Weekend in مراكش

This post is going to have to come in several installments because I'm hard at work on an oral presentation about Syria for our Model Arab League on Wednesday -- and there is a lot to say about Marrakech!

Nearly everyone from the ARANAS program was visiting the dunes at Merzouga this weekend, so there were only 9 of us (and 2 professors) piling into the van for the ~7+ hour drive to Marrakech on Friday afternoon. The "main road" (one lane each way) runs down the mountains, winding through tiny villages whose entire populations seemed to be hanging out along the road as we drove past or riding donkeys off into the fields. Most of the way south to Marrakech has almost no foliage, so the hills are especially picturesque: we would come around a bend and have a panoramic view of several pinkish villages scattered out across the dust below.

We arrived in Marrakech around 9pm on Friday night, in time for dinner at our hotel, the Meryam. It was very classy and mostly populated by easily recognizable French tourists lounging beneath the palm trees by the courtyard pool. After dinner, a few of us went out for a walk in the neighborhood, were promptly approached by aggressive hustlers trying to sell us bangles and hashish, and ended up sipping traditional mint tea in a nearby cafe.

The next morning, in an effort to get in some serious sightseeing before the 108 degree heat hit, we rose early and headed to the casbah neighborhood -- the old medina. The entrance to the neighborhood is marked by the Bab Agnaou, built in the 12th century by the Almohad dynasty (see below).


Everything around and inside the gate had a dusty rose hue, accented by exceedingly tall old-fashioned street lamps, willowy palm trees of the same size, and an unusual abundance of dark birds. To one side we could see a beautiful Merenid minaret, adorned with green and blue tilework as only mosques with royal patronage (including the one at AUI) are allowed to do. Our first stop inside were the 16th century Sa'adian tombs, blocked off by the current Alawwi dynasty when they came to power and discovered only in the 20th century by French aerial photography. We had to walk through a narrow passageway to get inside, but inside was a courtyard leading to several magnificent burial chambers. The arched entranced led to exquisitely stuccoed vaulted ceilings and geometric tiled walls. The traditional colors for tiling from this period were dark purple, blue, and ochre, repeated at many sites. Some graves (all of which were royal) had marble grave markers: this was an unusually opulent display of wealth -- Morocco's economy at the time was based on sugar, and marble was traded weight-for-weight for it.






After leaving the Sa'adian tombs, we passed a man holding 6 very recently dead rabbits in his bare hands, swinging them happily on his way, presumably, to sell them.

to be continued...

A Few More Pictures

First, the view from a cafe in the center of Ifrane. Second, one of the cats of Pizza Diafa (for dad). And finally, with some of my friends in front of the great stone lion that Moroccan and French tourists in Ifrane rub for good luck.

Update

Sorry for the lack of posts for several days.  I haven't been able to venture outside Ifrane again, but have been busy from dawn until dusk with homework, lectures and such.  In Contemporary Issues, we had a guest professor lecture on Monday about Maliki Islam, which is the branch of Islamic law that is most prevalent in Morocco, and another lecture on Tuesday about Sufism in Morocco.  The professor spoke about how Sufism came here, through the network ribats, which were a sort of fort designed to protect Islamic lands from invasion and serve as staging locations for those going on the hajj to Mecca -- they created a subculture of young men based on a shared religiosity.  Sufism did not become organized in any way until the 12th century, though.  The lecture also addressed the importance of calligraphy with embedded symbols, the whirling dervishes, poetry (like that of Rumi, though he is not Moroccan), the centrality of the student-teacher relationship, and the alternating encouragement and suppression of Sufism in the Islamic world.

I also made a new Moroccan friend, Sara, who does wear the hijab and studies business administration here.  My American friends and I have figured out that if we sit in themaqha (cafe) long enough, a native speaker will eventually come and help us with our Arabic.  Yesterday, Sara helped us with our assignment of skimming a Moroccan newspaper (in my case, El-'Alm, "The Flag") and writing a paragraph or two about the issues contained within.

As we were working on our essays, an outdoor concert began right outside the maqha.  This was the first campus-wide event of this sort since I've been here, which has struck me as a significant contrast with American universities (it may different during the regular school year, although many of the students here complain that there is not much for them to do socially.  Despite the cold, many, many people came out and the dining staff barbecued kebabs for us all.  The concert was DJ'ed by Moroccan students and most of the performances were all-male bands featuring covers of American pop or hip-hop songs, but an American from Florida also played his banjo for the crowd.

Today, we had our first exam in Arabic class.  Fortunately, the tests at Princeton were much more difficult (we were never given a word bank before).  After the test, we proceeded to our usual Wednesday morning activity -- clubs.  This time, two of my friends and I decided to check out Qur'an Club.  First, an elderly American woman who converted to Islam many years ago in Egypt (and is a professor of linguistics here) spoke to us briefly about a few different aspects of the Qur'an: the traditions regarding the naming of children, healing the sick, and her own search for a "mystical experience" that she had found within.  We listened to different recitations of the fatiha, which is the short sura that observant Muslims say a total of 17 times per day during their five prayers.  We then practiced reciting the fatiha many times over and the professor in charge of the club attempted to teach us how to sing it in the melodic chanting voice used by the imams.  About two-thirds of the participants were Muslim themselves, so when we were each asked to read aloud alone, they had quite an advantage!  It was extremely helpful for improving our Arabic pronunciation, since the Qur'an is just about the only Arabic text that is fully vocalized (that is, all the short vowels and case endings are written in).  We also learned the first sura, or verse, of the Qur'an, which is a little more difficult.

This evening, one of my professors, Mohamed, offered to take me to the marche to buy a cell phone.  (It's hard to imagine any of my professors in the U.S., now matter how friendly, doing that!)  He helped me negotiate a decent Nokia phone plus a good amount of minutes (everything here is on a pay-as-you-go system, not monthly plans) for approximately USD$47.  The keypad has Arabic letters on it!  (Also, I can call to the U.S. but it's fairly expensive -- when I found out the exact cost I'll let you all know.)  After negotiating for me, Mohamed left me and two of my Princeton friends, Sebastien and Osahon, at a restaurant in the marche, Pizza Diafa.  We've eaten there twice before, but as soon as the proprietor saw that we were associated with Ustaadh Mohamed, we got unbelievable service.  (The marche is semi-outdoors and the owner even came and specially wiped up the mosquito that Osahon had speared on his placement.)  He brought us copious amounts of ketchup and mustard, despite that fact that we were eating traditional Moroccan tajines and kebabs that don't particularly lend themselves to these condiments, perhaps because we were American.  We hope to become regulars at Pizza Diafa, which, while it has cats in the kitchen in amounts almost as copious as the ketchup, is clean, tasty, and friendly -- and then, perhaps, we will be able to convince the smiling proprietor to speak to us in Arabic instead of responding to our attempts with French and English!

I also now have an e-mail address from Al-Akhawayn: C.bordewich@aui.ma.  I haven't used it yet, but it should work if anyone tries to e-mail me.

I hope you are all well!

المغرب الحقيقي

Today I had my first real adventure outside the bounds of Ifrane, my field trip with my Contemporary Issues class.  Our own professor was at a conference, so a very knowledgeable geographer from the university took us.  

Our first stop, about an hour and a half from campus, was Volubilis, or Walili وليلي in Arabic.  It dates back as early as 8,000BC and was capital of Berber Mauritania until it was absorbed by the Romans in 40AD.  Even during the Roman period, which lasted less than 300 years, the majority of the population was not composed of Latin-speaking Romans.  Yet when the French came in the 19th century, they stripped the site of whatever Berber elements remained in an effort to revive Roman monumentalism.  Rome abandoned this peripheral colony voluntarily as the empire declined.  It turned out to not be too hot, and we spent several hours walking around the archaeological site.  Exquisite mosaics remain, including one almost fully intact of sea creatures in the city baths, and it is possible to identify fairly easily the layout of the patrician homes.  The plebeians lived at the bottom of a hill because of water allocation, and their neighborhoods have not been fully excavated yet.  The city never exceeded a population of perhaps 20,000 but was still, with Tangier, the largest in the region.  While there is a large triumphal arch in the center of the city, built in expectation of an imperial visit that never occurred, much of the decoration on the patricians' houses is much cruder than Roman craftsmanship, and was clearly done by local artisans trying unsuccessfully to imitate, for example, Corinthian capitals.  Many of the mosaics, in fact, mix images ordered in kits from Rome with borders and backgrounds featuring distinctive local designs still common today in carpets and pottery in this region of Morocco.  The location itself was very picturesque -- the marble columns rose up in a valley of desert shrubs, but on all sides were the rolling Atlas, peppered with the occasional cluster of rectangular whitewashed houses.

At Volubilis

After leaving Volubilis, we drove to one of these very towns for lunch.  Moulay Idriss Zerhoun is home to an important Islamic shrine that has received considerable patronage from the Moroccan government.  I had gone to a lecture last week about Moulay Idriss I, a Moroccan saint who founded a dynasty in Morocco in the late 8th century, but only Muslims are allowed into the shrine itself.  (There are two adult American women in the class who have converted to Islam who got to go inside.)  While the town was well kept, it was nothing like Ifrane.  Almost all the women were covered, many even with scarves covering their noses and mouths; most of the women, and many men, were wearing traditional djellabas.  The restaurant where we ate was covered in beautiful blue tiles, with a little sink in one corner for washing hands, and a tiny wooden door that led to a squat toilet.  The menu consisted of tajines (which come in cone-shaped ceramic pots) and kebabs, beef or chicken.  The food was thousands of times better than our cafeteria food though.  After eating, while the two Muslim women went to the shrine, the rest of us wove our way through a steep labyrinth of narrow alleys to the top of a hill, competing for space with donkeys and their stick-wielding owners, little boys selling candy, and toothless beggars with weathered faces.  The young boy who led us, perhaps the son of the proprietor at the restaurant where we had eaten, was eager to practice his few words of English and show us the panoramic view.  From the top, it was clear that the city of Moulay Idriss Zerhoun was built on two adjacent hills, with the whitewash ending abruptly at their foot.  We could see out clear across the valley, bordered by the Atlas, and looked down upon the deep green tile roofs of the shrine.  

Moulay Idriss Zerhoun

On our way back down, an elderly man at the door of another shrine allowed us to peek inside, but all we could see were prayer rugs.  Next door was the elegantly tiled graveyard of the descendants of the saint to whom the shrine is dedicated.  The proprietor convinced me to pay 10dh for some excellent sweet biscuits his wife had made, "guaranteed to bring luck all day even to non-Muslims!"  When we got to the bottom of the hill, the group relaxed with some traditional mint tea while I helped my friend negotiate the purchase a pair of babouche slippers in part French, part Arabic at one of the stalls (most of which were selling the tall, garishly colored candles used at the big shrine) lining the main square.  We didn't see a single other foreign tourist in Moulay Idriss Zerhoun, and it was obvious that it isn't a major destination from the respectful way we were treated by the shopkeepers.  When the shoemaker asked me why I wasn't buying something and I responded that I was a student without money, instead of heckling me, he patted me on the back and said in Arabic, "It's ok, money isn't in the heart, only in the hand."

Our final stop of the day was at another shrine village, Sidi Ali Hamdush.  This was much smaller and much poorer, because the Moroccan government has shunned it rather than showered it with money.  It is the site of the tomb of the founder of the Hamadshah Sufi order, whose name it bears.  The order specializes in treating mental illnesses through the exorcism of evil spirits (jinn), which supposedly possess the ill.  We were given this warning before going to the site: "There are a number of important restrictions about the Hamadshah, including colors that provoke the various jinn.  It is recommended that you not wear anything in black, red, yellow, or green.  People who are possessed may bite themselves or others when provoked.  There are bread stalls along the pathways for you to buy loafs of bread to stuff in the mouths of those biting others."  To be fair, we did not see any biting.  And while it is still a major pilgrimage site for many Moroccans, others believe this kind of exorcism is completely un-Islamic and have tried to shut down the shrine.  Not a soul spoke English and even French was iffy -- Western tourism here was clearly pretty rare, and we got more suspicious stares than excited "Hellooo Hellooo"'s.  We followed a dirt path.  At the start, most of the stalls sold watermelons or vegetables, but as the path narrowed and steepened, as we descended, more and more were selling chickens, sheep, or other animals for sacrifice.  One had pinned a live goat to a stone wall.  Further down, many of the animals were dead already.  There were fox skins, heads fully intact, porcupines, and lizards, accompanied by mysterious herbs.  Other stalls sold swaths of fabric in the colors we had been warned not to wear.  Women crouched alongside the path doing elaborate henna tattoos.  Scratchy Arabic music wafted toward us from an old cassette player.  Finally we reached the destination for mentally ill pilgrims -- the grotto and the spring.  The medium who usually dwells in the cave appeared to be out when we arrived, but his attendants welcomed us.  Some people were lighting candles and placing them in grotto crevices.  A few chickens were strewn about the ground.  Next to the cave was a little bathhouse where those seeking to be cured (mostly women) can bathe in the spring.  Outside were piled thousands of pairs of brightly colored underwear.  It is traditional for women to shed their underwear to symbolize the shedding of the jinn that possesses them.  (The nearby stalls were laden with underwear so that they have something new to wear home.)  Then they will consult the medium, who will tell them to come with a certain color garment or with eye of newt and toe of frog, or with a sheep to sacrifice.  The medium induces a trance state to exorcise whatever jinn -- and only he knows which one -- is the root of the problem.

On the way home, in the early evening, we witnessed shepherds prodding their herds alongside the highway, fields of yellow sunflowers, and, frequently, men asleep along the side of the road.

My Roommate

I don't think I ever wrote about my roommate.  Her name is Lubna and she comes from Meknes, which is about an hour from here.  Like most of the girls here, she is very stylish and dresses in completely Western styles.  She is a communications major going into her junior year and also speaks perfect English (since all her classes are in it), and even with her best friend, who is often in our room, conversations are a mix of darija and English.  She always has on Arabic music videos, though, which I really enjoy and are helping me understand more Arabic.  This summer, she is taking Islamic Art and Architecture and a gym class, and since I am out most of the day I see her mostly at night.  But we are getting along very well.

صفوفي وحياتي هنا

Since classes started, I suddenly have no time to write -- up to 5 hours of Arabic class, 2 hours of Contemporary Issues (which I've decided to pick up), a required movie or club meeting, and then homework homework homework.  But it's a lot of fun.  

Last time I wrote, I was on my way to sit in on the Contemporary Issues in North Africa class, which I'm keeping in my schedule.  There are only 9 students and a crusty Montanan professor who has taught here since the university opened in 1995.  We have 3 two-hour lectures per week, mostly with guest speakers, about all sorts of challenging issues Morocco faces today.  I'll write more about them as they come along, but for flavor: contemporary Sufism, the problem of the Western Sahara, tourism, rural education, etc.  There is no homework but fascinating field trips -- this weekend we will go to Volubilis, formerly both a Roman and a Berber city and now an archaeological site, next weekend we will go to Marrakech, then to a casbah in the Tefilalt Oasis, then to nearby Fez and Meknes.  Since these trips are not with the larger group (70+ Americans), we can use our professor's personal friendships to get to places off the beaten path; we will be focusing more on real history than on tourist sites.  Today's lecture, by an eminent French "Berberist" who teaches here at Al-Akhawayn, focused on the position of the Berbers in Morocco today and the revival of their ancient Amazigh language (in the family of Ancient Akkadian).  The language was rarely written until about 20 years ago, and when it was, it was usually written in the Roman or Arabic alphabet; the ancient alphabet looks more like hieroglyphics than anything else.  The town of Ifrane, in which this university is located, has a large Berber population, but the professor pointed out the difficulties encountered by the French in trying to divide the population into narrowly defined Arab and Berber categories: there are many shades of Arabized Berbers and Berberized Arabs.  In addition, the Berbers have begun to capitalize on tourists' romanticized idea of Lawrence of Arabia desert peoples.  The Moroccan Berbers don't traditionally wear bright blue scarves on their heads, but they have realized that tourists don't know the difference and have started wearing them to bring in rich foreigners.

I haven't heard many people here discussing President Obama's speech in Cairo in depth, only in passing, but so far every Moroccan I've met loves Obama (as well as Hillary and everyone associated with Obama -- in fact there is a "Hillary Rodham Clinton Center for Women's Empowerment" here at Al-Akhawayn).  Maybe I'll hear more tomorrow.

Arabic class continues to be intense, but great.  I feel as if already Arabic words are coming to my head quickly, and I can have basic conversations even in darija with the non-English speaking dining hall staff.  Today, we sat in a circle to represent the United Nations, with each of us representing a country, and discussed our opinions of the United States, George Bush, etc. as that country.  One of our professors is especially fond of the word mumtaaztic -- a combination of the Arabic word for "excellent" (mumtaaz), and "fantastic."  At lunch, he talked for us at length in Arabic about his appreciation for Celine Dion & Terminator movies.  

Last night, a special dinner was held for us with the dean of the School of Humanities and Social Sciences and other dignitaries.  Lots of couscous.  Yesterday morning, as we will have every Wednesday, we had "clubs" for two hours.  This time, I chose Calligraphy Club.  We were given special calligraphy pens and only got through the very basics, but it was a lot of fun.

This afternoon, we were shown a film about Mahmoud Darwish, a famous Palestinian poet who died last year.  It was in Arabic with English subtitles, but we were all surprised about how much we could understand.  

اليوم الأول في صف العربية

Today was my first day of Arabic class.  Normally, we will have about 5 hours of Arabic per day, but since we had academic registration and orientation this morning, there were only 3 hours of Arabic instruction.  Yesterday, we had our placement test.  The oral segment made me a little nervous, because my interviewer asked me to discuss (all in Arabic!) how Obama will improve relations with the Middle East, as well as various aspects of the economic crisis.  I am in the "Intermediate II" class, along with 2 of my Princeton classmates.  It will last 4 weeks (the first "semester"), and for the second half of my time here I will be in "Advanced I."  The class officially starts about 4 chapters ahead of where we left off, but we are using the same textbook, so we're hoping it won't be too hard to catch up.  There are 13 students in the class and 2 full professors, both Moroccan, which means that we will have lots of support.  They are both pretty easy-going, but I can tell that we'll be learning a lot.  There are also TAs for some of the lower level classes, and they will be on hand to help us with our homework.  On Monday the 8th, all students must sign a pledge agreeing to speak exclusively Arabic during academic hours!  We also eat lunch every day with our class and professors, and must speak only Arabic then as well.  So far, I feel that Princeton was good preparation, but we'll see how things go over the next few days.  The director of the program, Dr. Chekayri, says that in three weeks or so we should start feeling very fatigued with Arabic and "homeless" (or homesick)... and that means that we've made progress and should begin dreaming in Arabic.  

Today, class was mostly meant as review.  We introduced ourselves, practiced verb conjugations, and read a passage about a well-known Moroccan author of the 20th century, about whom we were supposed to answer questions.  One of our professors, Mohamed, is very lively and did a traditional song and dance for us, and also joked that anyone who didn't like Obama should leave the room immediately.  For the last 30 minutes or so, we learned how to introduce ourselves in darija, which is Moroccan colloquial Arabic.

The regular students of the university are also starting to show up now, since their classes start tomorrow.  I haven't met many of them yet because we've been in class or orientation most of the day, and there is still no sign of my roommate.  But I hope to soon.  Many of us were surprised at how the students here dress, compared to how the program asked us to dress before we arrived.  While some of the girls wear the hijab and cover themselves thoroughly, the majority wear tight, revealing tank tops, short dresses, and even shorts.  (When they go into town, though, we've been told, they cover up.)  But this university is definitely an anomaly in many ways: for one, the prince attended a few years ago.  An intern with my program, who was a classmate of his, said that he intentionally walked on the grass, which is forbidden to regular students, and made all his friends walk on the sidewalk beside him.  

Since the hailstorm on my first day, the weather has been beautiful: dry, not too hot, and quite cool at night.  This afternoon I am going to sit in on the Contemporary North African Issues class -- more about that later!