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From Abroad

( Sunday, Nov. 25 – For those of you interested in understanding another side of Morocco, there is an intriguing article in today’s New York Times. )

This weekend, I traveled to the Tafilalt oasis in the Sahara Desert with a small group of professors and students to stay with some families. Dr. Shope, an anthropologist at AUI, had informed us that the villages were quite conservative and that the people spoke nothing but Arabic. He likewise stated that the region was ravaged by drought and that we needed to bring our own water and be conservative in usage whilst in the families’ homes. I likewise packed up my medical gear since we were going into a fairly isolated area. I tagged along with the group to investigate the living conditions and do some literal field research for my Islamic civilization project.

Upon arrival in the village, the professors left for a hotel in Erfoud while we were split up into groups of three (separating the sexes) and taken to the homes in the region. Aside from starlight, it was pitch black as we walked through the town on a dirt path with our then taciturn host, Hassan. After exchanging the Arabic pleasantries and introducing ourselves, we realized we had exhausted our language abilities and that we were doomed for a weekend of awkward silence. However, I said one word in French accidentally and Hassan belted, “ah, tu parle francais! bien!” This led to much conversation over the weekend. As a teacher in the village, Hassan was one of the few people who spoke French.

The family I stayed with lives in the district of Al-Ghurfah. Many of the structures in the village are made of sun-heated bricks and local materials. As we traveled to the region, we witnessed what happened when there was a combination of torrential rains and a lack of upkeep: melted towns.

We conversed well past midnight about family and life in both Morocco and the US. The next morning, Hassan and his brothers served us a breakfast of eggs, soup, bread and tea. We drank tea throughout the weekend at every meal and at every social occasion, as is usual in the country. He heated the tea kettle over a small propane tank with what seemed to be a backpacking-style grill on top. We talked at length about family and politics and he taught us an insane amount of Arabic. Even his father spoke French and joined in on the conversation. He was more curious about my political and religious views than anything. The weekend proved to be quite foreign language intensive!

In this district and throughout much of rural Morocco, people use water in lieu of toilet paper. Thus, after being escorted to the bathroom so as to avoid mingling with the females in the family, we were each handed a bucket for such usage. Luckily, I brought along a roll but the conditions still influenced the sanitation for us all. That is something that has proved difficult for me throughout the entire experience and I have been sick many times because of such hygienic conditions, even while I have remained vigilant to prevent illness. One can only do so much when food is cooked by someone else.

The next day, we went with the professors and students to a local community center where we underwent a lecture about what they are doing throughout the region. Specifically, they are working on female literacy and teaching Quranic interpretations that counter the influences of the Saudi-financed literalist, Wahabbist literature that had passed through the region in the previous decades. While this education aims to counter “folk Islam,” and to obscure Jihadist Salafist interpretations, the interpretations are still quite orthodox. However, the teachings are meant to be a “model of what Islam should be: flourishing society and interplay of thought.” They also try to explain the Arabic translations of speeches of Western governmental officials so that they are not misinterpreted. It is interesting to see how our government’s policies are interpreted abroad just by taking them out of context or using fallacious logic to derive conclusions that are most certainly false. I see that a lot when I correct papers.

In exploring Al-Ghurfah, we found that most of the village is composed of mud structures with roof supports from local date trees. The main energy sources are from the sun, manual labor, and burning of the date trees. They burn the leaves and branches inside of small, mud-structured ovens to heat grains. Of course, there is a lack of capital and education throughout the region, leaving it as one of the lesser economically developed places in Morocco. It is seemingly a struggle for survival in such a region. There is no resource base aside from date trees, grains, clay, and mud. It is truly a desolate region. “It will snow in the mountain, ensha’allah,” Hassan said as we walked through a dry field flanked by empty canals.

The women were completely covered by the chador, as are many Muslim women in rural areas. The school we visited had as a principal goal the education of women so that they are able to read, vote, and teach their children, thus giving them a boost up in the world.

Politically, the district is self-governed and self-policed. There have been violent contentions over water resources and they have their own Sharia judicial systems to deal with such things. All of the land is inherited and a caste system was in place until recently. While there “aren’t any slaves anymore, some people are not free,” as stated by the headmaster at the school.

In the qasr, a covered village residential and commercial structure, kids followed us giggling as we kicked up a lot of dust into the air. We had just finished playing soccer with a bunch of kids who destroyed us and I’m pretty sure some of the same kids were running around us laughing and inquiring about our presence in their qasr. A few of my female colleagues were teaching them a bunch of American games as we were leaving before the main door to the self-contained community closed. No foreigners can access the qasr after the doors have closed.

That night, we traveled to a local community center for a Sufi (a mystical interpretation of Islam and the Quran) dinner and conversation. Before we ate, we listened to a Quranic recitation that looped seemingly for an hour, putting everyone into a state of trance. People started bobbing their heads and tapping their feet to the rhythm and I had to snap myself out of the trance to analyze everything. While they were playing the drums, a few young girls (allowed to be in the room with other males since they hadn’t yet hit puberty) entered the room and started dancing by violently shaking their bodies as they went into a state of trance. Their eyes looked so strange as they were moving, as if they were rolling into the backs of their heads. From what I understand from my Islamic civilization professor, many unorthodox practices stem from Sufism, from walking on hot coals to eating glass. Before we ate, they anointed us with some sort of rose wine or something. All of this very much differs from the mainstream Islamic practices that I have seen. Very different!

Quite the weekend! About 25 days left in Morocco. It is rough here, honestly, although incredibly interesting and educational. It was wild to see the contrast between being in Milan, one of the wealthiest places in the world, and then traveling to Al-Ghurfa on the fringe of the Sahara Desert in a matter of three days. After being in Al-Ghurfa, I began to appreciate the opportunity afforded to be by studying at a university. Running water, library, education, food, etc. I suppose it is all relative!