Feature 25
The Journal Wednesday 12 March 2008
she has been applying for a visa to go and join him for three years. Another side to the story, however, is the thousands of illegal immigrants from sub-Saharan countries such as Nigeria who attempt to reach Europe by passing through Morocco and in doing so face substantial risks both from the criminal gangs involved in the trafficking and Moroccan and Spanish security forces. It is estimated that around 6,000 people have been killed over the last decade, including eleven immigrants shot trying to enter Spanish territory at Ceuta which prompted an EU investigation in 2005. After leaving Marrakech I took the train north to Rabat where I would spend most of my time teaching English at a local Language Association. My home for the next few weeks would be a small house in the historic medina. It is typical of traditional Moroccan houses, consisting of a central—in this case covered—court with rooms radiating off it, decorated with traditional stucco and “zellige” tiling. My work was just across the river in the sprawling suburb of Sale. Amal Sale, the Association at which I worked, is part of a number of such volunteer organisations that offer, among other things, the chance for young people to learn English, and are developing steadily as a growing force in local communities. Yassine, the director of a similar organisation, told me that their aim is to provide a learning and social environment, developing their members’ skills and helping them to find jobs. According to Yassine, while it is clearly very important for the Moroccan economy that more people learn English, there are few resources for doing so other than paying to go to British or American Language Schools, which many cannot afford. It was during my stay in Rabat that I was able to enjoy two distinctive features of Moroccan culture. The first, common throughout North Africa, was the Hamam - which Johara’s brother Sidi Ahmed offered to take me to on his weekly visit. The closest thing to the baths of Ancient
Rome, a hamam is a series of heated rooms of different temperatures in which you can sit, sweat the dirt off and wash with the water provided. There are separate hamams for men and women and both wear swimming costumes or an equivalent and bring their own soap and towels. You can also—and this is most useful for the clueless foreigner—pay an attendant to give you an exceedingly vigorous massage. Finally the hamam is, if anything, an opportunity to socialise, particularly for women who may have few other places where they can do so other than at home; cafés and bars are largely the preserve of men, tourists and prostitutes. The second major event I was to witness during my stay was a Moroccan wedding, which is an occasion of great excitement for everyone and anyone who might have even the smallest connection to the bride and groom. Weddings are a national obsession, much enjoyed by all who are lucky enough to attend one and televised nightly for those who are not. The evening in question began at seven in the evening in one of the new and faceless tower blocks which are part of the growing development of Sale. It must be noted, however, guests are only expected to arrive at least an hour after that time and the couple several hours later. Their eagerly anticipated coming was announced by the peels of horns and the din of drums of a traditional band outside, along with the slightly more prosaic but no less celebratory sound of car horns. The bridal party was escorted up the packed stairs of the apartment block, the bride gorgeously dressed in traditional costume and on reaching the top she was hoisted on to a chair designed for the purpose—perhaps characterised more by glitter than taste— and processed around the room. In former times a fantasia was usual at great weddings. Still seen at cultural events, this was a display of horsemanship common among many Arab nations, involving a line of brilliantly mounted riders halting suddenly in mid gallop and discharging their
rifles. Today this is symbolised instead by the bride’s escort who carry imitation firearms for the procession. Once over, the bride and groom will retire to change and it is not uncommon, I am told, for them to change up to five or ten times through the course of the night. Meanwhile a supper of lamb tajines was served at around one o’clock which we ate with our fingers. The dancing continued on until dawn. Weddings are in some ways better than the nightlife of the capital. Rabat is hardly an exciting city and would have remained largely a picturesque backwater from the Middle Ages onwards had it not been chosen by the French as the capital of the protectorate. Even today it is a surprisingly unassuming town when compared to its bustling neighbour Casablanca. Its flowering to eminence under the Almohads was very short lived. A sign of the unfulfilled grandeur during this brief period of prosperity are the medieval walls which enclosed mostly empty space until the twentieth century. Another is the massive Tour Hassan, a stubby twin of the Katoubia minaret originally designed as part of a vast mosque of a capacity which the city’s relatively small population could not have hoped to have filled at any other age. After independence in 1956, King Mohammed V kept Rabat as the capital of the new Monarchy and he is buried in the ruins of the mosque together with his successor Hassan II. The monarchy plays a very important part in government and Moroccan life and the king’s picture can be seen everywhere, in cafés, shops and businesses. The present King, Mohammed VI, has been surprisingly radical in checking a number of the Human Rights abuses of his predecessors reign and his generally favourable stance towards America and Europe. Islam has affected that relationship over the centuries. There is no better monument to Islam in the country than the fabulous Hassan II Mosque, a short train ride away in Casablanca. Built by the previous
“For all its variations in languages and ethnic groups—hardly helped by the very different and largely separate environments of coast, mountains and desert— Morocco is a remarkably homogenous society” monarch with (sometimes unwilling) public subscriptions, it is a massive and awe-inspiring construction, at least the size of St Peter’s in Rome and perhaps larger. The interior is a magnificent synthesis of traditional craftsmanship and modern innovation, so that the beautiful patterned roof of the central hall can open to the sky and loud speakers are hidden in the woodwork. This is, if anything, a symbol that Islam is a defining characteristic of the country. Many Moroccans are very serious in their devotions: one student of mine, when asked to describe his daily routine in English, began by telling me the times of his daily prayer. The War on Terror has affected Morocco as with many other Muslim states. The government was quick to denounce the September 11th attacks but unemployment and the slow growth of the economy have contributed to a gradual rise in extremism. This culminated in the suicide bombings in Casablanca in May 2003 which raised widespread outcry from Moroccans at large and
increased public opposition to terrorism. Many women wear the veil but usually of their own choice and many others have adopted Western fashions and dress. American films and foreign music are popular and alcohol, though it is frowned upon, can be legally bought. Morocco, like Tunisia, is a country largely at peace with itself—despite the remaining controversy over the ownership of the Western Sahara—and with the West, and is a perfect example of a moderate Islamic state. I end here, pausing with one final view, one of the most beautiful in Morocco. It is on a low hill set against the backdrop of distant mountains and in the long shade of the ruins of ancient tombs. Sheep are grazing nearby and far off I can see the whole of the old walled city of Fes el Bali, the old city of Fes. Night falls, the lights go on, and from the Kairouyine Mosque the muezzins begin their call. Edmund Stewart is a fourth year Classics student