Michelle Betz's Dispatch from Morocco #1
January 10, 2005Rabat, Morocco
Well, it seems I unwittingly started a trend with my dispatches from Rwanda almost two years ago exactly. I hope I can keep you as entertained with my Moroccan missives as I did with their Rwandan counterparts.
So here I am again, still on the African continent but a million miles away, it seems, from the center of the continent where Rwanda lies. Instead I'm in the northwest corner, closer to Spain (in geography) and the Middle East (in feel) then central Africa. Indeed, I find that Morocco (or at least Rabat) has a decidedly Middle Eastern feel to it, thus making me feel at home and bringing back memories of my days in Jerusalem. The chaos of the traffic where there seem to be no rules but lots of traffic cops, the constant gesticulating with the hands and the raising of the voice... all in apparently friendly conversation. This, and so much more reminds me of East Jerusalem and the Old City.
My first few days have passed here in Rabat and I'm slowly getting settled. Spent the first couple nights in a hotel where I stayed back in September then moved into my apartment in the Kasbah, the oldest part of Rabat dating back to the 1200s. I love my little place -- there's a lovely view of the river which comes to an end right before me as it dumps into the Atlantic. I can watch the fishermen in their colorful boats dock in Sale (Rabat's twin city across the river) and dump their loads of fish to the tens of people waiting (at least that's what I imagine they're doing...I can't quite see that far!). In the mornings and afternoons I see groups of boys running or playing soccer. This morning there were a bunch of them on the Sale side doing somersaults towards the river. Why? I'm not sure but it was fun to watch. Then there are others with their long fishing poles standing on the edge of the beach waiting to catch something and I see the odd couple walking arm in arm or at least side by side. I feel somewhat voyeuristic as I take it all in.
Then there's my immediate neighborhood. I look down on to the flat roofs of my neighbors, clothes hanging out to dry and the odd tourist walking the narrow streets of the Kasbah des Oudayas. There's no traffic in the Kasbah so it's wonderfully quiet - the only sounds come from the odd wave down below, cats in the night and dogs barking and people calling to one another (there are no doorbells so the only way to get someone's attention is to call up). On the roof across from me lives a dog. I assume that he lives there and is in some way taken care of, but I've adopted him from afar and have taken to throwing him scraps from my terrace.
My first misadventure was earlier today. I had a dried heel of a baguette and threw it across to the dog's roof, taking what I thought was careful aim. The dog followed with his eyes, all the way down into what I assume is the house's courtyard. I stood there mortified. "Good god, these people must think I'm throwing things at them," I thought. I went inside -- insistent on getting the dog something -- but not after I waited a couple of minutes frozen. I ran downstairs, grabbed a piece of fresh baguette and came back onto the terrace. To my surprise and horror, the dog had the old baguette. Yikes! His owners must have thrown it up from the courtyard. I didn't know what to think. Oh well.
There are two gates to the Kasbah, each only a couple minutes stroll from my house. The house is a one bedroom with what I suppose are two sitting rooms and then a small kitchen and small bathroom with shower. My favorite part is the terrace, from which I can watch the world! The most difficult part has been the cold. The house does have a few heating elements but the houses here simply aren't made for the cold -- it gets chilly inside even with the heaters on. I'm sure they do wonderfully in the summer, and I'm longing for that season to begin. Before I left, Paul got me a travel alarm with what I thought was a silly temperature gauge on it. Who knew you could get so obsessed with the temperature? I look at it constantly, hoping against hope that it will register 70 (Farenheit)... but at least it now stays above 60. It's become a game to try to figure out strategies of keeping the cold from coming in through cracks, etc. I have bought a couple of carpets, thinking they'll hold some heat (or at least keep my feet warm). The house is a kind of weird split level layout, so that too is a challenge. I try to keep the lower doors closed to keep the heat on the top two floors.
Friday I checked out the large "Western" style supermarket, Marjane. It had pretty much everything I could ask for including a luscious looking olive bar! What a difference from Rwanda, where I was lucky if I could find bread... here I get the most wonderful baguettes for about 15 cents. As I wandered through the supermarket pushing my cart, I saw a crowd of men in the corner just hovering. Then I saw a metal door being raised and the men swoop in... turns out it was the booze section which is only open certain hours. I found it ironic that these Muslims would be waiting impatiently to get their bottles of wine or dozen cans of beer, particularly on a Friday!
Morocco, it seems, is suffering from an identity crisis; at least that's what some Moroccans say. On the plane over I sat next to one man, a director of a large petrol company here in Morocco, who posited just that. He had lived in Paris for 12 years and had the disfiguring scars of a terrorism attack in 1992 to prove it. He told me that Morocco has come to a kind of a crossroads -- that it is trying to figure out its identity as a country. He explained that Morocco is African, Arab, European, and Islamist and that each of these seems to be pulling it in often conflicting directions. It seems many Moroccans (I would say most) have family members living in the Moroccan Diaspora (France, Italy, Switzerland, Belgium and North America) though it also seems that many of the Moroccans that leave end up returning after some years abroad.
To me, though, the country (at least Rabat and Fez, the two cities I've seen thus far) has a definite Arab and Middle Eastern feel to it. I hear the Muslim call to prayer five times a day (the early morning one, around 4 a.m. seems to be the loudest and the longest). Traffic has a Middle Eastern chaos to it, but that could be African too.
Today, as I walked through the medina, it brought me back to my Jerusalem days when I would often stroll through the Old City, which had a similar kind of layout. Certain streets sold fruits and vegetables, others spices, others carpets, still others leather goods and so on and so on. It felt wonderfully familiar. I saw some gorgeous looking (dead) eels (gorgeous in the sense that their markings and colors were absolutely outstanding) and another site that warmed my heart. In a country where it seems animals are generally mistreated I spotted an old man followed by a small dog who was wearing a knitted coat. People looked at the dog and man oddly; I smiled.
Later on my walk, I felt someone grab my pack. I quickly spun around only to see that it was Fatna, my landlord Hassan's wife. Apparently she had been trying to get my attention (by calling "Julianne, Julianne"... I reminded her what my name was). In any case, she dragged my by the hand in the opposite direction from where I had intended to go, leading me down narrow streets and finally up a staircase. It turned out we were visiting some family members -- an old man who was being plied with meds (seemed he had a cold) and two younger women. The man was Fatna's brother but I'm still not sure who the women were. We stayed for the requisite thé a la menthe and some sort of fried (extremely greasy) bread. I couldn't say no -- that would have been extremely rude, and as it was they were upset I only took one piece of the bread. We stayed awhile and I tried to understand at least some of what they were saying... no luck. Fatma and I left and walked part of the way together before she went her way and I another. I must say, it was kind of nice running into someone I knew.
Tomorrow will be my first official work day (though I've been prepping for a while now) as I head into the office to finish preps for my first workshop Wednesday and Thursday. Looks like my schedule is already packed and I'm eager to get to work.
Hope you're all well.
Miss you all.
Hugs,
m
