Morocco with the Suits

Morroco with the Suits: story from Polly

     Earlier this summer, pianist, Su Suits sat in a courtyard in Fez, Morocco, playing a Robert Schumann piece.  The impromptu musical moment happened to be at the Museum of Andalusian Music and the director came running out, applauding.   His ears were more tuned to the darbouka (drums), the bendir (tambourines), the kamanja, and the ud (lute): the music of northern Africa.  The melodies coming from the piano delighted him.

     He was just one of the many friendly and hospitable Moroccans that extended a welcoming hand to Su and husband, Thad, on their adventure into ancient Morocco.

     The journey to northern Africa was something that Thad had dreamed for a long time.  Immersed in the study of the Arabic language, he wanted to go where even a taxi cab ride would be a linguistic opportunity.

      Arabic is the native language of Morocco; the sounds of which he recognized as soon as he and Su boated from the south of Spain to Tangiers.

     Upon landing, it was a step back in time, “another world later,” observed Su.  The country of Morocco, somewhat bigger than the size of California, includes the barren Sahara desert, and still yields to the old ways, as they have since the time of the Romans.  Donkeys pull plows or carry wheat in carts that has been harvested by hand.  People greeted you, vibrant people, ready to access you.  The street scene was a bustling barometer of markets where bartering is expected, an intrinsic part of the culture. Salesmanship is a “fine art,” describes Su,one that immediately invites you to participate.  And she did, ignoring the first price of dirhams (their monetary system) the merchant put forward, ultimately making the advantageous purchase in English, and, achieving a surprising compliment.

    “You bargain like a Moroccan woman,” declared one of the local vendors.       

    Immersed in the rich and colorful life of the day to day rhythms, Morocco was the most exotic place the Suits had ever visited.

    “It made me nervous,” said Su. “Life happens in the streets, vendors, souks (markets), tanneries, minarets calling to prayer five times, but the day goes on as usual.”

     Yet, at the same time, when they ventured out on their own, people were friendly, “excessively friendly,”.

     They were sensual and visual.

     According to Su, “they touched my heart.”       

     Moroccans speak Arabic and French, a leftover influence of the 1912 Treaty of Fez which made Morocco a protectorate of France.  Although, Morocco gained independence in 1955, France continues to be their primary trade partner. The government is a constitutional monarchy (King Mohammad VI) with a parliament.  People still learn French which is more widely spoken then English.

     Women have equal rights, “at least on paper,” adds Thad, and they are allowed to work out of their homes.

     To the Suits, global influence was apparent in Morocco.

     Yet, they are still trying to figure out what this mystical area is about. Moroccans do not like to have their picture taken. They saw shrouded women in burqas, and some in western clothing.  Most women wear a hijab to cover their hair, but not their face.  Kiosks boasted The New York Times and world- wide news, while preserved meat sat in markets unrefrigerated, not far from piles of spices, and dates. But then you would notice the cell phones and the daily cry of the minarets.

     While in Fez, the third largest Moroccan city, a cab driver took them to the gate of Medina, the original old walled city of one million people.  Here they were to meet the man of the house where they were staying, Habid. He would walk them through the labyrinth of ancient crowded streets where no autos are allowed.

     “Habid, he’s my best friend,” declared the driver.

     “A one chance encounter in a thousand,” thought Thad, but, it was true.

     Habid met them, and led them to their riad, a traditional Moroccan home where they stayed for five days. Stained glass windows, mosaic floors and old wood, accented the house, called, Dar Bennis, which had been beautifully restored to its original Moroccan architecture.

     Even the first day, and each day following, their outings were only in Arabic, often with Habid in the lead.  But sometimes, they ventured out on their own, and in doing so they found plenty of friendly folk to ease their path.  Interestingly, Thad sought and found some Arabic language instruction from an American teacher who taught at Dartmouth.

     There was lots of give and take, but, “I held my own,” said Thad.  Even the ticket agent at the train station opened his eyes wide and gave him a “thumbs up” after he was trying to figure out the schedule.

     “I had spoken Arabic, and he liked that.”

     In Morocco, it is quite common to see henna on women’s hands and feet for weddings, special occasions, or even just for a treat.  It is applied for luck as well as joy and beauty.  Henna, a native plant, is used to dye the skin in orange and brown intricate patterns that last for two weeks.  The pale paisley remnants on Su’s hands revealed the treatment of an artist that came to their Dar one afternoon and applied the modern mystical adornment. Su enjoyed the experience, one that she wouldn’t pass up, as it was part of just celebrating being in Morocco.

     Those beautiful hands went right into the food as they both smiled and explained the cuisine of Morocco.

     Declaring “one third of the world comes to the table with knives, forks, and spoons; one third takes on chopsticks; and one third (including Moroccans) eat with their hands,” Thad tells it like it was.

      They describe evenings of sitting on cushions at low tables, enjoying couscous, vegetables, and meat food served from dome topped tajines (clay pots).  Mint tea is the ever popular drink, which one must always take time to partake.  It is the hallmark of Moroccan hospitality.

     The fresh ingredients for meals come from the lively markets (souks) where nearly everything is sold.  Shopkeepers and artisans daily appear to hawk their wares among throngs wending their way through crowded narrow ways.

     One of the most unusual souks, is the famous Dabbaghine, a tannery which has been in use for over a thousand years. As Su and Thad approached the tannery, they were given sprigs of mint to sniff to ward off the pungent smell from the processing solution of salt, lime, and pigeon excrement (which contains ammoniac to make the leather soft).  The steps in the tanning process take many, many coats of dipping in huge vats which look like giant water color pools.  The atmosphere is enhanced by the finished tanned hides hanging out to dry from nearby terraces.

     Experiencing the exhilaration of Moroccan traditions and mingling among the daily crowds of jalaba robed masses, the Suits looked around for foreigners. There were not many; and, certainly, very few Americans.

   “We didn’t feel like we were in a tourist zone,” said Thad, adding he “never saw a McDonalds.”

   But they felt the soul of Morocco and the last bastion of what it is.