Reflections on a Week in Morocco
Okay, so I was forced to write a reflection for our granters. It only had to be 3/4ths of a page double spaced but I got a little carried away. Warning: really, I mean really, long.
As our plane touched down in Rabat, Morocco, an unexpected thought occurred to me: There’s something magical about being in a kingdom! The unfamiliar terrain - tall, stocky palm trees punctuating parched earth - prompted the realization that I was entering a part of the world that was wholly new to me. In this North African country, part of the Maghreb, the ideals of democratic government didn’t apply. Even the more authoritarian government of China, my birth country, differed fundamentally from a monarchy supported by ancient religious traditions. Morocco’s political institutions, culture, and history would be unlike anything I’d ever been exposed to.
Over the next five and a half days, our group explored the cities of Rabat, Fez, and Marrakesh. We visited stunning palaces, medinas, and ruins; haggled our way through bustling souks; navigated maze-like casbahs; visited two NGOs; met with a U.S. diplomat, a representative from the National Democratic Institute, and three Fulbright scholars; and conversed casually with many Moroccans about their country. A few themes emerged in what I heard and saw.
The Progressivism of King Mohammed VI:
I think there is a tendency for Westerners to judge the “goodness” of governments on a spectrum. At one end is the authoritarian government crushing human rights and the press; at the opposite end, a happy democracy with political cartoons in the daily paper. Learning about Moroccan politics led me to reassess my prejudices. We did have some encounters that suggested a more sinister side to the government. Our guides shied away from the topic of the King, who is revered as the direct descendant of the Prophet Mohammed. When pressed, one guide hastened to say that he supported the King but admitted that the King’s ministers could be corrupt (he nervously asked us not to relay his comment about the ministers). The Fulbrights we spoke with indicated that journalism functioned in an environment of self-censorship and, more rarely, official censorship. One journalist had been jailed for a critical line, and even a poll showing widespread support for the King had been pulled from a paper.
On the other hand, we learned that the current King has instituted drastic social reforms since taking the throne in 1999. The revised Family Code of 2004 (the Moudawana) granted women more rights in the areas of divorce, child custody, polygamy, and sexual harassment. The King also created a commission (the IER) to compensate the victims of abuses such as wrongful imprisonment and “disappearances” under King Hassan II, his father. Moreover, he has made significant strides toward appeasing Amazighs, Berber minorities in Morocco, by creating a Royal Institute of Amazigh Culture (IRCAM), mandating the teaching of Amazigh languages in schools, and adopting an Amazigh script instead of an Arab script for Amazigh languages.
While one may think that in countries with authoritarian governments, the population tends to be more progressive than the government; in Morocco’s case, the government may actually be more progressive than the people. As the U.S. diplomat noted, social reforms take time. Attitudes don’t change overnight. The diplomat told us that when the King first tried to pass many reforms quickly, critical stories spread about him, including rumors that he had sexual diseases. While Moroccan rule may look very different from what we Americans think of as a “progressive” government, I think one can argue convincingly that a reform-minded monarchy may suit a country that is so mired in traditional, hierarchical culture.
Women and Public Life:
Part of the hierarchical culture is the ranking of males above females. While women walk about freely in Morocco, there are still signs that males are associated with the public sphere while females are relegated to private life. Males populated the outdoor cafe areas, where they sat and watched the streets. Female customers (and tourists) were moved to the “nicer” but out-of-sight second floor terraces. It was also rare to see a woman walking alone, especially at night. Women who participated in nightlife without a male companion would be considered “loose” at best, and possibly a prostitute. Going to Morocco in a group of nine females and two males, we were able to experience some prejudices firsthand. Our group elicited either catcalls (from mostly younger men) or disapproving glares (typically older men). Moreover, we noticed that these reactions were less severe when the males in our group walked closely with the girls. We also ran into situations when servers took orders from the males in our group over the females.
Before our trip, we had debated the wearing of headscarves and burqas at a Model UN night. However, it’s always hard to judge a cultural practice without exposure to the culture. In Morocco, we saw many women wearing headscarves, but just as many women without them. Burqas could be spotted, but they were less common. One of our Moroccan female guides said that those who wore burqas came from more traditional and religious families. She herself didn’t even wear a headscarf because “she was over fifty, and there was no point.” Such a statement indicates wearing these items are still linked to the patriarchal notion of covering up sexually alluring, young women. But this is only part of the picture. Many women who wore headscarves also dressed in fashionable, form-fitting clothes. I increasingly saw headscarves as a normal fashion item. When we passed through the souks or marketplaces, the girls in our group fawned over the beautiful scarves. Considering that some Western customs are also rooted in patriarchal traditions - the purchase of engagement rings, for example - I believe that wearing headscarves may be a much less sinister practice than many Westerners think.
Colonialism, Orientalism, Tourism:
There did seem to be a sinister aspect to the fun, touristy activities we enjoyed. For our entertainment and coin, Moroccans around us often conformed to Orientalist depictions. Morocco was ruled by French and Spanish colonists from 1912 to 1956, and that showed in the areas frequented by tourists. Just as Western artists and writers depicted the colonized Maghreb as a place of languor, irrationality, opiate dreams, and harems; the kitschy Moroccan art in the souks pictured disordered spaces with sand dunes, camels, tea rituals, and smudgy figures in hooded garments. At the hamam we visited (a Moroccan bath house), a painting of a reclining woman mimicked Renoir’s Odalisque. Out on the streets, men in elaborate costumes plucked instruments, wagged their heads, and extended their hands for payment. The tourism industry was mired in the politics of power and economic exchange.
Race:
Colonization had also manipulated the country’s hierarchical structure. Sadly, lighter skin was equated with greater beauty and worth. This was reflected in public ads and billboards. One Fulbright scholar even told us of a couple of black Fulbright scholars who had had to leave their assignments due to harassment.
As the only Chinese student in our group, I soon realized that I didn’t fit the typical image of an American tourist. I was alerted to this when a teenage girl politely asked in English to take a picture with me! Afterward, I paid more attention to my surroundings and noticed that people often pointed to and notified their friends about me. But aside from shouting vendors, all my interactions with Moroccans were very friendly. They were curious about my origins and seemed pleased when I talked with them about it.
Still, for a country bordering the Mediterranean where vendors often spoke Arabic, French, a Berber dialect, English, and Spanish, I was surprised that there had been so little exposure to some races. As we streamed past vendors in the souk, one vendor cried out in surprise, “Vous-êtes mélangé?” (you are mixed?). Certainly, we were a diverse group. His words led me to a renewed appreciation for environments in the U.S. where such “mélanges” are common enough not to be noted.
NGOs and Philanthropy:
The two NGOs we visited stood in stark contrast to each other. One of them, a woman’s association in Fez, educated at-risk, young women (especially young mothers) in basic reading, writing, math, cooking, and tailoring skills. The mission was to keep the women off the streets - it was implied they may otherwise become prostitutes - and give them skills for jobs as tailors, maids, nannies, and factory-workers. Women graduated from the program after two years and sometimes received assistance from microcredit institutions.
The association held classes in a converted, cramped apartment. Outfitted mannequins lined the walls, and women sat in front of sewing machines or workbooks at long tables. The organization received some funding from the government, but their operation was clearly constrained by limited capital. It also seemed that the women running the organization, while educated, were not especially wealthy themselves. Only a couple could speak French well. I guessed that they had worked their way to their economic positions, leveraging their education. They seemed genuinely delighted to receive us, as if it were atypical for them to have visitors.
The other NGO was an orphanage in Rabat that housed over two hundred children. The facilities were expansive, airy, clean, and heavily staffed. The orphanage comprised a primary school, a middle school, and a high school. Enrichment activities such as sports and art lessons were available to the children. As we toured the facilities with a man who seemed specially prepped to handle public relations (and spoke perfect French), it became clear that this organization was run by an entirely different class of people than the woman’s association. The leadership was male, obviously wealthy, while many of the donors seemed to be wealthy female socialites. They were used to receiving visitors; the King himself had toured it. Moreover, the children were invited annually to stay at a Turkish palace. This was a place with connections, to politicians and to old, rich families. It was apparent that they welcomed visits to the extent that those visits generated publicity and donations.
After visiting the two NGOs, I found myself wondering which model was more effective. Certainly, the orphanage reached more people than the woman’s association, but was it as cost-effective? The woman’s association clearly needed and used every dollar (or dirham) they got. By contrast, the orphanage channeled funds toward some luxury activities, such as touring the country. If these activities meant the orphanage was able to reach less children but provide a richer upbringing for those children it did take in, was the extra spending justified? Also, while those running the woman’s association were clearly involved for the well-being of the women, could the wealthy people running the orphanage be motivated by enhancing their social status? Even if social status played into their philanthropic decisions, would that be OK as long as people were helped? These were difficult questions, and I found myself feeling conflicted yet again in trying to answer them.
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As it turned out, I learned much more from a week in Morocco than I’d ever expected. It seemed that my first intuition was right: there was something magical about the kingdom.
Case Sensitivity
