Aleila qabl al-istifte'

This is the evening before the election and I can feel the energy in the air (as well as hear the chanting and honking outside my window). I have seen no large-scale demonstrations like I described this past Sunday, but instead today there are a lot of small groups holding banners, chanting and whistling. Some demonstrators wear red shirts with slogans like "I LOVE MY KING, I LOVE MY COUNTRY." I was drinking tea with my host family when a convoy of about twenty trucks with banners proclaiming نعم للدستور (YES ON THE CONSTITUTION) drove down the street outside my building honking the whole way.  We all ran to the balcony to watch the convoy as it went by.

Here are two excellent articles to bring you up to speed on the referendum. The first is from the Qatar-based news network Al-Jazeera, and the second is from the Saudi Arabia-based news network Al-Arabiya. Keep in mind that both networks have their own biases, but they also provide excellent coverage of issues in the Arab World.

The gist of the articles (which pretty much line up with my personal opinions) is that the referendum will likely result in a majority YES vote on the new constitution. The government has pretty much ensured this by campaigning in ways that would be illegal in the United States, such as posting campaign signs in public buses and in the windows of public buildings. In the streets of Meknes, you will only find signs for YES on the constitution. I do not know exactly why that is. However, as I said previously, the size of the marches on Sunday was about equal for the February 20th Movement as for supporters of the proposed reforms.

The reforms, unfortunately, are so cosmetic that the king will benefit whether the reforms are passed or not, and you can read the details on that in the articles posted above.

On a personal note, I can now brag that women are literally throwing themselves at me. Yesterday was so hot that I decided to walk to the hotel to swim in the pool with some friends. At one point I was standing in the pool and talking with a few other guys from my program when I feel a huge splash and a girl's arms wrap around me. The girl pushed herself off of me, giggling, and said, "I'm sorry!" in a French Moroccan accent. She swam to her giggling friends and on the guys told me, laughing, "She literally jumped at you. That wasn't an accident." This was confirmed when she did it again, and then when her friend did the same thing. After that we decided to move away from them.

I'm not entirely sure how flirting works here, but I'm pretty sure I'm now legally married in Morocco.

Wash kein shati qareeb min hina?

Small demonstrations continue in the streets as the constitutional referendum approaches. I can hear cars honking the signature honk in support of the king: LOOONG LOOONG SHORT SHORT SHORT. I hear sporadic chanting but nothing sustained.

I have to take a moment to complain about how hot it is here. I spend as much time as possible at the language center because in my host family's house all I do is sit around and sweat rivers that drip down my arms, legs, and back.

My host family is still away and traveling so I've been alone in the apartment this afternoon. I went downstairs to eat lunch with another splinter of the large extended family that lives in the building. Usually my host mom gives me a separate plate from the rest of the family, I think because she has had foreigners live with her before.
Today, however, lunch was the authentic Moroccan experience as the family set out plates with salads, various pastes made from vegetables and spices, lentils, and chicken. The lady of the house passed around loaves of baguettes that we tore pieces from and used to scoop the food. It's like eating little sandwiches that you make yourself.

I put up pictures of the demonstrations that took place on Sunday and I attempted to put up a video of a protest that took place the previous Sunday. Hopefully one of my readers will let me know if the video works or not.
The back story on the pictures is that I knew since last week that protests would take place around Morocco in anticipation of this Friday. The scary email that my program sent me about the protests said to stay far away, as clashes between protesters and counter-protesters were possible. So I knew I had to be there.

At around 7pm, as the sun was beginning to set, I heard honking and chanting outside my window, and my host dad called to me and said, "Listen! The demonstrations are starting." I asked him where they were taking place and he said there would be two and pointed me in both directions. I have no idea how he knew but I grabbed my camera and ran downstairs.
I visited the march hosted by the February 20 Movement just as it was starting. Participants in the march were calling on Moroccans to either vote NO on the constitutional amendments or to boycott the referendum. These struck me as differing opinions, so I think that there are divisions within the Movement that could hamper its success. The protesters were clearly angry, but the march was peaceful, and police officers and organizers could be seen redirecting traffic so that the march could proceed. The march eventually made its way from the new city to the main square of the old city, and its size grew to huge proportions as it approached its destination.

The other demonstration I witnessed was in support of the constitutional amendments, and this event was made up of supporters of the king, many of whom waved signs that said "God, Country, King" or wore shirts that proclaimed "Long live the King." The mood of this demonstration was more celebratory. A band played marching music, children held up portraits of the king, and there were even a couple horses in the crowd, decorated with velvet costumes and sequins. Young men piled up in the backs of enormous trucks and cheered and jumped as the trucks honked LOOONG LOOONG SHORT SHORT SHORT. The demonstrators threw up clouds of fliers that all had نعم للدستور (YES ON THE CONSTITUTION) printed on them and they littered the streets behind the marchers. This demonstration was just as large as the other, though fortunately the two demonstrations did not meet at any point, which was a laudable strategy for the organizers.

I did see ambulances, a riot control truck equipped with fire hoses, and an armored van filled with riot police that was following the February 20 march, but the demonstrations remained absolutely peaceful.

By the way, more on Tanja later (I'm tired, sorry!).

Kein sukhn bizaaf filmaghreb

Not too much excitement today. There was occasional honking and yelling in the streets in anticipation for the constitutional referendum on Friday but no further demonstrations that I know of. A relative of my host family went to the hospital today, so everyone left for a few days except my host dad. Everyone was a little frazzled this morning so I really only got to say Rabina maakum wa tariq assalama ("God be with you and have a safe trip") before I left for class.

After class I met with my language partner for the first time. She is my age and a niece of one of the professors at the language center. I want to be open-minded and culturally flexible, but honestly she came off as bossy, impatient, and harsh. She took me to a suuq and pointed at a bunch of spices, telling me the name of each one and making me repeat it. Then we turned to leave and she asked, "If you were shopping by yourself could you ask for each spice by name now?" I laughed and said no, it would take a little more practice. She stopped and looked at me like I was stupid, and then we spent the next ten minutes memorizing the spices until I got them all right. I have no reason to buy spices, and even in English I couldn't tell you a spice's name just by looking at it. The rest of the hour was much like this. Every time I spoke Arabic and accidentally inserted an Egyptian or Fusha word she made a TIME OUT gesture with her hands and said, "No! We are speaking darija (Moroccan Arabic)." Oh well. Maybe this is what I need right now, but I'm not looking forward to next time.

And now, as promised, here are details about Tanja, in serial form (because it's kinda long).

Part One: The Beach
Six of us met up at the train station in Meknes. We were all waiting there with our first-class tickets in hand (only first class has A/C) when the loudspeaker announced "The train to Meknes will be delayed by approximately one hour." We were disappointed, but decided this was a perfect opportunity to get lunch before going on a four hour train ride. We returned to the train 40 minutes later. It had already passed.
This meant we had to change our tickets, which was a HUGE fight that is not worth going into details about. The lesson, however, was: Wait at the station even if your train is delayed. Otherwise, the train ride was nice, and we had a very successful conversation with a man who was sitting with us in our car.
We arrived in Tanja and took a grand taxi (who we later learned way overcharged us) to the hostel and checked in. PRO TIP: Almost all hotels in Morocco require that you show a copy of your passport (I'm not sure why). The hostel is right on the beach, so we put our things in the room and walked down to the sand. Tanja is a very touristy city, and everyone speaks Spanish to tourists (because most of the tourists are from Spain).
The beach is lined with nightclubs and bars, and we were swarmed by street kids selling flowers, tissues, and gum. For some reason all street kids in every city in Morocco sell these three items. Once we got to the beach, we looked over the water which was glimmering under the lights of Tanja at night. We stopped at a bar for a while before going back to the beach, where I sat in the sand and talked with a friend while a couple others went running and wading in the waves.
At 4 am we returned to the hostel, exhausted. I decided to take a shower but this turned out to be somewhat difficult, because the bathroom was a just a corner of the room with a curtain. The shower head and drain was right next to the toilet and sink, and so I had to tell my roommates to wear shoes if they wanted to use the bathroom. This didn't turn out to be a problem, however, as we all slept until noon the next day, with our sleep only occasionally interrupted by the azaan. I enjoy the azaan when it's broadcast from minarets around the city, and it doesn't interrupt my sleep, but it was far less enjoyable at the hostel in Tanja, where a man was just screaming outside our open window.

Al-rujua min Tanja wa al-Muzaharat

It's super late and I have class tomorrow so unfortunately I have so much to say but I'm leaving it for later. Here are the main points:

1. Sorry about the design issues in the blog. It's under construction because I screwed up while uploading photos. The design will look much better by the end of the week. The good news is, you can see a lot of new photos on my album.
2. I'm back from Tanja (Tangier). It was beautiful, educational, and exhausting. Details soon to come.
3. There were huge protests in the capital, Rabat, as well as Meknes and other cities around Morocco. I got pictures and video. The pictures can be seen in my photo album and the video will be up within a week, insha'allah.
4. Leave me a comment if you like a post, or tell me some other way (email, facebook, pigeon). It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Ala aliqaa'!

Anwaa al-khubz al-ledida

Unfortunately due to a slow Internet connection it has been impossible to upload video of the protests I witnessed this past Sunday. I will try to visit an Internet cafe this coming week. More protests are scheduled for this coming Sunday in the capital, Rabat, in the run up to the constitutional referendum on July 1st. Protests will probably occur around the country so maybe I can get some footage of that too. If you want to learn more about the protests or the referendum, you can read about it here.

Today was a pretty slow day, though I did go to the qahwa (cafe) with my host dad. Qahwas are everywhere in Morocco, and are social centers for men to gather and drink and talk. They are constantly full and many Moroccans joke that in an eight hour work day, men spend six of them at the qahwa.

I don't usually drink coffee but I ordered some at the qahwa today. It comes in a little shot-glass sized coffee cup, just as the tea is served in what looks exactly like a tall shot glass. The coffee was very good, probably because they put so much sugar in it. They put sugar in everything.

If I leave this country without type-2 diabetes, it'll be a miracle, wallahy.

My host dad's friend joined us and brought a snack called harsha. It's basically a grilled cheese sandwich with very thin toast and tastes delightfully similar to macaroni and cheese. We talked about Moroccan foods and Moroccans' love for bread. Moroccans make so many kinds of bread and they eat it with every meal.

I won't be able to post for a couple days because I'm traveling (I'll leave the destination a surprise) but I promise I'll upload tons of pictures when I get back, insha'allah.

Fasl athaura

Today in class, we were discussing the Arab revolutions and one of my classmates asked our professor a simple but important question: "Are the current political conditions in Morocco similar to the conditions of Egypt before the revolution?" Our professor seemed taken aback by the question for a moment. She is a university professor in Egypt and participated in the demonstrations there from the very beginning. Her answer was long, much longer than we expected. It was incredibly moving to hear, so I will try to repeat it here as best I can (keep in mind I'm writing from memory and translating from Arabic, so take the numbers, especially, with a grain of salt).

"The political conditions that we're seeing in Morocco are similar to those in Egypt just before the revolution, but there are many important differences. For one, Morocco is a kingdom, while Egypt was a republic (though there was no difference in practice). Second, while there is severe and widespread poverty in Morocco, it is nothing compared to the abject poverty that exists in Egypt. As a university professor in Egypt with seven years of experience, I make the equivalent of $1500 a month. A university professor in Morocco starts her career with that much. I still work two jobs to make ends meet, and it is common for Egyptians to hold two or three jobs, especially if they are parents. The scope of poverty in Morocco is not as wide or severe, so Moroccans do not have the same financial pressures that led to so much anger in Egypt.
"Moroccans, I have noticed, have such a good sense of humor. They laugh, they make jokes, they socialize. I see families spending time in public parks around Meknes, and children go play soccer together at the soccer fields. We have nothing like that in Egypt. There are almost no public services or public spaces for people to enjoy. In the last twenty years, everything has been privatized. Even the beaches, which used to be public spaces, now cost up to 100 EGP (Egyptian Pounds, 1 dollar = 6 EGP). Long stretches of the beach can only be accessed if you own a beachfront property, which can cost 1000 dollars a month. So poor Egyptians have no resources and no place to socialize. You could see before the revolution that people had lost their sense of humor. People didn't joke, they felt so much frustration.
"I love talking to people. Whenever I get in a taxi, I always take the opportunity to talk to the driver because more than anyone, they know the mood on the street. At the start of the revolutions I asked a taxi driver who was driving me in the city, 'What do you think of the demonstrations?' He was suspicious of me at first, and asked me right back, 'What's your opinion on it?' I answered excitedly, 'I love the revolution! It's amazing to see this happening!' He relaxed and said he supports the revolution as well. He told me that he worked for the government his whole life, and his pension only gives him the equivalent of $120 dollars a month. He says he is 76 years old and his wife is very sick. He couldn't afford the medication she needed with his pension so he works as a taxi driver. Even with the extra income, he told me, he can only afford half of the medication she needs."

Her voice cracked and she wiped her eyes, which were brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," she said. We sat there in silence for a long moment. "We should really get back to class," our professor said suddenly. And so we returned to our lesson.

I will never forget that quiet moment of honesty and humaneness. Somehow her story drove home the human cost of dictatorship more than any political article I had read or any youtube video I had watched of the revolution. Dictatorship and poverty don't just silence people. They don't just frustrate or anger people. The conditions in Egypt were killing people. And similar conditions exist all over the Arab World.

I don't want to end this post on such a sour note, so I'll talk about the market (sooq) in Meknes. I visited a new section of the market today. This part of the sooq sells food, including pastries, spices, grains, vegetables, fruits, meats, and live chickens. If I drew a map of the sooq, I would label this section "The Cloud of Bees."

Seriously. It's not uncommon to see pastry shops with windows full of bees crawling all over the sugary sweets. But this was ridiculous. We were walking in the largest swarm of bees and flies I had ever seen. And no one seemed to care. The shopkeepers kept selling and buyers kept buying as bees crawled all over the food and buzzed around or heads. I just decided to do as the Romans do and just walk through the cloud quietly without making any sudden movements. As I walked through the meat section, I saw some of the butchers taking a nap...on the equip they use to cut and prepare the meat.

And the smell. I will never forget that smell as hard as I try. The smell of chicken feces mixes with rotting meat and olives was honestly the worst stench I have ever experienced.

I think everyone should visit The Cloud of Bees once. But I won't be visiting twice.

Justin Bieber wa al-ihbat

Today was the first day in Morocco that I felt real frustration for the language barrier here. Mostly I have gotten by fine with my limited Arabic, but today I understood the limits of my knowledge. I met a Moroccan high school student today, let's call him Sharif, who is related to the head of our program. Sharif is 15 years old, and I met him while interviewing Moroccans for a homework assignment. He ended up helping me with my homework, and we compared our favorite American musicians and walked around the Hamariya. He spoke quickly and it felt like every other sentence I had to respond with Aasif, me fahamtish (I'm sorry, I don't understand). This meant our conversation was somewhat slow and stumbling, but in the end, I reminded myself that I have only just started learning Moroccan Arabic and I had managed to keep the conversation going.

I mentioned that we compared our favorite music, and unfortunately, MTV has a long, long reach throughout the world. I asked the girl at my home stay who her favorite artists were and she rattled off a laundry list of cringe-worthy names. "Ajebni Britney Spears wa Miley Cyrus wa Eminem wa Taylor Swift wa Shakira wa Rihanna wa Kesha wa Justin Bieber wa Lady Gaga..." When I asked Sharif, the only difference in his answer was that he subtracted Justin Bieber and added 50 Cent. When I asked both who they're favorite Arab musicians were, they said they didn't really like Arab music. I'm not really sure whether this should make me feel proud or sad.

This picture has been up for a while, but I wanted to point it out because it so perfectly captures the spirit of Meknes. Meknes is a very old city with beautiful architecture and a historic, genuinely Moroccan vibe. But it's also filthy. You can walk across the city without seeing a trash can so trash lines the streets and is littered all over the public parks. People pee in the street and cars belch clouds of black and blue smoke as they lurch along. Donkeys defecate in the street and no one picks it up. Street cats are everywhere, like pigeons in New York City, and children who should be in school instead run around with no shoes selling gum or tissues.

I took this picture nearby the language center. The rubble, one man explained, is from a building that collapsed about a year ago. He insists the mess will be cleaned up soon, in sha'allah.