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.