Life in Morocco: An American Experience

Fez, October 3, 2011

Before I came to Morocco several months ago, I had many conceptions and misconceptions about living in a North African, Islamic country. What must I do when I hear the call to prayer? Will I be tolerated as a Christian? Will I be allowed to associate with women? These were all questions that came to my mind when I thought of coming to Morocco. The Morocco of my mind was the Morocco of Hollywood films and when I thought of Morocco, I thought of camels, tents, the French Foreign Legion and the One Thousand and One Nights.

Since I have come to Morocco, my friends and family in America have asked me many questions. “Do they have highways in Morocco?” “Do they have mobile telephones?” “Do they have washing machines?” I’ve also heard more than enough questions about camels and about the desert.

Now I am here. I have lived and worked in Fez for several months and I scarcely see anyone who is not Moroccan. I am entirely immersed in the culture. I eat Moroccan food, my friends are Moroccan, my clothes are Moroccan, and I have done a fair amount of traveling.

Since I arrived, I have seen my fair share of televisions, mobile telephones, highways and European luxury cars. I am however, still waiting to see the desert and those camels that everyone keeps talking about.

Many westerners have misconceptions about Morocco. I myself did not understand things well until I arrived. Muslim women are not shut up in some distant wing of their house where they are forbidden to have interaction with men. The women in Morocco work together with men in just about every job. I should also mention that not all women in Morocco are veiled. Morocco, like every other country has a diversity of people and of culture.

Some women are veiled and wear gloves so that the only part of them that is seen is their eyes as they look over their veils. Other women wear a scarf to cover their hair and they consider that to be sufficient. Then there are other women who do not cover their heads nor their faces and no one seems to be bothered about it.

It is common here in Morocco to see a veiled lady walking with a lady who only wears a scarf or perhaps with a lady who does not cover her head at all. These women who have different religious convictions all get along with one another and are friends.

These women have rights also. Some people make the mistake of thinking that because some Muslim women do not live free lives, then all Muslim women are oppressed. I think that the women of Morocco are among the most free of all of the women in the Islamic world. They come and go as they please. They drive cars. They do business or whatever else is necessary.

One should note that unlike the women of the west, Muslim women have always had the right to hold and inherit property. There have been many very powerful and influential women in Islamic civilization.

For example. in Fez one will find both a synagogue and a Mosque-university which were founded by women. The University is Al-Karouine which was founded by Fatima al-Fihri and it is reputed to be the oldest continuously operating university in the world and the synagogue is Em-Habbanim Obviously these women were not shut away in the harem fanning themselves all the day long. They were an important and influential part of their society.

Another issue should be mentioned, that is that Morocco is a very modern and progressive country. The streets are paved and wide. In Fez, there are fountains at every turn.

There has been much publicity this year about the King’s project of building the tramway in Rabat which apparently has been successful. Contrary to what some people might think, we have electricity, running water, and everything else that one requires for a comfortable life in this modern age. I have not done without anything to which I was accustomed in America save my favorite blend of pipe tobacco.

In Morocco there is a great deal of tolerance as well. Before I traveled to Morocco, I was warned by many friends that it could be dangerous for a Christian to travel to a Muslim land. After all, Muslims hate Christians, they say. Well, perhaps that is true in some places. I don’t know. I am in Morocco. Since I have come to Morocco, I have dined with Muslims. I have slept in their houses, I have been nursed by them when I was sick and they have never insulted me or discriminated against me for not being a Muslim. My friends know that I did not fast for Ramadan and they are not bothered.

In fact, when I visited some Muslim friends during Ramadan, they insisted on preparing food for me so that I could eat throughout the day as I am accustomed to do. They never ate until dusk, but they never asked me to fast with them. Never once has any of my Muslim friends tried to convert me to Islam since I came to Morocco. My religion is simply not anything that they are worried about.

I live in Morocco now. My conceptions now have a foundation and my misconceptions have been corrected and adjusted to correspond to the truth. Now I know that when I hear the call to prayer, I can ignore it. It does not stop all life and movement when it is sounded. Now I know that most people don’t care what my religion is. I don’t have to worry about being discriminated against. Many Muslims call me brother and friend and I know that they are sincere. I can associate with women. I can walk with them in the street and talk with them in their homes and there is no problem. It is easy to live among Muslims and I am quite comfortable here. I think that I shall stay for quite some time.

By Jess L. Norton is Morocco World News’ correspondent in Fez, Morocco.

Source: here

Saudi Memories

My family first moved to Saudi Arabia in the early ‘90’s. This was before the first Gulf War, before September 11^th, before the subsequent entanglement in Afghanistan and second War in the Gulf. I had not yet turned seven when we landed at the Jeddah International Airport after 18 hours of travel from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Ten meters of snow were replaced by the orange glow of street lights over the gardens that lined each street. Palm trees and flowers that looked so startlingly out of place in the expanse of desert that surrounded the airport, kept alive by a constant steam of water - itself a product of a constant stream of oil exported to the Western world.

This wealth pouring into the country from buyers abroad was to structure all of my experiences in the country. The Royal Family of Saud controlled the wealth and used it to beautify their cities, palaces, and care for native Saudis. The design and management of these works and support systems were outsourced to specialists from the US, Europe, and to a lesser extent other Arab countries. The labor was done by migrant workers; Africa and South East Asia provided droves of young women as housekeepers and young men for the mixing and pouring of concrete.

Most of my time was spent in isolation from the Saudis and with only professional contact with the foreign laborers. Western workers and their families were housed in walled compounds in which wives were free to walk without covering their exposed skin, a law enforced by the Mutawa – religious police that were always a reason to flee to the restrooms and wait for them to pass when we happened to see them enter a shopping center. Not having hair covered was reason enough for deportation should one of these officers wish to enforce it.

My friends were the children of my father’s coworkers or those enrolled in the British Continental School of Jeddah.  Lebanese, Egyptian, Greek, French, British, and German playmates organized street hockey matches and a game called wall-ball which quickly degenerated into wildly throwing a tennis ball at whoever was closest. Waist bags full of marbles were conspiratorially opened and displayed to challengers before one of a certain perfect color was selected. Resting between the two competitors, the marble to be won or lost watched as a second flew past it until at last contact was made and the fight was over, the marble either returning to the safety of its pouch or being stolen away by its new owner. I lost a lot of nice marbles this way. I was never very good at it.

Back in the privacy of the Compound we would organize ourselves into battalions, working to build defenses and stockpile ammunition for a war against imaginary enemies. While some collected dates from the palm trees to be used as projectiles, others would climb the wall separating our compound from the bin Laden family junk yard. There Ethiopian and Filipino workers guarded broken bulldozers, discarded air-conditioning units, cement piping, scrap wood and a multitude of other necessities for any young army tasked with constructing a suitable fortress. We quickly learned the guard dogs there, scruffy German Shepherds, were more interested in human affection than protection, but that their playfulness would still give away our positions. The Filipinos were not fond of our pilfering and frequently chased off with sticks those of us not fast enough to dive into one of the many pipes or outposts we had scattered. There was no joy or terror like organizing the rescue party to climb back over the wall to find Ahmad after he had been separated from the group.

The school would periodically organize field trips to neighboring regions. One such excursion took us to Mada’in Saleh, a pre-Islamic city of the Nabateans. A city cut into the red stones of the desert, it is Petra scattered amongst the sand. Our route took us wide of the holy city of Mecca; the bus full of nonbelievers was not welcomed within city limits, and so our first night was spent next to a cliff face that did more to cut the loneliness of the area than the winds. After dropping us off, our Eritrean bus drivers left to secure us dinner. We played games in the sand until they returned with a goat which they butchered and roasted on an open fire that we were happy to help tend. After the first few bites of meat was eaten, a pick-up truck full of very angry and very armed Bedouin trained their weapons on our drivers and asked them, I would later find out, why they had stolen the goat. Papers quickly exchanged hands and the Bedouin, satisfied, departed. The goat was delicious and the games of throwing the removed testicles at each other was more than worth the price.

For a young American to be surrounded by that much diversity of religion and culture was something that made identifying with my peers stateside difficult after returning. I have not been back since our departure in 1996. Those who have been back since 2001 have spoken of Saudi Army presence outside of all Western compounds. I am glad I have not seen that.

By  Matthew Rasmussen

Colorado, USA

Lifetime Experience

I want to share my experience in Egypt, We truly had the experience of a lifetime!

Our group of 20 of us did an overnight tour in Cairo, which for we singles was less than 1/3 the price of the HAL tour (same hotel), in a mini-bus. 3 hours from Alexandria to Giza the first day was a long trip, but there was a pleasant roadside stop. Our guide gave us lira to use the toilets (common in the middle east).

Our destination was the pyramids at Giza. When we came around the corner it was a-maze-ing! Our guide taught us how to say NO THANKS to the “mosquitoes” of vendors trying to sell you something. “One dollar” they shouted for nearly anything they wanted to see to you. It was not unlike any beach in Mexico, and I found the bartering fun, but many people did not enjoy this part of the location. I bought some pens (10 for $5) and postcards.

Could have bought a lot more if I’d had dollars. The vendors indicated that Americans are staying away from Egypt and they were happy to see us there. We saw Saqqra, with the amazing well preserved crypt paintings, which I still can’t believe aren’t covered. You can touch them! We over- nighted at Le Meredien Pyramids in Giza. Beautiful hotel, but I don’t think they can get parts to fix things.

Of the three of us singles, one room had no electricity in the wing, my toilet flushed constantly and when I toyed around with the flushing mechanism I realized someone had put a bobby pin in it to hold it to the wall. We had dinner in the hotel, which had a lovely buffet for 180 Egyptian Pounds, , about $30, but we weren’t that hungry.

I sat down to a table alone, which I guess in a no-no in Egypt. I wasn’t recognized until my two table mates had arrived. We had martinis and steaks, and it came in under $20 per person. Jeanne ate the salad, we had ice in our drinks, no problems. The elaborate buffet breakfast was included in the a.m. before our group was off at 8:00am.

Today we were off to Cairo city center. Woah! 26 million people living here. Drivers have a sophisticated series of horn honks, and pedestrians wait by the roadside for mini-van shared transport, using hand signals to indicate where they are going. These vans stop on freeways to board passengers. It’s a dance, and everyone understands it, except the tourist. Most women wore the hijab, many in full burkas. Some wore very sophisticated clothing, and a hijab. Older women wore scarves tied at the neck.

Many men wore the galabia, a long cotton or linen robe. Then there were the cosmopolitan office workers in trendy black pants and button-down shirts and ties. We headed up to the Citadel to see the amazing silver mosque. We were allowed inside, and it is elaborate and ornate.

Just simply beautiful! We had a lovely lunch at the Happy Dolphin Restaurant, right on the Nile river. The buffet was varied and plenty. Drinks or bottled water was $2, diet coke $3. A visit to Tahrir Square and the Archaeological Museum was next, but getting there was a trip in itself. Traffic in Cairo is hectic, frenzied and constant, to say the least. As we drove, our guide answered every question we had about the Arab Spring uprising.

The museum was filled with many important statues and relics from tombs of pharos and queens. The whole second floor was a portion of the contents of King Tut’s Tome (less what was on display in Seattle at the time), and the gold room worth the price of admission all by itself. Afterward, it was a 3 hour drive to Port Said, through vast desert along the Suez Canal. We kept seeing Maersk Line container ships, all in a row, kind of like a convoy of ships.

What I didn’t realize until later, our ship was entering the flotilla and escorted out of Egyptian waters. I felt very safe the whole time in Egypt, and every person I came into contact with seemed genuinely happy to see us. Port Said had a long line of vendors as we headed for the pier, but the same old stuff we’d see for the last two days, nothing new, and we were cutting it close to departure time, so no shopping.

I would highly recommend Egypt excursions ( www.egyptshoreexcursions.com ) for the lovely trip at a reasonable price. Far and away the most exciting part of our 16 day cruise.

Source: http://www.fodors.com/community/africa-the-middle-east/i-want-to-share-my-experience-in-egypt.cfm