A group of Moroccan youngsters hawk their goods to beach goers.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Scenes From Morocco: Selling Marijuana Merchandise
A group of Moroccan youngsters hawk their goods to beach goers.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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:
She goes on to explain the the impact of history and geography on the issue:
The whole post is well-worth the reading.
(Hat tip: Jilian York over at Global Voices)
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)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
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.
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!
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!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Scenes From Morocco: Watching the Tide Roll Away
Moroccans watch the ocean in Essaouira from the vantage point of the old fortress.
Due Process for This Wave of Expelled Christians
MoroccoBoard has helpfully translated an article from this week's Tel Quel about the continuing expulsions of Christians from Morocco.
Unlike the previous waves of expulsions this year, this one has involved judicial proceedings. As such, Morocco can say that is giving foreign Christians due process.
It is unfortunate that this opportunity was not accorded the workers at the Village of Hope orphanage or the Egyptian friar who were suddenly and mysteriously expelled in March. Nonetheless, it is a welcome development.
Previously American Congressman Wolf had accused the American embassy in Morocco of being "AWOL" in regard to this issue, especially compared with the efforts of other nations. This article, however, calls into question that version of events.
Unlike the previous waves of expulsions this year, this one has involved judicial proceedings. As such, Morocco can say that is giving foreign Christians due process.
"Every three months, since the beginning of the year, the Moroccan authorities are expelling Foreign Christians with a vengeance. The novelty now is that they are providing a legal document called "the Order of expulsion of foreign resident " allowing the victims to challenge the decision before a Moroccan court, whereas before no formal written orders were provided ", says member of a Church in the capital city of Rabat who wishes to remain anonymous.
It is unfortunate that this opportunity was not accorded the workers at the Village of Hope orphanage or the Egyptian friar who were suddenly and mysteriously expelled in March. Nonetheless, it is a welcome development.
Previously American Congressman Wolf had accused the American embassy in Morocco of being "AWOL" in regard to this issue, especially compared with the efforts of other nations. This article, however, calls into question that version of events.
"The Spanish, French, Swiss nationals have not been supported by their embassies as much as the Americans were, " said Moroccan Attorney Mr. Dgharni.
The Embassy of France’s position is clear: "The consulates of France have been informed about the evictions, these are decisions of a sovereign state and it is not for us to comment."
The other concerned embassies did not wish to issue a statement on the issue.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Scenes From Morocco: Marrakesh Motos
More so than in other Moroccan cities, the moto is one of the most popular forms of transportation. Also in marked contrast to other Moroccan cities, you will also see large numbers of women driving them.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Teaching With Skype
I am currently in the middle of a ten-day summer intensive session. Rather than sessions once or twice a week for ten weeks, an entire course is crammed into ten straight days.
It's a quick turnaround. If the students are bad, I needn't worry. They'll soon be gone. But it's also difficult to stay on top of preparation and keep the students' interest when they're spending so much time with me.
Yesterday to mix things up a bit, I had them prepare some questions and then led them in a 20-minute Skype conversation with my sister. She lives in Alaska and has never visited Morocco. Nor does she speak Arabic or French. So my students and my sister were about as culturally isolated from each other as possible, connected only by the English language, imperfectly mastered by my students as it was.
But that made the conversation all the more interesting.
One of the first things my students asked her aboutwas about the time difference. It was around 5 PM for us, and 8 AM for her. She had been up since 6:30 AM, which absolutely astounded by late-rising students.
They asked her what she thought about Morocco and what Alaska was like. They asked her if she had ever eaten Moroccan food. At one point there was some confusion because she said the temperature was in the 50's. The students thought in terms of the Celsius scale and imagined temperatures Morocco rarely reaches, when in reality it was just a typically chill Alaskan morning.
As a speaker of Arabic and French and as someone familiar with Moroccan culture practices, I often understand what Moroccans are trying to say in English where a typical American wouldn't. So, one of the challenges for any non-native speaker is moving beyond that crutch to communicating with a native speaker who is culturally and linguistically separate. Trying to do it with a temperamental technology like Skype makes it even more difficult.
But my students did excellently. I'm proud of them. I might even have to try the activity again during the longer courses.
It's a quick turnaround. If the students are bad, I needn't worry. They'll soon be gone. But it's also difficult to stay on top of preparation and keep the students' interest when they're spending so much time with me.
Yesterday to mix things up a bit, I had them prepare some questions and then led them in a 20-minute Skype conversation with my sister. She lives in Alaska and has never visited Morocco. Nor does she speak Arabic or French. So my students and my sister were about as culturally isolated from each other as possible, connected only by the English language, imperfectly mastered by my students as it was.
But that made the conversation all the more interesting.
One of the first things my students asked her aboutwas about the time difference. It was around 5 PM for us, and 8 AM for her. She had been up since 6:30 AM, which absolutely astounded by late-rising students.
They asked her what she thought about Morocco and what Alaska was like. They asked her if she had ever eaten Moroccan food. At one point there was some confusion because she said the temperature was in the 50's. The students thought in terms of the Celsius scale and imagined temperatures Morocco rarely reaches, when in reality it was just a typically chill Alaskan morning.
As a speaker of Arabic and French and as someone familiar with Moroccan culture practices, I often understand what Moroccans are trying to say in English where a typical American wouldn't. So, one of the challenges for any non-native speaker is moving beyond that crutch to communicating with a native speaker who is culturally and linguistically separate. Trying to do it with a temperamental technology like Skype makes it even more difficult.
But my students did excellently. I'm proud of them. I might even have to try the activity again during the longer courses.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Scenes From Morocco: Marrakesh McDonald's
As in many developing countries, McDonald's caters to a middle to upper class clientele in Morocco. The location of the franchises are inevitably found on pricy pieces of real estate near the intersection of the old and new cities.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Third Wave of Deportations Cancelled
Perhaps I was wrong.
From MoroccoBoard.com:
From MoroccoBoard.com:
At the end of last week, at least a dozen American Christian evangelicals who have settled in Morocco and who had received verbal orders of deportation for proselytizing were informed by the Moroccan police or by the U.S. consulate in Casablanca, that these deportation orders had been canceled. The canceled deportation orders were part of an apparent third wave of expulsion of Christians from the country for "proselytizing" and "attempting to break the faith of Muslims" two offenses covered by the Moroccan penal code that could have lead to a court trial which the Moroccan authorities wanted to avoid.
Since last March, Morocco has expelled more than a hundred Christians, half of them Americans-including the Casablanca-based-George Washington Academy founder and director Jack Rusenko and two senior school administrators.
The abrupt course reversal of the Moroccan Ministry of Interior is due to the forceful reaction of the U.S. administration. According to Spanish daily El Pais, the US Ambassador in Rabat, Samuel Kaplan, called the Minister of Interior, Mr. Taieb Cherkaoui to protest and to ask for a meeting. At the same time, according to El Pais, the U.S. Embassy is urging its citizens not to obey the verbal orders by the Moroccan police and hold out for for written expulsion orders so that they can eventually contest them in a Moroccan court.
Kaplan strong reaction was probably due to the hearing by the U.S. Congress Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission held last week and co-chaired by Republican Rep. Tom Wolf (R) of Virginia, on the expulsion of US Christians from Morocco.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Morocco For Tourists
A Brazilian guy and an English/New Zealander gal met in Russia while teaching English. They got married and are spending a year traveling the world as part of their honeymoon, which is documented on this blog. I met them while they were in Meknes.
They have now moved on to Egypt, but here is longish quote giving their final reflections on Morocco. I found it particularly insightful in its comparison of tourist publicity and tourist reality:
They have now moved on to Egypt, but here is longish quote giving their final reflections on Morocco. I found it particularly insightful in its comparison of tourist publicity and tourist reality:
When I think of Morocco, I think of; raw energy, magnificence, reserved people, natural, loud noisy music, spicy cumin, the heat, dust, unexpected patches of green, sand, decorations, huge bunches of mint, toothless old men and women, relaxed stunningly rugged coastlines, huge, splendid Atlas and Rif Mountain Ranges, the desert, camels, long bus rides, fresh baked bread and honey for breakfast, incredible beauty, Kif in the Rif, sad donkeys, beggars, dirt, the sun, women in head-scarves, men in djellabas, old bicycles, haggling, and all of it very last minute.
Morocco is nothing like how I expected it to be and I've been wanting to come for a very long time, ever since seeing it on 'Wish you were here' an old holiday programme providing precious escapism from the humdrum of school/home life.
Everyone is in your face from the moment you leave the house/airport/bus/shop. They work so hard on getting you in their shops or on making a sale it's a strange feeling that as soon as you've capitulated and take a look, they lose all interest in you and don't care about charming you (if they ever did) just as long as you buy something (for at least three times the price it's worth), apparently it's all in the chase. In Marrakesh I watched a woman selling handmade raffia bags to a tourist she had hassled to make a sale. As soon as she had the money in her hot little hands she was away like a shot and the man had to chase after her to get his change back, which she was reluctant to give and practically threw at him while still shuffling off at high speed to find someone else to sell to.
We've made very few real friends from the locals despite them being so friendly. Mind you nine times out of ten the friendliness is just a prelude to an invitation to part with our hard earned money, whether it is after (minimal) services rendered as an unwanted guide, or to a shop if someone shows you the way somewhere 'for free, as a friend' and invites you back to their home! While we were in Fez a young student took us to a small terrace which was public but you'd never have found the way there, he and Djalma talked about different things while I stood further away feeling uneasy about this free service, after all we don't know the guy and it's is truly rare that one will want to help another (especially that other who perceived to have more) without harbouring any ulterior motive. So I was quite relieved that when he invited us back to his family home for some real Berber tea and it was actually a family run factory where his half sister gave us a very soft sell. She showed us photos of their family, all doing camel tours (which surprise! They also offered as well as carpets and cushion covers) and spoke to us about what they all did.
The real down side is that when, on the rare occasion, we do meet someone who is genuine, honest and helpful, I am so sceptical that they are as they seem that I end up missing out on opportunities and feel rude and mean spirited when their lack of agenda becomes apparent.
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