REAL Morocco

Last night was the start of the Forum. The Forum was started a few years ago by an ISA group in Meknes to promote intercultural understanding on important world issues. It has steadily grown in size, and this year we have students from Spain, Morocco, China, Belgium, and perhaps a few other European countries. The topic for this fall is Ecology (or the Environment). I was shocked how last minute the preperations seemed to be, and unfortunately, ISA involvement seems to have been mostly replaced by Moulay Ismail faculty.

The openning ceremony took place at the big theater in town, and we saw a mix of Moroccan and Spanish music. The final band-Berber drummers-got the whole audience to rise to their feet and dance for 45 minutes straight. After the concert we headed to a hotel for dinner. I sat at a table with some ISA friends, two Belgians, and a Berber man, Aheem.

Aheem is in his 30's and very willing to talk about anything Berber related. During the dance, he had showed us how the Berber's dance to the music, and when he sat at our table, he invited all of us to dinner at his house. His house is 12 hours by bus away, but it's the thought that counts, right? I'm not sure how our conversation started, but he began telling me about himself and the Berber people:

"I am a poet. I have written 2 novels, but I cannot get them published. It is hard to get books published in Morocco. You need money, and you need permission from the Library. I cannot get permission because my books are political."

Naturally, I asked him what his books were about.

"My book is political. It is about the Berber people and how Morocco is not their country. It is about how Berber is not a language in Morocco. If I speak Berber, they tell me, 'No, you must speak Arabic.' But, I love my language; it is my mother language. It is part of my culture. The Berbers have a verbal culture. They cannot read and write. If people ask you about Morocco-real Morocco, tell them: The people write with their mouths, and they read with their ears."

At my request, he delved deeper into Berber culture. Always starting with a quiz for me.

"Do you know why the Berbers dance like they do?" I shake my head. He continues, "In the desert, where I am from, the people dance in two lines. One line is men. The other line is for the women. They face each other, and they move very slowly, because it is very hot in the desert. Where I come from it is very hot, so the people dance slowly.

"In the mountains it is cold. The people dance in a circle-man, woman, man, woman. They move very fast, because it is cold in the mountains. You see? That is why the Berber people dance."

"You know about the rainbow?" He asks me. A simple shake of the head is all that is needed before he continues. "In Berber we call the rainbow the wife of the rain. A long time ago, when the people needed water, the women would go to the water source and dance for the god to give them water. Then, they would sacrifice a girl." I naturally stopped him at this point to see if I had heard that last line correctly. I had.

"After the rainbow appears after the rain, the Berber people say that is when the girl is meeting the god of the rain. When the romans came, they taught the Berber's there is only one god, so now we have other traditions."

That prompted me to ask about religion.

"The majority is Muslim. Then there are Christians. There are Jews too, but only in one or two villages. Some people believe in other gods. It is like the United States. Morocco is like the United States. There are many groups of people. Your ancestors are European, no? You know how I know?"

I responded, "My blue eyes."

"Yes. In the United States you have Europeans, and the African Americans, and the original people of the west, cowboys."

I corrected him on this little American history mix up, telling him the original people of North America are called Native Americans or Indians.

He then asked, "so these people really do exist?" I assured him that they did.

"Do you know about tattoos?" He asked, changing the subject. When I told him I did not, he told me. "When the Berber woman has tattoo," and he drew a line with his finger down his chin, "it means that she is ready for marriage. She cannot get that tattoo until she is ready for a husband. When she has a tattoo like this," he said as he traced a line down the middle of his forhead, "it means that she is married. Then if she is divorced, she put a circle here," he said as he traced a small circle on his left hand.

"When I was young," my new friend told me, "I asked my mother one night to tell me a story. She told me, 'We are a story. The Berber people are a story.' I did not believe her then. Now I believe her."