What just happened? The past 36 hours

Protestors begin to mobilize in Rabat, Morocco February 20, 2016 as part of

the February 20th movement.

I have been iPhone-less for about 36 hours. I photographed a protest. I got harassed by men that I later found out were plain clothes-police. My friends and I got asked to be in a Moroccan movie/TV show. We ended up in a beach town 30 minutes south of Rabat got tangine at a roadside restaurant and then ended up at some famous Moroccan actor’s house.

My last selfie on my cell phone
salvaged by a friend screen
-shotting it.

After half a day of wandering around not knowing what was going on the director informed us that they needed French people, not Americans. So, we traveled back to Rabat, but would not waste the day so we went to the Wal-Mart of Morocco, Marjane, to get peanut butter and snacks for our upcoming excursion this week. There I found a rugby ball and that made my crazy weekend all the better.

I could barely sleep Friday in anticipation for the February 20^th protest. We had learned a little about the Arab Spring in Morocco, because it did occur, but the government promptly promised a new constitution and elections silencing protestors within weeks in 2011. This year protestors would take to the streets for the 5-year anniversary to advocate for the human rights issues various organizations can often be seen protesting for most days of the year in front of parliament. However, this year various organizations came together to advocate for “democracy” as one protestor told me, refusing to be named or explain further as I followed up with, “Isn’t there democracy with a parliament in place?” He refused to continue talking.

As inquisitive young journalism students we were of course told to be safe, but our teachers knew we would try to push the boundaries. (And that question might have been pushing the boundaries just a tad… If you are interested I’ll fill you in on Moroccan politics and journalism back in the safety of US borders, where Freedom of Speech is one of my favorite Constitutional Amendments. Just ask).

So, while walking around on the beautiful Saturday morning my iPhone got swiped, I assume as I walked down the street and was bumped into Saturday morning while scouting out potential protesters to talk to. My teacher told us to attempt to talk to people before the event started, so that’s who we were looking for. However, no one was to be found, and we ended up having lunch. I had a Moroccan cheeseburger and was not disappointed (Possibly because cheese is limited in my Medina lifestyle.)

The Protest

Protestors began to gather at a park outside the old medina around 3pm, when we were told the protest would start. It gained traction during the hour and people were chanting and holding up signs in solidarity. A few of my friends and I stood to the side as some of my other friends were eagerly waiting by parliament, where the march would end.

After 4 the protestors began their march, interfering with traffic, as the rest of Rabat was going on with their daily lives. They turned to a part that had thankfully been blocked off by police. Journalists were snapping photos, taking video and attempting to talk to protestors as they marched.

The Protest begins at "Moroccan Time" 3pm sharp on
February 20, 2016.

After gaining the courage to ask a protestor some questions I descended into the fray, crossing the street to talk to a few women holding a sign I did not understand, because it was in Arabic. The language barrier was difficult, but I learned that they were protesting with the jobless students.

Youth unemployment is staggering in Morocco, despite many people being educated. Graduates are pushing for Morocco to expand government jobs, providing some relief to the students. Most of Morocco’s economy is informal, so some of the students request to change that and provide more structure, which would expand formal job growth in general.

 I continued photographing the event, even running into a Moroccan reporter we had met in class. He recognized me, saying hi, which felt really cool. The protestors turned up Avenue Mohammad V, where Parliament sits. Cafés were filled with onlookers as protestors marched on chanting. At one point I got ahead of the protest to photograph, gaining stares from military and police (I definitely stood out as a young white girl with a DSLR camera.)

I switched my SD cards in case an officer would come ask me for my photos and continued on. I saw friends who had been waiting in front of Parliament on the other side of the street from me when there was a break in the crowd for a minute. I ran across the street to join them. We continued taking photos, venturing into the crowd for a few pictures.

Protestors gain momentum on February 20, 2016.

We then started talking to a few protestors to gain context for our class’ website, Reporting Morocco. They were teacher trainees protesting. They began to tell us how the government requires two tests to become a teacher, and there is little that they can do for work between the tests. They are protesting to make the process easier, relieving financial strains.

However, that conversation was interrupted as a man started to take my friend’s and my photos. He came very close and was making sure to photograph our faces. This was obviously a cause for concern, so we retreated, but the man continued to photograph us.

A protest spectator came over to us and told us the unmarked man photographing us was part of the police. This caused an altercation between the man and the police officer, and us three Americans were as freaked out as ever. So, we decided to call our teacher that has worked as a journalist in Morocco. She told us this was a common ploy of Moroccan police to deter western onlookers.

After the commotion died down my friends and I were still shaken from the experience.  The protest had moved further down the avenue.

The three Moroccan men we were talking to came back to make sure we were okay. They reinforced that this unfortunately does happen, but were supper sweet and helpful with information. We could talk more because we technically were not in the protest, though the officers in front of Parliament were still eyeing us.

We then regrouped with lots of our other classmates to talk about the day; men taking their photo had also harassed some of them. The protest died out. There was no violence. We walked home towards the old medina happy with the work we had done that day.

Almost a Moroccan Movie Star:

A Moroccan beach town somewhere between Rabat and
Casablanca.

     It spurred from an article pitch we had. Who is filming in the old medina? And why? We saw it happening a few days while walking after school, and our naturally curious selves decided to figure it out. One of my friends from the program has a host cousin who was working on the film, so she began there.

            

          Her looking into things turned into an invitation to have a few friends play tourists in whatever they were filming. Long story short: it was a movie turned into a mini series that takes place around the time after the French’s colonization.

            We arrived at the meeting place antsy and eager to see what the day will bring. It had turned from a short scene in the medina to one at a café by the beach. Eight American students piled into a van with the Moroccan directors and the actor who is the host cousin of one of my friends.

            We set off, making various stops along the way. We had no idea what was going on. We just took it at face value, laughing all along the way. We could see the confusion in each other’s faces, but laughed and smiled as the day progressed.

            We wound all through Rabat and then onto the highway. The breeze from the windows, the music on the radio and the beautiful Moroccan scenery combined for a great car ride with friends to this beach town we had no clue about.

Walking around at the actor's house.

            We turned off the highway and made our way to a row of restaurants by a beach. Was this where we were filming? Nope. Just a lunch break. We sat down to some great tangine in a place on the side of the road where there was meat hanging from the rafters. Whelp, we were really in Morocco now, not just in the comforts of a big city like Rabat.

            After lunch we ventured on, making our way to a colorful seaside café. Ok, this had to be it. As we piled out of the vans a few men greet us. We were introduced to a man who is a famous Moroccan actor. After introductions he begins to tell us good ways to learn languages, including with a pen in your mouth as you speak. It worked for one of my friends who was the guanine pig.

After sitting in the café we went to the beach. We got to walk around, find shells and take photos. It was a gorgeous beach that seemed rarely touched by humans. We headed back to the café and then were shepherded back into the van. Where could we possibly be going now, we all wondered. The smiles on our faces were getting more strained as we got more and more confused.

            We arrived at this colorful beach villa. It was the actor’s house. We went to the back where we enjoyed the private beach’s scenery and some grapefruit. A few people joked they might switch to acting if this is what it’s really like.

            The beach was pristine. Untouched by many people it was vastly different from the beach in Rabat we had visited. We walked around taking more photos. We ended up pretty far out by walking on rocks. It was certainly an interesting day. “Guys we are in Africa,” seemed to be the sentence of the day, because this day out of the city gave us a new way to look at Morocco.

            We headed back to the house tired from the day’s excitement ready to get things moving. There is only so much “Moroccan time” can account for, were we ever going to get back?

            After another walk we got back to the house and were told that we were not needed, and were going back to Rabat. The men in charge said they needed French people. It took a minute for that to register, but we got back in the vans and headed back.

            I’m not sure of exactly what happened today; the day still seems bizarre.

Convenience is Comfort

            We got back to Rabat with enough time to go to Marjane to get snacks for our first excursion. While wondering the aisles it felt nice to have something so convenient in a place where nothing is continent. My friend who needed a duffle bag could get it in the same place as her snacks.

            This kind of convenience isn’t found often in a place where you have to plan what café to go to based on if there is a western toilet and Wi-Fi. We might have data sticks that work with our computers, but life is 10x easier with a smart phone that is always connected to data and when you are living on a campus with Wi-Fi everywhere. We even had to take a cab there, then wait for a while for another cab to pick us up.

            The burner phones we use are equivalent to the bricks we used in middle school. Every time I attempt to text I remember why Serena and Blair referred to themselves as S and B.

            There are lots of things that are inconvenient in Morocco, but walking out of Marjane with peanut butter, pretzels and a rugby ball definitely made me feel more comfortable in a time where everything just seems a little too hard while I am trying to figure out life iPhone-less for the first time in three years.

Lessons Learned:

11)   Back-up your phone…. My iCloud hasn’t backed up in 15 weeks and not spending the few extra dollars to back it up is my biggest regret of the weekend. Bright side: I’m only 3 weeks in and have a good amount of photos saved, so plenty of time to make more memories.

22)   Go with the flow. Who knows when you may, or may not, be in a Moroccan movie. Whatever happens it will make a great story.

33)   When nothing is convenient you appreciate it that much more.

44)   In the end as long as you are a glass half-full person the pros will always outweigh the cons.

Protestors begin to mobilize in Rabat, Morocco February 20, 2016 as part of

the February 20th movement. Click to continue onto my Flickr album of the event.

It’s the Little Things

The government buildings and mosques are beautiful. You can identify a
mosque by its minaret. As a non-muslim I am not allowed in the Moroccan
mosques by law, because it was one of the few courtesies the French gave Moroccans
after colonization they continue today. The French respected their place of worship,
so actually most places of worship in Morocco are for those devoutly following that religion.
There are three mosques non-muslims can go to, and I hope to be going to 2 of them.  

It’s a Small World

            So, traveling in a big pack of Americans might typically give us away; but today I gave us away even more by wearing a Washington Nationals t-shirt. I was out looking for a sweatshirt at Dicks’ before going abroad, and I found this comfy, red jersey t-shirt on sale that has “Washington Nationals” written on it. I bought it to spice up my unusually neutral clothing choices for the trip, for comfort, and as something that would remind me of home. (It also does not have an offensive name on it).

My friends descending back into the medina after getting
tea on Feb. 1.

            Today while wearing the shirt I ran into three groups of Americans. The first came up to me as I was waiting with friends at the end of the medina to walk with to the Museum of Modern Art. They were a nice couple in Morocco on vacation, and actually from the DC area. We exchanged a few words and realized how small this world truly is.

            The second was by far my favorite. My friends made a wrong turn in the museum and the guard asked me to go find them. So, as I was looking crazy and yelling my friend’s name in a hushed tone these two Americans turned around and saw me in my Nats shirt. They immediately struck up a conversation, because they two were from the DC area; Silver Spring to be exact. Once they found out I was a journalism student the wife was ecstatic to pitch a story idea.

            The couple has been traveling to Morocco on and off for years working with the deaf. The wife has been working with the deaf since the 1970s and has a program that has helped deaf people communicate by translating written language into sign language. They are currently here to work with the government and help improve education for deaf children.

            Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, I think I found an amazing subject for my ISPJ (independent study project in journalism). Or if not that, then a interesting subject for another story. Thankfully I got the wife’s card.

            I was on cloud nine after meeting these people. My mind was racing with all of the possibilities of what story could come out of this, what medium could I use and what could be the best approach as I went through the museum. Then after I was heading down the stairs to leave the museum I ran into another American woman.

            She stopped me on the stairs and immediately asked if I knew what I was wearing. I responded, yes I’m from DC. She seemed shocked that I would wear something like this in a foreign country, but really why shouldn’t I? I explained I’m a student studying here for the semester and I would like something from home. She was from Ohio, so maybe she didn’t get it because they have no professional sports teams…? Though I haven’t been able to go to a game in a while… I was just out enjoying a museum with friends, not trying to take photos at a protest. I had no need to blend in, and truthfully I can’t when I’m with friends. We are loud and boisterous Americans that will break out in laughter and speak in English, those two things already call attention to use. However, as a student I’m excited to make Rabat my home, and maybe feeling comfortable enough to wear that shirt makes it sorta my home already.

Morocco Welcomes You

The Moroccan Museum of Modern Art
has this big thumbs up right in front, it's hard
to miss and right off the main road.

            Really I have felt nothing but kindness from Moroccans since being here. Well maybe except for the occasional cat-call (guys this is never flattering) and when we only ordered tea at a restaurant and the waiter totally thought we were gonna order a meal. However, besides those tiny instances all-around Morocco is a great place with great people.

            One of the first days I was here I was walking with a group of people in the medina as we heard a moped pull up next to us. We slowed to the side to let it pass, and the man riding the moped stopped at me to actually tell me my shoelace was untied. What could be nicer?

            However, we always do feel a little out of place. We are a large group of Americans always laughing and talking in English. Yesterday as we descended down these stairs into a plaza with restaurants we could see people staring, and waiters coming to the podium counting their menus ready flag us into their restaurants. Today as we stood in the museum’s lobby a Moroccan man in a suit was taking photos of us standing there.

We laughed in the uncomfortable moment, but as soon as he started talking to us it clicked. He was the president of the museum, taking photos for their media to show a diverse group of students at the museum. He was interested in who we were and why we were at the museum. After telling we were students from America studying in Rabat for the semester he made it a point to say that we were safe, not going to be killed as he gestured a beheading. Morocco is the real Islam, a religion of peace and we are very welcome to Morocco.

It was an amazing gesture and very nice, however I wish he didn’t feel like it was needed. I would hate to have to say that kind of thing to someone visiting my home so they feel safe. I’m happy to be from a safe place, where you have to take the obvious precautions, but nothing more. From what I have seen Rabat is the same.

The sad fact is that it comes from the bigoted and ignorant remarks people that somehow have influence. There were obviously times I was scared when of the choice I made; the scary truth: fear-mongering tactics work.  However, I quickly put those fears to rest after research into Morocco. Being educated is important; it allows you to push the boundaries.

The plazza we found in the middle of Rabat. It seems like
a nice place to go for a meal.

I’m excited to say that I pushed the boundaries of a typical study abroad. I supposedly went somewhere totally out of my comfort zone. But for now I have my western toilet and modern conveniences. There are even 4G Wi-Fi sticks so you can get Internet; that’s how I’m posting this now. There is overt sexism in the cafe culture, because women don't typically frequent cafes alone, and we could never sit outside; but we are getting the hang of it and finding places for women. I’m sure it will be more of a culture shock when we go to the village in the mountains; but for now I’m happy to say I’m settling in nicely.

Just have to go with the flow. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than Rabat.

That One Thing

The park outside the art museum is filled with skateboarders
and friends hanging out, so we decided
to chill here while deciding what to do next on Feb. 6.

            I have tried different foods, smelled different smells and done a lot of things out of the ordinary that I really have enjoyed doing. But, the one thing that bothers me in Rabat is the lack of windows. Right now I’m living in a first floor apartment in the medina and there is only one window in my house. It is small and above the kitchen sink.

            Since the ceilings are so high the window is also high and not at eye-level. It would be a brick wall outside any window we had, but it would be some sort of natural light. Typically a house would be all 3 floors, have a terrace on top and be open all the way down in the middle of the house. However, since my house was turned into apartments it has only the one window.

            It’s a relatively small complaint to have no windows. Just guess I’ll spend more time outside.

Fridays are for Couscous

Image courtesy of Wikipedia. I forgot to take a photo of mine, but
it looked like this without the chickpeas.

So, if there is anything that has been drilled into my head since getting to Rabat it is that food is a way of life. You get tea at cafes with friends. Food vendors line the souks. And “cooli” is one of the few words very well understood at home.

Since moving into my host family’s house I have yet to feel hungry. I was greeted with delicious pastries. When my host mother took me into the market she stopped at a guy selling something like a doughnut and gave it to me, she even got me a date to try when she stopped at a stand to buy spices. Delicious fruits are available anytime. Whenever my little 3-year old brother goes to eat something one of my host parents brings me out something too. And today was couscous Friday.

When I got home from school my mother was in the kitchen cooking. She invited me in to show me how to do the final touches. Got to make sure you have the right amount of couscous with vegetables, meat and sauce.

I brought out the large clay pan of couscous to the table and we sat around the table to eat it. I still am not 100% sure what vegetables were in it, but whatever they were, were delicious.

When I was done stuffing my face with the delicious couscous my brother continued to say “cooli, cooli” which means eat in Darija (Moroccan Arabic). We were warned during orientation that this would be the norm when eating with our families. There is always too much food at every meal.

After a little while I decided to meet my friends for ice cream. Our teacher has basically told us we need to go to the best ice cream shop 1,000 times this week, so we decided to try it, I concur, the peanut M&M ice cream was totally worth the 10 Dhs, which is only actually about $1 USD.

When I got home around 7 there was bread, coffee and tea waiting for me. We then had a small dinner around 10:15.

And I thought my mom overcooked at home. Got to say I’m glad its restricted to holidays. However, couscous is the best thing ever. Fridays might just be my favorite day this semester.

Under the Moroccan Sun

Tea on a riad terrace Sunday, Jan. 29.

            Sunny and 70, palm trees line the streets, vendors and people are out and about in the medina. Rabat, like most Moroccan cities have an old medina that was built before the French invaded. The Middle Eastern culture blends with the Moorish Spanish. It walled section of the city where many working-class families live. The main street, Mohammad V, cuts through the medina lined with vendors selling food and any item you could think of. There are vendors on other streets, but it is much more residential. This semester I will be studying in the Center for Cross Cultural Learning and living in the medina with my host family.

The skyline as we drove from Salé to Rabat
on Sunday, Jan. 29.

            I first got into Rabat on Saturday night. I stayed at a typical Moroccan riad; basically a traditional home in the medina that is made into a sort of bed and breakfast. I woke up Sunday to the call to morning prayers promptly at 6 am, roosters and birds kept me awake. It was a surprisingly calming way to wake up. I ate a breakfast which consisted of two types of crepes with honey, bread and jam, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee. After taking my time to get ready a friend from my program that was staying in a nearby riad came to help me bring my bags to his riad. For a few hours before we met up with the rest of our group we sat on the terrace drinking Moroccan mint tea. We then took a cab to the hotel we are staying at with the three SIT groups of students that are studying in Rabat before our homestays start.

Mohammad V view from our hotel Feb. 1.

An entrance into the medina. There are kids driving
motorized cars in the park on Tuesday Feb. 2.

            The first day we walked to the center and to get a basic sense of our surroundings and where we would be studying. After we got back from dinner at the center a few of us decided to go down Mohammad V. It was daunting, people starred at us as we were amazed by the smells and sights. We decided to turn back halfway. The night was still young, so we then decided to stop at a café next to our hotel for mint tea before heading to bed.

            The next morning we began our day in lectures about the expectations of the program and the homestay process. This year SIT Morocco will be doing the homestay process slightly differently because we got assigned our families and will actually get to meet.

            The rest of the day was spent exploring. We attempted to buy cell phones before dinner, but ran out of time. After dinner we made our way back to the market to buy the phones. We did get our phones after dinner and continued to explore the new French side, or Ville Nouvelle, of Rabat.

            Crossing the street between the medina and Ville Nouvelle was like changing continents. It is so different from the old medina, the people were wearing more modern clothes and we even saw a McDonalds.

            We ended the day with tea at the café near our hotel and then going up to the terrace.

            Today we had the majority of the day to explore the city. First thing first: get mobile Internet sticks, so that we can have Internet anywhere we need. That took forever, and the classmates I was with had to be back at the center for a language placement test.  So instead of taking the walk through the medina we decided to hail a cab. It took a few tries to get it, but we eventually got one to take us back.

Tea with friends
Feb. 2.

            Later in the afternoon I met my host mother and little brother. The language barrier was tough, but I understood she was excited to take me the Haman – the public bath – and feed me couscous this weekend after I move in. My little brother is a rambunctious 5-year old (I think?).  He ran around the center after his bouncy ball, but I can tell is very excited to have an older sister in the house.

            After I went into the medina to bargain in the market for the first time. I got a 60 dirham watch for 50, which I was happy just to get a little off.  However, I will have to get better before we do some major shopping in Marrakesh and Fez during our first excursion in a few weeks!

            I ended the night walking around with friends and getting tea, which seems to be everyone’s new obsession: straight sugar and mint. It is absolutely delicious and I can’t wait to drink it with my host mother.

            Overall I am in love with Rabat already. It is a completely different city within the walls of the medina than the outside, but that is also part of the charm. Also, how can you compete with that view.

The view from the rooftop terrace at the Center for Cross Cultural Learning. Rabat, everything right of the river, and Salé, everything left of the river, fade into the evening sky Jan. 30.