It's Time for Africa

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Well I’m back from Morocco, and so much happened. It was a very busy four days. We left Friday night at 6:00 and headed to Algeciras. There, we stayed the night at a hotel. We had to pick roommates, and I ended up with a girl named Sarah. I hadn’t talked to her much before, but I knew that she had a very dry, sarcastic humor. We ended up talking for a couple hours before going to bed, and I found out that there’s a very nice, interesting person behind that cold exterior. We had to wake up at 7:00 to eat breakfast and head to the port in Tarifa the next morning. This was very difficult since I’m now on Spanish time and waking up no earlier than 9:00 every morning.

The program we’re in is called Morocco Exchange, and its goal is to immerse students in the Moroccan culture and provide opportunities for dialogue between Moroccans and Americans. It’s so much more than a sightseeing trip. Since there are forty-four of us going, they split us up into three groups, so we could have more personal experiences. It’s a little hard to experience the culture when there are almost fifty people walking around in the street at once. We met our group leader, Jess before we boarded the ferry. She has led a very interesting life: she grew up in Wales, then lived for eight years in Spain, and now she has lived for four years in Morocco. She is an artist and wants to establish some sort of art program in Morocco.

When we got to the port, I was amazed that I could see land across the strait. I never realized how close Africa and Spain are. At the closest point, they are only nine miles apart—an hour ferry ride. It’s incredible: two completely different worlds are so close. After our boat ride, we put our backpacks in the van and walked around the city. We walked through a market, and I was not prepared for all the dead animals. Fish, I’m used to; chicken, I got used to seeing in China. But they had cows, pigs, lamb, everything. We walked by one stand and here this guy was, chopping away at what was very clearly the head of a cow. It was a little disturbing. I’m not used to seeing a whole leg and hip of a cow hanging there to buy, let alone its bloody head.

Jess bought us some fruit, and we sat in a park to eat. After that, we went to the DARNA women’s center. DARNA means “our home”, and is a place for women to learn skills like modern and traditional sewing and learn to read. We met Hajar and Akum, who we had tea and lunch with, and we had a discussion about education and women in Morocco. I learned so much about Muslim culture, and specifically of Muslims in Morocco. People and the government seem to be more tolerant of differing beliefs and not as strict or conservative compared to other Islamic countries. Islam is the country’s religion, but people are free to practice it in different ways. There are women who where the traditional djellaba, a long, loose dress with full sleeves with a head scarf, the head scarf and modern clothes, djellaba without the head scarf, or modern clothes and no head scarf. Two friends will be walking together, and one will be wearing a head scarf, while the other is not. It is a personal choice for women, and not forced upon them by men or the government. Hajar explained that in the seventies, you would not have seen a woman wearing a scarf; women were expressing their freedom and individuality, but now, more women are wearing the scarf than ever. Women are becoming more conservative than their mothers now. Hajar said she thinks Morocco is having a sort of identity crisis. It was ruled by the French and Spanish, so those cultures became popular in Morocco. People tried to be more Spanish or French, but they realized they weren’t fully Spanish, French, or even Moroccan anymore. People are starting to claim the Moroccan culture now though, as shown by the amount of head scarves worn.

We also talked about prayer. One of the five pillars of Islam is praying five times a day toward Mecca. There is a call to prayer at the designated times during the day, and people can go to the mosque, pray where they are, pray later, or not pray at all. Hajar does not pray every time, and she said, if she is with friends, some of them will pray and other will not, but there is no judgment against those who don’t pray. She stressed this time and time again: it is a personal choice.

Just like the rest of the world, Morocco is experiencing a crisis; graduates cannot find jobs and there is high unemployment. What was interesting is that people in Morocco prefer to have jobs in the public sector rather than the private because there is more security. There is no regulation in the private sector, so companies fire people after six months and hire someone new so they never have to pay more or provide benefits and insurance. Students have been protesting, wanting the government to provide jobs for them, but it can’t create that many jobs fast enough. A lot of Moroccan graduates are now joining multinational companies or immigrating to Europe or the US in order to find work, which is causing the brain drain in Morocco. All their most intelligent, better educated people are moving elsewhere.

Another problem is illiteracy; about 50% of the country is illiterate. DARNA helps women with this, but it costs money to take classes, and many can’t afford it. In addition, once you are 25 or older, you cannot go back to school. It’s different from the States, where anyone at any age can get an education, or take their GED without finishing high school. In Morocco, if you don’t finish school or go in the first place, you have no chance of getting an education later in life.

Moroccans are linguists. They learn Moroccan Arabic as their first language. In elementary, they start learning classic Arabic and French. (French is the language of business and technology in Morocco. At work people do not speak Moroccan Arabic; they speak French). Then in high school, they have the chance to learn Spanish, German, or English. So all educated Moroccans know at least three languages. I think this puts Americans at such a huge disadvantage. Hearing Hajar and Akum talking about their education made me feel stupid that I only know on language fluently and a little mad at our education system for not doing this for us.

We discussed these things for two hours, then had lunch. We had Janjawi which is couscous, various vegetables like squash, carrots, and potatoes, and a kind of raisin pulp. It was delicious! We said our goodbyes to Hajar and Akum, and drove down the coast to Asilah. On the way there, we stopped by a beach to ride camels. I never thought about it before, but camels are the strangest creature I have ever seen. You mount while they are laying down, and they get up with their back legs first. To get up, you end up lurching forward, back, then forward before the camel is standing. Cat almost fell off hers because he started getting up before she was fully seated. I had to lie practically flat against its back when mine stood up so I wouldn’t fall over its head. We were led a few minutes down the beach and back. It would have felt more like riding a horse, except for the fact that the saddle was unbelievably uncomfortable. But now I can say I rode a camel, so it’s all good.

We arrived in Asilah and walked through the Medina (old town) of the city. The Medina was absolutely beautiful with its white stone buildings and bright green and blue doors. There is a huge art festival held here each year, and a lot of the walls have murals painted on them. Jess said that a lot of foreigners come there for vacation, and they buy a lot of the houses. The foreigners are the ones who restore the buildings to their original style, which is good, but since they are only vacationing, they don’t really contribute to the city in any other way. Because of this, Asilah is primarily a tourist town. It reminded me a bit of China because there were merchants trying to sell their products and following us around the whole town.

After Asilah, we drove to Rabat, the capital, where we spent two nights in home stays. Our family was Said, his wife Outa, and their five year old son Akram. Said was the only one who spoke English, but they were all very welcoming. Akram spent the first hour or two sneaking closer and closer to the dinner table before he overcame his shyness and started showing off for the guests. I was a little nervous about the food because I heard a lot of people say it was horrible, but they must have been really picky eaters because everything I had was so good. One meal was a soup with bread and boiled eggs. Another was tanjine, a potato, peas, and chicken dish that we ate with our hands. That was very different because it wasn’t like our finger food. There was sauce so our fingers got all messy, but I actually enjoyed it a lot. It’s a very different thing to feel the texture of the food with your fingers.

Sunday morning we visited an NGO called Hope for Salé (Salé is the city across the river from Rabat). This is an organization that tries to help the poorest people that live in the shanty town. It was so sad to see these modern buildings, and right next to it, a huge area of tin shacks clustered closely together. They don’t have proper bathrooms facilities, and there is only one free water tap in the whole area. People wake up at five to go stand in line with their bottles for water, and they wait several hours because there are so many people that need water. The organization started with just five people that met up at cafes or after soccer games to discuss what they could do about the shanty town situation. More and more people joined them, and eventually, when they needed a headquarters, they asked the king for a building, and he gave them a brand new one. We had a discussion about politics and religion and Morocco with a few guys from the organization. Again, I noticed how free people were to make their own choices about how they practice Islam. Two of the guys were not practicing at all, and the other said it was a very important part of his life. He talked about those that make extreme interpretations of the Qur’an, but they are wrong because Islam is about being a good person and helping others. He said something that I won’t forget: God gave me two hands because there is someone who has none, so why would I not do something to help? This was his whole motivation for the organization and the way he practices his religion.

After the NGO, we visited the Roman ruins at Chellah and saw the mausoleum of King Mohammed V, the current king’s grandfather. We had lunch with our families then explored the Kasbah, old fort, of Rabat and the Bazaar in small groups with Moroccan students.

One of the guys from the NGO walked with my group. He had spent some time in the US, and we were talking about his experiences there. He told one story about the way Americans relate to each other. He had a puppy, and he was walking when this woman came up and started cooing over the puppy. “Oh how cute! What’s his name?” She didn’t even look at him or ask about him, it was just the puppy, then she walked away. This hit home for me because I have done the exact same thing! He said that in Morocco, that would never happen. People are actually concerned about others, and talk to them. Even if there was a dog, they would ask about the person too. This was just an interesting snapshot of the way Americans do things, and it pointed out that Americans are not the warmest people. I also noticed that Moroccans (and Spaniards and Chinese and other nationalities I’ve come across) know so much about the world beyond their own borders. They are interested in what’s happening around the world, whereas Americans know very little. He put it very aptly: we have everything but know nothing.

In the evening, we talked with some Peace Corps volunteers and Fulbright scholars about living and working in Morocco then went to a Hammam (public baths). This was definitely an interesting experience. Jess introduced the girls in our group to some ladies who would take us to the Hammam. We were all a little nervous because one, it’s a public bath, two, you only wear underwear, and three, we had no idea what we were supposed to do once we got there. But the ladies helped us. We all got a scrubby glove and some soap made of olive oil and went into the bath. It was a lot like a steam room in a spa. It was very warm, and there was a tap for hot water. You fill a bucket with the water, sit on the floor and scrub away. The ladies looked in periodically to check up on us and tell us what to do next like, Now is the time to wash your hair. There was one other woman in there with us and she had a little girl and boy with her. The little boy was probably about five, and he was running and sliding across the floor on his belly which was pretty entertaining. We were in there for about an hour, but they said that some people go there for two hours to relax. It was definitely a relaxing experience, and when we got home, we went straight to bed.

The next morning, we drove to the Rif Mountains to a small village. We had lunch with a family there. None of them spoke English, but we had a translator with us, and we had a conversation about simplicity of life and the economic challenges of rural areas in Morocco. They lead such different lives than most Americans, but we found out, they play the same games like Tag and Hide and Seek. There really are more similarities than differences once you move past the physical differences. The village was made up of about 360 people, people raise their own animals and grow their own food, mostly just to feed themselves. They trade with other mountain villages, and rarely go into the city. They have all the basics of life, and they are completely satisfied with it.

After our mountain visit, we drove to Chefchaouen where we had time to walk in the Medina and bargain in the market. This reminded me so much of He Fang Street in China—all the little souvenirs and merchants saying, I give you good price! Our group stayed at Hotel Yasmina, and the fifteen people in our group filled the whole place. We had a celebratory dinner that night then met on the roof terrace of the hostel to talk about the trip. It’s funny, but when we first came, we were basically only thinking that we get to ride camels because it’s Africa. However, during our reflection time, not one person mentioned riding camels as the highlight of the trip. We were so clueless about Moroccan culture, that that was originally our high point. But after the fact, that one opportunity paled in comparison to the other things we got to do. I’m so thankful that this wasn’t a sightseeing trip. Instead, we got to be immersed in the culture, even if it was only for three days. In those three days, I learned more and got a fuller picture of who Moroccans are than if I had been on a tour of the monuments with a guide. Now I can come home and share these experiences with others who will never get the chance to see this part of the world. It’s especially important because Americans have such a limited view of Muslims based on what our media shows us. Now I have the knowledge and the experience to correct those who choose to see the world through such a small lens.

Tuesday morning, we woke up early to hike up the mountain to a little mosque that overlooks the city. It was a beautiful morning, and a good start to a long day of traveling. We had breakfast and headed back to the border. By this time, I had about had it with traveling. We had been averaging four hours of driving every day, and this day, we had seven hours ahead of us. One last interesting point: we crossed the Moroccan-Spanish border while we were still in Morocco. Spain still claims the port city Ceuta as its own. This is kind of a sore point between the two countries, and customs was quite extensive. Young Moroccan males cannot pass through customs because too many of them go to Spain and don’t come back. We didn’t have any problems since we were obviously Americans, but it was a long wait. We said goodbye to Jess because she was heading back to her home near Fes, and boarded our ferry.

The drive back was uneventful, and we finally arrived in Granada at 8 that night. We were so glad to be “home”. The others were exclaiming, “Real buildings! Real bathrooms that have toilet paper! No one yelling at us to buy their products!” I was happy to be back, but it made me a little sad that this was everyone’s first reaction. Maybe I didn’t do that because I had spent a semester in China and been used to things like that, but it’s too bad the others couldn’t appreciate Moroccan culture and taken those things, not as inconveniences and negatives, but just another way of life.

After this long weekend, I needed a day of rest. The Language Intensive students started class today, but Estudios Hispanicos doesn’t start until Monday. But my rest is short; I’m leaving for Ronda tomorrow with Lyanne and Cat. I guess it’s a good thing the Vienna thing fell through. I don’t think I could handle another big trip right away. Ronda is just a nice two hour train ride away.

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