Michelle Betz's Dispatch from Morocco #6
Rabat MoroccoFebruary 20, 2005
The Kasbah
I'm sitting here in my technologically-fortified house in the Kasbah. It's only Thursday, Feb. 17 (I usually write these on Sundays) but it's been a long week so I thought I'd begin. I didn’t write last week so this story picks up with the most recent events. This dispatch will probably give you a good sense of what passes for a “timeline” for me here.
Anyway, I'm absolutely exhausted as I write. Have spent most of the past week recovering from jetlag but holding down what feels like two jobs. I'm still in constant demand from my students back in Florida and thus am being stretched across the Atlantic to serve both American and Moroccan college students - all of whom are trying to learn about the wonderful world of broadcast journalism.
This morning (my time) I got an instant message from a former student. She must have been desperate -- it was 3 a.m. her time! We chatted while I was going over a script from another former student and at the same time was trying to prepare for my day here in Morocco. Wow, talk about multi-tasking.
But this is what I do and I love it even if I am whipped at day's end.
It's now Sunday morning (Feb. 20) and I'm sipping my coffee, watching the sun push its way up and listening to the putter of the fishing boats as they motor out to sea.
I got back from the United States Sunday morning (Feb. 13) and was thrilled to see the same taxi driver that had brought me to the airport when I left for the U.S., waiting for me as arranged. I tipped him well.
The first person that greeted me was Tariq, the young man that helped me find my house. He just happened to be waiting for someone outside the walls of the Kasbah. He greeted me with a huge smile; it was wonderful to be home. I settled in and called Giulia, my Italian friend who had arrived a few weeks earlier and had desperately been looking for a place here in the Kasbah as well. I met up with her in the afternoon and we hit the Kasbah streets hunting for members of the Kasbah "mafia" who would know about empty houses. Giulia had decided today was the last possible day to find a place as she had found another apartment in another part of Rabat and told the landlord she'd give him an answer Monday. So the pressure was on. We begged people to call the landlords of places they suspected were empty, then we begged the landlords to come and show us these places today. And they did. We looked at one gorgeous place which had been redone quite beautifully - fountain and everything! But the price was pretty gorgeous too - over $1000 US/month. We went to the museum for another rendez-vous only to meet a man that Giulia had already dealt with and she'd already seen the apartment. We were striking out big time.
We talked to some more members of the "mafia." They mentioned a place with a huge terrace. Giulia said she'd already seen it the week before and that it was too big. I told the guys (and Giulia) that I wanted to see it. We wound our way through the narrow alleys of the Kasbah, went inside the house, up the stairs and voila!
It was traditional Moroccan style - courtyard in the centre with a terrace all around and rooms extending off the terrace on three sides. We were on the second floor, the landlord (an ancient and extremely deaf man, according to Giulia) was down below. I poked around. I thought it was lovely.
There was one small room with closets, two huge rooms that shared a fireplace (how I longed for one of those), a kitchen and a bathroom. Stairs leading from the terrace to the roof (another terrace, really). I thought the place was amazing! OK... there were a couple drawbacks: no heat (I've come to realize I've probably got the only house in the Kasbah with heat - and thank god for that!!), cat poo in the shower (the place had been empty for seven months) and it was unfurnished.
I kept asking Giulia what her problem was -- this place was truly incredible!! She said it was too big. I then asked if she was out of her mind! Here, I explained, this could be your living/dining room, this other huge room on the other side of the fireplace could be your bedroom and you'd be nice and cozy warm at night, the tiny bedroom you could use for storage. Sure, it needed to be cleaned, but wow - what a place. The "mafia" guys flicked excited glances at me -- if they rented the place then they'd be sharing a commission. Giulia was starting to come around, but I was getting tired. I told her I thought the place was amazing, that I'd help her get it clean or whatever, but she had to make the decision. Only she would know if it felt right. She and I went back to my place, talked some more, made a list of some things that would have to be fixed (her points of negotiation) and I suggested a price. She left, and called me later saying she'd told the landlord she'd take it for a year!
I was thrilled for her!
Last Tuesday (Feb. 15), I was asked to host a small cocktail party at my place (which has become a bit of a novelty, because it's in the Kasbah and has an absolutely outstanding view) for a Canadian senator, Pierre Claude Nolin, and a politician from Northern Ireland, David Rose. They were here to assist NDI in their coalition-building project. The conversation was fascinating. Rose is now based in Palestine where his wife works for NDI. I hadn't been there since 1997 and so he filled us all in on what's happening, particularly in Gaza. "It's Northern Ireland in the '70s, but worse," he said. He told us horrific stories of the checkpoints and border crossings into Gaza. But perhaps the saddest part was that Rose sees very little hope for a viable solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict. How incredibly sad, I thought. One of the things I love about the Kasbah is how I feel like people look out for me here. I suppose it's not very common when a single (well, married, but alone) woman lives here. As a result people take care of me. Monday night, Hajja Fatna, my landlord's wife and wonderful housekeeper, sent her husband over with a plate full of steaming food. Amazing. Then Friday my neighbor's son, Rachid, appeared with a container of couscous (the traditional Friday meal in Morocco). I couldn't believe it.
Hajja is also a lifesaver in that she comes to my place twice a week (for about $25) to clean my house, do my laundry, etc. She once made me a meal and left it on the stove for me to find when I came home, famished, from work. I am usually too wiped out when I get home to even think about cleaning or laundry. To come home to clean clothes, a clean house and fresh bed linens etc is a real treat.
And then there's Sweetpea. She's the dog that lives on the rooftop across from me. She has become part of my daily ritual. When I get home, I go onto the terrace and call her name (who knows what her real name is, but she now comes running when I call "Sweetpea" -- yup, food is a great motivator!). One at a time I throw dog treats (that I've bought just for her) over to the roof. After each one she comes back to "her spot" and looks at me with the sweetest face. She even speaks to me now! Not quite a replacement for Ziggy, but she is definitely sweet.
Friday/Saturday was Ashoura, one of the holiest days for Shiite Muslims -- it's the holiday where you'll often see images on TV of young Shia men flogging themselves. But in Sunni Muslim countries, like Morocco, it's a holiday primarily for the kids. If aid al-kabir (the sheep killing holiday) is like Christmas (with pens of sheep replacing lots of Christmas trees), then Ashoura is Halloween.
Friday night and all day Saturday kids walked up and down the lanes of the Kasbah banging drums, banging on doors and asking for money (instead of candy). Of course, I had no idea how much to give, and had no small change on me so gave the first group of boys 20 dirhams ($2.50). As I suspected they immediately starting fighting over it. I closed my door. I then realized I had no small bills left - only the equivalent of just over $10. It's like being at home on Halloween with no candy and sheepishly pretending not to be home when the kids unexpectedly show up in droves -- not fun and very embarrassing. And that was my Friday night.
Saturday, I was finally able to catch my breath after an incredibly busy work week (that'll be another missive) and my first weekend in three not spent on intercontinental travel.
I popped by Giulia's to see how she was settling in and she had put all kinds of people to work! A bit later we popped over to the medina (the souks, or markets) as we both needed a walk. The streets were packed. We pushed our way through and we poked around in shops. At one point I saw a man in front of a table with all sorts of interesting looking herbs, bits of snake skin and a few other things that I probably don't want to know about.
I asked him what all this stuff was. He said it was like incense. I pointed to snakeskin (surely that wasn't used as incense) and asked again. He leaned over towards me and whispered something about le Diablo. So I told him I wanted 50 dirhams of stuff. It was worth a try, I figured, to keep le Diablo out of my life! He took a small piece of paper and starting taking a pinch of this and a pinch of that and loaded my paper down, wrapped it up and handed it to me. I stuffed the packet into my little purse, suddenly feeling empowered. Apparently witchcraft is quite widespread in Morocco.
Giulia and I plan to burn some of this magical potion today. I'll let you know what happens.
Till then, hugs,
michelle
