So, given that I have been here for more than 4 months (and I don't have much more time left...sigh) here is my post about what I have got to know about Moroccan culture so far (this is one of the many good side effects of field biology...).
Of course, before anyone gets angry, what I know is what I have seen in Azrou and surroundings and the few Moroccan people with whom I had the opportunity to hang out. Maybe it is not very representative and it will be, of course, subjective, but, even though, I will risk to tell what I have seen, but without any intention to generalize (“generalizar sobre lo que sea implica injusticia, y la injusticia es una mierda” Chojin) or to offend anyone…despite my usual satiric tone (but that’s my signature, dude, get used to it!).
Clothes: Armani, djellabas & fluorescent pajamas
As I said in my post "First times", one of the things that surprised me the first time I arrived to Azrou was to see women dressed in a very Western way together with women in djellabas. The same can be applied to men, though as a rule, young man and many old ones dress on a Western style (the old ones normally in a very particular way...) and the old men with more traditional clothes with the omnipresent hood. However, it took me some time to realize that the women that I have seen in pyjamas on the street weren't an infrequent coincidence but a general rule! I don't know the reason behind it, but here in Azrou it's very common to find women and children in the street wearing pyjamas and no discrete, precisely, but normally fluorescent pink, blue or green, so you don't have any doubt that is a pyjama (of course, the shoes are normally slippers in these cases). To complete the wardrobe, if you have a baby, what better than to hold him/her on your back with a fantasy towel?
Well, I certainly appreciate the many advantages that these costumes have and, actually, one of the things I would like to do ( If I dare) before leaving my current home is going for a walk in pyjama!
I think this is something particular from here or maybe from medium and small size cities since the tourist coming from Rabat or Casablanca to see the macaques are completely the opposite and even the children look as if they were models, perfectly dressed up and with their last generation smart phones...
Traffic: What the hell…!!!????
One of the first things that shocked to me when I landed here was the nightmare traffic and the crazy capers of the drivers overtaking three or more cars in a round when another is coming on the opposite direction. Of course, why are you going to
reduce your speed when there is snow on the road? Everything will be fine, "In shaa'Allah"...and afterwards you find two crashed cars at the same curve...And seatbelt? What is that for? Well, honestly it's the only occasion in which I feel happy to don't have driving license (yeah, it's a shame, I know...soon...if there is money and nothing more interesting to do with it...).
It is actually surprising that, given this crazy way of driving we have only known about one mortal accident; the one of a trucker that crashed on the tourist area filling the site with apples that fed the monkeys for a couple of months...
Even though, I guess that here is, by far, better than in Egypt, or at least for what people say...
Food: by hand or by spoon, that is the question
Certainly, I have had many chances of sharing food with diverse Moroccans and even more now that part of the work is social anthropology (i.e. hanging out with people calling it "work").
My first experience with a "real" Moroccan meal came as a consequence of the Eid al-Adha' ("Festival of Sacrifice"); when Ben, one curious character, invited us (The Czech, the Californian and me) to have dinner at his place the traditional lamb meat that is eaten those days after each family (when possible) sacrifices one (well, here normally is a goat instead of a lamb, but...). After nearly one hour trying to find his home, he finally picked us up and showed us the way. Once there, he started to prepare brochettes of lamb meat with his pretty dirty hands and invited us to help. Then, he went to put some on the “barbecue” and after a while he showed us some. The Czech said that better more cooked…when he left again she said “ I think it will be healthier…” “¿Healthier?” asked the Californian “Well…less harmful”. Then I said that I was glad of having my hepatitis A vaccination, but they didn’t understand me (Those were hard times for me).
Finally we ate…and it was amazing! Probably the best meat I have ever tried. Of course, Ben made us eat much more than we would have wanted to. That seems to be a very Moroccan habit; to be sure that your guest have no more room in their stomach (oesophagus, mouth and so on) before they leave. After, he showed us where he kept the meat…under the table! (He doesn’t have fridge, obviously, is not an extravagance).
When we went out I dared to make a comment that, this time, was understood (or at least they laughed…well, smiled) “Well, I don’t know if we will survive, but it was great”. Actually, that time, surprisingly, our stomachs were safe and sound the day after!
Yeah, is curious, but here you have no idea of when your stomach will become Pearl Harbour. You can go to a very fancy restaurant and suffer the consequences (See “The BBC and the bad couscous” at “First steps…”) or eating something that would make your mother to pass out and being perfectly fine.
Nonetheless, the more typical dishes are the well known tajines and couscous, and they are what the family that rents us the flats cooks when they invite us to have dinner.
Any meal, of course, is accompanied, at the beginning or the end of it, with the mythical mint tea, which I love so much (yeah, I was a hummingbird in a past life; there is never enough sugar for me!).
However, the best couscous that I have had so far was when Ben, again, invited us to have couscous for lunch one Friday. The S.Carolinian and I went there ( I remembered the way! Finally!) and Ben was waiting for us near his home. He guided us to the terrace, where his brother, a child and two other men were waiting for us (yeah, we were late…). The couscous was really nice, but the best thing was the view of all Azrou with this marvellous light ( which I’m gonna miss so, so much…), enjoying the warm temperatures that are recently coming…It was quite relaxing, with Ben’s brother speaking some times in English with the S.Carolinian and sometimes in Spanish with me ( It’s amazing the ability that these people have with languages; most of the people that I have met can speak fairly well at least 3 or 4 languages and know the basics of some more). After finishing the couscous, the tea came…and other Moroccan traditions that I will only share in front of some tequila.
Noteworthy to say that, even if the traditional way of eating couscous is using your hand (right one, always) to grab some and make a ball, I have only seen Ben doing this. The family always uses spoons The tajine is usually eaten using bread as spoon-fork and this is more common…and tastier.
Hypocrisy: The keystone of any society
As any other society, Moroccan one has many hypocrisy points.
One of the more obvious is in respect with alcohol. You can only buy it in very specific shops or in big supermarkets like Marjane, where it is appart from everything else and you pay in there and go out from a different door than if you buy any other thing. These shops are suppose to be only for tourists or non-muslims...but of course this is not the case. Every week, the little shop where we usually buy is full of Moroccan men buying stuff. They give you very thick plastic bags, so nobody can see the content (even if is the only place in which you have these bags, so is obvious what you are carrying...) and they wrap the drinks with newspaper. Drink in the street is, apparently, a very serious offence...but our forest is covered with beer cans and wine bottles...
However, as in any other society, nobody is more hypocrite than the politicians. Our
forest, for example, is supposed to be protected...but the trees are cut anyway. A certain amount is supposed to be legally cut...but quite likely, not the amount that we can see pretty much every week, and, especially, because normally the trees chopped are the oldest cedars...sigh. The timber industry seems to be so important for the region as to make up weird stories to preserve it. For example, a common idea among the forest guards is that the macaques are bad for the forest because they eat bark and this kills the tree..Obviously, this is not true, but the fact is that, by eating the bark, the macaques make that many trees don't grow straight, making them useless for the timber industry, apparently...Attitude toward Westerns: kindness, ignorance or harassment
Most of the people coming from outside to Morocco are tourists (no travellers) and, as such, they will probably leave the country with the idea of the annoying sellers, the cheaters, and the children saying "dirham, dirham".
However, this is something that have nothing to do with the majority of people here; we must remember that, in any country, the tourist usually moves through a parallel world in which all resemblance to reality is by chance.
In general, what I have seen here is very nice people trying to help you and understand you, even when your French is drunk monkey Chita level and your arabic is amoeba level. In more than one occasion I understood bad the price of the stuff that I wanted to buy and I have given more money than it was and the sellers have kindly rectify my mistake. Furthermore, it is not uncommon that people tries to help you if you have a problem in the street even when you don't ask for it.
Other less frequent attitude is completely ignoring you; something very convinient at the queue of the shops, where you can be ages waiting if you are unlucky enough to find a couple of these people. This can also happen when you are walking on the street and, magically, you become invisible and people try to pass through your body if you don't watch out.
The third sort of interaction is harassment; pretty much the same kind that tourists suffer. Here is, in general, quite light; only guys saying to you "Bonjour""Salut""Hello" or "Hola". If you don't pay attention, normally nothing else happens. However, I seem to be lucky in this aspect; my old colleagues the Ohioan and the German, and now, the French, apparently had to suffer higher degrees of disturbance and I'm sorry for them. As a general rule, I don't have this kind of problems. I guess my angry-dog face has something to do with it ( I wasn't called "borde"-girl (rude-girl) at the high school for nothing, man); something annoying when you want to make advances with someone, but quite useful in any other occasion.
Well...I could say many other things, or at least develop more the topics. However, the time is passing really fast and I've got some posts in mind before leaving so...as I said to the cigarettes seller the other day when he asked me how it was possible that I have been here so long time and I couldn't speak French nor Arabic yet (I guess that for them 4 months is more than enough to be fluent in any language!) "Je suis travaillant tout le jour et je n'ai pas du temps!!"
...hay promesas que valen menos que un Sugus...
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