Where Are All the Moroccan Women?

Being in Morocco proves nothing short of experiencing bizarreness. Most of the time it has felt like a time warp to the biblical times. A majority of my time here has been spent on an organized trip with SAS to the Sahara Desert for a camel trek. The excursion was spent primarily on a coach bus with 40 female college students. We stick out like a sore thumb and the bus windows make the bus feel like a little US island traveling through the Moroccan streets. The first day in port 165 people met in the Union, gathered our passports, and departed the ship on 4 coach buses for a 3 hr ride to Marrakech. We spent the night in Marrakech, woke up early, but for the second time in two weeks, my alarm clock was faulty and I woke up with a mere 10 minutes before checkout time. Luckily, I did not miss the bus, because they will leave without you. From Marrakech, we drove 8 hours to the Sahara dessert through the Atlas Mountains. This experience in itself was very intense. Our bus driver, even in the eyes of the most aggressive American driver, was indisputably crazy. He tailgated, sped, looked everywhere but where we were headed, all on the narrow mountainous roads. The trip leaders actually yelled at him on numerous occasions (through our tour guide-since he only spoke Arabic). The bumpy roads of the Atlas Mountains have no guard rails, and no rules. Many of the girls became ill on the bus, and there was a constant stream of dust being vented into our lungs. Luckily, (and the only thing that kept me sane) the views from the bus were amazing. Unfortunately, my camera is out of commission and I was unable to take any photos.
Once we got through the Atlas Mountains we went on a camel trek through the “Sahara” desert. All I am going to say about this experience is that I left with a sense of guilt for paying to ride camels that had apparently been abused and looked very ill. There were only 80 camels for 165 people, which meant half of the time was spent walking. And we could see the buses parked on the road for the entirety of the trek. Although the nomad camp that we spent the night had a great atmosphere and the sunrise and sunset were beautiful, I was thoroughly disappointed with the camel portion of the excursion. Apparently last year 3 students got drunk, destroyed some of the tents and got in physical fights with the nomads. To say the least, the nomads were wary of us and it made things a little more awkward than anticipated.
We were very fortunate with Jamal, the Moroccan tour guide that we were assigned. He was fluent in 5 languages, had a sense of humor, and was very knowledgeable on the history and current culture of Morocco. Although, I got stuck in the back of the bus so I couldn’t hear a majority of what he had to teach us.
Experiencing this African Muslim country has been very difficult for me. We hardly see any women in public, and the ones we do see, wear various stages of veils. Where are all the Moroccan women? Most of the children I have seen are beggars, shepherds, or roaming on the sides of mountain roads in packs of 3 or 4 walking to collect drinking water. I pride myself on promoting an equal playing field for both sexes and have been able to relate to a lot of teaching in my previous Race, Gender, and Class Studies. It has been really hard to see the level of sex-segregation and oppression here. It makes me feel like what I was fighting for does not matter in the big scheme of things. I don’t want to come home and settle for things that I think are injustices, it just puts into perspective how lucky I am to be an American woman, even if there is room to improve our system. I would not feel safe, as a woman, traveling in Morocco unaccompanied. This has been particularly frustrating because there are things I want to do and see, but I would never do it alone.
Also, the language barrier has been pretty difficult. I pride myself on my social skills of striking conversation with strangers. This just is not possible for me here. Everyone speaks Arabic and some speak French. I am lucky that I made friends with some ladies on the trip that speak French pretty well, otherwise I would probably still be at the Souk (market) in Marrakech unable to get a taxi back to the hotel. Arabic is completely foreign to me, although, I just got down the greeting “As-Salāmu `Alaykum” which translates to “peace be upon you” and the response “wa `Alaykum As-Salaam” which translates to “and upon you be peace.”
Islam is a very interesting religion. I actually like a lot of the ideals and practices they exercise. There are 5 pillars every Muslim is expected to do: 1-Shahada (profession of faith); 2-Salat (prayer-which is preformed 5 times daily-dawn, noon, midafternoon, sunset, and night); 3-Zakah (paying of alms-which includes giving 2.5 % of ones yearly earnings to someone in need-usually a less fortunate family member or neighbor) Jamal was telling us that there is no one that regulates this but it is rather a personal sacrifice that is between the giver and god on judgment day. There is a saying they have that says “What the right hand gives should be kept from the left.” This ideal is also incorporated into their architecture. The outside of many building look very modest but when you step inside there is beautiful marble tile work and vast open courtyards. 4-Ramadan, this is currently in session. The ninth month of the Muslim calendar is spent fasting from food, alcohol, smoking, etc. As soon as the sun sets the fast is broken. That means whenever I eat throughout the day I try to keep it discreet. Finally, the 5th pillar of Islam is Hajj, which is the Arabic name for the pilgrimage to Mecca. Unfortunately, for many Moroccan’s the Hajj is not ever feasible because it costs 6,000 Euros to get to Mecca. It is a great honor to return to your community as a Hajj or a Hajja.
The market’s in Morocco are called Souks. The freemarket I visited in Marrakech is the biggest in the world. Most of the vendors are Arabic or Berber or Arabic-Berber, which just refers to where they are from. Arabic are plains people, and the Berber are the mountainous people from the south. The haggling is intense. It was a strange thing to be bargaining so intensely over the price difference of 300 dirham versus 250 dirham as that is 6 dollars. Especially, when I see the poverty and lifestyle these people have to face. I am feeling a great sense of guilt about my place in society.
Yesterday, the trip with SAS ended and they dropped us off at the port in Casablanca, I was feeling overwhelmed and tired and almost didn’t venture out. But it was my friend Stephanie’s birthday so a bunch of us went to Rick’s café, the restaurant featured in the film Casablanca. It was beautiful, there was a live jazz band, we sipped on Moroccan wine, and smoked Cuban cigars. It wasn’t a local place, so I felt secure being a woman. We met this lady named Cathy who owned the restaurant. She used to be a US consulate worker but got out after 9/11. She gave us some of the history of relations between the Morocco and France.
I am planning on going to a lecture by a female hip hop artist featured in the documentary “I <3 Hip Hop in Morocco,” which might be available on Youtube, and I highly recommend it. After that, a few of us are going to check out the souk here, although we have heard it is not comparable with Marrakech. The ship sets sail at 8 tonight and classes resume tomorrow so I will spend the evening catching up on all the homework I haven’t touched since before Cadiz.