A Moroccan Christmas Eve

Having turned in the last of my grades yesterday and thus put an end to my busiest semester yet, I slept in this Christmas Eve morning. After a lazy breakfast and some quality Internet time I made my way out to the corner café for a nis-nis, the Moroccan café au lait. After an hour reading the special Christmas issue of The Economist and a bit from Gary Shteyngart's Absurdistan, I took a walk around my neighborhood.

Today is a normal Friday in Morocco. Sometime after noon, schoolchildren headed home for couscous. One by one, the shops closed. The mosques filled up and emptied. The schoolchildren are now joking and tussling outside the school gates. Friday afternoon classes will begin shortly. Some shops will open up again; many won't. But that's because it's Friday, the Islamic sabbath, not because it's Christmas Eve.

No, it's not beginning to feel a lot like Christmas here; it's not even coming close. Other than a few upscale shops and supermarkets (in Morocco supermarkets are upscale), there are no signs of Christmas. Even there, decorations are limited to Christmas trees and a few garlands. The same mix of Arabic and Western music plays in cafés and shops and offices. There are no non-stop Christmas music stations.

I miss our American Christmas season. I didn't think that I would, but I do some. I admit: to compensate, I've been streaming Big R Radio: Christmas Classics on iTunes almost every day. I bought a cheap artificial tree, and I even made some of my students learn the chorus and first verse of "Jingle Bells".

Trying to concisely explain Christmas to my students has been difficult. They're more familiar with the Christmas tree and gift-giving from movies and TV shows. As with other American styles and customs, some Moroccan families have taken to imitating they see in American media. The girl working at the supermarket checkout assured me that she celebrated Christmas too--they have a tree and give gifts.

This will be my first non-commercialized Christmas. The massive cultural consumption, holiday spectacles, and suffocatingly festive atmosphere are stripped away from the holiday. All that remains is a yearning for some of my family's traditions and the Advent liturgy I hear in church each week.

I've tried to imitate what my family does as best as possible in this new environment. I have a tree. I baked a few of my mom's Christmas cookies. Tomorrow morning I'll have the same egg dish with a side of grapefruit we always eat.

And then there is the Advent season. Scholars tell us Jesus wasn't born in December. Christmas trees, stockings, and Santa Claus do not appear in the gospel accounts of Jesus' birth. Theoretically there could be Christianity with absolutely no Christmas.

But it does exist. We have this strange accumulation of customs and stories (what do a fantasy prince who cracks nuts in his extra time or a marginalized reindeer with a bright red nose really have to do with the Incarnation anyway?) They're part of being an American Christian. I grew up with them. As strange as they are and as much as I struggle to explain and justify them all to inquiring Moroccans, they are mine.

And this year I have been even more conscious that something else that is mine is this Advent season--the time Christians have chosen to reflect in anticipation on the event of God becoming man to save us all from Satan's snare when we were gone astray. It didn't have to be that way, but it is. And I am a part of it. I maybe can't justify all the consumerism of the Christmas season, but the act of giving gifts to loved ones mirrors what the Wise men did with Jesus. And if done in the right way, it fulfills what the apostle John said about the Incarnation's effect on us, "We love because He first loved us."

So, later this afternoon I will head out to try to live out that ideal while sharing my culture and tradition some: I will take some Christmas cookies to my Moroccan neighbors and friends. And after that I will go to church for the culmination of this season of Advent anticipation.

Scenes From Morocco: Trimming The Tree

Artificial Christmas trees and Christmas decorations are now available for Westerners in most supermarkets. Moroccans also buy them in consumerist imitation of what they have seen on TV.

The Miracle Of Mutton

It's amazing what excess mutton will do for relationships.

The past week people have come out of the woodwork to bring me leftover meat from Eid al-Kabir.

First my Arabic tutor brought me a large salad and a huge tajine of mutton kefta (essentially: ground mutton patties). Then, two days later, another friend I hadn't seen in months appeared at my doorstep with a similar meal. Fortunately I didn't have other plans. We sat down together (but not at my table--I've learned that Moroccans feel uncomfortable eating Western-style). Then yesterday right around lunchtime the concierge knocked at my door with a plate of ribs.

Yesterday, I got to see how mutton plays into relationships of authority. I ran into a student who hasn't bothered to come to class all semester (it's the seventh week now). He assured me he has been very busy but he intends to start coming and then catch up on everything he missed. On parting he offered to bring some mutton to class this week (he swears he's coming this week).

I don't mind mutton. And such gifts of food are excellent for my food budget. I really can't complain.

Eid Al-Kabir 2010

Some readers have asked if I will be commenting on the holiday or posting photos. Unfortunately, this year I did not celebrate Eid Al-Kabir other than a post-holiday meal of mutton that my Arabic tutor brought over.

However, feel free to read about my great experience last year watching the sheep slaughter, eating boulfef, and visiting my host's extended family.

Morocco's Development Miracle

Economist Dani Rodrik highlights some findings from the Human Development Report:

Which are the countries that have improved their human development indicators the most since 1970 relative to their peers? You’d be surprised, as I was, to find that the top 10 is dominated not by East Asian superstars, but by Moslem countries: Oman, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria. This year’s Human Development Report is full of neat analysis and results, including this one.

Leaving aside the oil exporting countries, the North African cases are particularly interesting. As Francisco Rodriguez and Emma Samman, two of the report’s authors, note, Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria have experienced remarkable gains in life expectancy and educational attainment, leaving many Asian superstars in the dust. Only Tunisia among the three is a high growth country, underlining one of the report’s main findings that economic growth and human development often diverge significantly, even over as long a time frame as 40 years.

Everyone I've talked to who was cognizant of the 1990's or earlier (i.e., not my students) mentions just how much things have changed.

As I observe my students and think about how they'll parent, I can't help but conclude that these changes will continue for the foreseeable future. It's a fascinating time to be here.

Holiday Fever

When I was younger, the week before Christmas vacation was filled with excited anticipation of presents, freedom, food and family visits. I can't imagine that a classroom of 30 students just like me was very fun to manage back then.

It's strange to be on the other side now. The last week it has been insanely difficult to get my students to focus. The Eid holiday will begin in the middle of this week. Schools take the entire week off. There will be many visits to extended family. And a lot of food will be eaten (mostly mutton).

Before the holiday many schools gave exams. So my students didn't have time to do the homework I assigned them. The relation between this weariness and the general aura of anticipation matched their attitude in my class perfectly as they oscillated between cranky resistance and enthusiastic distraction.

Unlike the other schools, we are still open two more days this week.

I have already given up on trying to teach something. Classes will be smaller; attention spans will be shorter. So I think I will just lead a discussion on their holiday plans.

And I will feel sorry for all the teachers in times past that had to put up with me before a holiday.

Scenes From Morocco: Playing Soccer

A group of Moroccan boys take a break from their soccer game for a group photo. The rock to the right marks one of their goalposts.

Seen Anew

Today after my Arabic lesson, I introduced my Arabic tutor to Craigslist.

He's a quiet guy and so usually doesn't ask too many questions. Actually, I'm the one posing all the questions as we discuss grammar, definitions, slang...

But today the floodgate broke. Very pointed, detailed questions made me realize he's been spending a lot of time thinking through everything. Which is natural; his departure is rapidly approaching. He could go today if he wanted, but he wanted to spend the Eid al-Kabir holidays in Morocco with his family. And then he decided to wait out the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's travel season. So sometime in mid-January he'll be headed to Orlando to start a new life.

We started talking about opening a bank account, then moved on to cell phones, and later buying computers. At that point I showed him Craigslist, which led to a discussion about finding apartments, finding jobs, and maybe even finding other Arabic students.

My tutor has a BA in English from the local university, but is currently unemployed (with the notable exception of my Arabic lessons). That education combined with the fact that he listens to BBC radio in English daily. When we discuss politics or culture, I almost never have to provide background explanations or vocabulary. And so I've come to think of him as a fellow partaker in my culture and language.

But he's not. He's never even left Morocco. And now he's headed off into the great unknown in a way that I personally have never had to do. He doesn't know if he will be able to continue his education as he'd like. He doesn't know how many jobs he'll have to work. He doesn't know if he'll even be able to find a job in the current economy. He doesn't know what it will be like adjusting to the new culture. He doesn't know a lot of things.

And with all my knowledge I can only answer so many of his questions. I joked with him, "Sorry I can't help you more. I have more experience looking for jobs in Morocco than in the US."

On the whole I'm optimistic. He's unmarried, speaks fluent English, is hard-working, and as a practicing Muslim doesn't have any vices that will eat up his income. He should do well.

Scenes From Morocco: Dar Oum Sultane

Located on the outskirts of Meknes, Dar Oum Sultane ("The House of the Sultan's Mother") was a vacation home for the royal family a few centuries ago. Since then, it has fallen into disrepair.

Scenes From Morocco: Dusk in Mohammedia

More Expulsions

From MoroccoBoard.com:

According to a news release from International Christian Concern (ICC), on Sept.17, the Moroccan newspaper Al Massae reported that Harder and Sanhi Russell were expelled from the country for “carrying out acts of proselytism” in the city of Kenitra.

ICC reported the article said that Harder, a Canadian citizen, was teaching Arabic at a local school, while Sanhi, of Korean descent, worked with women by teaching “literacy through the teaching of the Bible.” The article reported that the couple was supported by churches in the United States and France.

Some Christians doing humanitarian work were also investigated:

The next day, a Moroccan pastor informed ICC that he had been investigated by the Moroccan secret police for delivering school supplies to the village of Benguerir. The pastor distributed the supplies with the help of 15 foreigners working for a U.S. based organization.

ICC said during the distribution, two members of the secret police arrived to investigate. The pastor and the school director were questioned for more than an hour about the reasons for the Americans’ visit, and the content of the supplies.

The police said the investigation was a precaution to ensure that the group was not proselytizing.

Note From An Anonymous Moroccan Woman

The English center where I teach caters mainly to the upper middle and upper classes in Meknes. To try to balance out my work there, I volunteer at the Franciscan mission in Meknes's old medina, which gives language and computer skills classes. Year long courses there cost 50 Dh (~ $7) as opposed to the ten-week courses at my official job which cost around 1000 Dh (~ $130).

Last week I gave my first writing assignment, and I'm only now getting around to correcting it.

One paragraph in particular stood out. The woman who wrote it is in her late thirties or early forties, making her the oldest in a class of students in their teens and twenties. In class exercises she has spoken about her love for her children and her job cleaning houses. She is one of the most eager to answer questions and try out new grammar and vocabulary. Other than that I know nothing about her.

This is her paragraph verbatim:

A great thing in liFe is to find the kind of occupation that suits us it may even be said that this is on of the chief conditions For keeping perFect heath.
For my the best thing that I have in life is make cheldren and the worst is the Didn't study more in scool or in liFe.
this is the Fist stap let me begin studies.

Scenes From Morocco: Mohammedia Window View

A view of the Atlantic Ocean from a house in Mohammedia.

The Travails of CNSS Ctd.

This morning I visited the offices of the CNSS. After waiting 20 minutes I received my social security card. My favorite employee was curt as always.

Now I must return next week to resubmit my request for an attestation.

Scenes From Morocco: Sdader

I recently bought these "sdader" (singular: "sdari"). These traditional Moroccan couches still vastly outnumber Western style couches here. The Moroccan home is the site of many important social events, from weddings to memorial services, and so enough sdader to seat dozens of people line the walls of many families' homes.

The Travails of CNSS, Ctd.

Today I returned to the CNSS office to obtain my Moroccan Social Security card. After waiting 10 or 15 minutes, I entered the room with the two men I had the pleasure of meeting last time.

I sat down in the chair at the desk of the man who told me to return on Monday. I said, "Salaamu Alaykum."

He continued working. A few seconds he turned to me. "Oui," he said as if he was surprised anyone would possibly want to talk with him.

I attempted to hide my strongly-held belief that no normal human being would want to talk with him if he didn't have this job, "You told me my card would be ready on Monday." I handed my carte de sejour (residency card) to him.

He looked at it for a second and then, without looking in any files or searching through any papers or checking my name against anything at all, he replied,"No, it's not ready yet. From now three days."

I will return on Thursday, Insha'allah, to see if it is ready then.

The Travails of CNSS

As is often the case, Morocco sees cause to regulate those who work within its borders. It has a wonderful little organization called the "Caisse Nationale de sécurité sociale" (CNSS) or "National Social Security Fund". Like all those who work here officially, I am required to register, and my paycheck is deducted every month for the benefit of the retired.

Today I had the pleasure of visiting the Meknes CNSS office, located just across the street from the Al-amir Train Station (colloquailly known as "gare sghrir" or "small train station"). My objectives: get a new CNSS card and get an attestation that I have been paying my CNSS dues in order to renew my work visa.

At first things went splendid. The woman in the back office listed all the documents I would need. I returned home, got them, and revisited the labyrinthine offices of the CNSS. The woman was content. She paper-clipped everything together and took it into a second office to gave it to a man who, she assured me, would take care of it. As I walked with her toward the same office (conveniently the same place I needed to visit for my attestation), I thanked her, "Blessings of God be upon you. God preserve you."

After a wait timed to provide me an adequate opportunity to contemplate the meaning of my existence, I was beckoned into the second office. The man behind the next began speaking to me in English. For the next five minutes he regaled me with tales of his English studies at the University a few decades earlier. They had read "Absalom, Absalom". Who was the author? Ah yes, Faulkner. Thank you. You lose the language so quickly when you don't practice it...

"You speak English well, though," I flattered him. When we eventually got around to the business of my attestation he asked for a copy of my ID card. I explained that I had given it to the woman who had given it to the man right over there. I pointed to the man at the next desk over.

"I'll need to see that for a second."

I walked over to the other desk and politely asked for the paper. "He would like to see it." I said pointing back at the other desk.

"Insha'allah," he replied.

He said nothing else. And while I was up another man had filled my much coveted spot across from the other desk. So I waited standing. After a minute, the gruff man with my needed paper told me to leave the office. I got the attention of the man who just minutes before had been personably sharing tales of his studies in English. When I explained the situation, he turned to the other man. I breathed a sigh of relief. The two of them will communicate and sort this out, I thought.

Of course, that's not how things work in Morocco, where power trips, petite obstructionism, and plain old lying rule the roost. My erstwhile friend suddenly backed the line of his curt co-worker. He had been assured the paper could not leave the desk for even a second despite being unused. I needed to leave the office now and come back on Monday.

"But you just needed to look at that piece of paper, right?"

"He can't give it to me until he finishes. That will be on Monday Insha'allah."

Gritting my teeth, I said, "Blessings of God be upon you. May God preserve you." And I left the office.

A New Apartment

After a post-Ramadan holiday, I am settling into a new apartment. I now have a fridge, a stove, and a water heater. And after an awkward first week of eating, I can now dine comfortably off of a plate resting on a table while sitting in a chair. Plates, tables, chairs...the small joys of life!

I'm still missing couches and a television, and the walls are rather bare. There is no washing machine, and it may stay that way. But slowly by slowly it is becoming my home.

This is the first time that I have had my own place. Adjusting to the solitude and responsibility has given me cause for reflection. When a mess builds up in the kitchen or some part of the house begins to stink, I have no one to blame but myself. When I can't find something, it's not because someone else borrowed it or didn't put it back where it belongs. The toothpaste in the sink is mine and the coffee grinds on the floor came from my carelessness.

I begin to establish routines. Every morning after eggs, baguette, and fruit with coffee, I wash the dishes and wipe down the stove and counters. Afterwards, as I sit down at the computer there is a certain satisfaction. I am ready for the day and my kitchen is too.

And in the evening after cooking dinner, I repeat the process, washing up again (if the water is still running). I go to bed with a full stomach in a clean house.

Having efficient appliances is very much an American preoccupation. For instance, I have only ever had a dishwasher in the United States. Each time I have lived abroad I have washed the dishes by hand. It takes more time. It is less efficient. And I am told it is less sanitary. But the routine that it creates gives me a connection with my apartment, with the food, and with the people who share that time with me. Most of the time that trade-off is worth it for me.

In fact, I consider it one of the great things about living abroad. The slower pace allows me to create peaceful, regular routines to order my life. It is not just a mad rush through the day, with the iron rule of efficiency commanding my every action. Life is so much more than completing each day as quickly and efficiently as possible. And here in Morocco I have the leisure to indulge in the in-between.

Scenes From Morocco: Dumpster Diving

A homeless man sorts through trash in an upper class neighborhood

Seen From Above: A Return From Vacation

Seen from thousands of feet above, France, Spain, and Morocco don't look all that different. There are greener patches and more mountainous stretches, particularly in France. And especially south of Madrid and in large parts of Morocco there are barren flatlands. But all have farmland, houses, roads, cities, villages...and so one can't help but wonder at the great variety in human culture from one country to another and one region to another.It's also strange to to ponder the sort of pull Europe exerts. So many desire to live and work and breath on the land north of the Mediterranean.

As I was taking the train from Muhammed V Airport to Casa Voyageurs a well-built young man from Côte d'Ivoire began to talk with me. He thought I was French, so I clarified that I wasn't, going on to tell him, though, what a great vacation I had had there. Just a few minutes later he explained how he wanted to get to Europe, to play soccer professionally, any way possible. He said he hoped some of his contacts in Morocco might know someone who could help him out.

Then today I was sitting in a cafe reading the newspaper when a Moroccan friend a little younger than me sat down next to me. He asked where I had been, why I had absented myself. So once again I launched into an explanation of my great vacation. He replied, "I want to go to France." But, of course, he doesn't mean that he wants to bop into the Louvre to see the "Routes de l'Arabie" special exhibition or visit The Institute of the Arab World library, or go down to the Seine and spend time drinking with friends. He wants to get out of Morocco. He wants to find a real job. He wants another life.

Scenes From Morocco: The Camera Cinema

The Camera Cinema is one of the oldest movie theaters in Meknes.

Scenes From Morocco: Night Shopping

A Haircut And A Good Terry Jones Conversation

He begins by buzzing the left side of my head. Before he can move to the back or right side, the man in the chair next to me comments on my Arabic, "You speak well the Arabic."

I try to downplay it as usual, "Yes, the basic things. But I don't understand everything."
"Little by little," comes the reply.
"Where are you from?"
"I'm American."
"Good."
"Did you fast during Ramadan?"
"A little. When people invited me to iftar I fasted before."

For a few seconds silence reigns. But the man next to me cannot resist.
"Do you know about the qas in Florida?"
"The story (qissa)?" I ask.
"No," he clarifies in French. "Le pere, the father."
"Oh yes. I know. But you know he decided not to burn the Koran."
"It does not matter if he burns it. You cannot destroy the Koran. It is written on the hearts of Muslims throughout the world."

Practically every conversation I have with a Moroccan these days ends up mentioning Terry Jones and Koran-burning. It reminds me a bit of my time in Latin America and in Europe in the years following the Iraq invasion. Once they found out I was an American, locals felt compelled to stop what they were doing and tell me just how evil of a man my president was.

But at least George W. Bush was President of the United States. Terry Jones has a few dozen people in his congregation in Florida.

Scenes From Morocco: Rooftop View

Looking northward from a Meknes rooftop.

Ramadan Ends

These days, the coffee shops close between 9 PM and 10 PM these days. They open in the morning rather than after sunset. The streets are remarkably quiet in the late evening. Step inside, the papered-over alcohol shelfs are now clearly visible. The population of prostitutes seems to have increased a few fold in the past few nights. There are fewer fights in the streets.

Ramadan is over.

Other than severely limiting my daytime consumption outside the house, Ramadan only really affected my life via teaching. Our intensive Ramadan term ended on Thursday last week, right before Eid al-Fitr. I'm proud to report my Advanced 1 students did quite well on the exam. Afterwards, in order to help them continue improving their English, I wrote up personalized evaluations for all those who have managed to find me online (a majority of the class in this case). Their responses gave me some warm fuzzies, but they also left me scratching my head a bit.

Thank you very much
You are a great teacher too
and a little bit crazy but it's fine
my writing was good thanks to you and your advice
and if you had any question about Darija, Arabic, or Moroccan culture you can ask me, I'll be glad to answer you ;D

I'm a great teacher, but I'm insane. That's a good combination, right? Well, he's obviously fine with it.

And another:

I will always be thankful to you .
For all the hard work and efforts you did . You are the bestest Teacher in the Alc .

I appreciate the thought, but the linguist in me can't help but notice that she calqued over "faire des efforts" ("exert oneself"/"try hard"/"put in a good effort") from French straight into English. And knowing the student, I'm pretty sure that 'bestest' is not a purposeful cutesy grammatical exaggeration. I'm left wondering if we should have reviewed superlatives this term.

Scenes From Morocco: Ramadan Rue de Paris

Rue de Paris is perhaps the best known pedestrian area in Meknes. At night during Ramadan its outdoor cafes are particularly popular.

Moroccan Teenagers On The Amish

For whatever reason the Amish occupy a special place in English textbooks. Perhaps it is because they give an example of an almost other-worldly culture that raises all sorts of interesting questions. Maybe they just serve as a nice counterpoint to any unit on technology and progress. But in any case, every time I turn around, it seems I am explaining the Amish way of life to my Moroccan students.

This time around I asked my teenage students, "Do you think you could live like the Amish?"

"No, teacher. I would kill myself."

I smiled at the hyperbole and proceeded to inquire with the rest of my students. One after another they gave similar answers. Not a single one would be interested in the natural peace of the Pennsylvania Dutch. While not all of my students agreed with the first response, a majority of them did concede the preferability of suicide to the Amish way of life.

There's a certain Moroccan sociability that overwhelms many Westerners. Moroccans' literally non-stop socialization doesn't allow Westerners their needed personal space and time. What we're witnessing right now is a shift of that cultural emphasis into digital technology, as Facebook, MSN, and Skype become practically indispensable for the new generation. While my students' parents likely would have related in part to the Amish way of life, coming generations will continue to find it depressingly inconceivable.

Time Lapse Sunset Over Meknes

This is an experiment. I haven't done anything like this before. The footage I have is in HD, but because of online constraints the quality has been significantly reduced. Let me know what you think.

September 11th, Community Centers, and Koran Burning

"Teacher, al-Qaeda didn't attack the World Trade Center."

"Well, who do you think attacked the World Trade Center on September 11th, then?"

"I don't know. But it wasn't al-Qaeda," came the reply from the smartest student in my Advanced 1 class.

We had started to discuss the proposed mosque/community center a couple of blocks from Ground Zero and the huge controversy it has generated. Only one student had actually heard of it. None of them seemed to care. I took a stab at a one minute survey of American religious history and the 1st Amendment to give some context.

I tried to explain that many Americans conflate Islam with Islamists, that they don't distinguish between al-Qaeda and the much more numerous peaceful Muslims who repudiate al-Qaeda's tactics. But as I got to the part where Americans associate al-Qaeda's actions on September 11th with all Muslims, we reached a snag. Americans are wrong to associate September 11th with Islam not because al-Qaeda is unrepresentative, but because no one even remotely associated with Islam committed the heinous crime.

In contrast with their lack of interest with the "Ground Zero" mosque controversy, they were all well-versed in the plans of Florida pastor Terry Jones to burn Korans next week. All of them had seen the video I posted last week, and all of them were incensed about it.

So I tried to draw the two issues together. Did they realize that not all Americans and not all Christians wanted to burn Korans? After some thought, they could agree to this. After all, the CNN journalist interviewing Terry Jones was American, and he seemed to oppose the idea. I pointed out that Americans need to make distinctions among Muslims as well. The vast majority of people claiming to be Muslims have nothing to do with the attacks of September 11th.

I looked back at the student to see his reaction. "Do you agree, Oussama?"

He paused a moment. I don't know what he was thinking but I assume that in that pause he had decided it wasn't worth arguing with an American who presumably always believes the government's official story.

He grinned, perhaps a little mischievously, and said, "Yes, teacher."

Scenes From Morocco: Stocking Up On Water

In response to Meknes' water problems, hanoots (corner stores) are brimming with bottled water.

The Pizza Delivery Man, Part 2

The next day Hafid called to invite me to dinner at a Northern Virginia Arab cafe.

We met at a Starbucks near my parents' house, and then he drove us to a local cafe. I attempted to speak in Arabic, but he continuously brought the conversation back to English again and again, which was understandable. He spoke better English than I spoke Arabic.

He drove with confidence through the intricate patchwork of roads through Northern Virginia's suburban sprawl, so I asked how he knew the area so well. "I work as a courier. All over Maryland, DC, and Northern Virginia. Seven years now. So I know the area very well."

After parking, we entered the cafe. Hafid remarked, "Not like a Starbucks, right?"

It was not. It could have been a cafe in Morocco except that there was a huge parking lot surrounding the building and everyone had come in car. Inside almost everyone was smoking shisha. In the corner a small, older television was running Al-jazeera Sports. Most everyone was drinking mint tea.

As we sipped our tea, he asked about my experience in Morocco and then he spoke about his life in the United States. Hafid works two jobs: he delivers documents and pizzas. He only has Monday evenings off. All other days, he goes straight from his full-job as a courier to work at Papa John's.

A few years ago, through a contact of his uncle, he met a Moroccan woman living in Florida who happened to be from his hometown of Taza. They married soon after and she works similarly long hours. But they're happy with the situation. They will continue working hard and save up for a few more years before starting a family.

I asked him how he liked Northern Virginia, expressing a bit of my own disdain for the suburban sprawl and the necessity to drive everywhere. He disagreed. "It's not dangerous like the black neighborhoods in northeastern DC. Crime is low. And there are people from all over the world here. So everyone is a little bit like you. You can find Indian restaurants, Thai, Vietnamese, Lebanese, Egyptian, Moroccan..."

As the conversation drifted towards my experience, we talked about Islam. I told him about the Moroccans who had been very pushy in their conversations with me. He indicated his distaste for what I was describing. We both agreed that any real conversation has to be based on actual knowledge of the other side, and that knowledge is often impeded by government, society, and religion. I turned the conversation back to him, "How is it being a Muslim here in the United States?"

"Honestly, I don't talk about it very much. I couldn't have the conversation we're having with most people here. So I just stay quiet."

Later I asked him what had been key for him to adjust to life in the U.S.
"Learning English was very important. A lot of immigrants never really learn English...like most Hispanics. It took a few years, but now I can speak it pretty well."

At one point I asked Hafid, "So, do you believe in the American Dream?"

"What's that?" he replied.

I tried to define it, "Well, it means different things to different people, but historically it means that if you work hard and follow the rules then, no matter who you are or what you believe or where you came from, you can succeed in America."

Without even a pause for reflection he answered, "Oh, of course that's true."

The Glass Half-Full With Sediment

Bending down until level with the counter, I compare the two glasses of water. It is not difficult to determine which contains tap water and which bottled water. A thin layer of brown sediment coats the bottom of one. A hazy mist of other particles, not yet content to join their brethren, continue moving Brownian-style throughout the glass. I am reminded of one of my co-workers: she was treated for kidney stones earlier this summer and now drinks exclusively bottled water. Based on the growing stockpiles of bottled water in the corner stores, I assume she is not alone.

The problem is more than just the sediment. Every day since I returned to Morocco last week the water runs only a few hours a day. In the morning around 9 AM, I hear the telltale splash of our hot water heater beginning to refill. By noon the water is off. To shower or wash dishes or wash my hands, I must use 5-liter bottles I have filled. In the evening the water returns for a few more hours, usually off again by the time the canon goes off to announce the evening prayer. A practicing Muslim in Meknes has no running water during the only hours he or she is actually allowed to drink water.

This is not a Morocco-wide phenomenon. To the best of my knowledge, Meknes is alone among Moroccan cities facing this problem. Nor is it a new phenomenon, a 30-year old Moroccan friend tells me. When he was growing up there were no public water cut-offs in Meknes. This is just another case of bureaucratic mismanagement, he says. The cut-offs appear to be related to rain. The infrastructure has not been kept up, and so the system cannot handle an influx of water after the rains. During the three months of winter rains, the water was consistently off. But this is the summer, and it has been over a week since the last rains.

Scenes From Morocco: No Morning Coffee in Ramadan

This cafe usually has two or three rows of tables and chairs the length of its property. During Ramadan no food or drink may be consumed until after sunset.

Burning Korans = Not A Good Idea

One of my readers recently asked me how Moroccans were reacting to the controversy over the proposed mosque/Islamic cultural center near Ground Zero. Honestly, no one has mentioned it since I've been back in Morocco, and I haven't brought the subject up. But I have been following the ruckus online and have been disappointed with the way the debate (shouting match?) has developed.

Since my audience is generally Western, let me start with something unfamiliar: a video making the rounds in the Francophone Muslim world that a number of my Moroccan Facebook friends have posted on Facebook.



The video begins with footage of Muslims dressed in Western style, cheering Western sports, and playing Western-inspired game shows like "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" while these words appear (in French):

While we sing, dance, eat, and imitate their civilization...

...look what's happening in their civilization.

It then flashes to a CNN interview with Pastor Terry Jones, whose church has decided to burn Korans in commemoration of 9/11 and protest against Islam. As the Facebook posts testify, this is far from helpful to relations between Islam and the West. The American interviewer is obviously hostile to such a stupid idea, and Pastor Jones cannot respond satisfactorily to his line of questioning. More text appears:

While a Muslim scholar does his duty...

The video then cuts to footage of Khalid Arrachid, an Islamic scholar who was apparently jailed for "defending the prophet in the Muhammed cartoon controversy". I can't find anything online to confirm he was jailed, but in this video he describes the Danish cartoons of Muhammed and then cites a Koranic passage about being "severe with the disbelievers" to demand violence against those who mock the prophet. He decries the shame and disgrace Muslims suffer, calls Muslims to show their manhood and defend the prophet, mocks the "effeminacy" of Europeans and their "freedom of expression", and laments the lack of visible leadership of Muslim nations.

After lamenting the imprisonment of this Islamic scholars for "doing his duty", the above video ends with seemingly threatening footage of a man with a gun trained on someone off screen. The last words to appear are:

Islam is a religion of peace but not of humiliation.

It's no viral sensation, but the video does have over 11,000 views now.

A Facebook group entitled "tous contre l'acte de bruler le coran le 11 septembre 2010" ("Everyone Against Burning the Koran on September 11, 2010") was started in opposition to this proposed Koran burning. Currently it has 13, 799 members. The comments on the group's page range from exhortations to defend Islam's honor a la Khalid Arrachid to quotes of Koranic ayas (verses) to prophecies that Pastor Jones and company will burn in hell to pleas for non-violence because violence would only confirm American stereotypes about Islam. It's a mixed bag, but at least some of it is quite troubling.

I draw a few observations from this Facebook activity:

1) Moroccan Teenagers Have a Liberalized, Western Outlook
Moroccan teenagers' desire to defend their religious tradition is only one of their many interests and concerns, and a good number of them actually conflict with the message of the video. The majority of items they post on their Facebook walls represent the Westernizing tendency the video decries: Western sports stars and celebrities, American music videos, and quizzes about love and sexiness. They may strongly and defensively identify as Muslim, but the way their interests and concerns are unconstrained ideologically or legally is not that different from the situation of Westerner teenagers. As time goes on, these tendencies will only strengthen. The Arab world is westernizing faster than many realize.

2) Islam Currently Has Illiberal, Violent Tendencies
The maker of the YouTube video obviously does realize how quickly this westernization is happening, and he is opposed to it. Khalid Arrachid is not alone when he opines on the victimized state of Muslims, the effeminate nature of Western culture, the manly necessity of defending Islam and its prophet, and the possible violence such a defense will require. Now his cries may fall on deaf ears among middle and upper class Moroccan youth because they are financially and politically secure, but they still are deeply angered by insults to Islam and to Mohammed. Moreover, immigrants in Europe (and to a lesser extent the United States), citizens of less developed Muslim countries, and lower class Moroccan citizens often do not share that security, and so their anger is more likely to express itself violently.

3) There Are Legitimate Questions About Islam In Pluralist Societies
These phenomena raise serious questions about how such an Islam can fit into pluralist, secular societies. Those on the right tend to ignore the nuances of these questions as they raise voices and money in crude and xenophobic populism. They gloss over cherished American values like religious freedom, freedom of association, and property rights. But those on the left similarly ignore the illiberal, violent tendencies of Islam as they work themselves into an indignantly righteous rage against the other side's crude, xenophobic populism. They fail to understand how religion works, the historical development of Western political-religious involvement, and, in their intense emotional obsession with this moment in time, the broader sweep of the complicated process of assimilation into the American mainstream.

If Catholics in America are any indication, the prognosis for a future assimilation of Muslims into an American consensus is good. Pre-Vatican II and pre-JFK, there were some very serious questions about whether Catholics, with their illiberal tendencies, could function well in a pluralist democracy. But after theological recognition of pluralist democracy and after a charismatic leader who made necessary concessions to an already existent American consensus on religion and politics, Catholics gradually became a surprisingly normal and uncontroversial part of our nation's political and religious mosaic.

Protesting an Islamic cultural center directed by a Muslim leader who goes on speaking tours for the U.S. government and burning Korans are most definitely not intelligent, serious ways to engage these questions, but even if the overly mediatized, populist right cannot address them as they should, they remain important questions. And until they are resolved as they were with Catholicism half a century ago, they will continue to inspire inarticulate and emotional resistance to Muslims.

4) There Is A Denial About The Islamic Inspiration For Terrorism
Partially as a reaction to the hateful and xenophobic reaction against Muslims as a whole, both secular Westerners and Muslims comfortable in liberal, secular society tend to ignore that attacks such as 9/11 are in fact inspired by a certain interpretation of Islam. Instead, there is a tendency among the secular elite to attribute terrorism's motivation solely to economic and political considerations.

While European colonialism of the Arab world (including Zionism), cozy relationships between the United States and Arab governments, and continuing difficult economic circumstances play important roles in Islamic terrorism, the religious motivation cannot just be swept aside. This form of terrorism is inspired, justified and praised by Muslims with a certain historical and religious hermeneutic...a hermeneutic that will not just go away with a wave of the magic wand of secular liberalism.

Of course, neither can Islam be treated as a monolithic entity, as too many conservative commentators tend to do. Only a small minority of Muslims share Al-Qaeda's ideology, although a good many may sympathize at least in part. But that doesn't detach Al-Qaeda's hermeneutic and actions from the Islamic tradition. "Islam is a religion of peace but not of humiliation", a mantra shared by most Muslims, necessarily implies violence and resistance towards liberal, pluralist Western governments at some point in time.

Since the Enlightenment, for better or for worse, religion in the Western world has been viewed more or less as an internalized set of personal convictions and beliefs. This necessarily conflicts with a religion like Islam that is less focused around orthodoxy (correct belief) than around orthopraxis (correct action). European Islamic scholar Tariq Ramadan has proposed an interesting solution to the conflict. Time will tell if his or some other synthesis will prevail in the Muslim community. In the meantime, non-Muslim Westerners are unlikely to have any positive influence in those debates, but, at the very least, we can recognize that they are happening.

Scenes From Morocco: For Sale In The Medina

Persecution and Freedom: My Position On The Expulsions

These past few months, I've posted a great deal on the waves of expulsions of foreign Christians from Morocco. So I thought I had articulated my own view pretty well. But a conversation I had while back in the United States made me realize that perhaps I hadn't.

Morocco is it's own country and can make it's own laws. We shouldn't expect them to be a Western country because they're not. And Americans who come here should be prepared to face the consequences for breaking those laws. If they proselytize, then they must be prepared to be fined, imprisoned, or expelled.

What's more, I think the evangelical Christian missionaries who were here were aware of that tradeoff. They believed that any eternal award would trump whatever punishment in this life they might receive. So they thought it was worth it, and they willingly paid the price.

In my coverage here, I commented very little on those run-of-the-mill evangelical missionaries. I focused instead on the Village of Hope, on the expelled Arab Catholic priest, and on anti-Christian vandalism.

The Village of Hope had existed openly and legally for over a decade without any problems. Closing them down and closing them down so suddenly had a humanitarian cost. Children who had been with loving foster parents for a decade were stripped from their erstwhile parents forever without even a semblance of due process.

The Catholic priest was also taken, held, and expelled under suspicious circumstances despite Catholics' longstanding and explicit foreswearing of proselytization. The Vatican, unlike any evangelical church, is technically also its own state, and so it has to deal with diplomatic damage if its representatives get in trouble with another state. As a result, they must tread very carefully, knowing that missteps can result in Christians being persecuted or killed in the Muslim world. The fact that the only Catholic priest expelled was of Egyptian descent was also suspect because his existence challenges a commonly shared view of Arab as Muslim. In both cases, lies and misleading statements were given by Moroccan authorities, and the accused had no opportunity to challenge the rulings. A clear explanation and justification of the actions was NEVER given. More bothersome to me, there was little to no investigative coverage of the events by the Moroccan or foreign press, with certain notable exceptions. Injustices will happen; the public should at least have a chance to know about them.

So I focused on these issues because I found them most unfair and underreported GIVEN current Moroccan law and practice.

Morocco is free to determine its own laws and enforce them as it sees fit. But I think we can demand a consistent, honest enforcement of those laws. And that's what I was trying to do.


That being said, I think there is more we can say about traditionally Muslim countries entering a globalized modernity.

On a philosophical note, humans fare very poorly when given freedom. We tend to make poor choices unless we have a strong moral core (for a literary exploration of this topic, see Jonathan Franzen's new novel "Freedom" or just read this week's Time's article on Franzen). As a result, many Moroccans have no problem with censorship and restricted rights that would bother Westerners. They say, "Does more freedom make us better people or a better society?" I'm not sure the answer is clear-cut.

I'm a Westerner, but I'm also a Christian. So I understand what they're getting at. I appreciate our freedoms, but at the same time, I realize that we can't agree on any real set of shared values anymore. That polarizes our political debates and forces us to default to freedom as our utmost value--we don't agree but we're free to disagree and do what we want. In more traditional cultures, there was a more agreed upon view of what human flourishing was and a view of what the state's role was in punishing divergence from that norm. In Morocco, following Islam is part of that norm and divergence from it is not protected. I may not agree with Islam, but I understand the principle. And I also understand the consequences. Despite all its changes, Morocco is still a more homogeneous society than pretty much any Western country. There is a common set of beliefs, allusions, references and norms that everyone knows and follows (or that everyone knows they should follow). And there's value in that sort of homogenization, I think: a shared identity, a sense of belonging, a common moral core.

At the same time, Moroccans are now living in a post-colonial, globalized, technologically-connected world. These days, viewpoints, beliefs, and practices pass very fluidly from culture to culture. And it's impossible to stop. So a Moroccan kid can listen to Jay-Z, dress hip-hop, and use whatever mix of English, French, Darija, and Berber he or she wants. A Moroccan can chose his hairstyle (unlike, say, in Iran) and his marriage partner (unlike in many traditional areas). There is a lot of freedom, but societal unity in Morocco is in the process of breaking down. The upper classes live out European (particularly French) norms. Preferences in movies, music, style, and dating correspond to a consumerist ethic that sees little value in tradition. The days of universal recognition of Um Khalthun, mandatory jelabas, and Islamic courting are over. And so, partially in reaction, many in the lower and middle classes now subscribe to a more stringent, imported brand of Islam that their great-grandparents would not have recognized.

In essence there are two movements: one towards a Western view of freedom as the consummate value and another in resistance of that freedom and a movement towards a supposedly more purified form of Islam that assiduously avoids the pitfalls as well as the benefits of modernity.

So, as someone who sees benefit in societal unity and yet who also views freedom as a least bad sort of option given already existing diversity, I have mixed personal feelings on what would be best for Morocco. I think that Islam (along with other religious systems) serves as a bulwark against the alienating individualism and moral relativism of free Western societies. It provides transcendentally-grounded, ritually-supported moral guidelines on things such as finance and poverty that we in the individualistic, capitalist West would do well to listen to.

On the other hand, I find frustrating the hypocrisy of openly allowing illegal, un-Islamic activities while still repressing a religious minority that would be a natural ally in creating a society that more closely followed those Islamic principles. That's the American in me speaking: the different Christian denominations in early America shared common values while disagreeing on religious doctrine, paving the way for a secular republic that still had a certain sense of societal unity grounded in a European mix of Christianity and Enlightenment rationalism. I tend to think it's a good model, and I don't see why religious liberty and freedom of conscience can't be added to the already expansive list of freedoms Moroccans enjoy.

Of course, that's my personal opinion. I'm not going to argue it with the Moroccan government or with most Moroccans for that matter. I will, however, raise a fuss when they don't consistently and honestly enforce their own laws.

The Fading of European Colonists

We're living in the dying days of European colonialism.

Yes, the mass majority of European colonialism ended in the decades after World War II, and yes most developing countries have been independent for some time now, but those Europeans who were born in their countries' colonies are still around, living in independent countries and now fast approaching death.

This NYTimes article on Anglo-Indians (those of English descent born in India) reminded me of Morocco. The French generation born in or relocated to Morocco before its 1956 independence range from 64 on up (the oldest French man in Morocco I know is 87), and they're still around if you know where to look. They have little say in government or politics anymore. But some still own important businesses or at least they used to.

They were born in a different world with different struggles and different ideals and different ethics. And they're still around.

But not for much longer.

The Pizza Delivery Man, Part 1

When I do a unit on ethnic foods in my classroom, I reel off a list of restaurants that most medium-sized American cities have: Chinese, Thai, Italian, Mexican, Indian, etc. Most students are unfamiliar with them. So I ask: "What are some ethnic foods available here in Meknes?" The students scratch their heads for a while. They're often unsure. Eventually, one of the students ventures an answer, "Pizza Hut and McDonald's".

Then it is my turn for an uncertain pause. Yes, I think. Both are foreign. Yes, both are restaurants in Meknes. The student is correct.

And yet there is something different between the immigrant-run ethnic restaurants that populate America and transnational corporate franchises entering a new market. But my English class is not the place to explain the difference.

There is a Pizza Hut in Meknes, and I have never been to it. Since my Book-it days, I have been much more likely to eat American pizza from Papa John's if I'm going to eat from an American pizza chain at all.

Last week, when I arrived back at my parents' house, was no exception. There was little in the fridge, and I was tired after a long flight. So I called up Papa John's and ordered one of their specials. Forty minutes later my stomach was getting a little concerned it might not reunite with its favorite American ethnic food. So I called the store back up and asked what was going on. I was told to call back in five or ten minutes if the pizza still wasn't there. Sure enough, before I could pass the news on to my impatiently eager gut, the doorbell rang.

I scampered down the stairs and opened the door to find a dark-complexioned man in his 30's holding my beloved pizza pie. As I reached for the pizza and gave him the cash, he spoke to me. And he spoke to me in an eerily familiar accent, as though I had heard his voice before. The accent itself is no surprise in Northern Virginia, where my parents live. Walking through WalMart is a bit like visiting a poor man's UN with more children.

In my dazed and giddy state, I felt little of my typical inhibitions with strangers. So I spoke to him directly in Arabic, "Are you Arab?"

Taking a step back, he replied in English, "Uh yes."

Pressing on in the Moroccan dialect, I inquired, "Where are you from?"

"I think you know," came the reply again in English. He took another step back towards his car. Foliage hid the large neighboring suburban homes from view.

I continued, "So where are you from?"
"Taza."
"I live in Meknes normally."
"Oh, that's only a few hours away."

Besides a word here or there, he still insisted on speaking English. His shock gave way to a form of amazement. We continued to exchange pleasantries.

A bit idiotically, I asked, "What are you doing right now? Would you like to come inside and share my pizza with me?"
"No. I have to work," came the reply.

Unsure what else to do, I asked him to wait a moment, dashed inside, set the pizza on the kitchen counter, and bounded up the stairs to get a piece of paper to write my number on.

Coming outside I presented him the paper and asked, "Are there any good Moroccan cafes around here?"
"There are some, but more towards DC."
"Well, call me and we can meet to drink a coffee, if God wills."
"If God wills."
"Bye."
"Bye."

Still looking a slight bit startled, he got back into his car and drove away.

Scenes From Morocco: Balcony View of Hassan II

The Hassan II Mosque as seen from a Casablanca balcony.

American Study Abroad Ctd

The New York Times piece I commented on yesterday provides more fodder for the "other great ways not to understand a culture" file. Jilian York analyzes the journalist's framing of the story:

The problem, then, is not Americans, but the Times itself. Its journalists are not the average American; they can afford to, or are sent to, places like Cairo from where they report on stories like this. They experience it firsthand, and yet every time, come back in shock at how “strange” and “different” the Arab world is.

One need also ask: If this is how the Times reports on a subject like studying abroad, how can we possibly expect them to be relevant in their news coverage of the Middle East? How can we expect these journalists, who can’t seem to move beyond how “exotic” the Middle East is, to be fair and balanced in their reporting of it?

In my opinion, we can’t. The New York Times has a massive budget (at least in comparison to other media outlets) and has reporters in numerous places across the region. It can, and does, cover stories that other outlets can’t or don’t. And it has a few good journalists who seem to “get” the region.

At the same time, its MidEast bureau shows consistent bias toward Israel and the United States’ occupation of Iraq.

Sassa, one of Jilian's commenters, sees careerism at work:

But the students – I hope most of them *don’t* end up as journalists. From the handful I’ve come across in recent years, many of them seem to be war tourists travelling to the exotic Arab World to confirm their stereotypes, who return to the EU/US to write about the region as ‘experts’.

It all seemed to change in 2003. Before the Iraq war, many of the students I talked to were genuinely interested in immersing themselves and learning about Syrian/Jordanian/Lebanese culture. They had passion for the region, they didn’t just see a career opportunity.

American Study Abroad and Real Cultural Engagement

The New York Times had an interesting article yesterday on American students doing Arabic programs abroad.

Since 9/11 American students have chosen to study Arabic more and more, and so their time abroad is increasingly in Muslim countries. This is an excellent phenomenon, because the Middle East, and the Arab world in general, is profoundly misunderstood in the United States. Getting to know real people who are different allows Arabs and Muslims to be humanized.

Yet none of them said they had confronted anti-American sentiment, other than occasional disagreements over foreign policy. “I found that whether I was in Cairo, Aswan, Amman or Damascus, people with whom I interacted wanted to talk about common interests — family, sports, music and economics — rather than our struggles and disagreements,” said Richard Frohlichstein, 21, a senior at Georgetown University who spent last autumn at American University in Cairo.

They realize Arabs are people too. This is great! And yet, I can't help but think there is something wrong here, though. None of them confronted anti-American sentiment. Really? None of them?!

Perhaps that merely reflects the extent of Arab hospitality as they distinguish between the people of a country and the government of a country. Perhaps...

I can't speak for the American University in Cairo, but I do know what happens at the University of Meknes in Morocco. Dozens of American students are bundled through a few month program together. Some live with Moroccan families, but most live in apartments and associate pretty exclusively among themselves. Almost none of them speak Arabic or French well. So their access to Moroccans is limited pretty exclusively to university professors, students who speak English well, families who have housed dozens of Americans before, and tour operators. In short, people who all have extensive experience with Americans. Those Moroccans have already undergone the difficult process of cultural engagement with the West or they have a profit motive in minimizing disagreement and disaccord.

But that also means that those students do not have to go through that process of cultural engagement themselves.

Instead, the foreign exchange students at the University of Meknes receive only a superficial encounter with Moroccan culture. Certainly, it's better than nothing, but one can't help but wonder if they are merely taking back a different, more positive stereotype back to the United States.

Americans who stay for longer, learn Darija better, and venture out of American cliques quickly discover that not everyone is singing Kumbaya and prancing around the meadow holding hands. There are fundamental disagreements over religion and politics, and if you encounter a Moroccan a few levels removed from the tourism or study abroad economy (and perhaps a social class lower), he is likely to tell you what he thinks about your country and your faith in no uncertain terms: You have a chance to embrace Islam before you burn in hellfire. American support of Israel is downright shameful. The American military is criminal. Jews are evil, always act en masse, and give money to create and cover up Arab suffering.

Most Moroccans continue to be hospitable in such conversations. They tell you about Islam because they want to help you after all. They let you know about Jewish-financed media conspiracy hiding the truth from Americans so that you will finally know the truth. But such conversations nevertheless make Americans uncomfortable. And perhaps uncomfortable for good reason. It is a discomfort born out of the realization that there is drastic difference--a difference the students interviewed in the New York Times article seem to have escaped.

True understanding between cultures involves a recognition of the underlying humanity that unites us as well as an honest recognition of differences. As long as US study abroad programs get only the first of the two right, we will still continue to misunderstand the Muslim world.

Scenes From Morocco: A Tourist Shop

Tourists visit a shop in Essaouira, Morocco.

The Economist on Christians in Morocco

In rather belated coverage of the event, The Economist finally got around to writing an article about the expulsion of evangelicals from Morocco. Nothing new is reported, but because of the far reach of The Economist perhaps now more of the world's citizenry is informed.

The Economist opines on the motivation behind the expulsions:

But the motivation for the crackdowns is probably political more than religious. Morocco’s constitution is based on the hereditary position of the king as “commander of the faithful”. Any drift of Muhammad VI’s subjects away from the dominant stream of moderate Sunni Islam might, his advisers fear, diminish his authority.

The whole article is pretty short. So I'll post it in its entirety because it provides an excellent summary of the events:

Morocco's evangelical Christians
Stop preaching or get out
The king is unamused by Christians who proselytise
Jul 29th 2010 | FEZ

EVANGELICAL Christians in the poor world are rarely accused of undermining public order. All the more surprising, then, that in recent months around a hundred have been deported from Morocco for just that. The Christians, mostly from the United States and Europe, have been accused of trying to convert Muslims to Christianity, a crime punishable by imprisonment under Moroccan law, which protects the freedom to practise one’s faith but forbids any attempt to convert others.

Rules against proselytising are quite common in Muslim countries but Morocco has long enjoyed a reputation as a bastion of religious tolerance in the region. Almost all the country’s 32m citizens are Sunni Muslims but churches and synagogues exist, alongside mosques, to cater for the 1% of the people who are Christian or Jewish.

Such open-mindedness presumably appealed to the Christian missionaries who ran the “Village of Hope” home for children 80km (50 miles) south of Fez, a former capital known for religion and scholarship. The 16 aid-workers had cared for abandoned children for over a decade when, in March, the Moroccan authorities sent inspectors to the orphanage, then gave the workers a few days’ notice to leave the country. Witnesses reported distraught farewells between the Moroccan children and the foreigners who had acted as foster parents.

Morocco’s communications minister, Khaled Naciri, said the missionaries “took advantage of the poverty of some families and targeted their young children”. The aid-workers deny pumping the children with Christianity. But sympathisers say that even if they did, a few hours of preaching was a small price to pay for education and pastoral care. There have been further expulsions since then, most recently of an evangelical Spanish teacher.

Local residents are quick to point out that it is not only Christians who have been targets; last year a similar campaign was waged against Morocco’s even smaller population of Shia Muslims. But the motivation for the crackdowns is probably political more than religious. Morocco’s constitution is based on the hereditary position of the king as “commander of the faithful”. Any drift of Muhammad VI’s subjects away from the dominant stream of moderate Sunni Islam might, his advisers fear, diminish his authority.

The American branch of an evangelical organisation, Open Doors, which speaks up for persecuted Christians across the world, is backing a campaign by a Republican congressman, Frank Wolf, to press the Moroccans to be kinder to the evangelicals. Seeing that Morocco is one of America’s closest Arab allies, the American administration has been notably silent.

Scenes From Morocco: Selling Marijuana Merchandise

A group of Moroccan youngsters hawk their goods to beach goers.

Darija vs. Fusha

I use the terms "Darija" and "Fusha" regularly on this blog because the linguistic distinction is so important in Morocco today. I have blogged a bit about the difference between Darija, the dialectical form of Arabic Moroccans speak, and Fusha, the standard form of Arabic, but nothing I have written compares with this description by a Dutch anthropologist living in Morocco that I just read.

It was an anecdote meant for a book that didn't make the final cut. But rather than tossing it completely, she posted the well-written piece on her blog.

After describing a miscommunication about her Arabic studies that she had with her Moroccan host sister Manal, she writes:

Then suddenly it dawned on me: she must have assumed I was learning Fusha, or Modern Standard Arabic, rather than the Moroccan dialect. “Oh, wait!” I cried out eagerly, relieved to have identified the source of confusion. “These words are not Fusha, they’re Darija,” I explained, hoping that this clarified the situation.

But she simply looked at me, silently. The knot in her eyebrows showed no signs of disappearing. Then finally she exclaimed, with a mix of surprise and disgust, “You’re learning Darija? Why? Darija is bad, it’s no good!”

A little taken aback, I asked her why. Why on earth would she react this way to the news that I was learning her native language? I had expected at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“Because it just is. Fusha is just better, it’s the ‘true’ language,” she explained, accompanying her words with heavy arm gestures to convey to me some of the solidity and weight that Fusha seemed to carry in her mind’s eye.

“Darija isn’t spoken right,” she then elaborated, and added an example. “It shouldn’t be tlata; it should be thalatha.” And as the hard ‘t’s of her colloquial dialect made room for the lyrical ‘th’s of Standard Arabic, the scowl on her face smoothed over into an expression of deep satisfaction.

She goes on to explain the the impact of history and geography on the issue:

My host family’s reaction to the discovery that I was learning Darija reveals a love/hate relationship with their dialect. It is not considered ‘real’ or worthy of study, but nevertheless it is theirs, it is the language in which they are most comfortable, and it is intimately connected to their culture and traditions. Though Fusha is often placed on a pedestal as a kind of ‘pure’ and ‘ideal’ Arabic, it is a language that the average Moroccan only masters passively. It is taught in school, and it is heard on radio and television; most Moroccans will thus understand anything said to them in Standard Arabic. Speaking it, however, would be the equivalent of an American speaking Shakespearean English. Fusha, one might venture to argue (from a linguistic standpoint at least), is no more ‘their’ language than French would be.

Moroccan Arabic, in contrast, is entirely ‘theirs’. It may not be a real language, but speaking it signals a kind of cultural belonging, or insiderness in a way that Fusha cannot. I had noted this difference in value before, when I first came to Morocco in the spring of 2005. I was in Fès for a period of three months, and took an intensive course of beginning Darija, followed immediately by an intensive course of intermediate Fusha. Whereas topics of discussion in the colloquial class included Moroccan customs, traditions, and superstitions, the Fusha classes focused on pan-Arab politics, Middle-Eastern history, and Qur’anic theology. Feeling a growing disconnect from the Moroccan context during that last course, I remember regretting my decision to switch from dialect to standard Arabic.

The whole post is well-worth the reading.

(Hat tip: Jilian York over at Global Voices)

Scenes From Morocco: The Summer Dry Spell

Just a few months ago, the landscape outside of Meknes was THIS GREEN. My, how things change.

Cross-Cultural Friendship

One of the great themes running through the works of the late American author Paul Bowles is that of cultural incommensurability. To put it another way: people from different cultures can never really understand each other. They always just talk past each other and misinterpret each other's actions. It certainly happens that way more often than not, but it needn't always.

I have spent the last few years of my life trying to combat this simple yet noxious notion. After seeing the lack of comprehension on either side of the US cultural divide, I decided that our political discourse and our civil society would be much better if we could just learn to talk to each other and live with each other. In my mind, this stemmed straight from the fundamental Christian teaching that all proper religion is bound up in the two commandments love God and love your neighbor. And from there it seemed a pretty straight-forward conclusion that properly communicating with someone was a necessary component of loving them.

Since I had spent time in Blue States and in Red States, with Christians convinced that God-hating secularists were out to get them and then later with secularists convinced that fundamentalist Christians were out to get them, I got a pretty good handle on the sources of conflict and how feedback loops reinforced stereotypes and miscomprehension. And I just wanted to unwind those feedback loops and grind down those mountains of discourse so that everyone could see what was really at stake. Those stripped-down philosophical and cultural differences are, to a certain extent, irreconcilable, but I knew from experience that you could learn to think from the other perspective. The conversations I had had were much more fruitful. At the very least real communication had occurred.

In academics I've seen other divides, between analytic and continental philosophy, between the humanities and the sciences. And as I've traveled the same sort of thing comes up. I've also lived in Latin America, in Europe, and now in the Arab world, and in each of those places the same sort of dynamic exists in their relationship with the United States. During the Bush years, the divide between the US and Europe was stronger, but it still exists. And the divide between the Western and Arab worlds continues to be marked. In each case and in each relationship, I was convinced that a certain amount of background knowledge, a certain exposure to people on the other side of the side, a certain process of dialogue could highlight differences and similarities, and at least get people to talk about key issues that divide.

In large part I was naive.

There are vested interests in keeping barriers between people, reducing dialogue and demonizing other religions, cultures, and nationalities. Most people don't really want to communicate. Most people won't give up cherished beliefs even if confronted with evidence to the contrary. Most people prefer the comfort of the known to the gritty, time-consuming process of getting to know someone who is different.

All the same, I believe in the ethical imperative of getting to know different sorts of people and trying to communicate clearly with them. For me its grounding in the fundamental Christian commandment of love trumps other considerations, including whatever political considerations some Christians take to be sacrosanct.

In the years since Bowles wrote about Morocco, it has changed immensely. It has modernized and Westernized to a startling degree. Well...startling for Moroccans born a century ago. Bowles himself (who, coincidentally, was born exactly a century ago) prophesied much of what would come. He wrote of how Moroccan culture would become a commodity to be sold to foreigners and how that would change Moroccans' relationship with their own traditions.

So today, when I meet a Moroccan on the streets of Meknes, he has likely been raised on a steady diet of Western media aided by the recent inventions of the satellite dish and the Internet. He likely spends hours a day on Facebook or watching YouTube videos. He wears Western clothing except for the rare special occasion when he dons a jelaba. He speaks some combination of French, English, and Spanish and has a passing familiarity with chunks of each of those cultures. In many cases, he was educated in high school and university in a way that an American might find strange, but which any French person would instantly recognize. He likely adores soccer, that sport invented in England and spread the world over, yet his favorite soccer team is not to be found in Morocco, but rather across the Straight of Gibraltar. The Spanish League, after all, provides teams like Real Madrid and FC Barcelona that have no equal in Morocco. He likely takes his girlfriend (or even girlfriends) on regular dates to a cafe, in a ritual that would seem vaguely familiar to an American observer.

In short, a Westerner and a Moroccan would have a large number of points in common. Many cultural and particularly religious issues would divide the two, but they would have any number of starting points for a friendship.

And yet developing strong friendships with Moroccans has been difficult both for me and for my roommate.

For starters a large number of Moroccans view foreigners solely in terms of how much money they can make off of them. Needless to say, this is corrosive to any sort of lasting bond with them.

With others, religion is a sticking point. Last Fall I spent a fair amount of time with a Moroccan named Anass. We invited him to our Thanksgiving feast; he invited us to Eid al Kabir. He took me to the hammam once, where he introduced me to the traditional Moroccan way of bathing. I was invited to couscous. We went to coffee a few times.

The last time I was invited to couscous, his mother asked me if I knew any of the Koran. I replied that I had memorized the Fatiha, which I believe a Christian can say in good faith. She asked me to recite it and I did. Then the father entered and said I shouldn't stop there. I should also recite the Shahada, the profession that there is one God and Mohammed is His prophet, which officially makes one a Muslim. For obvious reasons a Christian cannot recite this in good faith. I politely declined.

I was never invited to couscous again.

My invitations to coffee were declined by Anass from then on. I still see him from time to time; we play soccer with the same group. But our budding friendship was pruned too severely to ever recover.

Sometimes, the pendulum of religious and moral sensibilities swings the other way, and Moroccans' assumptions about Western libertine attitudes make friendship difficult. Two Moroccans that Daniel was getting to know once offered to bring three prostitutes over to the house. Daniel replied that he never pays for sex. They said they would pay. He wouldn't have to worry about it. He declined again, trying to explain what he meant.

That's not an isolated case. A number of Moroccans we have met like to bond over binge drinking and prostitutes. A typical offer, meant in the most friendly and hospitable way possible, goes something like this: While moving his thumb underneath his chin in the typical Moroccan motion for abundance he says, "I have a lot of girlfriends. You can have one if you like." And by 'girlfriends' he means 'whores I frequent'.

The two or three Moroccans I have had the fortune to strike up a decent friendship with are generally stricter Muslims who have studied English in the university. They are familiar with American culture and mores and have grown accustomed to communicating the nuances of their culture and beliefs in English. It's not the best for my Arabic, but a true cross-cultural communication does occur. Unfortunately, they are often busy working the long hours of their blue-collar jobs (unfortunately, an English degree from the university isn't terribly helpful in the Moroccan labor market). So the time we can spend with each other is minimal.

And of course there is no possibility of us going out for a beer or two. They don't drink.

In negotiating all these difficulties I learn a great deal. I have a greater appreciation now for what the women's liberation movement has accomplished in the United States. I like that I can hang out with girls in the U.S. and listen to their thoughts and jokes over a beer in the same way I would with a guy. Furthermore, I better understand the dynamics in Muslim countries. Seeing this sort of behavior somehow makes Salafist thinking a little more understandable.

It's perhaps even more rewarding because it is so difficult. The most important thing in my mind, though, is that these conversations and friendships can and do happen. They aren't easy, but they are possible.

One Year In Morocco

It's hard to believe that I arrived in Morocco for the first time over a year ago.

My Darija has improved remarkably; something I can't quite say about my Fusha. I have become comfortable with most Moroccan traditions and ways of life. I particularly enjoy the cafe culture and a few excellent dishes, particularly the tajines. The extended greetings can be wearisome at times, but have become comfortingly familiar.

During this short time I've learned a lot about Moroccan society, which is itself in the midst of an amazing transition. I've been disappointed by how certain events have played out, particularly the expulsions of Christians (which I have covered on this blog), but I have also been thoroughly impressed by Moroccans' language skills, hospitality, and speed of life.

It's frustrating to see this culture's blind spots and prejudices, but in comparison with the US, Morocco doesn't do too bad. We just have different blind spots and prejudices.


I am currently on vacation. So for the next month or so, I won't have any exciting anecdotes about life in Morocco to share with you.

However, I figured that this pause might be a good time to reflect back on my year in Morocco and write about some general topics or larger trends that don't come up on a daily or weekly basis. Although I may post a little less frequently, I encourage you to check back regularly for those more reflective posts. And then at the end of August I'll be reprising my typical blogging.

In the meantime, I hope you all have an excellent summer. Thanks for reading!

Scenes From Morocco: Watching the Tide Roll Away

Moroccans watch the ocean in Essaouira from the vantage point of the old fortress.