Scenes From Morocco: Mosque Hassan II

The little specks 1/5 the size of the arches near the bottom are humans. Casablanca's Mosque Hassan II is the third largest mosque in the world after the mosques in the Islamic holy cities of Mecca and Medina.

Baked Potatoes

On Wednesday I made baked potatoes for some Moroccan friends.

Everyone arrived together almost an hour late. I served up the turkey pieces and the potatoes, and we all sat down.

After making sure everyone had what they wanted, Daniel and I cut open our baked potatoes and started piling on the toppings. We didn't have chile or sour cream, but we hoped the turkey pieces would make up for the chile. And Daniel had bought some mayonnaise and hot sauce to top everything off. We had butter, cheese, chopped onions...it wasn't a perfect baked potato bar, but it was pretty good.

After a few minutes, though, I noticed that none of the Moroccans were piling on any of the toppings.

I had forgotten to explain how to eat baked potatoes.

A Simple Observation

A friend who studied abroad in Japan once told me about the strange simplicity of his realization that Japan had international relations with every other country in the world. He grew up thinking about almost every issue and conflict in light of America's power, influence, and concerns, and the de-centering of that perspective was obvious and yet still strange.

And in some sense, viewing things from the US's perspective is perhaps the best way to get an overall picture of the world. The United States, after all, is the richest and most powerful nation on the planet. But to move away from that dominant perspective and consider a smaller, de-centered nexus of international issues is often eye-opening. And it's one of the best things that come out of any true traveling experience.

Today, I had another one of those experiences.

I was sitting in a small crowded restaurant, eating off of a plastic table, when a young couple sat down next to me. They were quiet at first, and, since I was reading a book, I didn't pay much attention to them. When I finally did look up, I realized that both were speaking in sign language.

Believe it or not, in all my years of traveling, that was the first time I had ever seen a non-American use sign language. Until today, being deaf or dumb and using sign language to communicate had been an exclusively American issue in my mind. If you were to have asked me if sign language existed outside of the United States, I would have been able to assent that I knew it did exist. But the issue would still have been wrapped solely within the context of the American deaf people that I have known and thus centered around my own subjective experience of the phenomenom.

As I sat there occasionally glancing over to observe the couple, a series of questions crossed my mind: How well would two deaf people from different countries be able to communicate with each other? Would they communicate better than two non-deaf people who didn't share a common tongue? How much does the surrounding culture affect the way deaf people interact? How does "body language" work across cultures in sign language? Do deaf people have an easier time communicating in a very emotive culture like Morocco?

And then another question came to mind: how can I personally communicate with them? I don't speak international sign language and I didn't know how easy it would be for them to lip read my accented Arabic.

I didn't know what I would have tried to say anyway. So I got up, paid, and left the restaurant.

Scenes From Morocco: Uncoordinated Renovation

As part of Meknes' renovation in preparation for the king's visit, the curbs were repainted white and red. No barriers, however, were set up while the paint was left to dry.

My Concierge

When our ideals crash against the real world, they often don't come out looking so good.

Take for instance, the dictum that we should love our neighbor. Seems simple enough, right?

Well, what happens when that neighbor is your concierge?

In my concierge's case, most days he just sits outside the front of the building, unshaved, slouching in his chair in the shade, watching the world go by. He and the concierges from the neighboring buildings sometimes get together and gossip about the goings-on in their buildings. (It's usually after this that I get suggestive comments about the visits of my female American colleague who occasionally comes for tea or meals.)

His laid-back lifestyle isn't the result of a lack of tasks. The elevator is absolutely disgusting and has been needing a cleaning for months. Some of the doors sometimes don't shut properly, keeping the elevator from budging and forcing people to use the stairs. A little tinkering, a little cleaning...there is plenty to do if he wanted to keep himself busy.

In any case, that's not really a problem for me. I can deal with the building the way it is. I just don't lean against the elevator walls. I wear shoes when I leave the apartment. And I walk when the elevator isn't working.

What's more troubling from my perspective is how he is always asking for things from me.

When I went to the States for Christmas he asked for a computer. When I explained that I couldn't afford a computer for myself, let alone for him, he seemed to doubt my story. All Americans are rich, right?

He eventually just pressed me for a cell phone. I explained that American cell phones were the same Chinese cell phones that they sold in Morocco, but he didn't seem to understand that either.

Sometimes he asks for a visa and a Green Card. Then I have to explain I can't help him; he has to apply to the visa lottery just like everyone else.

One time I just asked him what he really wanted to do for a job. He said he wanted to drive a limo...anything that would make lots of money. I didn't ask him if he planned to take any steps to try to make that happen, but I think I know the answer.

Out of respect for Moroccan cultural norms I try to stop and chat with him every time I leave the building. Most days he is in a bit of a sulk. And it only gets worse when he demands something from me and I have to say no. Two days ago, he complimented me on my jacket and then asked for it. I've never been much of one for style, and I don't have a very extensive wardrobe. So even though most of my clothing is fairly inexpensive, I can't just hand it over to someone who asks for it.

I tried to make a joke out of it by asking him if he was going to give me his jacket, but like all my attempts to teasingly make him see some reciprocity in our relationship, it went no where.

The man is obviously poor. Even though I am one of the poorer Americans out there (as I try to explain to him again and again without success), I am still richer than he is. That being said, he has a stable job and a good living situation for his family. As such, he is better off than a large chunk of Moroccans.

Largely as a result of this dynamic, my roommate Daniel has stopped talking to him beyond the most cursory of greetings. I continue on, but it's hard to justify it to myself. We can't really have any sort of friendship based on common interests and mutual respect. I don't seem to have any influence on him. My comments and questions go nowhere. And I can't see any way to significantly alter his living situation. I cannot provide him with the things he wants from me, and the things I can provide for him he already has.

The Joy of Self-Censorship

The joy of self-censorship is that you get to stay in the country.

At least in theory.

A few days ago, my boss informed all of the American teachers at work that we were, under no circumstance, to speak about religion in the classroom.

According to Moroccan law, we are allowed to answer questions about our own faith but nothing more. Anything more might be considered proselytizing. Of course, that's our religion; we regularly talk about Islam. Any issue that motivates students to speak in English and exchange opinions is useful for language learning, and Moroccan students tend to have very strong opinions about Islam, particularly its role in modern life.

This new rule goes above and beyond what is required by law, and it takes away a useful tool that we teachers have as we try to motivate students to speak in English.

So why is it necessary?

The immediate cause of our new self-censorship rule was the arrest and deportation of a Canadian couple who had lived in Meknes for the past decade. I know nothing about them except that they owned a bookstore and were accused of proselytizing. It is likely that they were in fact in violation of the law about proselytizing. I do not know. But my boss had a passing acquaintance with them, and their deportation seems to have brought this crackdown a little closer to home for her. She has enough on her plate to have to worry about new personnel and legal issues.

Now, let's keep in mind what an English teacher would really be up against if he or she even tried to proselytize. Even if a Christian teacher tried to "shake the faith" of his or her Muslim students during one of our typical 30-hour English courses, it is extremely unlikely that he or she would have any success countering the 1000's of hours of Islamic Education required of all Moroccans before they leave school.

My personal goals teaching in Morocco are quite different from this imposing task.

The main reason I feel good about my job as an English teacher (compared with all the other unethical, societally unhelpful jobs out there) is that by helping Moroccans learn English, I am better preparing them for the challenges of globalization. It enables them to function in new situations almost wherever they go and whatever they do. And, as a well-educated native speaker of the language, I am in a unique position to help them.

But another, only slightly less important reason that I teach is that I desire to promote cultural dialogue. I firmly believe that ongoing cultural discussion is absolutely necessary if we want to avoid future violent conflict. Unfortunately, Americans have by and large decided that they are not going to learn other languages, and large numbers of them seem unconcerned by anything happening outside their borders. So the bulk of the responsibility now rests on natives of other countries, who must learn to express their religion, their culture, and their thoughts in the language of Hemingway.

Of course, in order for them to be able to convey their religion, culture, and thoughts in a way that a Westerner would understand, they must learn about the Western world. They must understand points of contact and points of divergence, similarities and differences. That involves both critical thinking skills about their own culture and knowledge about a foreign culture. I desire to promote both. Both are now severely handicapped by the current state of affairs.

On the content side of things, one of the most contentious (and yet one of the most important) issues in such ongoing dialogue is religion. The fact is the religions and the philosophies of the world disagree on fundamental issues; there is no getting around that. But, in an ideal world, we can learn about the other side and discuss those differences in openness and respect. People should be able to debate the divinity of Jesus, the prophethood of Mohammed, the textual transmission of scriptures, religious violence, and secularism. It will likely be heated, but it can still be respectful and based in true engagement with the truth of others' beliefs and practices.

I will be the first to say that Americans are certainly far from perfect; a better understanding of the Koran and the Muslim world would go a long way if we ever hope to seriously engage the Muslim world. But Moroccans also need to learn more about the Western world, its secular outlook as well as its religions, Christianity included.

There are impediments to respectful and thoughtful discussion on both sides. Of course, the fundamental difference is that in America the impediment is cultural, in Morocco it is legal.

These were my ideals in teaching: improve English ability, promote critical thinking, explain the West, and enable students to engage it. And yet, although I have stayed well within the law and the rules of my workplace, I still have a nagging fear that I too could be deported. Perhaps, it is a misplaced fear. But when power is exercised as arbitrarily as it is here in Morocco, one cannot know whether fear is properly placed or not.

I do know that in my writings and in my personal and professional life I have tried to promote the values that Muslim theologians expressed in the Common Word declaration:

So let our differences not cause hatred and strife between us. Let us vie with each other only in righteousness and good works. Let us respect each other, be fair, just and kind to another and live in sincere peace, harmony and mutual goodwill.

I only wish that the Moroccan government would do the same.

I express these sentiments on this blog in English to a Western audience. Currently in Morocco, there are obstacles that prevent me from living out these ideals that I would hope we could all share.

The joy of self-censorship is that you get to stay in the country. The agony of self-censorship is that you silently watch the cultural misunderstandings of yesterday run untouched into tomorrow.

Scenes From Morocco: Renovation

In preparation for the opening of the fourth annual International Agricultural Fair at Meknes, the city is being beautified. The fair, which opens on Tuesday, will be attended by King Mohammed VI himself.