Letter to Oprah: M'Barek's Story

Ever since I read The Little Prince when I was nine years old, I have dreamed of going into the Sahara desert, and sleeping under the stars. I am sixty-three now, and this summer my dream came true. I have had the adventure of a lifetime.

While I was in Fes, Morocco, I was adopted by a poor family of fifteen, living in a four floor tenement, supported by their widowed mother on her policeman husband's pension. The last night I was there, they asked me to promise I would tell the world about them. I said I would go on Oprah and do just that!

I left Fes for the Sahara Desert where I rode for three days on a camel led by my guide, M'Barek, 28. A guide since he was 8, he has never been to school, yet he speaks seven languages, learned from tourists. He has never been to a mosque. He says the desert is his Mosque.
   
On the second day of our trek, we came to an oasis where we would have lunch and rest. M'Barek found the well was dry. He told me he would be back in half an hour with water. True to his word, he returned to the tent with a plastic gallon jar filled with water, with which he doused me, laughing: a Morrocan shower!  I asked him where he had gotten the water. He told me he had dug a well. Two wells, in fact. How? With his hands! I am so grateful to this simple, joyful Berber man who took such good care of me.

So I was deeply saddened to hear that last week in flash floods in Essouira, M'Barek's house was swept away, killing his mother, father, and two of his sisters. They took him to the hospital in Erfoud, where they amputated his leg. He is in a coma. His friends raised 300 Euros to hire an ambulance to take him to a private clinic in Rabat, the capital of Morocco, at 50 Euros a night. This is more than most Morrocans make in a month. They are afraid if they put him in the public hospital he will be left to die.

They appealed me to help. If I appear on Oprah, it is because I promised God I would find a way to let the world help them, and the Secret led me here.