“Welcome
to Rabat. Welcome to Morocco. Welcome to Africa.” The words of our guide in Rabat.
We had a guide for the full trip, Muktar, but usually had someone local in
cities we visited. At least for some part of the visit. Sometimes for the
souks. Or for a particular historical site, as with the Roman ruins of Volubilis. On the whole, Muktar officiated
with splendid ease as he was well informed, articulate in English and had a
lovely sense of humour.
It
took a while to feel as if in Africa after landing at the airport in Casa Blanca
and being whisked from there to our hotel in Rabat. North Africa, with its many similarities
to southern Europe and the Middle East, reminded me of what I knew and might
have seen of other places. But as we made our way south after Fes through the
Atlas Mountains to the Sahara, the sense of being on another continent
gradually coalesced.
There
were sights and sounds and smells to satisfy the most demanding traveler. We
went from a rainy day in Menkes to the Roman ruins at Volubilis with gradual sunshine
emerging in Fes, then through the snow in the Atlas Mountains where there are
ski resorts and chalets that look like Swiss or German ones. Beyond that,
further south, the majestic Sahara.
My
memorable moments include a streetcar ride in Rabat with my roomie, Zarina, out to the
end of one line. We talked to students and learned about them and the
university. Then returned on the same line to the stop nearest to our hotel.
This was at the very beginning of a trip that took us over vast
distances to explore the ancient history of this land as well as developments
down to the present. There is, for instance, a monarchy which governs there.
However, the king is very modern and has made many changes that have left
people content with his rule. He is the first king to marry a commoner and she
is the first wife of a king to expose her face in public. Apparently she has
red hair and freckles.
I
suspect my most memorable moment will remain a visit to the Berber family of
one of our three personnel on the bus. Jamal, a young man of considerable good
looks and quiet charm, was the assistant to the driver, Mohammed. Neither spoke English, but I
managed to communicate with the two of them with my fractured French. Jamal
kept track of the tour participants, counting and assisting us. He was often
navigator for Mohammed, in and out of tight parking, for instance. The tour
guide, Muktar, an educated, articulate man also had a charming sense of humour.
In
any case, the visit to Jamal’s family home came after we left the Sahara. Jamal
had left the tour for the day to share a religious feast with his family. The
arrangement was for the bus to pick him up as we continued along our route the following
day. As we approached his village, we were told arrangements had been made for
our group to visit his home where we would also be served traditional Moroccan
mint tea.
Four
generations of the family were represented in a simple compound with the
structures a mixture of clay/mud with various other materials such as something
that looked like healthy bits of straw. Some of it was open to the sky. It was
quite simple. In the large room at the front, which was covered, we were asked
to sit around the room on benches. A table was spread with local delicacies
such as dates and almonds and walnuts as well as tiny cakes/cookies. We watched
while an uncle of Jamal’s went through the ceremony of making the tea,
something not many people in Canada would have the patience for. We had been given
six gifts by Muktar to present in what was presumably customary fashion.
The
tea was prepared with much ceremony and then passed around in small glasses either
with sugar or not. By this time, I got up to go out into the courtyard as I had
been sick the previous night and still felt vulnurable. Out there I found
little children and a brother of Jamal as well as a place to lean and take
photos. One of the little girls brought me a flower and was pleased when I
learned her name. Then I tried to get the names of all the children and Jamal’s
generation as well. They all beamed with pleasure.
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