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THE GREAT TRIP TO THE GLORIOUS AMERICA

Part 6 - Freeport: The City of Lincoln-Douglas Debate

by BRAHIM EL GUABLI, staff writer
Ouazazate, Morocco

We got to Chicago International Airport. Our driver was there. He was a man in his early sixties. He was a little bit hearing-impaired. The first thing that struck me about him was his clothes. He was a real ‘heartlander’ that evoked all of the scenes of Western movies that I used to watch on Moroccan TV. It was also difficult to understand him as he talked really fast.

It was approximately nine when we left the airport. It was dark outside. The van ride from the airport to Freeport was full of fun. Everybody was energized, screaming, dancing and making fun of each other. Everyone was full for excitement to discover this new part of the country. I personally had no idea about Freeport. I knew Chicago, its skyscrapers, Michigan lake and its emblematic personality Al Capone. I wanted to visit his home, listen to people talk about him and visit places where he used to go. I also knew that Chicago is compared to the biggest Moroccan city, Casablanca.

Leaving the airport, we slipped into the wings of timelessness as we drowned in seas of darkness. Everywhere I directed my eyes was full of limitless fields. I could see fields of maize as far as my eyes could take me. I understood that we were in a very rural area. I could see tractors; I could see companies that sell agricultural tools. I felt like someone who was tying to find a treasure in a dark room, as I was trying hard not to miss any moment of this journey and to enjoy in full this long ride.

This was our longest ride in a van since we came to this great country. The road was also full of trucks and eighteen-wheelers. It made me think of the song “Hotel California” and passengers and people travelling like crazy. It also evoked some chapters of the beautiful book “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac. Everything was symbolizing a crazy age. Yes, it was another “On the Road”, the only difference between my “On the Road” and that of Jack Kerouac is that my trip was full of planes and “winelessness”, while that of Jack Kerouac was all about cars, hitch hiking, drinking and having fun with girls. It was a different pilgrimage to discover and delve into the heartland spirit of this part of the US.

I had this restless feeling that no matter how much time I spent in this country, I would never be able to taste and enjoy everything it has to offer. Not even a life time is sufficient to drink to the full from its bottomless pits of knowledge and diversity. But the idea of reaching Freeport and discovering what the program had to offer was also haunting me and diverting my thoughts from all these issues.

It was approximately midnight when the driver stopped us at this very far point in the middle of nowhere to have dinner. The weather was hot and we were sweating. A lot of trucks were stationed outside of the shining building.

The scene reminded me again of travelling at night in Morocco. I thought of the Tichka Mountains at night. This very famous mountainous road where all drivers stop at night so that the passengers can eat and enjoy the fresh breeze of the night. The only things you can order there are steaks and “kebab”, which is sliced meat that is cooked in skewers on very hot charcoal fire (barbecue). It is a must to eat it on the road to or from Ouarzazate to Marrakesh.. Tagine is also a must when one crosses the Tichka Mountains. This earthen recipient that is stuffed with a variety of vegetables, from onions to carrots, and very delicious spices, is a unique Moroccan speciality.

So instead of thinking of ordering “tagine” or “kebab”, I ordered fish served with a huge salad. The servant was a middle aged lady. The cook was Egyptian and he was very happy to come and talk to us. Said was making a lot of fun of everyone again. All his attention was directed towards the beautiful servant even if she told him that she was married. Everyone in the group knew that Said could not resist a beautiful woman.

We continued our trip to Freeport, our ultimate destination. I imagined it to be a busy city like New Orleans, Portland or Washington, DC. I was disappointed! Freeport was uncovering itself all the way for us. It was a very small town. It is surrounded by a lot of farms and agricultural lands. I could not find any huge buildings, no skyscrapers and no large avenues like in the other places where I had been so far.

After winding through a lot of zigzagging roads we got to our Holiday Inn Hotel. The first bad news! All of the rooms were full! A family were celebrating a wedding there that night and we could not have a room each. We had to share the rooms. When the lady in charge of our stay made the reservations, she just booked four rooms for eight people. At first, it was a very huge problem, but then it turned out really well. We saved three hundred dollars each in five days. I shared my room with Abdul. We belong to the same area of Morocco. Both of us are Berbers and we speak the same language and we understand each other easily. The time we spent together went smoothly. We enjoyed all the facilities the hotel offered from the fitness tools to the Jacuzzi.

This hotel was totally different from any other hotel we stayed in up to now. It was built in a very green empty area. We could see the forest, we could see the green fields and we could also see the pigs and the animals from the nearby fields. Not far from the hotel there is a bank and some shopping malls. This was truly an American rural area! I was thinking that if all the rural areas of my country were like that, none would love to stay in the city. They would actually move out to enjoy the clean air and the beautiful scenery.

When the morning dissipated the cloak of the night and the golden rays of the hot June sun showered Freeport with their golden beauty, we went to discover the shopping malls as it was a Sunday and everyone was shopping.

The first remark was that prices were higher than the other areas we visited and the choices were limited. Like everywhere else, shopping malls follow money. They invested there but not as much as in big cities. Yet, the shopping frenzy that caught everyone during the American trip was following us to Freeport.

In one of these shopping malls, I met a German-American woman who was really interested to know us more. She ended up inviting everyone to her house. She has been living there for 30 years. Rosemary was such a nice woman whose European experience and American life helped her a lot to embrace values of openness and understanding. She was an easygoing person; she smiled a lot and told me that she missed her European family. She did not hesitate a moment to invite everyone to her house! An American would not do that the first time they meet you. She had this Mediterranean trait of hospitality. The thirty years she spent in the US did not change anything in her soul. She said that she was European to the marrow of her bones. The years passed, they did their work, but they did not change the essence of the person.

The short conversation with Rosemary triggered a lot of ideas in my mind. How does immigration affect people’s lives? Do we lose our essence when we try to adapt? Do we need to totally adapt to the country’s value system or should we keep our uniqueness and remain ourselves? A lot of questions racked my brain as I was trying to find answers without being able to get beyond the moment. Beautiful exchanges always leave an imprint on you forever. I would not have cared if I had met Rosemary in Ouarzazate or even in Berlin or Frankfurt. I cared because I met her in a foreign land, and even if she had lived there for thirty years, she still had this uniqueness that made her different. Different people complete each other when they meet in foreign lands.

The first meeting the next day was with Representative Jim Sacia, a member of the local parliament. He is a Republican who is retired from the FBI. Upon entering his office, you find a very huge poster of George W. Bush smiling. Everyone in the group took a picture with it. Mr. Jim Sacia explained to us his work, the electoral system, and also the budget he gets and the work he does in Springfield. The man did not hide his Republican stance nor his political commitment in a lot of diverse issues like the war in Iraq and the social policies and the defence of his constituents’ interests. His two assistants spend the whole day in the office; they receive people, take their claims and give them appointments with the representative.

Mr. Sacia was happy to show us a picture of Barack Obama. He liked the man and he asked us if we knew him. I said I did know him, and I took his book, “ The Audacity of Hope”, from my bag. The man was happy to meet some Moroccan guy who liked the way of thinking of Senator Barack Obama. He just said that his prognostics are that Barack and Hilary would run together as she is stronger and has more experience. Now that I see their race and struggles and how Obama is gaining ground and making Hilary try all the kinds of tactics possible to get the nomination of the Democratic Party, I think that Mr. Sacia was right in saying that they should run together and wrong to have thought that Hilary would win the nomination easily. Mr. Sacia was a real believer in the abilities of Senator Obama and also foresaw his political career in Washington, DC. He was frank in his opinions about his opponent even if he belongs to the party of the elephant.

As a matter of coincidence, maybe, a priest happened to be at the office of the representative. A black, middle-aged man. He used to be a pilot. He left the army and became a priest. For him, it was a way to find guidance and forget the horrors of wars and all the traumatizing events that he witnessed in distant forgotten lands where he fought. His military life must not have been an easy one. He must have been in Vietnam and all the hot spots that were burning at the time when he was in the army. He is a very candid man. He addresses you as bothers and sisters. He is laconic in his talk. He clutches his brownish leather back and you see in his eyes this deep feeling of an unhealed blister. He had a lot to say, but he was living it alone. He looked sleepless, but very peaceful, and everyone in town knew his name and said “hi” to him all the way from the office of the representative to the local church.

The local church is a real center of solidarity and civic engagement. I could not imagine that all the rosy beautiful images I had in New Orleans and DC and Portland were going to be broken on the rock of reality of poor people in Freeport. Very dejected people come every week or every month to benefit from the food pantry at the basement of the church. This latter looked like a very busy ant’s home. There were a lot of volunteers, a lot of people working, sorting out food and serving very old and disabled people. The priest was very proud taking us in to visit the shelter for the homeless people and the manager gave us ample information about how they function and how many people they provide with shelter, especially in the cruel winters of this border area.
A weird thing happened on our way to the church. Said, Abdul, the priest and I were walking to the church and we felt that we were being followed by a four-wheel drive truck. The guy in it was a black young man. He came near to us and said:

“Salama Alaykum, brothers”
“Wa alayakum assalam”
“How are you?”
“Fine thanks”
“Did you come here for da’wa (calling people for Islam)?”
“No. Sorry. We are International Visitors”. He probably has never heard about it and also his concentration went to knowing about our religion and Islam and what we were preaching.
“Are you from Saudi Arabia?”
“We are from Morocco”

“I hope you will have a nice stay here, brothers”. He drove his car and faded in one of the many streets of the city. We continued on our way.
One of the greatest discoveries I made during my stay in Freeport is about the debate that opposed Abraham Lincoln and Michael Douglas in 1858. A lot of people think that the Freeport debate shaped the political future of Abraham Lincoln, as it paved his way for Presidency. The Lincoln-Douglas debates were seven public debates that opposed both of them in their race for senatorial office of Illinois in DC. The first debate was in Washington Square, Ottawa, Illinois . The second was in Freeport, Illinois, where over 15,000 people attended the original debate in Freeport, then a town of 5,000. Freeport Doctrine, which was the result of the debate, states that people have the right to choose whether or not to exclude slavery from their limits. The third took place at the Union County Fairgrounds, Jonesboro, Illinois and the debate subject split families into Confederate and Union factions. Over 50 cemeteries throughout Union County tell of many who lost their lives in the war between the states. The fourth debate took place in Coles County Fairgrounds, Charleston, Illinois; this area was very familiar to Lincoln. Lincoln's father had lived and died here. Lincoln's stepmother and many relatives and friends lived here too. Lincoln had a thriving law practice in the community. A majority of the townspeople had come from Kentucky and Tennessee, moving north to avoid competition with slave labour. Most were poor and believed they had no chance to win out in the competition with slave labour. The fifth debate took place in Old Main, Knox College, Galesburg, Illinois and the last debate opposed them in Washington Park, Quincy, Illinois.

The square where the debate happened is still there defying time. It is still there to remind people of the big issues that these two great men have debated. It is there to remind people of the greatness of making an effort to solve outstanding issues, find solutions and work hard for a better future. Lincoln lost the senate seat in 1858, but he won the presidency in 1860. He tried to unite Americans and solve the issue of slavery but the southerners wanted to keep the “peculiar institution” working and they declared their independence and the civil war started. Lincoln said his famous words “a house divided against itself cannot stand”. He was right. He won the civil war. The confederates gave up their arms and American federalism emerged stronger than ever.
Yet, Lincoln had to leave this life in 1965. Insidious hands furtively and cowardly killed the man but they could not kill the message. They killed the father but they could not kill all the kids that imbibed his values. They tried to stab the sun but they could not stop its rays from reaching the universe. The sun of freedom shines dazzlingly so that it drives all the dark minds insane. His statue debating with Douglas is still defying time and the harsh weather of the State of Illinois. They stand there in their defiant posture addressing the public everyday. They look at them and say, is this the America we fought for? Is this the America we built in our dreams? Is this the America that the blood of this great man was given for as atonement? They stand there in that garden, facing the whole of America with their values.

I came back home after my American journey and started reading about this debate and I found this deeply analytic article that I decided to share with readers. I like this paragraph because it talks about the far reaching, deep transformations this debate had brought into the American life. It was one of those moments when you hear the footsteps of history:
“The Freeport debate, and, more specifically, Lincoln’s critical question-“Can the people of a United States Territory. . . exclude slavery from their limits prior to the formation of a State Constitution?”- shaped the entire history of the United States. Without the Lincoln-Douglas Debates, the French might still have their slaves, and the Union might be made up of only the free states of the 1800s, the southern states having split off to form their own country. Slavery might still be a factor, with thousands of innocent humans forced to work for free. The world would be devoid of the powerful figure of the United States of America. Without the Lincoln-Douglas Debate at Freeport, Lincoln might never have become president, and so half of the United States would be denied freedom.”

Freeport, this small poor county, holds such a very symbolic importance in American history. Very few people know about it. Very few people would even be able to spot it on the map of this continent country.

My next article will be about a meeting with the Sheriff, our visit to the Stephenson county jail, attending a musical concert with the people of Freeport and spending time with a community of peace activists in a park for a picnic.