Marakkech
Trip Start
Jan 05, 2010
1
9
11
Trip End
Jul 20, 2010
Berlin, Germany
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The GDP and unemployment figures speak for themselves in Marrakech:
* GDP (PPP) $4,587
* Unemployment around 30%
Apart from the endemic poverty, the stories I left with were equally as shocking.
The most searing and impressing experience was the elder who told me that 9/11 was a good thing, and that because the Taliban has "Allah" on their side, America will perish.
This man was well into his 70s, and when he walked the streets he commanded a presence. He had a big belly under his djellaba, something he was clearly proud of based on his backward lean and hands placed on stomach, and when he came up to a shop whoever was working would immediately jumped out of his seat and offer it. When the man sat, he was offered a tea and accepted. He wore a beard about two feet long, straggly and gray, and mumbled to himself. When he came into the shop I was sitting in, my host immediately stood up and offered his chair. When the man took a seat he looked at me and said something in French. My face must have given it away because before I could explain I didn't speak French he began speaking in broken English. We established I was a college student from America studying in Berlin. A brief moment of silence and he asked me, "why are there so many problems with money in America? No more money?" I assumed he meant the most recent banking, housing, and credit crises. I wanted to ask him if he was serious--the chances of getting across the concept of liquidity shortfall in the US banking system, irresponsible credit and housing loans, among the host of Wall Street's issues seemed, at the time, comical. I started to say that Americans gave out too much money to too many people who could not pay it, but he cut me off and said, "it's greed." When I continued he stopped me short again and said "no, it is greed. Money, money, money. Why always money?"
I soon realized his questions were rhetorical. He plowed through to the next question--"and two wars? Saddam was a bad man, but Bush is worse. Why not hang Bush like Saddam? He killed more with less reasons." It was so anti-American and Western I didn't know how to react. Do I walk out? Ask why he thinks this? Ask the others in the circle sipping tea why they are nodding their heads in agreement? But then I thought of Gregg Mortenson and his mission to bring schools to the outermost borders of Muslim countries. His encounters with Muslims from Sunni to Shiite, cleric to baker and fatwa to family all brought it home to me. I was simply hearing the majority opinion. If you have ever heard of Gregg Mortenson, or read his book Three Cups of Tea, you know this view of America is fairly mainstream among the Muslim population. I just never expected to hear it from the local shop keeper who depends largely on American tourism.
I left with my friend a few minutes later, my jaw literally open. I still don't know how I should have reacted to the questions he asked. I’ve read about those opinions in class, even wrote a paper on Islamic anti-Americanism. But never did it leave me with my jaw open. The idea that these are common beliefs among the Muslim population was always just a statistic, a number, never a reality. To hear a voice confirm what I always read and heard about, and the emphasis put on words that would infuriate most Americans, left me feeling like I had just swallowed a 45 lb. dumbbell. Eventually the conversation changed to where the scarves and rugs he was selling came from, and finished with another tea and a handshake. It was an awkward and tense goodbye, and by the end of my visit we both realized how stark the differences between our cultures were.
Politics are one thing, culture another; both awkward. I went to my first Haman. It’s common in Muslim cultures and I was lucky enough to have a local take me to a non-tourist Haman. What is a Haman? It’s a communal cleaning sauna where families and individuals come to bathe about once a week. You step into the sauna with your boxers, grab one of the buckets near the spicket and fill it with warm water. Then a man in a swimming suit (apparently I was lucky because it’s usually a man without a bathing suit… awkward, I know) instructs you to lie on your stomach, arms outstretched. Then he flops down on your back. Yup, about 190 lbs. on my back… and then he began scrubbing me with a 'sponge’. It was glorified sandpaper. If the sponge wasn’t enough, he scrubbed me like a dock worker would a boat covered in barnacles. It was exfoliation to the tenth degree. When the man was done with my back he showed me the sponge—it was covered in dead skin. He gave me a "you’re filthy" face, and then grabbed my left arm and leg and flipped me to my back. What I’m about to tell you I hope is never repeated. He scrubbed my stomach, chest, and neck and then went south. He scrubbed everything. Fine, not a big deal, it’s not like he was enjoying his job and he had scrubbed about everything already. But then he took that sponge to my face. No hesitation, just in one motion. If you ever happen to visit a Haman and find yourself in my predicament, do not settle for it being a cultural experience like I did because it’s filthy. Say no.
