Tag Archives: Morocco

Sub-Saharan Africans started sleeping in these concrete pipes after they were forcibly evicted from their homes in Tangier’s Boukhalef neighborhood (visible in the background of the photo). Many of them had their belongings thrown out or burned by police, according to local activists. Some were carried off to other cities in Morocco.
Tangier, Morocco
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They Kill You Very Seriously

Before they manage to reach Spain or Italy or Greece, people fleeing poverty and war in Sub-Saharan Africa head to port cities like Tangier. There, they face the risk of beatings and repression at the hands of authorities—or dying on the crossing to Europe.


Man carrying plastic bag and water jug walking down dirt path
A man carries his food and water for the day back to a makeshift campsite on the outskirts of Tangier. From the film Hijra–Dead End: Morocco

“This is a picture of the forests,” Michael says, flicking through the photos on his laptop. “At night they will struggle. I mean, how can a plastic bag save you from the cold? If it’s cold, it will be cold on you. If it rains, it will rain on you. If the police come there, they will burn down all this.”

Michael, a twenty-something man from Gambia, is showing me photos that he has collected during his year and five months in Morocco: some taken by him, others by journalists that he has met and befriended, others by friends who are migrants like himself. At great personal risk, he has been documenting human rights abuses and the daily struggles that migrants undergo in Morocco. (Some of the photos from his collection are interspersed throughout this story.) The images are unsettling. Young children sleeping in the cold. Men who have been beaten half to death. Families living in squalor in the forests.

Continue reading They Kill You Very Seriously →

Jo Magpie is a freelance journalist, travel writer, and long-term wanderer currently based in Granada, Spain. Blog: agirlandherthumb.wordpress.com

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UN Peacekeeping — more harm than good?


The UN Department of Peacekeeping has, over the years, become known for its foibles.  The department received considerable criticism for its handling of Kosovo, as well as the Rwandan genocide (captured in the film Hotel Rwanda).  Child prostitution in countries such as Cambodia and Bosnia rose after UN Peacekeepers moved in.

And now, the latest in a series of scandals involves Moroccan members of the UN Peacekeeping force accused of sexually abusing girls as young as thirteen in Bouake, Cote d’Ivoire, where 732 Moroccan UN members are stationed.

While all UN "Blue Helmets" are barred from having sex with locals (even those who are of age), it has become incredibly common, as young girls in many countries see them as a source of income, particularly given the size of the peacekeeping units (700 foreign men in one small city?).

According to one article I read, some of the older women in Bouake (okay, by older I mean 20s or 30s) blame the girls as much as the soldiers, saying that the girls approach the men, often hounding them for sex in exchange for what amounts to just a few U.S. dollars.

That may be so, but if you ask me, it is the responsibility of the men to just say no. 

 

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The Global Peace Index


The Global Peace Index, which ranks 120 nations according to their relative peacefulness, has just released the 2007 rankings. The index is put out by Vision of Humanity, a website that was just launched in support of the index.

Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, many of the lowest-ranking countries are from MENA (Middle East and North Africa). Iraq, of course, falls into last place (121), while Israel, Lebanon, Algeria, and Iran are all pretty low (although Iran practically tied with the United States — they are ranked in the 96th and 97th places).

Morocco (48), on the other hand, was in the top 50, along with MENA friends Kuwait (46), UAE (38), and Qatar (30). Oman was the highest-ranking MENA country, falling into 22nd place.

Indicators used in the index include the number of internal and external wars fought, relations with neighboring countries, political instability, level of distrust of fellow citizens, and the number of arms per 100,000 people, among other things.

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No free Internet here


As the U.N. pressures the Egyptian government to release jailed bloggers and journalists, and Bangladeshi blogger Tasneem Khalil is released after less than 24 hours in jail, freedom of citizen media seems to be taking the front page.

Belarus, Egypt, Bangladesh, Iran, China, Singapore, and Libya have all detained bloggers or other Internet personalities thus far.  Although Morocco has not, freedom as it pertains to the Internet has a long way to go.

In December of 2006, two journalists were arrested for analyzing jokes made on the Moroccan street in Nichane, Morocco's only magazine written in dialect.  Reporters Without Borders called the actions "insane and archaic," a sentiment which was echoed throughout the Moroccan blogosphere.

And yet few have even mentioned the fact that Morocco censors the Internet.  Unlike China's extreme censorship, Morocco has only banned a few sites, mostly related to the Western Sahara.  Additionally, Livejournal has been banned for a little over a year, and Google Earth is only sporadically accessible, allegedly because its close shots offer views of the Moroccan royal family's many palaces.

Reporters Without Borders has offered help; the 2005 publication of "The Handbook for Bloggers and Cyberdissidents" (available for free online) teaches Internet users how to sidestep government censorship by the use of proxies and other innovations.

But beyond that, I say it's time we take a stand against Internet censorship!  Who's with me? 

 

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Day out with the cat


One thing you must know about Morocco is the overabundance of street cats.  They're absolutely everywhere — the other day, a fellow Morocco blogger posted a jaunt around the medina of his city, including all of the cats he ran into.  In one photo, seven (yes, seven) cats wait outside the door of the public hammam (baths).  As funny as that is, it is not at all strange.

In my neighborhood, there are about eight cats that I see on a daily basis.  There's the fluffy but extremely dirty black and white cat that sits on the walls of the local cafe; there's Ninu, the cat all of the businesses in my building feed; there's the ginger cat who hisses at me.  Etc.

What is rare, however, is to see a kitten around.  As I'm sure you would know, a female cat would never just give birth on a sidewalk — rather, she'd seek out a clean(ish), dry, safe place and have her kittens there.  So you can imagine my surprise one evening when, upon arriving home with a friend, I found a practically microscopic white and brown kitten meowing outside my door.  She looked clean enough, and she stood right at my feet, looking up with her big, sad green eyes.

"Meow," she said to me.

I reached down to pick her up, assuming she'd run — in other words, I gave her the litmus test of Moroccan street cats (cats who live outside of butcher shops don't run; skinny cats and most female cats do).  She allowed me to scoop her up, even hug her to my chest.  "She's a keeper," my friend told me.

And so, LC (short for "Little Cat") came to live with us one January evening.  

Four months later, it was time to take her in for her shots — since we don't have a car, we borrowed a cat carrier from a Canadian friend, and my husband walked her over to the veterinarian.  Old men followed him, peering into the case; young kids squealed.  It is a rare sight indeed here in Morocco.

After LC had been given her shots, the vet informed my husband that she would require a photograph for her health card.  So, rather than go home, take a digital photo and have it printed, my husband decided to take LC to the same place we go when we need passport-sized photos — the professional photographer.

And so, this afternoon, I will be the happy owner of a set of prints of…my cat.

Anyone want a wallet-sized? 

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Feeling safe


How difficult is it to feel safe when fundamentalism is on the rise so close to home? Pretty easy, actually.

In late March, a man entered an Internet cafe, allegedly to view "jihadist" websites. The cafe owner's son asked the man to leave, prompting the man to detonate a bomb he had hidden under his clothing. The perpetrator, Abdelfattah Raydi, died and a few others were injured.

Then, on Tuesday, April 10, police approached an apartment in Casablanca's impoverished Hay Farah district. One man, Mohamed Rachidi, fled to the roof and detonated a bomb inside his shirt. Another man inside the apartment started to detonate his own bomb, but a policeman shot him first. He was identified as Mohamed Mentala. A third man, later identified as Ayyoub Raydi, the brother of Abdelfattah Raydi, detonated a bomb as well, killing himself and a police officer and wounding several, including a seven-year-old boy.

Over the past two days, news sources and experts have speculated whether or not the bombings were related to those in Algiers, or if the Moroccan perpetrators were linked, perhaps with Al-Qaeda. Enough speculation to scare my friends back home anyway.

Meanwhile, tourist boards are teeming with questions about the safety of Morocco. "Are Moroccans targeting Americans?" "Is it safe to visit Marrakech?"

I certainly can't say for sure, but in the two years I've lived in this country, I have never once been the target of any anti-American sentiment whatsoever. Nor have I been a target for anything else, except a bit of obnoxious sexual harrassment (which I am not playing down, of course, but compared to actual danger, a few whistles or catcalls seems extremely minor, even to my sensitive American psyche).

Look, the point is, Moroccans are not against America. Perhaps it's government (but I can count on one hand my American friends who aren't against the government!), sure, but America or Americans? Moroccans line up at Internet cafes every autumn to fill out Diversity Lottery visa applications. They watch American movies and American TV, listen to American music. That is not to say that there isn't some trepidation when it comes to American behaviors, but on the whole, this is not an anti-Western society. This is a country whose border is only eight miles from Europe — a country which has had so much French, Portuguese, Spanish, and Roman influence over the centuries that, aside from its religion, is more Western than Eastern.

So although I can't say I'll be visiting the slums of Casablanca anytime soon, I certainly feel safe and right at home for now.

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Marketing Morocco


Having just returned from a lovely vacation to Marrakech, I am both elated (by my beautiful photographs, nice tan, unforgettable afternoons, and lovely purchases) and disheartened. Disheartened because I cannot believe how the medina has changed in just a few short years since I first arrived in Morocco.

I recently wrote an article for an English-language magazine here, the first of its kind — in recent years, anyway. Writing about foreigners in Marrakech, I found myself hard-pressed to find many good points. Sure, they're buying up properties tha no one else might otherwise, but they're also driving average Moroccans out of neighborhoods that they can no longer afford. The price of a coffee has jumped nearly MAD 3 (that's about 30 American cents — a lot to some people here), and it's nearly impossible to find Morocco's staple dish, the tajine, for normal prices.

Yesterday, speaking with a Moroccan colleague, I discovered her vacation had similar properties — visiting the southern coastline, she discovered that a French man had come in, bought land for MAD 8 per square kilometer, built luxury villas, then resold them for a price no Moroccan could dream of affording, thereby gentrifying an entire fishing village.

And then today, I came across a press release from a certain UK agency advertising a "Moroccan lifestyle" for only £82,000. The PR pointed specifically to La Palmeraie, a wealthy area of Marrakech that is essentially a protected palm grove — but laws are being sidestepped to make way for luxury — hotels, villas, apartments, and nightclubs.

Meanwhile, ordinary Moroccans are being pushed from their communities to make way for the European invasion, and yet, Moroccans can hardly cross the border for a vacation.

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Suicide bomber in Morocco kills one — himself


This morning I was informed of a suicide attack here in Morocco — Casablanca (the financial capital), to be precise.

As it turns out, only the bomber himself was killed, and the rest of the story was pretty straightforward.  The BBC reported this morning that prior to the attack, a patron of a cyber café had been told by the owner that he was no longer permitted to view "jihadist" (BBC's term, not mine) websites and that the bombing was perhaps in retaliation, although there is question as to whether or not the bombing was intentional.  A friend accompanying the bomber managed to escape and has not yet been questioned.

The bomber hailed from Sidi Moumen, as did the perpetrators of 2003 bombings in Casablanca which killed 45 people and targeted a five-star hotel and some Jewish cultural buildings.

Whether or not this will affect tourism remains to be seen.  Morocco has basically been on terror alert since 2003, but tourism has only increased, particularly in Fez and Marrakesh, both major historical centers.  Casablanca, on the other hand, has very little of interest to tourists; most go only to see the giant Hassan II mosque — funded entirely by donations — then move on to the former imperial capitals, the Sahara, or the Mediterranean coast.

Personally, I'm not concerned.  As a co-worker reminded me this morning, "you could be hit by a bus at any time."  Morocco has far less crime, even "terrorist" or "religion-related" crime, than my home country and less than most developed countries.  I'll stick it out. 

 

 

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Babel babble


Babel is the name used in the Tanakh (Genesis chapter 11) to describe the historical city of Babylon, commonly thought to be the location of the Tower of Babel. The word "babel" is thought to come from the Hebrew verb "balal," which means to confuse or confound.

The film Babel, directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, does just that. Unfortunately, I saw it in the Netherlands on vacation this past December; unfortunately because it was subtitled in Dutch and therefore the portions in Japanese went directly over my head (my mediocre Spanish got me through the Mexican segments, and having lived in Morocco for the past two years, I was able to understand the majority of the Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, and what I didn't get, my husband, who was sitting next to me, explained).

But despite the fact that a language barrier kept me from fully comprehending the film, the film itself seems to confuse. One particular aspect of it, that which took place in Morocco, confounded me.

First of all, and I don't mean to pick, but as a friend who has lived in the region informed me, the village in which the Moroccan scenes took place — Tazarine — was not actually the village used for filming — instead, a village called Taguenzalt was used. Director Iñárritu said of the village:

"I liked that this village was very humble and very real. The people in Taguenzalt were extremely nice and spiritual…I felt very safe there."

In the film's production information, it was also noted that the villagers can trace their Berber ancestry back 3,000 years. Interesting! Why then, were they speaking Darija, the Moroccan dialect of Arabic, and not Tamazight, the local Berber dialect?

Other friends have also noted the fact that much of the dialogue sounds like English (or Spanish) translated directly into Darija — meaning, of course, that much of the Moroccan characters' speech is inauthentic.

I was pleased to see that the shooting in the film was an accident — prior to seeing it, I had assumed, knowing that Cate Blanchett's character gets shot, that the portion in Morocco would deal with terrorism — but aside from that, found myself disappointed.

And so I am pleased, of course, that The Departed was this year's Best Picture winner at the Academy Awards…despite the fact that I haven't seen it.

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