Maybe the babouches are yellow because at some point in time it was the most available dye, or the cheapest dye and the situation lasted significantly long enough to make it into a tradition. Some reasons are as simple as that and there are no deep secrets or meanings behind them. Most of life’s mysteries have their roots in simple economics – or politics.

@eatbees: I suppose I should be grateful that it happened at three months and not, for example, now. Good point.

@SimplyMoroccan: Well, I agree with your point about queueing, but it’s not only in necessary situations (getting on the train, getting a doctor) in which it occurs – I have to push and shove and elbow my way to my CLASSROOM on some days because students are so busy kissing, chatting, standing on the stairs and trying to walk in stilettos.

As for lHwant – I live in Hamrya, in Meknes. My hanout still never has ketchup, and the one down the street doesn’t have the right cigarettes when I want them. Necessities? Certainly not, but I just said it never has “exactly” what I need. It’s got all I need for survival, indeed :)

@BO18:
I still think that the depth within which you can see your culture, depends on how educated you are. As for what you said, I do agree that it’s because we take things for granted that we don’t ask questions about many things related to our culture.

@eatbees:
Only an interesting entry would raise so many comments, nah? :–) (it also needs bright readers, and I see that you have many…)
> — A second “yes” to my question about the degree of intimacy your reached.

I’m still in Ohio, Hamou and I came back here last June. He went back to Morocco at the end of November for one of the high seasons.

Boy, I wish I could negotiate temporary well-paying stops in SF. Sheesh! :)

Are you actually in Morocco, or did you just visit for the holidays?

@Liosliath—Sweeping generalizations are the speciality of “experts” including expatriate experts, I guess! And if there’s anything I can say about Moroccans (but not ALL Moroccans) is that they’re wildly contradictory, both psychologically and socially! I think the best reaction to Morocco is not to be an “expert” but maybe a majdoub (holy fool). I hope to end my life on a mountain in Morocco raising bees, inch’allah, after WWIII and all the rest.

@SimplyMoroccan—”I’ll stick around”… maharbabik!—”degree of intimacy”… yes!—”supposed to be my own culture”… I meant the U.S.—what I was (am) looking for in Morocco… I’ll know when I find it, I guess… spiritual awakening? Islamic democracy? true love?

@Bill Day—I found your comment with the link in the spam catcher and restored it—I slapped the guy who did that, he won’t do it again!

@Jill—You hit the “three month wall” I guess, when reality finally sets in and you stop living in your illusion of Morocco as a pretty backdrop whose ugly side can be easily painted over—but that’s part of seeing it as a complete society, with all the pettiness and wonder of any society—please don’t ever be an “expert” (see above)!—good luck to you and your Moroccan man….

@Laurent—I chose the “man of the people” route finally (I don’t have nice shoes) but hopefully, not as a hypocrite—really what you’re saying is to embrace the role you’re given—I have an advantage you didn’t have in central Africa, I physically resemble Moroccans enough that when people don’t know me, they often think I’m a native—I found myself naturally saying “we” meaning “we Moroccans do this, don’t like that” when explaining Morocco to my friends — I never disguise my feelings, Moroccans are geniuses for detecting bullshit, so if I feel like defending Jews or saying that Morocco can learn from the more politically evolved West, I’ll do it—or get right in there and debate the Qur’an—which is exactly what I love about Morocco, there is very little bullshit, at least not that kind of patronizing kind of bullshit.

I really like what you’re saying! You must have some good stories.

@BO18—”It takes an outsider to wake up the insider|||€ “Every question you ask, is a kind of wakeup call”—I agree, and thank you for saying that :)—in an Arab society, which in order to protect itself (I would say misguidedly) from outsiders, offers walls that look like doors, and doors that look like walls, to the point that the natives themselves are driven crazy with confusion, I would argue that to hear someone tell it like it is, is great medicine—a stimulant, a purgative—so what Morocco and the rest of the Arab world need, in my opinion, is to be forced to adapt (like the West) to a constant influx of new ideas—but don’t worry, Moroccans are great improvisers, you’ll handle it wonderfully!

@Yahia—Not sure I understand your first question, but let me say this—I don’t fear losing my identity, never have, because for me, identity is something we make up as we go along!—Morocco’s traditions are a BLEND of the music, clothing, food, language and religion of all the people who have ever moved to Morocco from some other place—and that process never stops, so those who embrace it instead of fearing it have the advantage—the others are “dinosaurs” and they end up as “fossil fuel” for the rest of us :)—I’d love to be in Morocco NOW but I suppose it won’t be for at another year—out of curiosity, what part of Morocco are you from, and are you there now?

I don’t have much to say. I’m simply amazed by how you’re dealing with this!

And so by curiosity, I’m asking: when are you going to be in Morocco again, if you will?

And somehow, somewhere I can understand you.
Not completely ofcourse, since I’m a Moroccan.

But I agree with you that most Moroccans are unable to speak intelligently about their culture.
I dont think it has something to do with education like SimplyMoroccan said.
I think that every native is unable to speak intelligently about their own culture.
We take it for granted, we usually dont ask questions about it.
Its something thats just there, it exists. Like breathing.

Recently I’ve read a book about Moroccan migrant towns.
And to be honest, I felt quite embarassed that the american writer knew more about certain aspects of Moroccan life than me.
“It takes an outsider to wake up the insider”, thats what my professor said after I told him about my “experience” with the book.
And I completely agree with him.
You might not be a Moroccan but you do let the Moroccans realise that they should not take their culture for granted.

Every question you ask, is a kind of wakeup call for them.
So you’re not really exploiting them. You complement each other.

If that can help you, here’s my short answer: “be a foreign aristocrat and act accordingly”.

That’s what I found out living as a foreign aristocrat “in the heart of darkness” (RDC Congo) for two years.

Of course this is an a-posteriori rationalization: at the time there was no other option than to be that “rich white man” I had never been in my life before.

Working there as accountant for the “private sector”, I had to navigate in a war-torn country amidst corrupt officials, crooks, thieves and sometimes killers (and I readily confess that I enjoyed every minute of danger that gave – at last – some substance to my jewish paranoïa ;-).

Therefore, I never relinquished the social status of a white aristocrat which gave me the authority to command a few dozen of employee, my better defense “when shit happens” in what is still a highly segregatted colonial society.

In Congo my ultimate protection were not some unreliable bodyguards but nice leather shoes, an immaculate shirt, an expensive pair of pants, the aristocratic attitude that goes along, plus a gift for eloquence that makes a lot of difference in a culture where talking a lot and well is regarded as a sign of great powers.

If you can, as I tried to, get rid of your own racist prejudice, truly fall in love with the culture, learn enough of the local language to sing a few popular songs, think and act as if you would never leave, like any other congolese who has to literally “struggle for life”, and finally integrate yourself *as a foreign aristocrat* in the society.

People respect that.

They may not love you but at least they won’t hate you as an individual because, somehow, you also became “one of them” in parts.

On the contrary, if – like too many well-intended NGO people do – you disguise your prejudices behind some politically correct bullshit, if you live in denial of a privileged social status that is in total contradiction with the equality you preach, if you think “like a white” and act like a fool, then the experience usually ends up quite sourly.

Because nobody in loves rich hypocrits who pretend to be something else. They are simply regarded with a contempt that can quickly turn into hate.

Then people will “play the good negro” for you, you’ll become their laughing stock (Congolese have one of the finest sense of humour when it comes to mocking stupid white people) and quickly fall prey to every new “friend”, over and over again, until you become disgusted, puzzled and actually more racist than when you came in.

I saw it happen repeatedly, producing the kind alien expatriate with the categorical discourse full of bitter prejudices that you described so well.

Kind regards,