I vow to resist my phone addiction. I vow to be more courageous. To connect with my neighbours and welcome them - because to me, that is the light of Islam.

To quote Bell Hooks’ All About Love, whose book I read on the trip,

“To live our lives based on the principles of a love ethic (showing care, respect, knowledge, integrity and the will to cooperate), we have to be courageous. Learning how to face our fears is one way we embrace love. Those who have already chosen to embrace a love ethic, allowing it to govern and inform how we think and act, know that when we let our light shine, we draw to us and are drawn to other bearers of light. We are not alone”.