“Language is the essence of one’s ethnicity, one’s roots”… hence the reason my father wanted me to learn how Berbers communicate. When I was in fourth grade, he sent me to live with my Aunt in the high mountains, the area now known as the Middle Atlas. As an artisan weaver, she tasked me with measuring the living rooms of her customers. With pride and curiosity, I walked heel-toe across the rooms just as my aunt had taught me. She and her artisan friends wove the finest rugs and as I watched them work the looms, sometimes pulling thread gracefully and other times forcefully, I learned not only the spoken language of the Berber, I learned the visual language.