Headed Down South

I’m on the bus home from our first excursion, and my head is spinning from all we’ve done.  In the past seven days, I have stopped in around a dozen villages, towns, and cities in the southern part of Morocco.  Considering the country’s small size, our trip has required a surprising amount of time in transit, probably around 30 hours total, but the long trips have provided time to absorb the surrounding scenery.  Morocco’s size doesn’t limit its topography; in fact, the range of landscapes likely surpasses that of the U.S.  We’ve journeyed from the ocean-side capitol city to the Saharan dunes in under 48 hours, and from there to deep river gorges, snow-capped mountain ranges, and verdant agricultural valleys. 

A snowy drive through the Middle Atlas Mountains

The cultural range has been equally as diverse.  Through stops at various NGOs along the road, we’ve had a chance to interact with some of the advocates for women’s rights and education and learn more about change in the region.  As our route has taken us through some of the country’s least populated areas, we’ve also seen some of the poorest villages and their people.  Then, only hours later, we would arrive in cities like Marrakech and Essaouira, where we blended with the other Western tourists being wooed by insistent shopkeepers.  As one of our academic directors aptly noted, Morocco is a country of contrasts, both geographically and economically, and our excursion served its purpose in reinforcing that idea.

Rainy marketplaces of Marrakech

With so much time on the go, it has been difficult to process all that I’ve seen.  Gazing upon the rural villages, I have to wonder what the lives of those who live there are like.  On the edge of the Sahara, we drove through one section of sandy homes where women and men perched on their doorsteps, seeming to wait for the day to pass.  There can’t be any agricultural profit here, so it begs to question what people do all day.  Apparently, the lucky ones own camels, which they can rent to tour companies like the one that led us on our sunset ride through the dunes.  Schools exist, but they are scarce, and parents are often reluctant to send children who might contribute to the household.  Apart from the obvious socioeconomic difference between these country people and city dwellers, there is also a distinctive cultural divide.  Often, rural people are of Berber, not Arab, background, which means that they speak a different language and share separate customs from people like my host family.  I wish that I had more time to interact with the people in places like this, but we seemed to move on as quickly as we had arrived.  In several weeks, we will have an opportunity to spend a week in a rural village in the north, which I hope will provide more insight into the lives of these Moroccans.

The harbor in the beach town of Essaouira

Apart from the subsistence lifestyles we saw in the rural areas, it also seemed that urban poverty had a more conspicuous presence.  Of course, you don’t have to travel far in any city to notice hardship, and our home base of Rabat is no exception.  More so than in the U.S., it seems that physical disabilities contribute to people’s destitution, and it’s difficult to say what the government is doing in response.  Maybe it was because I spent so much of this trip as a tourist that the people on the street weighed heavier on me.  It feels difficult to approach this issue from my position of privilege.  Morocco’s overall economic condition isn’t as dismal as that of many developing countries, but seeing the people who live in need has reminded me of my place as a global citizen, related to each person I encounter through our mutual humanity.

Sunrise over the Sahara

Like many other experiences in this region, this trip had its challenging aspects, and I’m sure that I will continue to reflect on them as we learn about Morocco.  It also carried moments of immense awe—7 AM sunrises over Saharan sand, strolls through the late Yves St. Laurent’s vibrant gardens, rain-filled journeys through Marrakech’s winding souk (and the resulting 30-minute bartering exchange for my new Berber carpet), and cups of mint tea shared over growing friendships.  Already, nearly a third of my time in Morocco is over, and I can only imagine how quickly the remainder will fly.  I’m just trying to absorb all that I can, and I have a lot to look forward to in the next few weeks, including a class segment on religion in Morocco and another excursion.

Here's Looking at You, Kid!

Last weekend, a group of 25 students from my program ventured outside of Rabat for the first time.  Although our directors have organized several trips for later in the semester, this one was entirely student-planned.  Luckily, we were going to Casablanca, which is only about a one-hour, $4 train ride from Rabat, so the trip was easy to put together. 

Hassan II Mosque's minaret

Since the most common response to my plans to study here was to ask when I would visit Casablanca, this blog entry was essential, but be advised that the city might not be what you’re imagining from the classic film.  Although Casa (as Moroccans call it) has its charming parts, it mostly serves as the country’s economic hub and consequently is filled with busy streets and tall buildings.

An exterior hallway at the mosque

The tallest building of all (in fact, in all of the country) is the Hassan II Mosque.  Occupying several acres of space along the Atlantic coastline, this mosque is the 3^rd largest in the world, smaller only than others in the heart of Mecca.  Its minaret reaches 210 meters and is equipped with a laser beam pointing towards Islam’s holiest city.  The mosque must host millions of worshippers each year, and there is plenty of space for them all.  At its most crowded, the mosque can contain 25,000 people (20,000 of whom are men) indoors and 80,000 in its outdoor courtyards.  To give you an idea of the scale, it would be possible to fit Paris’ Notre Dame or Rome’s St. Peters inside.  During busy times like Ramadan, people arrive up to four hours early to claim a space in the prayer hall, and to keep the place cool, the roof retracts in under 3 minutes.  Part holy space, part sports stadium—but then again, I know some SEC fans might argue that they aren’t very different at all!

The split in the roof is where is opens on sunny days

What inspired such grandeur?  The mosque was completed in 1993, just in time to commemorate the 60^th birthday of its namesake king.  It took 6,000 workers six years of nonstop work in order to complete it, and the fruits of their handiwork are evident in every corner.  With the exception of some Italian marble and glass and Russian titanium, all of the materials are from Morocco.  Cedar from the forested countryside resists saltwater erosion and termite damage, while granite from the Atlas Mountains forms solid walls.  The overall impression is impossible to capture in words or photographs.  Of all the places I’ve seen, this was one of the most remarkable ones yet.

Windows that look out on the Atlantic

For those of you who are fans of the film, know that I tried my best to eat at Rick’s Café.  Unfortunately, we arrived between lunch and dinner, which meant that it was closed, but I did get to peek through the windows.  In the long run, it probably benefitted me to walk away.  I’m sure the place would have been way overpriced!

Daily life keeps passing at a non-stop pace.  We’re in our second week of formal class, and we’ll leave this Saturday for our first big trip.  As a group, we will go to the south for a week, which means I’ll finally get to ride a camel!  Every day is filled with so many new experiences, and I wish that I could fit more of them in these posts.  More updates later!

Outside Rick's Cafe

My Address(es)

If you would like to write to me from afar, I would love to hear from you, and I promise to respond with a postcard from this neck of the woods!

Here's my address while in Rabat:

Julia Watkins
Center for Cross-Cultural Learning
PO Box 6291
Rabat Instituts
Rabat 10101
Morocco

And, if you are so inclined as to send a package, there's a separate address for that:

Julia Watkins
CCCL c/o Abdelkarim Taek
Avenue Laalou, Derb Jirari
Zankat Elhassani, #11
Rabat Medina
Morocco 10000

However, I think that packages are quite expensive and take around a month to arrive, although we have heard that FedEx and UPS are slightly more efficient.

Love from al-Maghreb...

I've Been Adopted!

It’s really difficult for me to believe that I’ve only been here for a week.  Thanks largely to my host family, who I met and moved in with on Thursday, I’m beginning to feel settled.  I hardly know how to begin describing all of the sounds, smells, and sights that have inundated my surroundings since moving my bags from our sheltered haven of a hotel.   Our academic directors at the CCCL have emphasized that while the homestay experience is not always the easiest element of this semester in Morocco, students often cite it as the most enriching, important parts.  Living with a family enables students to partake in the Moroccan culture not as a guest, but as a member.  So far, this journey has been one action-packed, eye-opening minute after another, and my first days as a host student have been no exception.

In many ways, the move from American student in orientation to Moroccan family member was a plunge.  One minute, we were taking a bus tour of Rabat (talk about feeling like a tourist!), and the next we were weaving our way through throngs of local families, who were anticipating our arrival.  I was lucky to hear my name from one corner of the crowded room, and I turned to find my host mother, Fouzia, and my two brothers, Yassine and Chemsaddine.  Not knowing what language they would speak, I greeted them with a combination of salaam, salut, and hello.  As it turns out, most everyone speaks primarily Moroccan Arabic, with the exception of Yassine, who is learning French, and his aunt Jamila, who knows fus’Ha (the same Arabic I speak in class), French, and some English.

Fouzia, my mother, is in fact only 9 years older than I am, and her husband, Abdellatif, is roughly the same age.  Abdellatif works nearly all day, 6 days a week, so I have only met him a few times.  They have two sons, Yassine (age 9) and Chemsaddine (age 6), who are beyond adorable.  Two of Fazia’s sisters, Jamila (age 23) and Rashida (age 21) also live with us.  Because the father is so often at work, the dynamic centers around a house of women in their 20’s taking care of two little boys.  It’s nice to have some people near my age.

The layout of all of the homes in Rabat’s old medina, where I am staying, is basically the same.  All the homes are attached along narrow alleyways.  If you were to look at one from the outside, it would be very difficult to guess what the inside was like, as there are no visible windows.  Instead, all of the windows face an interior courtyard, which may be partially or fully covered on top.  Our home’s courtyard is about 25% uncovered, which means that the occasional bird flies into the living room, and the tile floor becomes damp when it rains.  Around the courtyard are a number of rooms, including the kitchen, bathroom (complete with one Turkish toilet… Google it.), Fouzia’s room, the boys’ room, and one long space that serves as living room, dining room, and bedroom for the aunts and me.  How is this possible?  Well, the room is lined with low couches.  There is a table and television on one side, and at night, we shift the pillows and cover the couches in blankets to make them beds.  At the risk of sounding stereotypical, I think my room looks like a place where Aladdin’s Princess Jasmine could sleep.  My home is even more different than I could have predicted, but I think that I will feel truly comfortable here.

As a family, we’ve already done activities bzef (this is a Moroccan Arabic word used nonstop to mean a whole, whole lot or really).  My first night here, we took the bus (an experience in itself) to the nearby city of Sale to visit with other family members.  I spent much of the time feeling pretty confused as I was shuffled from one space to another, but everyone was very welcoming.  I think I might have even received an offer to go see the grandfather’s camels in Essaouira!  I’ve also been down to the beach along the Atlantic Ocean with Jamila and Rashida.  Due to a misunderstanding in language, I didn’t bring my camera, but I can tell you that it was one of the most awe-inspiring sights I’ve ever seen.  The waves were enormous, and we arrived just in time for sunset.  Simply beautiful.  Yesterday, Fouzia took me on another adventure through the souq to buy groceries and then home to make tagine.  As I am eager to develop a set of strong Moroccan cooking skills, I was thrilled by the chance to receive some personal instruction.  She says she will teach me more as the semester progresses.

I know that a homestay family can make or break an experience like this, and I feel very fortunate to have been paired with mine.  I feel warmly accepted and comfortable, and I look forward to seeing what the remainder of my time as a Moroccan daughter and sister brings.  Apparently, as I was told after watching three hours (literally) of Moroccan wedding home videos, there may even be a chance for me to attend the wedding of one of my family’s friends.  Hooray!

More photos to come soon, but for now here's one of some of the fam...

(From L to R): Chemsaddine, Fouzia, me, Jamila, and Yassine.  One big, happy family!