|
Morocco Semester Abroad |
|
 |
|
|
From New Boston to
Africa; and Back Again:
A
Semester In Morocco by Jonathan Phillips
|
| |
|
Posted by Jonathan Phillips on January 22,
2010 |
|
Creation; Understanding; and the First 60
Hours
It is kind of hard to believe. I am sitting
on a train in the North African coast of
Casablanca heading to Meknes. Then it is on
to Ifrane where the university I am visiting
this semester is located. Al Akhawayn
University attracts many international
students around the globe, and stands as a
beacon of tolerance and progression among
Morocco’s universities. The name Al Akhawayn
translates into “The Two Brothers’
University”; the two brothers being the late
King Hassan II of Morocco, and King Fahd of
Saudi Arabia. A plan had been in place to
build a university in Morocco like this
since the 1970s, but the money was just
never there. Envisioned was a school that
promoted multiculturalism and was accessible
to a student body represented by all socio
economic backgrounds. But, as in most
natural creation stories, it took some
destruction to produce the opportunity for
this School’s formation. A massive oil spill
off the Atlantic coast of Morocco in 1990
was also the catalyst for the schools
funding. After the spill, much pollution was
spreading toward the Moroccan coast, and
King Fahd pledged $50,000,000.oo To the
Kingdom of Morocco for the cleanup. It was
soon realized that the pollution was
contained in the Atlantic and never reached
the Moroccan coast significantly. Rather the
oil remains out of sight and mind polluting
the bottom of the Atlantic somewhere close
by Morocco still today. It is uncustomary to
return gifts in this part of the world so
the two rulers decided to use the money to
build a university in Morocco, and the old
plans were drawn up and Al Akhawayn was
born. King Hassan II took much pride in his
achievement of the formation of this
progressive and cultural school, believing
that it would usher in a new age in Moroccan
society in an increasingly global world. The
current King of Morocco, his majesty King
Muhammad VI, continues the international
mission of the university, and receives a
report every year as the honorary president
of the school.
This is the short creation story of the
school I am writing to you from abroad in
Middle Eastern Africa. This school in the
resort town of Ifrane and the broader
Kingdom of Morocco are the setting from
which I will attempt to bring you
interesting, personal, and relevant tales.
These tales will be weekly episodes of first
hand experiences that will serve to help me
make sense of it all, and give you students
an opportunity to encounter this new place
in a unique and thoughtful way.
So here I am, an ambitious student really
going after something I have wanted to do. I
have never been out of the country, never
been farther west than Ohio, never been on a
plane (the farthest I’ve ever been off the
ground is when I rode the Drop Zone at Kings
Island a little over 300 feet high), and I
speak no other language but English. But the
opportunity for me to study abroad was still
there if I chose to really seek it out. I
have to go away from everything that makes
me comfortable: my girlfriend, foods I am
use to, friends, family, regular television
shows I watch like Survivor, the NFL
Playoffs and the Super Bowl, and everything
familiar basically for four months; longer
than a season basically. Weighing the
sacrifice it is worth it, because I will
become personally engaged in a society,
tradition, culture, and learning experience
that will broaden my perspectives immensely.
This is important because everything you can
understand better then becomes richer and
more meaningful. Nothing is more powerful
than true understanding and few things more
noble than truly pursuing this
understanding. Do you ever feel
misunderstood? Don’t you wish people could
understand you better? Such a simple
concept; if everyone tried to truly
understand each other than the world would
have no conflict, and no wars, and no
hunger, and diplomacy would look like the
end of an episode of Full House. Keep this
in mind as some of the differences and
richness of a new culture shine through as
you read and listen to these stories.
I began to write in my pocket journal after
Don and I arrived in Morocco. Donald Steppe
is the other student from Shawnee State in
Portsmouth who traveled abroad to study at
Al Akhawayn University. The long
international flight landed in Casablanca
early in the morning Tuesday as the sun was
just arriving as well. This is a positive
omen I thought. We boarded a train finally
around twenty till eight a.m., Don and I
were suddenly thrust from the busy busy air
travelling in New York’s JFK and Casa
airports to this almost cliché serene train
scene that caused me to pull out my journal
and write as I gazed out the big windows on
a new day and caught my first glimpses of
Casablanca and Morocco. Don sat across the
aisle and we were the only ones on this car.
It was quiet, and the rolling train sounded
nice; calming; inspiring. Two days ago I was
in New Boston Ohio. Now I’m on an old, big,
slow-moving train (maybe goes 45 miles an
hour or 50) and I found myself traveling
through the country side of Casablanca. That
was the first moment it really sunk in. I
looked at Don and said "dude, were in
Africa", and he gave a sort of uneasy laugh
and said “yeah”. My first experience with
flying got us as far as Casa, but now we had
to get ourselves across the country to the
site of the university we are visiting
located in the Middle Atlas Mountain. Loaded
with Moroccan dirhams, but no real
experience how to spend them in a country
where bargaining is part of the culture and
with not a lick of French or Arabic between
Don and I, we two already weary travelers
still had a ways to go till we made it to
our destination.
With every train stop, Don and I wondered if
it was ours. We had to ask people “Casa
Voyageurs?” and point out the window at the
outside. When we did it with “Meknes?”, one
girl laughed and said “No. This is not
Meknes”. She spoke English. She had been
sitting in our car, but was quiet. Now Don
and I took the opportunity to talk with the
Fez native. She was very pretty and a little
shy, but seemed somewhat amused with us. We
asked her what the distance was to the city
of our next stop to board another train, and
how far Al Akhawayn University in Ifrane was
from where we were then. We had no idea, Don
and I managed to navigate our way from the
coast and across the country without knowing
a bit of French or Arabic. No signs or
anything told you where you actually were
when the train stopped, and our tickets had
departure times but no arrival times, so we
had no idea how long we would be on each
train. One time I had to chase down a train
to get my luggage. The trains stop for about
10 seconds literally and I had luggage that
required two trips. When I got off the first
time with luggage the train was already
starting to move, so I had to drop the
stuff, run the train down and climb in to
get the rest of my bags. The trip to the
university seemed epic, but filled with only
from 6:00 a.m. Monday morning when I left
New Boston toward Columbus airport till
around 2:30 Tuesday afternoon Moroccan time
(which is five hours ahead of Ohio time).
The train ride was interesting and not what
I expected. The smell begged for an
explanation or at least a description. It
was moist in the back of the nose; Don
offered “rank”. Cows grazed on the sides of
the street, people rode two at a time on
little motor bikes, and horse drawn
carriages and donkeys pulling carts are
frequent in the streets along the railway.
At first I was upset that we couldn’t get a
flight into Fez airport so the university
could send someone to meet us and transport
us to the university. But, riding the train
really gave me an intimate view of the
country scape even as I could only glance at
it as it rolled by. There was a lot of flood
damage from the rainy season that had just
passed, and much desolation along the
tracks. I seen piles of trash, and half
homes of rubble and ruin; seemed a daunting
place. But I guess life is always a little
harder along the train tracks.
We made it to Meknes with some help from the
girl we met and another gentleman who was
trying to get us to take a taxi that he
could set us up with. He was saying 500
dirhams, and Don and I passed. We rode about
four hours of trains to the city that was
about an hour and a half from Ifrane. The
wreck less taxi we ended up taking from the
train station was interesting to say the
least. It cost us 300 dirhams and like New
York City taxi drivers these guys are crazy;
and the traffic in Meknes and Hagreb (sp)
were chaotic. We were dodging people, other
cars, garbage trucks, bicyclists, people on
motor bikes, donkeys, horses, and sheep, and
huge trucks. Sometimes two people on a
motorbike and cars and animals were going
three and four wide in two lane traffic, and
they do so without much hesitation. All the
beeping horns and noise was just crazy. I
thought I might have come this far across
the ocean and bite the dust in a traffic
accident just an hour from my destination.
There are no stop signs or any traffic signs
really. I don't know if there is a speed
limit. The little Mercedes they drive may
only go about 80/90 mph. Paint lines in the
road, like turning lanes and two way traffic
designations, were more a suggestion than
the rule. People are passing all the time
and narrowly missing oncoming traffic and
farm animals. First the cab driver beeps at
a donkey and some dude, then drives by him
and gets back in his lane just before a
garbage truck macs us. People on motor bikes
were fearless as they weaved in and out of
traffic nearly clipping our side mirrors as
they passed. The disorderliness was such a
surprise, I hope I don’t exaggerate. We did
make it up the mountains in the cab, and the
town we arrived in was beautiful and the
campus was gorgeous.
Don and I had already been around the campus
and the city of Ifrane within the first 60
hours from when our trip began in New
Boston. This city is a lot different than
what we seen on the way here. It is clean
and the people are really nice, and it is
absolutely beautiful. There was some flood
damage here as well from the rainy season
that just passed, but other than that it is
immaculate. It's not hectic and dirty like
the other cities we were in. In the parts of
all the other cities we seen there were
ruins of houses and buildings, cloths
hanging up to dry out every window and sheep
grazing on the side of the road with
somebody watching them to keep them off the
road as they fed. Here though there are just
a few stray dogs, and everyone probably has
a washing machine. I found out though that
the average citizen of the town of Ifrane is
very poor also; families of five or six
bringing in less than 2,000 dirhams a month.
However, it is sort of an expensive resort
town, and prices of things in the marche/market
here are overpriced. The archetecture to
most of the buildings are very similar, but
there is still variety in the shops and
business. The roofs of all the houses and
buildings are tall and steep to repel the
loads of snow dropped every winter. We went
to the local marche and that was very cool.
We ate at a restaurant where we had a
traditional Moroccan meal that included a
tangine and harira, and they have cokes in
full size glass bottles here. The tangine is
a meal named after the dish it is prepared
in, and the lid is taken off and served in
its base. Tangines have a type of meat, and
types of vegitables. My tangine was beef
made with prunes. The harira is a type of
hot soup. While in the marche Wednesday
afternoon I had a panini once, and I had a
pizza that had prunes on it as well. Other
options for the pizza included shrimp, eggs,
and even corn. I don’t necessarily like
prunes, but the guy making my pizza just
included them even though I didn’t order
them. I'm going to try the weirdest pizza I
can while I am over here one evening. It was
kind of a thinner crunchier flowery crust
but it was not much different than Pizza in
the states other than that.
I experienced a great deal more than I
thought I would in such a short period of
time on the journey to my destination. There
are many more things to share already as
well, but that is for another week. I
haven’t scratched the surface of some of the
things that I want to find out and see. But
as I learn more you will learn more. |
| |
|
Posted by
Jonathan Phillips on January 29, 2010 |
A Rare Non-Muslim
Visit Inside a Mosque: and a little
about Islam in Morocco
It was damp and foggy in the early evening
darkness. The sun had just set on my ninth
day in the mountains in Morocco. The day Don
and I arrived the temperatures were in the
high 50s and low 60s, but our first weekend
brought in the colder weather this region is
used to this time of year. Along with it
came a couple days and nights of cold rain,
and a few days of snow that stuck for a
while but turned to slush in massive
quantities. I nearly was pummeled a few
times with big slops of slush that came
sliding off the steep rooftops of the campus
buildings when gravity won the fight over
friction as I made my way slowly along the
sides of the buildings to get to class. I
hear some of the international students and
freshman Moroccan students complain, but
this weather isn’t much different than what
we get back in Ohio, so it’s not hard for me
to adapt. As well, I have heard from some of
the veteran students that the weather has
been unusually mild this winter, with record
low levels of snow. The levels of snow they
are used to completely cease traffic,
commerce, and school in the town—with snow
that measures in the feet. That would be a
little harder to adapt to. With the end of
my ninth day on campus the snow had stopped
but fog was present in the air, and thick
clouds blocked the crystal clear shimmering
skies that this mountain reveals at night.
When the Imam approached us the group got
quiet. We had to take our shoes off before
we entered the room of the God (bayta
Allah).
I had my camera ready but I was told before
I could snap any pictures that no cameras
were allowed. Two different meeting times
were set up for those who wanted to enter
the mosque that majestically occupies the
center of campus at Al Akhawayn University.
This was a big deal because only two mosques
technically are open to non-Muslims in the
Kingdom of Morocco: the Hassan II Mosque in
Casablanca, which I want to visit, and the
Tin Mal Mosque in Marrakech. But because the
university wants to set an example of
tolerance and foster a learning environment
for multiculturalism, international students
are given the opportunity to visit the
mosque and meet the Imam for a Q&A session.
Now I know you guys may not know what a
mosque is, but they in-fact occupy every
continent in the world except
Antarctica—which is just a block of ice
basically that you can find at the bottom of
the globe. There are also many mosques
throughout the United States. Mosques
generally are a place for worship and prayer
for Muslims. Sort of the same function as
the churches serve for Christians in New
Boston and everywhere else. Muslims are
people who identify themselves with the
Islamic community and religion of Islam.
Someone isn’t born a Muslim; anyone can be a
Muslim, just as anyone can be a Christian.
To be a Muslim one has to adhere to the five
pillars of Islam. Many of you in the class
may have been baptized as a requirement for
your faith and religion. According to my
roommate, Walid, the five pillars of Islam
are: 1. Belief in only one god and the last
prophet Muhammad (Alshahadatayn) 2. the
prayer (Salat) 3. The fast during Ramadan (Alsawm)
4. The charity or tithing (Zakat) 5. The
pilgrimage (Hajj). These are what my
roommate Walid calls the five principles of
his Muslim faith. Walid is a Muslim,
although he admits he is not the most
disciplined. As maybe some of the Christians
in the class are not as well. Do some of you
ever just cram yourself full of pizza till
you are about to burst, then grab some ice
crème—because there is always room for ice
crème, until you made yourself sick? Some
Christians may think that this is not the
straight path of Christianity or is a sin,
and some Christians may not. It just depends
on your beliefs.
One fact that may surprise the class is how
similar the beliefs of Christianity and
Islam really are. The first pillar of Islam
is belief in only one God, which Christians
also believe. For example Christians do not
believe in the Sun God, or any other. Also,
Muslims believe that Jesus Christ was born
on earth, but Muslims believe he was only a
prophet of the one true God, not the son of
God like Christians believe. Muslims also
pray to the one god they believe is the
creator of all things. But Muslims are
supposed to pray five times a day, every
day: once at sunrise (Alssobh), at noon (Aldohr),
at mid afternoon (Al Aasar), at sunset (Almaghreb),
and after dinner before bed (Aliechae).
Walid admits that he doesn’t pray near as
much as he is suppose to as a pious Muslim.
He said that he never gets up at sunrise,
and that he and many of his friends just
pray in the morning whenever they get out of
bed. As well, many of the Moroccan students
do stick to the scheduled prayers. When a
Muslim prays, they kneel on their knees and
face the holy city of Mecca as they bow
their heads to the ground and say their
prayers to either God (Allah) or the final
prophet Muhammad. Mecca is located on the
Arabian Peninsula in modern day Saudi
Arabia. Saudi Arabia borders Iraq to the
south. I don’t want to bore you guys with a
tedious lesson on Islam, but I want to just
mention some fascinating facts that will
inform you enough about Muslims to
appreciate the pictures and the writing
more. If I just said I visited a mosque,
that may not mean much to you. Plus part of
learning about Morocco, is learning about
the primary religion in the country. Even
more, Islam has had a great influence in
virtually all aspects of Moroccan life,
culture and landscape. You can’t learn about
Morocco without knowing a little something
about Islam and Muslim customs. One custom
of the Muslims unique from Christianity is
that before they pray Muslims must perform
the Alwodoe, or cleaning. Muslims must clean
themselves in a ritual manner before each
prayer. They use only water, and according
to Walid, it doesn’t have to be any kind of
special water. He uses the bathroom sink.
First wash the hands three times, and then
wash the face three times. To do this Walid
just wipes water over the face in a single
stroke fashion three times. Next wash the
mouth three times. Walid just rinses and
spits and wipes the lips. Next they also
wash the nose three times. Walid even gets
some water inside the nostrils and snorts it
out kind of, and wipes his nose with his
thumb and fore finger. Also, Walid showed me
how he washes each arm three times up to the
elbows; first the right then the left arm.
Muslims then wash the top of the head only
once, then the ears and behind the ears only
once. Then finally they wash their feet
before they can pray. Walid did tell me
though that he doesn’t do the cleaning every
time he prays. He said he does it in the
morning, but as long as you haven’t used the
bathroom, you are able to do the next prayer
of the day without performing the Alwodoe or
cleaning. I jokingly told Walid that he
seemed to cut as many corner as he could. A
single prayer can last from five minutes to
ten or fifteen minutes typically. When
someone is praying they ask only that you do
not make any loud disturbances or walk
directly in front of them. Other than that,
you can just go about your business if you
encounter a Muslim praying in public or in
their home. I got off the plane in
Casablanca at sunrise and I saw several
people praying. But here on campus at Al
Akhawayn I haven’t seen anyone praying in
public yet. Students and faculty tend to
keep it private or in the mosque itself.
Muslims are not required to pray at the
mosque every day, but on Fridays they are
required to be at the mosque for the lesson
and the noon prayer (the Aldohr). Just as
many Christians go to church on Sundays.
The Imam that I got to meet as we were
allowed to enter the mosque is the person
who leads the prayer everyday and gives the
lesson on Fridays as well. The Imam is the
head of the mosque in a sense; maintaining
the Islamic integrity and rules of the
sacred structure. The only room we were able
to enter was the prayer hall. The prayer
hall floor is covered in a plush carpet of a
shade of very light red, some darker reds,
and off white tones. The big room is divided
frequently with many decorative columns or
pillars that are thick (maybe 2 - 2 ½ feet
across) and wholly white or crème colored.
The ceilings are about 20-25 feet high
conservatively. Big, impressive chandeliers
hang ten feet from the ground and light the
cozy hall with 40 or 50 of them. The ceiling
and walls are highly ornate, but without
pictures or plaques hanging from them; only
ornate in the carvings and designs that fill
them. Parts of the ceiling are completely
white and parts have many color shades of
red, green, white and gold. The ceiling and
walls also have intricately carved wood
structures that look like it took someone
years to complete. The prayer hall can
support hundreds of people, but it has no
chairs or pews like Christian churches. The
carpet is completely bare of furniture
except the al minbar that tucks away in a
cove in the wall. The al minbar is the small
platform or pulpit from which the Imam gives
his lesson (khutbah). Many Christian
churches have an altar or stage that the
priest or preacher can walk around on and
speak from. But the al minbar is a wooden
structure that only can fit one person (or
two maybe) who climbs the steep steps on to
it and remains stationary. It is probably
about eight feet tall and is carved just as
intricately as all the other wooden
structures in the interior of the mosque.
Muslims who come to worship and listen to
the Imam give his lesson sit “Indian style”
or on their knees and shins upon the
carpeted floor while facing the Imam and
Mecca. The service lasts about the same time
a Christian church service lasts; about an
hour. But unlike Christian services, the
Muslims in the prayer hall are segregated,
by gender. This means plainly that women
must pray on one side and men on the other.
The Imam said there use to be a separate
room altogether that the women prayed in
years ago. He also said that not that long
ago at this very mosque, women had to pray
in the back of the prayer hall while the men
prayed in the front. Today men and women are
still separated in prayer, but equally at
least. Gender has its limitations in parts
of Christianity as well. Have you ever heard
of a woman priest? Probably not, because
women are not allowed to be ordained priest
in Catholicism. However, there is a local
woman pasture who heads a church on Gallia
Street in New Boston. So religions are
fickle, and complicated. But just as in
America, Moroccans are free to worship
however and whoever they want. They do have
a Muslim King, but his citizens enjoy
religious freedom. There are some 3000 Jews
who currently live in Morocco. To say that
the prayer hall inside the mosque is
impressive is an understatement. I wish so
much I could have taken some photos from
inside, but I wanted to respect the
sensitive rules of the mosque.
Common to the architecture of most mosques
are the minarets. The minaret is the focal
point and highest part of the mosque. The
Imam did not take us to see the inside of
the minaret, but it is a beautiful site from
most places on campus. The minaret is the
place where the call of prayer is sent from.
When it is time to pray, the call to prayer
can be heard for about five or ten minutes
coming from the minaret of the mosque. A
speaker system is set up from the top of the
minaret that transmits the Imams calls from
a microphone. The Imam said that not many
people make it to the sunrise prayer, only
about 10 or so. As well, only around 20
Muslims make it to the evening prayer. Of
course the mosque serves only a small
campus. But for Friday’s service the mosque
consistently serves more than 200 Muslims
who come to worship, and listen to the
Imam’s lesson. A friend of Walid’s stopped
by the dorm after service on Friday, and he
was still dressed in his djellaba; a
robe-like garb that is worn by some Muslims
when they visit the mosque. The garb is
meant to show respect according to Walid. It
is clothing that doesn’t show the contours
of the body and conceals to the wrists and
ankles; and because you cannot wear shoes in
the mosque, some wear their belgha whenever
they enter one. These are a pair of
coverings for the feet that are essentially
just leather. They have no strings to tie or
much support for the feet and they are sort
of pointed at the toe ends. Walid offered to
let me use his when I went to visit the
mosque, but I politely declined. Some of the
international non-Muslim students wore the
hijab, which is a sort of head scarf that is
worn by Muslim women that covers their hair
and ears, but I didn’t feel comfortable
wearing any traditional Muslim attire. I
didn’t want to be a “poser” if that makes
any sense. You can expose yourself to
different people, places and things and
learn more about the world and other
cultures without being disingenuous to your
own customs, as long as you respect others’;
to me it would have been kind of awkward and
an insincere gesture. Like attending a
catholic service on Christmas Eve and taking
Holy Communion even though you are not a
catholic, you only went because your
grandmother wanted you to attend. I find
differences in culture refreshing and
meaningful, and telling about one’s own
culture.
Not many non-Muslims in the world can say
they visited the interior of a mosque, or
get a chance to. So it was a particularly
unique experience for me, as I am
experiencing many new things this semester.
When I visit Casablanca and if I make it to
the Hassan II Mosque, I will try to take
pictures of the inside if I am allowed. The
Hassan the II Mosque is open to the public
and is the largest mosque in Morocco, and
the third largest in the world. It also has
the largest minaret in the world, which is
almost 700 feet tall. Regular tours are
given of the huge structure, and part of it
is built directly over the Atlantic Ocean’s
coastal waters as requested by the late King
Hassan II of Morocco. This was inspired by a
passage in the Quran that says that Allah’s
throne is on the sea. |
| |
|
Posted by
Jonathan
Phillips on February 8, 2010 |
“Curiosity Killed the
Cat, But Satisfaction Brought It Back”, said
Eugene O'Neal.
I am a very curious guest in this country.
In addition to my naturally being a curious
and nosy person, the reason I am here is to
soak up as much about the country of Morocco
as I can. It is funny because during our
orientation for the international students
(which is a period where new students are
shown around the campus and introduced in
person to the rules, regulations, and
generally how things work at this university
and in this country) when I first arrived
here nearly three weeks ago, a conference
was held on Moroccan culture.
Throughout the day the head of International
Programs, with help from a few Moroccan
students to whom she deferred some
questions, gave a Power Point presentation
about various aspects of Moroccan culture
that may effects us. The idea was to inform
us foreigners about certain Moroccan
qualities so that we may deal with them
better and not adversely react. I say it is
funny and a bit ridiculous because the title
to one of the Power Point slides read
“Personal Belongings Provoke Curiosity.” In
this odd discussion students were warned not
to be surprised to see Moroccans snooping
through their stuff and not to be offended
if when you have a bag of something, a local
opens the bag and begins pulling things out
and perusing through it without permission.
We were told not to be upset because
probably they just want to see what you
have. This naturally shocked some people,
including myself. I was actually finding it
hard to take seriously.
In my short time here though I have
concluded that I don’t think this point
belongs in the orientation discussions for
two reasons. First, I don’t believe such
brazen activity should be expected to be
tolerated; and second, I don’t think this
behavior is at all representative of most
Moroccans. Those whom I have met do not act
like this to strangers, especially those not
from their country. If anything I have found
locals to be more reserved around foreigners
initially, and most often I have to initiate
conversations. Curiosity however, and lots
of talking are noticeable qualities with the
Moroccans I have encountered. I share this
peculiar story from my orientation to begin
to tell you that Moroccans on campus are
very curious, as well as I and this bodes
well for some interesting conversations
among very curious companies.
My roommate Walid and I have talked and
learned a lot about each other over the
three weeks we have lived together. But the
more frank questions come from his friends
who come by the room to hang out. Some of
these guys are pretty funny characters.
Several conversations have ensued with a
Moroccan student just sitting there firing
question after question wanting to know this
and that about America. Many questions are
about some aspects of American life that you
guys may take for granted as the norm, like,
“Are there really all kinds of fast food
restaurants on every street?” “Do you go to
concerts all the time?” – wanting to know if
I have ever seen any of the numerous
world-popular American music artists in
concert. Believe it or not, in all kinds of
far-off places in the world, American music
and movies still have wide circulation and
exposure. This is due in great part to the
marvels of the internet. My roommate
absolutely loves Michael Jackson and the
Black Eyed Peas; and he loves to listen to
songs over and over and over again. He also
listens to Arabic music that is religious in
content, but has a pop, up-beat style. I
don’t know of any famous Moroccan singers,
but there are some famous DJ’s. One is DJ
Scream from the city of Casablanca.
The most popular form of music in Morocco,
from what I have heard, unfortunately, is
known as House Music. If you guys don’t know
what that is, just know that it involves an
annoying, pulsating, pounding, in loud
upbeat rhythms, set to pop or hip-hop music;
and it is usually associated with flickering
strobe lights and $20 beverages in more
adult hangouts. Walid and his friends enjoy
jamming out to this kind of music from their
computers and YouTube.com on a frequent
enough basis in our small dorm room.
One guy, we’ll call him Khalid (which means
eternal), because I don’t think I’ll ever
forget his face as he sat on Walid’s bed
with his mouth open, listening to my
answers, but having another question to
interrupt me with before I could ever find
anything out about him. Khalid had an oily,
half fallen out, sort of afro thing going on
with his hair. He was lighter skinned than
my roommate and most Moroccans. He also wore
a pair of glasses that did nothing to hide a
thick set of eyebrows that could nearly be
considered only just one brow. Khalid had a
happy, youthful, pimply face, and he looked
up at me with his eyes as far open as his
mouth. He wanted to know once, how many
types of Mustangs I have encountered in
America. I let him know that just about
every make of car can be seen on the speedy
highways of America but I was the wrong guy
to be asking because I don’t pay attention
to the differences in models of even the
most popular lines of cars. Khalid brought a
picture up on Google Images anyway just to
show me. He is particularly fond of
Mustangs.
My roommate and Khalid are also smitten with
American movies as well. Khalid was asking
me a series of questions once about my
university back in Ohio when he said with
wonder, “It‘s just like American Pie isn’t
it?” Both Khalid and Walid really like this
movie. I laughed for a few moments at the
thought of it, but realized that he wasn’t
entirely wrong. I finally told him he was
right in a lot of ways actually, but not at
all entirely true; students do work hard and
study just like in Morocco, and many people
are broke in America too. Many locals have
also wanted to know strangely if I thought
Moroccan women were pretty. Guys here seem
to be proud of their women. They say, “So,
what do you think of the women here, huh?”
And I just say “yes, very pretty.” It is
probably the second most frequent and the
weirdest question, so it is worth
mentioning.
Moroccan students here in Ifrane are
fascinated with foreigners and even almost
flattered that we have come here to this
country to study. Everyone has wanted to
know why it is that I have come here of all
places in the world. Some students are even
shocked that I had heard of the country
before I was to come here. I admitted that
if it wasn’t for my love of movies that I
may not have heard of Morocco for most of my
life; but I distinctly remember, as a young
kid at your age or younger, asking my dad
where Casablanca was while watching the
famous “Bogie” flick together – Casablanca.
He told me that Casablanca is on the
continent of Africa and is the largest city
in the country of Morocco. After being asked
so many times why I came to Morocco, I just
tell them now, “for the pretty women of
course.”
I have asked many questions too. Those who
know me well can verify that I question
everything and ask questions about
everything, and I am even worse here. Most
of my questions have been more along the
lines of help with Arabic homework and what
do certain words on the menu or signs mean?
My “omelet fromage” (fromage means cheese in
French) has no cheese on it that I can find,
and my “pizza margarita” (sp) is just a
plain cheese pizza. So, even direct
translations are not much help, and no one
can tell me what margarita means yet.
The menus at the campus cafeterias are all
in French, and I don’t speak any language
but English (remember that the two primary
languages spoken by Moroccans are Arabic and
French). I have ordered a poulet plate
(chicken plate) three times, and I have
received three different things. One of them
had a really good main course, a small
roasted chicken leg and thigh with a yellow
sauce poured over it, but the vegetable was
terrible. It was a seedy, green,
lemon-textured vegetable steamed and cut
into thin slices that smelled like vinegar
and something else. I asked Walid what it
was and he didn’t know the English
translation for it, or even how to spell it
in Arabic. So it must be something he is not
crazy about either. In another plate they
gave me, the main course was bad but the
vegetable was really good. The main course
was boiled chicken (I think) that is cut up
in chunky, small nugget pieces and covered
in a white sauce. It’s not real good, but
the vegetable looked like a deep fried
cheese stick. Finally, something that looked
familiar. I took a bite of it, and it wasn’t
a cheese stick at all. It was filled with
mashed potatoes. The plate came with three
of them, and they tasted sort of like fried
potato cakes. If I can figure out a way to
combine the two meals, it would be perfect.
In any case I have been eating a lot of
chicken, everyday more chicken. But, for the
most part I have been eating campus food.
No offense to the legendary lunch ladies of
New Boston that I have always made friends
with, you students are probably familiar
with the fact that school food just doesn’t
taste as good as home cooking. So I will
delay my opinions of Moroccan cuisine until
I have a little more experience with a
variety of samples. I have had adventures
off campus with some foods, but that is for
another blog. Let’s just say that it
includes hot dog pizza, pizza with corn on
it, and hot tea with branches of leaves
served inside it.
I have asked other questions too, more about
life in Morocco; and some things are much
different here. For instance, nobody really
has a problem with the King of Morocco’s
managing of the country. Even the most
popular presidents of America have been
criticized on a daily basis by someone on
Television or in the news papers. Not in
Morocco though. If you ask anyone in Morocco
about King Muhammad VI, they will tell you
that His Majesty is doing a great job, and
they will even look at you oddly for just
asking; because there is no reason to
question the king. That is the attitude of
most Moroccans – no reason to question the
King. This probably has a lot to do with the
fact that officially, King Muhammad VI is a
direct descendent of the holy Prophet
Muhammad, who historically began the
religion of Islam. That would be like
believing our president was directly related
to Jesus Christ. If that were true, would
you ever question the president of the
United States?
Walid told me in a conversation that no one
is supposed to talk negatively about the
King. All those whom I have questioned on
the subject (all college age) say the same
thing and say also that they wouldn’t have
anything negative to say about him even if
they could. So citizens of Morocco are
typically satisfied with their King’s
decisions. That is a lot different than in
America isn’t it? News stations, newspapers,
and radio stations can be so critical of our
president and other government officials
that politicians’ very careers can depend on
what is reported. What is reported in
Morocco though can get news reporters into
trouble over here.
Just a few months ago a major newspaper in
Morocco printed a controversial cartoon
about the King’s cousin, and the newspaper
was permanently shut down, and the guy who
published it was thrown in prison for three
years. So many rules are different here in
Morocco; you have to be careful what you say
about the King. He is not elected like our
president; he was born into his position.
Both his father and his father before him
were Kings of Morocco, and King Muhammad’s
first born son will be the next King.
As far as my personal things go, I haven’t
found anybody snooping through them, but
Walid has been curious about some of my
stuff. He has wanted to try the hair mousse
I brought from America, and the other day he
asked me if I had any perfume. I told him
that I have some cologne, and I let him use
it. He had never heard of Polo Sport; he
liked it though, and I’ll probably give it
to him before I leave to come back home to
the States. Walid’s favorite sport, as is
every Moroccan’s I have met, is futbol, not
to be confused with American football.
Futbol in Morocco and most of the world is
what we call soccer in America. Recently
Egypt beat Ghana to win the Africa Cup of
Nations for the third time in a row. The
Africa Cup is only played once every four
years, and is highly anticipated in this
country. Another big futbol game is in
Spain. It is Madrid vs. Barcelona; and
international students are warned during
orientation how popular a game this is in
Morocco, and that when it comes time for the
game the whole university picks sides. I
asked Walid whose side he was on, and he
promptly told me that he was Madrid all the
way. He said he has been rooting for Madrid
his entire life. They play twice a year, and
the rivalry goes back to the early part of
the 1900s. I never watch soccer at home but
I certainly look forward to this highly
charged game sometime this spring.
Curiosity is a very good thing. It is the
driving force behind many or maybe most of
the things we learn. Somebody was curious
about what every soda from the soda fountain
machine tasted like when mixed together, and
that was how the soft drink “Suicide” was
invented. The name probably stems from the
brave soul who tried it first, because they
were charting new territory, and weren’t
sure what was going to happen. The “Suicide”
was a popular concoction when I was your
age, and the waitresses at Hickie’s
Hamburger Inn always knew how to make it.
Great things happen when you chart new
territory.
If anyone has any questions for me or my
roommate Walid just email me. “There are no
foolish questions, and no man becomes a fool
until he has stopped asking questions”—
Charles Proteus Steinmetz. “When you’re
curious, you find lots of interesting things
to do”— Walt Disney.
|
| |
|
Posted by Jonathan Phillips on February,17,
2010 |
A Weekend
in Meknes and a guest in a local’s home
In
my fourth week in Morocco, I finally
ventured out of the town of Ifrane. With a
busy schedule of classes and homework, the
weekends are the only time I can make it out
of the town and as I am able to gauge my
time and funds better, it is likely that I
will be making many more trips like this
around the country to find out what Morocco
really is about.
This
trip was a short distance away, but it was
amazing, and “a whole new world” from the
college town of Ifrane, to quote from the
Disney animated movie Aladdin. Interesting
side-note about the story of Aladdin that I
am sure you are all familiar with: In the
popular story which was first published in
the very early 1700s in the new edition of
the book One Thousand and One Nights (also
known as Arabian Nights), the villain,
whom you may know as Jafar, was a sorcerer
from a particular region in Morocco,
somewhere between the Atlas mountains where
I am located and the Mediterranean coast. So
the evil Jafar in Aladdin was a
Moroccan. A Thousand and One Nights is a
collection of medieval-era Middle Eastern
stories that has been published in different
versions for centuries, and the collection
dates back to the 9th century. The
popular tale of Aladdin though was not added
until 1710 or so, and was titled Aladdin’s
Wonderful Lamp. Another popular story from
this Middle Eastern book of tales is Ali
Baba and the Forty Thieves, which
some of you may have heard of also (it is
referenced as well in the Disney films of
Aladdin and its sequels).
Apart from the notions of the powerful Ginny
in Disney’s Aladdin, Muslims actually do
believe in the Jinn. Jinn is plural for
Jinni, and according to the religion of
Islam, God created man and woman, angels
and Jinn; and on the
day of judgment the Jinn will have to answer
to God just as humans will have to. The Jinn
are mentioned many times in the Quran, which
is like the Muslim’s Bible. So, just as
angels are
mentioned in the Bible,
Jinn are mentioned and told about in the
Muslim’s Quran. Muslims believe that God
made man from dirt just as Christians
believe, and just as it is told in the Old
Testament of the Christian Bible. But,
it is also said in the Quran that Jinn were
made from smokeless fire, which makes it
kind of ironic that the character of the
likeable Ginny is made entirely of smoke in
the Disney animation. My trip to a
whole new world didn’t start with a magic
carpet ride though, but it was probably just
as scary.
The trip started with a
cramped taxi ride. Yes, I had to brave the
reckless Grande Taxi again for about an hour
and a half drive from the town of Ifrane
where my University is located, to the big
city of Meknes just off the
mountains. Meknes is a city of nearly a
million people, and has modern-looking
metropolitan areas, more rundown
underdeveloped urban areas, and the historic
remnants of the old imperial age
of Meknes. The imperial age means simply, a
time in which Meknes and the rest of Morocco
and North Africa was part of an empire and
ruled by an emperor (you guys may have heard
of other empires, like Rome
and that of the ancient Greeks). These
imperial remnants are what make Morocco so
valuable to tourists. Portsmouth, Ohio, has
its historic Boneyfiddle area that has
preserved some of the old buildings of
the city, and is located where the city was
first built – on the confluence of the
Scioto and Ohio rivers. Well, the historic
parts of Meknes are preserved for some of
the same reasons, only these
remnants are hundreds and over a thousand
years old.
We departed late Friday
afternoon after class, and planned to stay
through Sunday. I packed a light bag, my
pocket journal, and my traveling hat and I
met with the two other students I was
traveling with; Eric is another
international student from Florida, and
Amine is a Moroccan student from Al Akhawayn
who actually lives in the heart of the city
of Meknes. What made this trip doubly
special is that a local of
the city was going to show us around, and he
invited us to stay at his family’s apartment
for the two nights we would be in Meknes.
This, of course, also meant a break from the
tiresome campus cuisine. With
what I have been able to swallow in a semi
enjoyable way, there isn’t really a variety
of foods on campus; so for the last month I
have pretty much been living off bland
omelets, fruit, poulet plates (or
chicken plates), crepes, and little hard
loaves of bread from a pile that has been
touched, sorted through, squeezed, and even
smelled by several people before I ever get
my hands on it. The
chocolate-syrup covered crepes are actually
really awesome. A crepe is a French inspired
food here in Morocco, and it’s like a
pancake only it’s much thinner and much
better. They don’t have maple syrup that
I know of though, all
they have is a ladle of chocolate that is
poured over the crepe, which makes for a
pretty sweet breakfast.
The taxi we took to
Meknes requires six spaces to be paid for in
the car, which makes seven people including
the driver; that is four people in the back,
one in the driver’s seat and two in the
passenger’s seat. This is the way
all Grande Taxis work in Morocco, and no,
they do not have seat belts in them. The
taxi driver wants to get the most for his
money, so one either waits until six
passengers can join the taxi
driver to a singular destination or the
spaces that are not filled have to be paid
for before the taxi can depart. It was just
our luck that at the taxi station we found
four other students who were
going to Meknes, so we shared the taxi. The
ride was, like I said, cramped and taking
pictures was a little difficult from the
car, but I managed a few. The scenic ride
off the mountain was familiar as we
passed the same fields of grapes, and
olives, and bustling agricultural towns.
Just off the side of the road it is common
to see a shepherd leaning on a staff as his
flock of sheep graze from the grass. It
is also common to see
working donkeys pulling large carts of
produce or cargo on the brim of the highway,
or in the middle of the road in the towns.
But not long after we
entered the city of Meknes, the agricultural
town transformed rather quickly into a
metropolitan city that in some parts looked
like features you might find in America –
clean residential areas, big
buildings, hotels and varieties of
businesses, modern looking architecture, and
very nice looking government buildings.
Also, throughout the city along the
sidewalks and streets, there were
rows of tall palm trees, and trees with what
looked like oranges growing in them. Amine
said that the fruit in the trees were not
ideal for eating and that they were sour.
This meant that these fruit
trees were planted purely for visual
purposes. I don’t really understand it, but
the city is full of them. I have always
hated baskets of fake plastic fruit and the
fake soaps in the bathroom. I have never
understood the point in
candles you’re not supposed to light, or
towels in the kitchen or bathroom that are
not to be used. These things baffle me as to
why they exist. Well Morocco has a few
examples of this behavior as well.
There are the orange trees planted without
the purpose of eating from them, and I have
encountered two homes in Morocco where a
nice linen napkin is given to me when
dining, but it is not supposed to be
used. Maybe it is a status thing. If you can
afford to buy and display things that are
essential to everyday life, purely for
decoration, you have made it in the world.
After the taxi dropped
us off, the three of us started walking to
Amine’s family’s apartment. When we got
there I was impressed at how big their place
was. They had the typical Moroccan set up
with the room that they receive
guests in. This room is the biggest in the
house and has a couch-like piece of
furniture that lines the entire wall space
of the room. Amine’s couch could probably
seat over thirty people
comfortably, and he says that they have
entertained more than that at one time. This
guest room also is equipped with tables that
are mobile and don’t seem to have a
permanent place. There are a few small
wooden tables like what
an end table or lamp table might look like,
but these tables sit in the middle of the
floor ready to be put in front of anyone
sitting down. Then there is also the big
round table that is moved to the
end of the room nestled by the surrounding
seating area, and can be used for serving
meals. When not being used, the big table
usually occupies the central area of the
room. In addition to the kitchen and the
bathroom, there is also the family room in
the apartment, a TV room, and the bedrooms.
So, for the most part it is a typical
residential layout except for the unique
guest room that is a
typical feature of homes in Morocco. This is
a specific feature I have learned about, so
it is kind of cool to see it in the homes I
have visited.
Our first evening in
Amine’s home was on a Friday, so that
usually means couscous for dinner in
Morocco, and that is exactly what we had.
Homemade couscous prepared by a native
Moroccan mother, there is no
better way to experience the dish for the
first time. This dish has always been a
peculiar one for me though. Couscous is
probably one of the most popular and
commonly made dishes in the country. Friday
is usually reserved for
serving is (comparable to the ritual of
Friday pizza maybe in America) and the
Moroccans I have met love the stuff; they
are practically gitty about it. However it
is relatively simple and
inexpensive to make. Couscous is basically a
beef roast and vegetables atop a bed of this
very fine (almost beady in texture)
rice-type stuff. This “rice-type stuff” is
made of tiny granules of dough that
have been steamed, and is the main feature
of couscous. It was served to us on one
plate in the middle of the table, and we all
ate from it. Proper manners at a Moroccan
dinner table require that you wash
your hands before you eat, and you keep to
the area of the community dish directly in
front of you. Since everyone is eating from
the same plate, you can eat from the
proportionate section situated in
front of you and it is rude to reach across
the plate to snag a potato or something.
Eric got excited when Amine’s brother
announced “is everyone ready for dessert?”
but was visibly disappointed when he was
served a basket of
fruit. We had our choice of bananas, apples,
grapefruit, oranges and strawberries and
both nights it was referred to as the
dessert. However, Eric was pleased that with
every meal there was some famous
Moroccan mint tea nearby also. This tea is a
staple food item in Morocco. Amine told me
that every Moroccan drinks this tea – from
the poorest peasants to the richest of
royalty. The tea is
really fantastic stuff, I don’t drink much
hot tea back home, but this drink is
delicious, and we knocked out the pot at
every meal.
Getting invited into a
Moroccan home and being served home-cooked
food is an important part of my experience
here, but the reason we came to Meknes was
to see the medina in the old part of the
city. There is a lot of history and
culture in Meknes and we wanted to see it.
It has been raining for three weeks straight
here, and it rained the entire time we were
in Meknes. It has been raining so slowly and
steadily, and so long that I
hardly notice it. I find myself walking in
it oblivious to how wet I am getting. It is
raining right now, as I write this blog in
my dorm room. On our way to the old medina
it was raining also, but I think it
kind of lightened the traffic on the streets
a little bit. As we walked we got out of the
fancy part of town and soon there were the
small shops, old unkempt buildings, and the
occasional animals
among the traffic on the streets. It was as
if we were walking backward in time from
Amine’s 21st century neighborhood, ending up
in the old part of town, and the 17th
century (except for all
the cars and electricity of course).
Probably the most famous landmark of Meknes
is the Bab Mansour Gate, which means the
Door of Mansour. The structure is on many
post cards and is likely to be the
structure used in most pictures depicting
parts of the city. The Bab Mansour was built
as the gate to the palace of the imperial
ruler of Morocco, Moulay Ismail, who ruled
from 1672-1727. His proper title was
Sultan (the same title used in the Aladdin
story), and he actually died before the
great gate was complete. Sultan Moulay
Ismail was the ruler of Morocco when Meknes
was the capitol. The capital of
Morocco now is Rabat, but during parts of
the 1600 and 1700s, Meknes was the country’s
capital city. There are some nearby Roman
ruins dating back from just 200 years after
Jesus, and several columns used in the Mansour Gate were taken from these Roman
ruins. The gate is huge, maybe around 40
feet tall and is embellished with marble and
the distinctive lattice designs and
half-circle arches associated with
Islamic architecture.
Just
across the rainy and busy street from the
giant gateway, is the big marche of Meknes,
and one of the entrances to the old medina.
We checked out the marche first, and I
wasn’t impressed with it really. The
marche is a place to sell produce, meat,
spices, and other everyday things in a sort
of open market type area. Marches are
conveniently accessible, and quick to get in
and out of. Just like the marche in
Ifrane, the one in Meknes is dirty, compact,
and the indelicate smell is indescribably
foul and rancid. The combination of the live
animals defecating and the dead animals
being bled and butchered forms a
smell that is almost offensive. The smell of
the marche in Ifrane is bad, but it seems a
tad more sanitary. As we edged the narrow
paths of the marche in Meknes, past some of
the butchering booths, I
realized I was stamping through blood with
patches of fur floating in it. In other
marches that I have seen the field-dressing
of the animals goes on behind the booth or
counter, but these guys were doing it
right in the middle of the narrow aisles,
and just inches and spatter distance away
from fresh produce being sold. The butchers
weren’t even wearing coats or gloves or even
aprons. One guy was wearing a pair
of clogs and had blood and fur all over his
legs and feet. I think the possibility of
cross contamination has to be a certainty in
the conditions that I witnessed. Always
present in a marche are the many
kinds of olives stacked in a colorful
display. One of the international students
calls these booths the “32 flavors of
olives” referencing Baskin-Robbins ice
cream, which is right on I think. Also ever
present are the dried
grapes, and dates stands. All these things
make for beautiful and colorful displays.
Once we got beyond the piles of severed cow
heads, we made our way toward the walls of
the medina, which turned out to be
a lot more pleasant.
The medina in Meknes is
surrounded by walls, and is basically a maze
of tall buildings very close to each other,
forming very narrow passages, allies and
streets. There is also an open area within
the walls of the medina, but no
cars can fit inside it. That is why donkeys
are often used to haul around loads that are
packed on their backs, or to pull carts, in
order to ship things in and out and within
the medina walls. The stone
streets and the tall tan “concrete” walls
leading from one mysterious path to the next
were enchanting. When I first entered the
walls of the old imperial city grounds, I
was struck for some reason by a
lady in a blue djellaba (a traditional
robe-like Muslim garb) and a black veil
covering from her eyes down. She was leaning
near a doorway staring at me, and when she
started walking past me her veil swayed
hypnotically from side to side; and for some
reason she fascinated me. The old city was
much cleaner than what I expected; I also
noticed an absence of music. The medina was
very cool, but in parks and
restaurants and other public places, music
is always present. So, I was surprised that
there was no music and there were no street
performers. I half expected somebody to be
playing guitar or drums, but no
one was. Arabian tradition has a history of
street performers, like the sword swallowers
and snake charmers of the movies. I wasn’t
really expecting to see anyone breathing
fire or anything, but I did
expect to see some belly dancers, singers,
or people playing instruments in a
Moroccan/Arabic style like they do in many
other public areas in Morocco. I didn’t see
a street performer, but
I did meet a water seller, which I didn’t
expect to see. Selling water is an old
profession of the medinas in Morocco.
Four
hundred years ago weary travelers shopping
or selling in the imperial city probably got
thirsty quite often under the African sun,
and water was an expensive commodity,
especially in the desert areas. This
is not the dessert, but water still sold
well. Today the water seller still walks the
medina in the same style of clothes he would
have worn four hundred years ago. The water
seller wears a decorative
sombrero-looking hat along with his robe.
And the tools of the trade are a brass
ladle, cup and bell, and a leather bag
strapped around the shoulder that holds the
water. But, today it’s probably more of a
novelty profession to
get tips from tourists, than to sell water
to thirsty, weary travelers. I think the
convenient Sidi Ali water bottles (a brand
of water in Morocco) have nearly put these
guys out of business.
The medina was full of
secluded alley ways asking me to come
explore them, and neat little niches and
tiny doorways that lead to other places.
Some alley ways were very long, and some
were hidden behind a
hanging rug, or little doors. I came across
many specialty shops and craftsmen in the
medina. One guy was sitting on the stone
ground pounding away at a pile of something
with a mallet. Amine said he was
pounding down and processing salt. Some
people sold djellabas and traditional garbs
that have been made using traditional
methods, according to Amine. Also there were
people who made tajine pots, which are
used to cook and eat
with – every Moroccan kitchen has a tajine.
All sorts of bread were being made inside
the medina, and great varieties of spices,
fruits and vegetables as well. I had never
had a date before I came here to
Morocco, and really they don’t look too appetizing, but they are my favorite fruit
here now. Dates are naturally sweet just
really good, and being a desert fruit, dates
are a particular specialty in Morocco.
This is true also with olives in Morocco,
but they are not grown in the desert;
Morocco is known for their tasty dates and
olives. The medina is huge, but we only
explored it for about an
hour. We didn’t see probably 75% of the old
city because Amine wouldn’t take us through
most of it. He admitted that he would get
lost. That has to say something about how
big and complicated the medinas in
Morocco can get, because even a local from
the city is afraid to venture too deep
inside its mazes.
There are no towns in
America that have been frozen in time, that
have been preserved from hundreds of years
ago. Not all the buildings in the Medina are
400 hundred years old, but a lot of what is
sold there, how merchants
sell them, and even how some things are made
have not changed. For instance, places like
Jamestown (America’s first colony founded in
1607 in modern day Virginia), have not been
preserved as they were
in the 17th century. You can’t go visit the
important structures of Jamestown today as
they were in the early 1600s – or the modest
ones – and buy things from merchants and
craftsman exactly as you would
have back then. There are more than old
walls and places in Meknes preserved for
posterity, there are old professions and
traditions that still support people and
communities.
My visit to Meknes
included more than just the old medina. The
Sultan of Morocco had more than just walls
and a gate to his palace built. The same
Sultan also built a dungeon. A dungeon that
dwells beneath much of the city and
housed thousands of chained prisoners. In my
next blog I will tell you how in only a few
minutes I went from a dungeon below the
city, to eating a Moroccan Big Mac at a
McDonalds in
Meknes.
|
|
Posted by Jonathan Phillips on March,11,
2010 |
| A Weekend
in Meknes and a visit to 17th century
dungeon. |
|
We left the enchanting Medina behind too
soon in the city of Meknes, but we were
getting wet from the consistent drizzle of
rain and we had only one day to explore the
old city.
The rain seemed appropriate for the
next site we were visiting though. The
counter to the maze of the happy and busy
Medina in the old imperial city is the maze
of hopeless prison halls in the dungeon that
lies beneath the surface of it; a network of
underground rooms so vast that most of it
was shut down because tourists were getting
lost all the time.
Or at least this is what the tour
guide of the imperial “prison” exulted in
telling us.
With so little time here to do the adequate
research, sometimes misinformation may find
its way on these pages, but I try my best to
guard against this by having to fact-check
even the professional (and opportunistic)
tour guides. While the truth is that there
is a vast crypt-like labyrinth of great
halls below the city of Meknes that rather
looked like a sizeable 18th
century dungeon when I was trekking through
it, the fact of the matter is also that the
area was used as a massive granary to store
foods, mainly grain to feed the thousands of
royal horses of the old empire.
Not far from the granary/prison in Meknes
are a great reservoir of water and an old
arrangement of stables that are famous
landmarks here, and that were also used to
maintain the royal horses. So it would make
since that a very large space would be
needed in the cooler underground to store
grain. There is not much information about
this place that I could find easily and the
hard evidence that supports the wide claims
of an old prison is ambiguous, and as far as
I can tell, just claims.
Amine, the local Moroccan-born and raised in
Meknes, who took Eric and me through the
city certainly believes it is a dungeon
prison, and the convincing “dungeon-tour
guide” provided me several pages of notes
and information about the dungeon’s
existence as well. My roommate Walid got
excited that I was even questioning the
long-standing belief that the crypt halls
ever housed a prison. Walid insisted
emphatically that there was indeed a prison
there, and that the place was so enormous
that it probably did hold food too. It is
possible that there may not actually have
been a great underground dungeon in Meknes,
but it is known however, that the
notoriously callous Sultan did deal
frequently with 17th and 18th
century pirates and commandeered thousands
of slaves to build his city and his army. So
I will just pass on some of the information
as I was given it and let readers decide for
themselves what they want to believe about
this strange place under the streets of
imperial Meknes.
It was already dark and damp outside in the
antique city that is clad with palaces and
castle-like walls, so it was not a great
stretch of scenery actually to walk through
a narrow corridor and a wooden and iron gate
that lead to the damp dark basement of
Meknes. One thing is for sure, I did think
it was odd that a dungeon would be so vast
and spacious and tall. The ceilings must
have been twenty-five or thirty feet high in
many parts. But what do I know about
dungeons? I know the dungeon that Aladdin
and his sidekick monkey Abu were locked into
was pretty small if you guys can remember.
In any case, the place was lacking nothing
in its creepiness and spookiness.
The tour guide even showed us where the
chains used to be linked to the walls where
the prisoners hung miserably. He told us
that while some common criminals were housed
here, mainly the dungeon was reserved for
Christian prisoners of war from the Sultan’s
many military campaigns. It is true that
Sultan Moulay Ismail (ruled from 1672-1727)
was a hard-nosed ruler who hated Christians
and who is remembered, and in fact revered,
famously today in Morocco for his many
bloody military operations to widen the
expanse of his empire in Morocco. The tour
guide told us that as many as 20,000
Christian war prisoners were housed in the
dungeon during the Sultan’s reign, and that
many of them were also used as slaves in the
building of the city.
It is historically accurate that the Sultan
did indeed capture and keep thousands of
slaves and that he devoted much of his rule
to the formation and creation of his capital
city of Meknes through the construction of
many monuments, miles of walls, great gates,
palaces, and engineering and public utility
projects. He garnered slaves for his
personal army and most likely did the same
to provide manpower for his construction
projects. Whether or not the large space was
used as a massive dungeon, my time in the
underground was fascinating anyway. The
setting of this melancholy underworld was
one straight from the movies, as is much of
the old city really. I mean this quite
literally though, because the very
underground that I visited, as well as a lot
of the Moroccan surface, was used for the
location of the filming of Martin Scorsese’s
controversial film
The
Last Temptation of Christ (1988). The
plot of this movie has nothing to do with
Morocco, but it shows that the settings in
imperial Meknes are at least visually
interesting.
The underground halls beneath Meknes are
filled with huge archways that interconnect
the massive corridors. It was a pretty big
space that we toured, but it only took about
20 minutes really to walk through. The
dungeon was almost completely pitch dark, so
it was hard to see exactly how big it really
was. We were told that it went on through
much of the city underground, so it was a
big sight at first. However, we did find the
end relatively quickly with a wall that just
seemed to come from nowhere in the dark.
There was a small amount of electric
lighting in the place, but most of the
little bit of light was let in naturally
through small barred holes in the ceiling
that were each the size of a basketball
maybe. The tour guide and Amine let me know
that the wall we ran into is not original to
the dungeon, and that it is only about 10
years old.
They said the wall was built to block
the rest of the underground labyrinth,
because tourists were frequently getting
lost in its mazes. Walid proclaimed to me
that some people were actually never found
who explored deep within the dungeon.
The dungeon certainly was a cool part of my
visit to Meknes and the time period that
this imperial city, and all the structures
that the Sultan had built within it, dates
back to is an interesting time period as
well – the 17th and 18th
centuries. These were rough and violent
times in history. This era saw among many
other things and it was the golden age of
piracy.
Sultan Moulay Ismail is known as a ruthless
and cruel tyrant who had more than 30,000
people killed in his lifetime, excluding
those who died as a result of his military
endeavors. Officially, Sultan Ismail is
descended from the prophet Mohammed just as
the current King of Morocco. He inherited
the head of the empire from his brother and
he began his rule by first murdering all
those who refused to submit to him. Would
you be frightened if some politician seized
power in America somehow and began to
ruthlessly murder people on a mass scale who
did not submit to them? It would certainly
be an exciting time anyway. It is very
interesting tramping through an old city
that was built by such a mad man. History is
very much in the air in these old cities.
Sultan Ismail moved the capitol of his
empire to Meknes after he first took rule
and began to use his military to bring much
of Morocco under his control, and then he
focused on building and embellishing his new
capital city. One of the ways Sultan Ismail
funded his construction projects was to
burden heavy taxes on pirates who plundered
even areas of Europe during this time; as
well, Christian slaves were kidnapped from
European villages by Moroccan pirates. A
Sultan and Pirates?
It does seem like an odd combination
but Moulay Ismail did participate in the
piracy of the Sale’ Corsairs by taxing their
booty to line the imperial coffers
handsomely; and there have been books
written about Islamic piracy and their
declaration of war on the whole of
Christendom, but this is a whole other
history in itself. With his city projects
and all the magnificent and beautiful things
he was building, Meknes was gaining much
attention from nearby Europe, including that
of Louis XIV of France. This is the same
Louis XIV who is infamously rumored to have
locked his own identical twin brother in an
iron mask, and then had him thrown away for
his lifetime in a secret prison. This story
of the man in the iron mask is told in
Alexandre Dumas’ popular Three Musketeers
tales. France was a powerful monarchy at
this time, and Sultan Ismail even attempted
to gain the hand in marriage of King Louis’
daughter, but he was turned away. This time
and place would definitely have been a very
violent, exciting, and interesting place to
live in.
In
addition to the courts of King Louis of
France, the great imperial city of Meknes
attracted also the finest architects,
designers, craftsman, engineers and artists
of the era.
Walls of 18 miles or more were built
by Sultan Ismail along with 50 palaces and
20 gates within the old capital city of
Meknes; and the most monumental of these
gates is the Al Bab Mansour gateway to the
Sultan’s palace, which I mentioned in the
last blog. Al Bab Mansour is considered by
some to be the grandest of all Moroccan
imperial gateways. In the end, Sultan Moulay
Ismail did conquer much of Morocco’s
indigenous or native populations, much like
in America how we conquered the Native
American Indians as we expanded west across
the continent. Sultan Ismail is known as a
harsh tyrant, but he is also held in high
esteem in Morocco today, because he also is
credited for liberating the north-coast
Moroccan city of Tangier from British
control, and expelling Spain from much of
their Moroccan territory. Sultan Moulay
Ismail presided over an important and famous
era of history in Morocco, and is a well
known historic figure in Morocco today.
After Amine, Eric and I visited the dungeon
grounds. It was our last tour of the day,
except for one last stop. The rainy dreary
day was in its late afternoon or early
evening and we were hungry. We had to walk
by the main square of the old city to get
back where we came from, which sits right in
between Al Bab Mansour Gate, and the main
entrance to the Medina.
This large square is called Place
el-Hedim and was used by Sultan Ismail for
royal announcements and public executions.
We could have checked out the convenient
souks (or marche) just outside the Medina,
but we had been there and done that already;
instead, we were going to go for something a
little more new-Moroccan. We decided to eat
at a McDonald’s located just inside the
metropolitan city of Meknes on the way back
to Amine’s apartment. It turns out
unfortunately, that there isn’t much to say
about my experience that you don’t already
know, because basically the McDonald’s in
Morocco looked, smelled, and tasted just
like the McDonald’s in Portsmouth, Ohio, and
any other McD’s I have ever been to. I
really expected there to be some sort of
marked difference that I could share about
the taste, but even more surprisingly I have
nothing unique to reveal. Except for the
fact that the meal was very expensive it was
exactly the same.
I ordered a Big Mac with fries and a
coke, and it cost me about 90 dirham. That
translates into about $12 American.
Typically things are cheaper in Morocco, but
this meal was expensive even for America.
The meal was worth it though, we scoffed
down our burgers as if we had been locked in
that dungeon for years; and now I can say
that I have eaten at a McDonald’s in
Morocco. I guess there are not many
countries you can’t find a Big Mac anymore.
My weekend in Meknes and the 17th
century was fascinating, and it was worth
the cramped taxi ride their and back. There
is a lot more that can be said about the
city and its history if one wants to go back
far enough. I spent my time in the late
1600s and the early 1700s only about 350
years ago. I didn’t visit or write about any
of the area’s Roman history, but I could
have gone back nearly 2,000 years ago and
visited the ancient Roman ruins of Volubilis
that reside just outside the city if I
didn’t have to go back to school Monday; but
hopefully I will get the chance to do that
soon.
The Roman Empire at one point stretched over
the territories of which Meknes exists today
and there are some nearly 2,000 year old
walls found within the city today that are
in pretty rough shape. As well, there are
structures built much later in Meknes after
the Roman era, including around the time
period that we explored, that actually used
some of the ancient Roman ruins in their
construction. Obviously no one is going to
let valuable materials such as marble to
just lie in ruin and disuse. So, even Sultan
Moulay Ismail used some ancient Roman
columns in his construction of the grand Al
Bab Mansour Gate and other monumental
structures.
Somehow I managed to write two blogs on
Meknes and not mention the numerous mosques
they have. This is probably due to the fact
that I didn’t visit any mosques while I was
in Meknes because non-Muslims are not
permitted to enter them, and I am not
Muslim. This is too bad because the mosques
of Meknes are its oldest buildings. Some
date back to the 10th century and the 11th
century, and are still used today. This is
amazing. Some of these mosques are over a
thousand years old and are still used to
hold prayer each day and to deliver the
Khutbah (sermon) on Fridays. Meknes is known
for its many beautiful palaces, great gates,
miles of walls, and its many monumental
imperial structures, but it is also well
known for its structures that were not built
during its imperial age – some of its many
mosques. This is reflected in its nickname,
“City of the Hundred Minarets” (remember
that minarets are the tallest feature of a
mosque, much like the steeple of a church).
The old city of Meknes is a great unchanged
wonder and has received UNESCO’s (United
Nations Educational, Scientific, and
Cultural Organization) World Heritage
recognition.
This basically means that the
imperial city of Meknes has been recognized
by the rest of the world as an important and
well preserved piece of history and now will
be further funded and protected to ensure
the continuing of preservations. UNESCO’s
Web site said that Meknes represents an
“exceptionally complete and well preserved
way of the urban fabric and monumental
buildings of the 17th century
Maghreb capital city.” (“Maghreb” refers to
the region, North Africa where Morocco is
located). Amine’s dad took us to this
spot
on our first evening in Meknes to check out
the great view, right as the sun was nearly
completely replaced by the light of the
moon.
Beyond the 2,000-year-old Roman walls
anchored within this high ground, a skyline
of minarets gallantly rose out of the old
capital city. I asked Amine if this was a
great place to bring girls during dates,
because I would certainly think so. If you
reverse your gaze though from the mystique
of the ancient to just across the street
from the wonderful skyline and bouncing
light from forgotten pieces of romantic
crumbling Roman walls, you will see a modern
disco tech, which is not an uncommon feature
in Moroccan cities. A disco tech is a night
club for listening to music and dancing.
Amine laughed that indeed this was a great
place to bring his dates; and a great
contrast of modern and ancient divided by a
street and hundreds and thousands of years.
|
|
