Day Thirty-Three: This Is Morocco (pt. 1)

We are currently on our way to Ksar el Kabir after a weeklong stay in Fez followed by a series of two-day stays in Ouezzane, Chefchaouen, and Asilah (including an awesome day trip to Tangier). We are but a few days away from the end of this magical journey – a weekend until the end of suitcase livin’ and the readjustment back to reality. As our trip comes to a close, I’ve had some time to think about my experience(s) here in Morocco. I have to say that overall, this trip receives two enthusiastic De Le-thumbs up! What we have seen and experienced has surpassed my expectations in every which way. However, given the fact that a trip is, in effect, just a trip – something temporary – we, like most people, will only scratch the surface of this country. Though we will have been in Morocco for five weeks, there is much left to be explored and discovered.

Our Fulbright program – like all organized programs – is somewhat of a double-edged sword. On one hand, the Fulbright has afforded me the rare opportunity to see things I never thought I would ever see in my lifetime (and for that I will be eternally grateful!). From the arterial veins of humanity and history that are medinas to the gates of the Sahara, snacking on snails in Marrakech’s Djemaa al-Fna to attending a traditional Moroccan wedding in Rabat (until seven in the morning!), I have had incredible access to the country and caught a very special glimpse into its culture and peoples, an access that would never have been possible had I done this trip by myself and on my own dime.

On the other hand, organized trips sometimes leave some things out. Such is the nature of the beast, I suppose. Adhering to timetables and itineraries, rules and regulations, the engaged traveler must make a special effort to not lose out on “the adventure” – those opportunities to become fully consumed by the culture, take the road less traveled, and engage with the people on a person-to-person basis. Over the past few weeks I have attempted to do just that within the bounds of our program. In my following posts I hope to chronicle some of those memorable experiences.

On our second to last night in Fez, a few of the guys ventured off with our language instructor, Professor Abderrahim E. A small man with a big personality, I always found his presence magnetic. Mustachioed and always sporting dress pants, a short sleeved button up, and sandals, his chain smoking self always reminded me of Scrappy Doo, Scooby’s young nephew (interesting trivia tidbit: Scrappy’s middle name is Cornelius. Seriously.). In class he was the stately professor always pushing us to exaggerate the long vowels and correcting our pronunciation (much to his amusement). Outside of the classroom, Professor Abderrahim was simply “profesor” to me. He picked the four of us up in his old Fiat Uno with his good friend, Mohamed in the front seat. Six fully-grown men (some of us of the pudgy variety, mind you) in a tiny Fiat hatchback?! Adventure was imminent.

We drove over to the Hotel Merenid on a bluff overlooking Fez’s famed medina for a few beers and solid conversation. Sitting out on the open air patio overlooking the medieval city just a few meters below was at once exquisite, surreal, and sobering. Here we were drinking beers in a five-star hotel spending with abandon what many Moroccans earn in about a week. As Morocco’s finest flowed (Flag Especial only – made in Fez from Fassi water, as we were taught), so did the conversation. After a few rounds and some laughs we left for our second stop but not before a quick detour to profesor’s home so that he could change.

Sporting a crisp pair of capris and a t-shirt, profesor looked more Santa Monica Beach bum than fashionable Fassi – quite the funny sight. He suggested a spot where locals patronized so we took a dark and isolated back road into the hills on the outskirts of Fez. After a few minutes of driving through the forest with Mohamed leading us in the singing of Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” we arrived at this resort-ish-type place that only Moroccans went to. As we approached the doors we could hear and feel the music pulsating from within. We took a seat behind the band playing a Berber variety of music and the (belly?) dancers. The dancers danced beautifully transfixing me with the swaying of their hips. We’d seen belly dancers in Marrakech at a fancy shmancy restaurant, but they were of the Hollywood sort: fair skinned, buxom, showing liberal amounts of skin, and made up. The dancers at this joint couldn’t be more different. With varying shades of browns and creams, they were fully covered ankles to neck in what looked like a loose fitting djellaba. Their blemished faces and pretty smiles conveyed a sense of realness, a far cry from the done-up women in Marrakech. While one of them sang in a high, off-pitch shrill (the microphone and old speakers only further augmenting this quality), the other two shook in a way that was beautiful, hypnotic, and incredibly sensual. They appeared to me as inverted bobble head dolls; their upper and lower torsos looking disconnected and their garish, golden belts making it seem as if the two halves were hinged right at the waistline.

We sat and enjoyed the beautiful night, all our senses piqued. Snacking on a mixture of nuts, olives, and chips, we bonded over successive rounds of cigarettes and beers. We shared stories (profesor’s father had him when he was 90!), laughed raucously (every heard the elbow joke?), talked politics and philosophy (the monarchy, socialism in Morocco, and the state of the Western Sahara, past, present, and future), and just… connected. After a jam packed day (three and a half jam packed weeks, for that matter) we were tired, a feeling exacerbated by the fact that we had to be at the bus bright and early by 8:30 am. Though our hosts appeared as though they could (and would want to) go longer, we were simply drained. We paid the bill, crammed into his Fiat, and headed back into the Ville Nouvelle singing traditional Moroccan music all the way home. If ever there was doubt that an amazing time had been had the night before, peep this: Professor Abderrahim arrived to class an hour late the next morning.

Currently listening to: LCD Soundsystem - This is Happening

Western Lense, American Cubicle. Part 2

Next phase: It is important to understand that because of our, for lack of a better word, ‘elitist’ tendencies. Misunderstandings are bound to occur, or are inevitable. As much as we are alike with the people of the world, we also must recognize and tolerate the differences.

During one of our scheduled lectures on Sufism, the professor giving the lecture would communicate in Arabic, then a man would translate in English of course. At one point while the translator was speaking, the professor received a phone call, which interrupted the lecture, and much to our surprise, the professor answered the call and had a quick 30-second conversation (as the translator continued to speak to us, as if nothing had interrupted the lecture) then hung up.

Now this would never occur in the US and probably most other countries I would assume. We in the US have cell phones off in these types of settings (most of the time), and would never imagine such an action to occur at a lecture, especially by the professor. We’ve developed a protocol over the years.

I think I may have been the only one who thought this was hilarious. I’ve seen this plenty of times. A friend of mine did Peace Corps in Ghana, myself, I served in Niger, both countries in West Africa. In both countries, what happened with the professor here at the University in Fes, Morocco, is very common in the 2 countries previously mentioned. It is also very common for professionals and even figureheads to be late at their own scheduled meetings!!!

A part of me appreciates this break from punctuality. I like that things are so relaxed within the culture that we get to enjoy time rather than live for time. Things are so rigid in the US, which I understand, but like I said, I can see and appreciate both sides.

After the lecture some of my fellow Fulbrighters talked about how they felt disrespected that the professor had answered his phone.

NO!!!

This is NOT disrespectful, just a cultural difference. That type of phone protocol has yet to be established in places like Ghana, Niger, and apparently Morocco. If the professor thought he had disrespected someone, he would have apologized. Plus the fact that the translator did not stop and kept going on as if nothing happened, that in itself should be an indicator of the normality of the situation. There are far worse situations of disrespect that deserve attention, and this is not one of them.

Also, I was vindicated a few days later, when THEE University top head was giving his formal thank you and farewell speech, and all of a sudden, his phone rang, and he did not hesitate to answer… it happened again! Hopefully other Fulbrighters saw this and said, “Hey it’s not that big a deal or disrespectful after all.”

Lastly, I hope that are flaws do not hinder our experience or the communication we hope to start up with the rest of you back in the US once we get home. Many of us came to Morocco with very ambitious goals particularly regarding the Arabic language. I really hope none of us go back to the US and come off as experts on Morocco.

The reality is that Morocco is just as complex, complicated, and rich as the rest of the nations of this Earth. There are no black and white answers to many topics, heated and controversial issues are hard to propel to the national level (in terms of bringing them up for debate). Similar to the US right? We have many issues in our country, like the state of education, health care, immigration, etc… that will never be debated and/or resolved. And those are current issues; we have not mentioned the old ones or the history of some of America’s problems.

Well, Morocco is very much the same way…

Imagine taking 13-14 Moroccans, and sending them to the U.S. for 5 weeks (with ZERO English). Now would you expect those Moroccans to know the 300 years of US history? Obviously NO, but at least they were exposed to our country and they learned some things that will hopefully inspire them to maybe research a particular topic that really fascinated them about American culture or politics. Hopefully those Moroccans go back with solid general ideas and a better understanding of that particular region of the world. Guess what people, that is us, right here, right now. Hopefully. we go back to America with a good grasp on Moroccan issues, but by no means are we experts.

Maleikum Salaam.

On Language

Over the past few weeks, one of the most striking aspects of Moroccan culture has been the extent to which people here are multilingual. Arabic, French, Berber dialects, Spanish, and more echoed around us. I knew that there was a long history of interaction with France (and also Spain), but I did not expect to find French still so widely used in Morocco. It was particularly surprising to learn that it is generally the language of higher education.

One day in Fes, we were invited to a middle school in the medina. Our hosts welcomed us with an amazing reception featuring everything from tea and cookies to a camera crew. A group of students and teachers had come to the school during their vacation to meet us and to show us a Moroccan classroom in action.

We all crowded into a math classroom and watched as a lively teacher and his students used a digital projector to work through their material in a combination of Arabic and French. They all flipped fluidly between the two languages, seemingly equally at ease in both. By the time the students reached the university level, most of their classes would be entirely in French (particularly in the sciences).

Afterward, I found myself reflecting on my own language use – both professionally and personally.

At my school, foreign language classes are important but minimally integrated with most of the other subjects. How could I incorporate this aspect of my students’ culture more effectively into my curriculum? Since I don’t speak the language they study, I became determined to consult with my colleagues upon my return to the US. Could I start by adding target-language captions to my SMARTboard presentations? Would that really be a meaningful place to begin? How could truly integrate with the language department?

In terms of personal reflections, it was clear that my own “pretty good for an American from a monolingual household” French was nothing compared to the native-level speech I encountered here. Translating for my colleagues was fun, and I felt inspired to work harder and to continue improving my language skills. I also learned to trust my comprehension more. Each time I thought I couldn’t possibly have understood correctly since a description seemed not to make sense, it turned out I had, in fact, been right. “They’ll carry the bride in on a plate,” for example, was a pretty accurate description of one part of the wedding reception we attended.

As our trip progressed, it was equally clear that speaking French was a huge barrier to my learning Arabic. After all, why muddle through a conversation with my 10 words of Arabic when I could much more easily just flip into a language in which I can communicate clearly? I would definitely need to 1) dramatically increase my vocabulary so that I moved beyond the “playing charades” level of communication, and 2) put myself in a situation where French wasn’t an option. We’ll see how much I am able to continue studying the language when I return home, but I may need to visit a non-francophone Arabic-speaking country in the future.

Western Lense, American Cubicle. Part 1

It is important that everybody who reads this blog knows and understands that everyone who was chosen for this UCLA GPA Fulbright program in Morocco, is absolutely amazing! We have some incredible thinkers, great educators, and positive spirits in this group.

With that said, Salaam Alikum people of good will…

When thinking about this blog and what to write, I wanted to express my thoughts on specific concepts, and those concepts are elitism, perspective and our environment. The reason for these particular concepts is mainly because of what has transpired throughout this entire trip.

Personally I feel elitism is a class issue. You can be an elitist in one of the poorest countries of the world, like for example Malawi, and it probably means you belong to the upper class of that country. By the way, I’ll leave the term ‘elitist/elitism’ undefined and invite you to define it for yourself. I feel that after you have finished reading this blog, my interpretation of it will be clearer.

During one of our lunches together, a conversation broke out about elitism based on a few generalized comments about a particular Moroccan theme. The details of the conversation are not important, but what is important was this concept of elitism. At some point I remember someone stating that ‘elitism’ tends to be an American or Western characteristic (which got me thinking). When this was said, I felt as though it was said in a way that exempted us Fulbrighters from being elitists. Nobody wants to be an elitists right? A group of progressive peeps like ourselves certainly would not enjoy being tagged as elitists.

I think the majority of us fall under the category of progressives, not elitists.
Sometimes even amongst the most progressive people, letting go of those comforts that the western world (or sometimes class privilege) has provided us with is difficult. Adapting to our environment may not come as easy to us all; after all, we are domesticated human beings (part of that privilege Ben and I have referred to in other blogs). Concepts such as elitism and perspective, can become kind of cloudy and difficult discussions when you put strangers into a foreign place, with intense culture shock and a longing for home.

Within our group we’ve had folks who dread touching the menus at restaurants because of how ‘dirty’ they might be. They consistently use hand sanitizers before every meal. Hand Sanitizer; on a microcosm level, this is the perfect product of what elitism can be; a product which is terrible for the environment, kills good bacteria, which help us Humans build immunities against the bad bacteria. If we want to keep our hands clean, I think water and soap would suffice, after all it is what most of the world uses. (Before I go on, I hope you all don’t see this as a judgment call, just think about the previous paragraph and the surrounding themes that were stated).

Complaints about begging children, “How many times do you have to say no to these kids?” My response, ONCE; once you ignore them they go away, beggars in the 3rd world are very common all over the world. There is no need to get frustrated or mad at them, plain and simple, what does anger solve anyway?

Another incident occurred with one of our waiters at one of the hotels we were staying. Maybe it was a bad day for this person, but when the line between respect and disrespect is crossed, that’s when my tolerance is breached. I’ve never been disrespectful to any waiter in the US, let alone would I do it here in a foreign place. There is no need for disrespect.

We have to remember how we are going about this experience. We are staying at very nice hotels, eating hotel food, staying away from street food, riding around with our own bus, and bus driver, who at the end of this trip will have been away from his family for a total of 5 weeks!

I’m glad that we are all on this trip because the people on this trip represent the America that considers him/herself a global citizen and who want to connect with other cultures of the world in order to build those bridges that divide us sometimes.
However it is important we distinguish and open our eyes to some of these ‘elitists’ characteristics or flaws that hold us back from really letting ourselves go…
After all, Moroccans do not use hand sanitizer, we got beggars in the US, and nobody likes to be disrespected.

Artisans

The work of Moroccan artisans fuses Berber traditions with Arab, Jewish, Andalusian, and other European influences. The artisans mix local resources like stone, wood, metal, mineral and clay deposits, and supplies of leather and wool with imports such as marble and silk. Techniques are passed down through special guilds where a master instructs apprentices. Designs combine Arabic calligraphy, abstract geometry, zigzags, triangles, and squares of Berber origin. Artisans include: builders, decorators, tile makers, wood and stucco carvers, metal workers, weavers, and embroiderers. Put all of these artisans' work together and a beautiful environment is created. The Moroccan souks are full of ceramics, jewelry, clothing, and leather products made by these skilled artisans.

Architecture

Buildings conform to a basic square or rectangle with an open court concealed from the outside by high walls. Three major crafts decorate and furnish Moroccan architecture. Woodwork, craved plaster or stucco, and ceramic tile work called "Zellij."Cedar wood from the forests in the surrounding mountains is used for woodworking. "Mashrabiyya" is an open work lattice of small turned pieces of wood joined by patterns. This lattice serves many purposes including: control of airflow, light filtration, and a separator of private and public space. Wood is used for frames, furniture, boxes which are often decorated with inlays of mother-of-pearl, copper and silver wire. Painted wood is very common and accents doors and furniture.

Carved stucco is extremely difficult to create, but the spectacular results can be seen throughout Morocco.

Metalwork

Metalwork is prevalent in architecture and furniture. Doors have knockers, wrought iron decorates windows, and teapots are made of silver and pewter. Beautiful jewelry is also made out of Morocco's metal.

Music/Dance

The music of Morocco tells its stories. Political and social themes are expressed through Moroccan music. Moroccan music is ritualistic, celebratory, and social. It provides a vehicle for disseminating news to generations of rural dwellers who may have never learned how to read or write. Intoxicating rhythms hang in the air and range from Arabic Pop(chaab) to snake-charmers' obe-like "raita," to the call of prayer(muezzin) from the mosques.

The Gnaouan people are descendents of slaves captured by the Arabs in the 17th century and brought across the Sahara for trade to serve the sultans in Morocco. Gnaouan music is made up of call-and-response, blues, and its instruments. Its peristant rhythms of the metal castanets(qraqeb) is hypnotic. Tassels often swirl from the musicians caps and the groove induces a trancelike state. This music isn't solely for entertainment, but is deeply spiritual and has a healing purpose derived from the Sufi traditions of Islam and ancient sub-Saharan African rituals.

The Sahara nomads or "Blue Men's" music hypnotizes by using the drums.

Textiles

Berber women weave blankets, rugs, bags, scarves, and clothes by using natural wool and vegetable dye.

Ceramics

Clay is fired in the kilns in the workshops of Fes. Fes is the center of pottery in Morocco. Polychrome decoration has simple borders and geometric motifs painted in green, blue, and yellow. Berber pottery uses brown and red clay to create unglazed items with simple designs using vegetable based colors.

Clothing

The "jellabah" is a traditional robe with a pointed hood worn by both sexes, young and old. These are made in the souks out of wool or homespun yarn.

Leather

Tanneries transform animal skins into soft leather by using a four step process using ammonia, pigeon poop, washing, and dye. Camel, sheep, and goat are used for shoes, bags, cushions, and book covers. A rainbow of Morocco's traditional "slipper" can be found in every souk. The leather "babouche" is worn by both sexes of all ages. Styles range from pointed to round toed.

I admire the craftsmanship of the Moroccan artisans. I cherish their artistry and love that it is such an integral part of their culture.

The Doors of Morocco

The Moroccan saying goes, "a beautiful house is known by its beautiful door." Most of Morocco's architectural beauty lies behind the beautiful doors of its houses, medersas, and mosques. The doors themselves are what distinguish one establishment from another. They range from simple and practical often painted in blues, greens, reds and whites to intricate and fancy with brass knockers often of the Hand of Fatima, which protects the household from evil. The mosaic archway surrounding the door often makes the door stand out.

Aside from being visually stimulating and showing off the craftsmanship of Morocco's artisans, the doors represent much more. Behind every door in Morocco you find a different surprise. The doors immerse you into Morocco's past and present. They are a mixture of tradition and modern. Morocco is an exotic land filled with rich culture, amazing landscape, hospitality, and memorable experiences. Morocco is truly a "crossroads of culture." My Moroccan experience has been a gift that has enriched my life on a personal level and has broadened my world view. Thank you Morocco, for opening your doors!

Discussion Piece

Interesting...Click on the title of my blog to read the article attached