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I Thought I Was Getting Trafficked in Morocco
A family holiday, drugs and a 4x4 excursion into The Atlas Mountains
My first trip to Morocco was met with a little trepidation.
It was the first destination I’d travelled to outside of Europe and the US and the first country with such a stark contrast to my own.
The experience of leaving the airport was enough to write home about. Markets in the middle of roads, chickens running rampant and the laissez-faire nature of our taxi driver navigating it all at top speed with a Samsung flip phone in-hand.
My nails clenched to the seat the entire ride — in terror, but mostly, excitement. I may as well have walked onto the set of Star Wars. I’d never felt so far from home and so full of adrenaline.
My godmother accompanied me: a girl's trip to Marrakesh. We both had extensive travel history, but in the back of our minds — we did wonder what experience awaited us as two white women travelling on our own.
Our worries were fulfilled inside Marrakesh’s souks where our arms were tugged at to lure us into buying shoes and handbags — those…
