Well, alls well that ends well I suppose. I want to thank and apologize to all of you my mother harangued into sending money so that we could pull the packages she sent out of hostage by Moroccan customs. We got them. Thank you.
All it took was a bloody fist, a broken door, about a months rent, four hours arguing with the customs agents in which I told them that in this case I was like a Palestinian and they were like Israeli Jews charging me more than packages were actually worth because they had me trapped. I knew that Hanane would never forgive me if I told them to send the packages back and so I had to pay the ransom. Add to that the arguments that the stress of being forced back into government offices brought out in Hanane and I, fighting with the post office in Sefrou because they wouldn’t let us in because we arrived a minute after they barred the doors (incidentally, this argument we won because I stood outside of the post masters office yelling at him in my awful Arabic until a crowd gathered around me and it seemed as if a riot might happen- they let us in finally, which I never thought would happen in a million years, but after fighting with customs and insulting all the Muslims in the customs office in my bad Derrija, finding a taxi and forcing him to work against his will, and then commuting to Sefrou only to miss the post office by such a short time, I didn’t care if I got arrested and thrown in jail, besides, my hand was still bleeding from smashing the door.) and what you have is a disaster waiting to happen, that at least today didn’t.
Hanane told me that the insults I was throwing at armed customs agents and fat bureaucrats were enough to get me killed if I were a Moroccan. Probably inciting a riot would of earned me a beating if I weren’t so obviously a foreigner.
And after all that we returned home with the used wedding garments and wal-mart candies my Mom had decided to declare at the maximum possible value in case they got lost in the mail. The customs agent summed it up when he said, ‘Americans don’t lie about the value of their packages’…haha. And they don’t lie about their taxes either.
The moral of the story….don’t bother to send anything to Morocco and if you do, declare it worth no more than $10. Ultimately, we ended up paying more money for the boxes than the contents cost or would have cost us here, but we got them. Thanks to all of you that helped make that possible.
Now I’ve got to go bandage up my hand and see if Hanane ate all the Skittles yet.