Where ever you find yourself in the world, there is always going to be shadows of a divide between rich and poor. It's an ancient story. I, albeit naively, did not expect the gap in Morocco to be as distinct as discovered this weekend.
The American Language Center run a community service programme. One of the organisations they work with is a center for girls with difficult backgrounds. Victoria and I, the lone Brits in a sea of american enthusiasm spent Saturday afternoon with the remarkably outgoing girls. Our limited 'daraja' enabled us to make basic conversation but like most situations out here we relied on smiling and miming. We're getting rather good.
The students from ALIF accompanying us were fantastic translators and guides when it came to dealing with the girls. We introduced 'duck, duck, dajaj (دجاج)...or chicken'. No one could figure out the Arabic for goose, not even our improved mime could explain this one. After several very dusty, sweaty, side splitting hours we said goodbye to the girls.
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| Sneaky Paparazzi |
The ALIF riad in the old Medina hosted a photography exhibition that night, which was accompanied by a fusion music concert. Egyptian, Turkish and american folk tunes echoed around the crowded villa. The final song brought everyone to their feet...fist pumping, jumping and the classic two finger dance more commonly associated with a certain warehouse outside Leeds. Victoria and I found ourselves being passed around like over-sized babies for various photographs with the Moroccan students.
However, what struck Victoria and I from the outset was the dress sense of the 'Ville Nouvelle' audience. Denim shirts, red trousers, good shoes and giant quiffs, and that was just the men. It seems that Morocco really is not that far from it's french cousins. In the middle of the old medieval Medina where chickens roam free and the cats rule the night, a hundred or so groomed Moroccans danced to american folk music. The juxtaposition could not be escaped for as soon as we stepped out the door we were greeted by donkeys laden with bread and fruit. The attitudes of the 'Ville Nouvelle' were cynical towards the Aladdin-esque lifestyle, yet less than a mile and a generation separates them. They consider their way of life backwards and exclusive, whilst they are more open minded. A view common in my (limited) experience of developing countries.
Despite their differences though, the tale of each city is remarkable similar. In their various ways both side have shown us enormous hospitality and generosity, and each offer us a unique local insight into the Moroccan world. A world that we shunned slightly as we had a cheeky G&T in a hotel at the end of the night.
This weekend signified the one month mark for our stay in Morocco.
We're in love.
الله يهنيك
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