The Morocco That Still Is

It was and still is the tradition of Moroccan King to travel around Morocco, going from region to region, royal palace to royal palace based upon the necessities demanded by the political climate or the holiday season, and I would even guess, the weather.

I am writing this post from inside a cyber cafe in the old city of Marrakech. I am thinking a lot about the King, this one and former ones (who used to go by the title of "Sultan," but they thought that "King" sounded more "modern")and about the general state of Morocco, because just before I began my trip here to Marrakech, and as while riding the trains, I have been reading this book called Morocco That Was by a British man named Walter Harris, who lived in Morocco in the late 1800s and early 1900s. He was a private citizen, but served as a consultant to both the British and Moroccan governments, and was a friend of the late Sultan Abdul Aziz.

The book is has a lot of information about the social and political state of Morocco in those days and gives a lot of insight into the "why" of why did Morocco get colonized by the French? I haven't finished the book yet, but it is definitely one of the best books about Morocco I have read in a while, and good books about Morocco (meaning they handle the topic sensibly and without exaggeration) are hard to come by in English.

The book talks alot about the goings-on of the late Sultan Abdul Aziz in the years just before the French colonization of Morocco and talks a lot about life in the Palaces of Fes and Marrakech. I am here in Marrakech with a good friend who is visiting Morocco for the first time. There is such comfort in being in a foreign country with a person who has known you for more than a decade. And yes although i can "fit in" in Morocco and speak the language, I have begun to feel more foreign here. It is combination of the irritability that is brought on by the heat,and the fact that my time here , at least for this trip, is slowly winding down. It is mostly a feeling of annoyed disappointment with Moroccans especially when I read about the piety and good works of their ancestors, or visit the structures that were built and thrived under their ancestors, but are abandoned and presently decay.

My friend and I are staying in a low-key riad in Marrakech.There are no signs from the outside that it is not just a regular home. But it is a traditional house whose rooms are rent out mostly to foreign tourists. The people who run it are quiet and kind and I feel as if I am staying with a family and not at a hotel. Outside of our room is a balcony under which is a courtyard and above which is the blue sky. After taking advantage of the morning coolness by walking to the Ben Yousef madrasa, we came back to our riad and had a simple lunch of black olives, plain yogurt, fresh bread, water, and grapes. All things we had bought along the way as we walked through the market. There are few other guests in the riad, because the heat makes this the low season.
So we ate alone on the roof, the traditional domain of Moroccan women, and we felt free to loosen our scarfs and relax. The few men who came to the neighboring roofs to "do something" quickly lowered their gaze and went inside when they saw us.

And then to the traditional afternoon nap before going out to enjoy the old city in the cooler afternoon, with my friend encouraging me to be grateful for the goodness that there is still in the Morocco that still is.