We were several months into our honeymoon, a nine-month voyage around the world. On Sept. 8, we were having a wonderful evening in Essaouira, a seaside city in southern Morocco, relishing the sounds of traditional Moroccan Gnawa music while drinking mint tea on the fourth floor of an old building in the heart of the old city.

At 11:11 p.m., the whole room started to shake. We, along with the rest of the cafe, ran down the old, narrow stairwells and spilled out onto the main street.

The earthquake’s epicenter was in the High Atlas Mountains, roughly 150 miles away. Thankfully, there was no major physical damage or injury in Essaouira. Yet, as we finally began to walk home around 1 a.m., we saw piles of blankets and hundreds of people on the streets, including children, elders and their pets.

They were terrified to stay inside their homes. It felt as if half of the city had decided to sleep outside. We went to bed that night shaken, with no idea of the crisis elsewhere in Morocco. We woke up to text messages from family and friends — and a rising death toll as coverage of the damage to rural communities began to unfold.

Throughout our travels, we’ve asked ourselves questions about how to do tourism in an ethical way. Overnight, our hypothetical questions had become very real.

We struggled with the decision of whether to leave. Yearning to do something to help and under no illusion that we could make a major difference, we decided to stay.

A few days later, we had a plan. At 5:30 a.m., bleary-eyed, we walked through the empty streets of Essaouira. One of the upsides of being up so early in Morocco is hearing the call to prayer. The devotional sound envelops the air, and a voice calls out something that I assume means: “Prayer is better than sleep.”

By 6 a.m. we’d packed blankets and mattresses that we purchased the day before into our friend Karim’s car. The plan was to drive about three hours to Marrakech and meet up with Abdljalil, an acquaintance of Karim’s who lives in the devastated village of Marigha less than 40 miles from Marrakech.

The fear of not doing the right thing can lead to doing nothing — letting the perfect be the enemy of the good

We asked a million questions: Could our tiny effort do anything? Where exactly would our donations go? Were the efforts coordinated enough? Was that even important? Why did the government seem to be acting so slowly?

The questions of how and where to be of greatest service at any given time are a major interest of ours. But the fear of not doing the right thing can lead to doing nothing — letting the perfect be the enemy of the good.

Usually when at home in the Bay Area, we focus on donating to a mix of formal organizations that engage in efficient, scalable efforts and those offering mutual aid. We knew we could give to large groups doing work in Morocco. But from what we witnessed there, taking small “drop in the bucket” actions as part of mutual aid had become a major piece of the effort.

On the drive, we asked our Moroccan friend Naoual what she thought about the choice of giving to big organizations versus small groups in her country — or of offering mutual aid. “I prefer to provide support to small associations because they are more in need and because larger organizations do not reach remote areas,” she said.

Upon arriving in Marrakech, we met up with Abdljalil. In a grocery store parking lot, we saw so many others doing what we were doing — cars filled to the brim with supplies, heading out to offer support.

On the drive, it felt like we were in a caravan with every other car on the road. Honks of support rang out in the air. “Everyone is converging on Marrakech,” Karim told us. “Poor people help poor people. That’s Morocco. You have 1 dirham, you give it. First we must help and act. Then we will talk and heal.”

Said another friend, “Being a Muslim country, giving is such an essential part of people’s religion and culture that is integrated into everyday life.”

This deeply resonated with us as Jews connected to the practice of tzedakah.

Some Moroccans shared a dark joke that’s going around: “This situation shows the government could leave and we could run our country ourselves.”

On the drive, we saw a military hospital set up with some official-looking people walking around and a few soldiers directing traffic. But that was it in terms of official presence. When we arrived in Marigha, we learned that the 1,050 villagers had organized themselves into six groups, each one with their own tent for women to prepare food and feed everyone, as well as areas for everyone to sleep.

Abdljalil’s mother greeted us with hugs and tears. She guided us through the remains of her home, and we could barely make out which room was which amid the rubble.

Also visiting the village was a small group of solidarity activists from Italy, some of Moroccan origin and some not. We were happy to be in the company of kindred spirits. We walked together toward a group of women and children sitting outside a cooking tent. They offered us tea, as if we were on an ordinary Moroccan visit.

We passed out the supplies, played games with kids, heard stories and exchanged phone numbers with a village leader. As we drove away, we felt a familiar pang of anxiety — the fear of abandoning a cause or not doing enough, the guilt and shame of being able to pop in, receive people’s stories and energy, take pictures and then go back to an easy life. We flashed back to similar experiences volunteering after Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Sandy and in Israel/Palestine.

We chose to trust that our “drop in the bucket” was worth it, drawing strength from Pirkei Avot: “You are not obligated to complete the work, but nor are you free to abandon it.” This High Holiday season, we invite you to add your drop to the bucket and not worry about making it perfect.

Morocco is the most hospitable, welcoming culture we’ve ever experienced. We want to keep giving back and would be honored if you joined us. Here is a list of fundraising efforts managed by personal contacts of ours, along with a few registered aid organizations we have looked into. Donate to whichever ones compel you, and feel free to do your own research.

We’ve now left Morocco to continue our travels but are still in touch with our contacts there and will keep looking for ways to help.