Dreams often feel distant, but sometimes, with determination and courage, they become a reality. From a small dream that was only between the cities of my country to trips outside my country that changed the course of my life, my tale shows the resilience and hope behind new beginnings.

My name is Maryam, and I live and work in Brooklyn. I am an English student and a volunteer at New York City College of Technology's Adult Learning Center’s ESL program. I speak Arabic, French, and English and hold a university degree in geography. For over 12 years, I worked in warehouse and logistics management within the aircraft industry in Nouasseur Casablanca, Morrocco.

I want to start by talking about my city and explaining why I made this choice.

Casablanca, my hometown, has long been a place of global significance, shaped by its history with the U.S. Military. Since World War II, American forces established a presence in Nouasseur, transforming it into a strategic air base. Even after independence, remnants of this connection remain and the American houses still stand. I grew up in the 1980s surrounded by these icons of US history and I found myself drawn to the idea of America.

I was born in January 1985 in Nouasseur, Casablanca: a bustling city that serves as Morocco’s economic capital, home to the largest airport in Africa. In 1943, the US Air Force established an air base here, known as “Strategic Air Command.” Later, the French Air Force used it until 1959, when Morocco gained independence and transformed the base into Mohammad V International Airport. Since the early 2000s, the airport has been the foundation of Morocco’s thriving aviation industry, a true symbol of the Kingdom’s industrial success.

Pilots at the Casablancan air base, later known as Mohammad V International Airport, circa mid-1950's.

When I entered university, I studied geography, and that’s when my passion for discovering Morocco and its landscapes truly began to grow. I started comparing Morocco’s geography with that of the outside world and found an intriguing resemblance to the United States. America’s topography corresponds to Morocco’s in many ways, deserts, mountains, seas, waterfalls, and even the diversity of climate. I have always told my myself that Morocco is like a miniature version of America, at least in terms of natural landscapes. For example, in Morocco, you can travel from cold weather to a desert climate in just six hours like going from Ifrane to Ouarzazate. In contrast, in the United States, it may take around 43 hours to travel from New York to California to experience such a climate shift.

 My love for travel began at university. Studying geography, I would trace my fingers over maps, imagining the cities I would visit someday. My friends laughed at my dreams, but I didn’t care.

America’s topography corresponds to Morocco’s in many ways, deserts, mountains, seas, waterfalls, and even the diversity of climate. I have always told my myself that Morocco is like a miniature version of America, at least in terms of natural landscapes.

One day, my professor organized a trip to a cave in the Atlas Mountains. I asked to register, but he refused, telling me it was only for third-year students and was still in my first year. His dismissiveness didn’t discourage me. I found out the destination and departure date, then took a bus on my own.

Eight hours later, I arrived at the cave, only to learn the group had already left. Disappointed, I turned to the tour guide, who showed me the list where the students had signed their names. He allowed me to add my name and even invited me to join a private tour. I wore my cave clothes, put a flashlight on my head, ventured in, and took pictures to remember this moment.

Back at university the next day, I proudly showed my professor the pictures. Shocked, he never left me behind on a trip again. That was the beginning of my lifelong love for adventure.

 I explored Morocco’s cities and, later the world. After graduating and entering the workforce, I set a goal to travel outside of my country. Eventually, I visited France and Italy, immersing myself in their culture and navigating language barriers with the help of translation apps. During my travels to Europe, I noticed that most Europeans dream of traveling to America as well.

In 2018, I made a friend through an internet group about travel, we shared stories and experiences, and one day, he asked, “Have you ever thought about visiting America?” I laughed it off, how could I? It was too far. But the thought lingered. Playfully, I told him, “Someday, I’ll have coffee with you in America.”

In 2021, I applied for a tourist visa and entered the American visa lottery. As my visa interview approached, I anxiously awaited the lottery results. On May 8, 2022, after a long day at work, I rushed home and opened my laptop. My heart pounded as I checked the official website.

There it was my name on the list. I read it again and again, my hands trembling. I stood up, then sat down, overwhelmed. My eyes filled with tears. I had won.

 I told my mother, but she dismissed it. “You’ll just spend your money and come back,” she said sarcastically.

I smiled and replied, “This time it’s different and I will even take you with me.”

Excited, I called my friend the one who had asked me about America. He asked me to check his name too. We were shocked that he had won as well.

 “I told you we will drink coffee in America,” I reminded him. But fate had other plans: we made it to the United States, but each of us ended up in a different states. Luck didn’t allow us to share a coffee.

Though I won the lottery, securing a visa was another hurdle. The American consulate was strict and only 5,000 of the 80,000 selected would receive visas. For 16 months, I waited. Every day, the stress mounted. But in the end, I was accepted. The dream was real.

I resigned from my job, packed my suitcase,  I said goodbye to my mother, brothers, sisters. The hardest goodbye was my mother; it felt like leaving a piece of my heart behind.

 When my plane landed, immigration procedures went smoothly. An immigration agent stamped my passport, took my fingerprints, and captured my photo. At the exit my friend, another lottery winner, was waiting for me. Before coming to America, we had formed WhatsApp groups, helping each other navigate the process. One friend had even arranged my housing before I arrived. 

And now I am here in Brooklyn in America, and I did get a travel visa for my mother. She will visit me soon. I’m so happy for that because I will share, with the closest people in my life, my joy: a new chapter, a new experience, and endless journeys ahead.