Yellah FC Barca!

For last week’s issue of the school paper I decided to tackle (ha) sports culture in Morocco. My conclusion: football is at the center of the universe here. The other night, in a heated match against FC Barcelona and Real Madrid I can proudly say that I stand by my writings. The game started at 8:30 Moroccan time–well before 7:30 all the cafes in my hood were filled with men, and I mean stock-full! It took 20-30 minutes of walking for me and my friends to find a seat in a cafe with a good TV. By the time the game started, the amount of people had more than doubled. Last night’s game happened to be super suspenseful and I sure can stand by the idea that we’re more likely to see a riot erupt from football than politics and civil unrest in Morocco. Every time something happened men were yelling violently, and sometimes this happened when nothing major was going on in the game…

Unfortunately Barca was defeated (don’t worry, two more games against Madrid in the next two weeks!) and the Real fan base made this clear! After the game ended the street was full of male Moroccan youth just swarming the street, yelling, and arguing… There was a fight in my street that involved knives and rocks, but thankfully it got broken up before anything too serious could happen!

So here’s the column:

Protests in Morocco have continued to remain peaceful and reports have said that the country is going through a “quiet reform.” In response to the February 20 Movement for Change, King Mohammed VI has created a panel to propose adjustments to the Moroccan constitution. In addition, the King has announced in a televised speech that he is willing to surrender some of his powers, such as the ability to appoint the prime minister and dissolve the parliament.

While politics and reform are something that Moroccans have demonstrated a peaceful and tranquil approach to, football (aka soccer) is something that really gets everybody’s blood pumping and boiling here. Not necessarily to the point of violence, but as a friend rather aptly joked, we’re more likely to see a riot erupt in Morocco resulting from football than from politics. The big question here is not “Where were you during the February 20 Movement for Change?” or “Where were you when the news of Egypt’s revolution broke out?” as one might expect, but rather “Where were you watching the final match of the World Cup last summer?”

Football overwhelmingly dominates the sports culture in Morocco. Moroccans are especially serious about the Spanish league. Every Moroccan friend I have has declared allegiance to either FC Barcelona or Real Madrid. Additionally, all my Moroccan friends play football and have been playing from a young age. While they may not play professionally, they sure do enjoy the recreation. Don’t you dare come between them and play time.

I cannot even begin to count the number of Messi or Ronaldo jerseys I’ve seen for sale in medinas across the country, and especially on the backs of young Moroccan boys.

The window of my apartment overlooks several cafés, one of them called L’Équipe (the team). On football game nights, whether Champion’s League, Spanish League or Moroccan League, you can depend on a full house, with all the men sitting on the patio, tightly packed around the TV, coffee and other refreshments in hand. Football is such a social experience here. Whether uniting or dividing friends with loyalties to Madrid or Barca, it brings everyone together to see who will conquer and who will admit defeat. While it is not so different from Americans huddling together to watch the Super Bowl, March Madness or the World Series, the two biggest cultural differences that I’ve observed is that practically all sports fans are football fans and that secondly, these sports fans are predominately male (way more so than in the States).

In the States, our sports interests are divided. Not EVERY American will choose between the Yankees and the Red Sox, the Colts and the Patriots, the Lakers and the Celtics, etc. In the States we’ve got a venn diagram of sports in our landscape, overlapping football (American), baseball, basketball and hockey—sports pluralism. Most people cannot agree on one dominant or favorite sport in the States, but it seems pretty clear-cut that football rules the sports scene here in an authoritarian manner. While there are other popular sports such as basketball and tennis, no other sport really has the same pulling power that football has. This football frenzy is not unique to Morocco; from my travels across Europe this past year I’ve seen that most countries outside of the States sure do love their football.

Football is chiefly a man’s world here. I’ll occasionally be able to find other females watching the matches at cafés, but they are usually fellow foreigners such as myself or girlfriends trying to spend time with their boyfriends who seemed to have dragged them there—reminding me of how I saw American women dragging their boyfriends with them to the premiere of “Sex and the City 2.”

Why is there such a big gender divide when it comes to football in Morocco? I’m not totally sure, but I can say that it is something that is not a recent practice. From a young age Moroccan boys play on a team and take an interest in sports news, but I cannot say that I’ve observed the same thing in girls. Even though my tomboy host sister has not expressed a great interest in football she’s a huge sports fan: her preferred sports are kayaking and kung fu.

Whatever the reasons for this cultural phenomenon, it is fair to say that football has the ability to bring all sorts of men together here and it is a beautiful thing to see so many Moroccans so passionate about something on game nights. As a foreign girl living over here in football-land I have been able to somewhat infiltrate this guy’s club and have taken a great liking to watching the Spanish league (hail to the Messi! Go Barcelona!), but I have also gotten used to often being the only girl at the café. This is no big deal because everyone is too absorbed in the game to pay me any attention or bother me.

Representin–Notes from the Morocco Protest

Feb 20 Movement for Change, Ave Mohammed V, Rabat, Morocco

Better late than never: here’s what I have to say on the February 20 Movement for Change, Morocco’s first big organized demonstration in light of current events. I wrote my Rockin’ Morocco column in the Dickinsonian and it got cut down due to space and stuff like that (also wrote it last week, sorry for the late posting time) but lucky for you I’ve got a vast amount of space so I get to include plenty of pictures and my writing.

When rumors hit the net a couple of weeks ago that there was going to be a big political protest in Morocco, I was hit with a rush of nervousness and excitement, especially since these rumors came after awhile with no visibly large reaction among Moroccans to current events in neighboring countries such as Egypt and Libya.

As I have previously mentioned, most Moroccans who I have talked to have been quick to tell me that the political situation in Morocco is fundamentally different from those in other countries in the Arab world and the chances of any revolution manifesting in Morocco are minimal. With this in mind, and having heard that the protest would be in front of Parliament, directed at the government and not at the King, it was immediately noted that this protest was not going to be the revolutionary type with the aims of overthrowing the leadership.

But for a moment my friends and I waited in the center of Rabat with a mix of anxiousness and curiosity to see if anything would come to fruition after the first big organized response in Morocco to regional unrest and the Egyptian and Tunisian revolutions.

To my relief but not to my surprise the protest in the capital was peaceful with no major repercussions. It was a sunny and beautiful Sunday when I met my friends that morning to get coffee and watch the protest from a hotel across from the Parliament, a safe distance away. But when we saw that all that really was happening was a little bit of marching, some chanting, and even some people taking naps in the sun we decided to take a closer look with cameras in hand.

One of my Moroccan friends walked in to the crowd with me so we could get a photo shoot in and translated the different Arabic protest signs for me. Some signs explicitly said the protest was in no way directed at the King and he is viewed as the legitimate ruler, one sign said “Democracy Now” in English, and others demanded for a parliamentary system more akin to the United Kingdom’s.

When I asked my friend about his feelings on the protest, he said that he thought it was a good thing and that we should hold “the government” accountable for social problems and that there should be a new Parliament elected. When asked why he was not personally taking part in the protest, he responded that he thought the protestors had enough people, that they did not need him. Another one of my Moroccan friends looked upon the protest without much interest saying it looked small and that the turnout was significantly stronger for demonstrations against the wars in Iraq in Afghanistan awhile back (which might I add were not even protests against the Moroccan government). Other Moroccan friends of mine did not even go and expressed that they hoped nothing big would happen.

While the protest was calm in Rabat, an aftershock was witnessed in other cities around the country. Five people died who were trapped in a burning bank in the northern city of Al Hociema, McDonald’s was looted in Marrakech (as I’ve written on before, McDonald’s is contrarily a sign of the upper class in Morocco), a gas station was set aflame in Larache, cars were burned in Tangier, among other similar events. This aftershock, however, was not a part of the larger protest and seemed pretty minor in comparison to the rubber bullets shot at protestors in Cairo and open fire on opposition in Libya.

The protest, referred to as the Febrary 20 Movement for Change, was advertised on social networking sites like Facebook and there was a video circulating on YouTube with individuals explaining why they wanted to protest the corruption of the government and socioeconomic issues in Morocco such as lower food prices and the high unemployment rate.

The size of the protest both in Rabat and nationwide is unclear to me. Depending on where you get your news on the protest, there could have been a turnout in Rabat of about 3,000 to 5,000 according to reports from the New York Times, or over 2,000 as estimated by the Wall Street Journal. Time Magazine put the national turnout at about 37,000, the same number cited by the Wall Street Journal, while the New York Times kept it vague, reporting more than 10,000.

I am increasingly critical of the credibility of these reports when I see things like the mistranslation in an article featured on Time Magazine’s website calling Bab El Had, the massive entrance to the Rabat medina “Rabat’s el Had gate,” when it is actually a door/large opening, not a gate. Though I cannot completely discount this article because it aptly explains the general misnomer in its headline: “Protests in Morocco: Just Don’t Call it a Revolution,” and moreover cites my political science professor, Stuart Schaar in his explanation of why most Moroccans do not want to rock the political boat: “Why should they? [Current King Mohammed VI] seems so benevolent in comparison.”

This is in comparison to other regimes in the region but also too Mohammed VI’s predecessor and father, Hassan II whose reign is known as the “Years of Lead” for his harsh oppression and crackdown on political enemies.

A closer look at Mohammed VI’s reign is needed to understand why Morocco is not a place of uprising as The San Francisco Bay Guardian fallaciously characterized it as, where Morocco was listed as a place of uprising alongside Libya, Bahrain and Yemen. Mohammed VI took the throne in 1999 and since then has pushed forward some pretty liberal reforms for the country like improving women’s rights in the new family code, allowing some liberalization of the media and political protest and appointing a commission to look into the State’s indiscretions during the Years of Lead.

Protests in Morocco are not a rarity. I have seen a number in Rabat ranging from the young unemployed and university educated marching near Parliament to the older unemployed just down the street near some major areas of commerce. It still goes to say though that the monarch has the ultimate say in Morocco, appoints the prime minister and other ministers, though the Parliament is elected.

Only time will tell if ensuing protests in Morocco will be similar to the Movement for Change or if new things will develop. But for the meantime, even inside Morocco, the gaze is towards the rest of the region and Libya especially, a separate world with much unrest and craziness unfolding that Moroccans and myself say alhumdullah (Praise God), is not here.

Farewell to semester 1

I had the realization that I forgot to link to my final Rockin’ Morocco column for fall semester’s last issue of The Dickinsonian. A real tragedy, I know. So, here it is!

Teaser:

Everything’s wrapping up here, and my first semester in Rabat is about to come to a close. I’m in the throes of “finals” writing my “research papers,” and am prepping for “presentations,” (in quotes because these words don’t quite have the same meaning here) but for some reason, finals week just does not have the same level of stress as it always does at Dickinson. I’ve heard that from a number of friends abroad—I guess this must be something inherent to studying abroad. This week I have not found myself staying in the library until closing time, then heading over to Althouse to work until the sun comes up. Maybe it’s because my grades this semester don’t factor into my GPA, maybe it’s because the academics aren’t nearly as rigorous as say Professor Fratantuono’s Global Economy class or maybe it’s just the more laid-back day-to-day Moroccan attitude.

In seek of inspiration for my last column for the semester I just reread my very first Rockin’ Morocco column to try and remember what I was thinking and feeling at the beginning of my time here. The ant invasion of my room feels like such a long time ago. The weather was so hot then that I needed to sleep in my underwear, now it’s so cold that I have a heater in my room. Needless to say, the ants are long gone.

Ok so it's not that cold... Sunshine and 70 degrees during DECEMBER! It has gotten colder since this picture was taken but nowhere near a Carlisle or Denver winter.

What have I learned since arriving in Rabat last August? I have learned my most valuable lessons outside of the classroom. I had heard this before, but this idea has been reinforced over the last few months. Here are some of my precious pearls of wisdom, some expected, and others not as much:

Read the rest of my column in The Dickinsonian.

All roads lead back to Rabat

I feel like I’ve been MIA for a quite awhile, but for good reason: I’ve been on a nearly month long vacation, living it up as a jet setter. My parents came out to visit me in Morocco after my fall semester in Rabat with Amideast and from there I felt like I was moving constantly.

Here’s a little rundown of the places we made it to on the Greco family vacation 2010-2011:

–Rabat (showed  my parents around my city, introduced them to my host family and some Moroccan friends)

-met up with my good friend Westrey (who I’ve known since middle school) in Fes (did all the major Fes things and had a hamuk (crazy) guide named Aziz who I’ll have to post a pic of)

-made it over to Meknes, Volubilis, then Moulay Idriss (some of the most stunning landscapes in Morocco. Think vineyards and olive groves, Roman ruins, and old Moroccan town built in to the side of a valley)

–Marrakech (did the touristy stuff, had monkeys thrown on us, explored and shopped, Westrey separated from the Greco’s on our last day in Mrrksh to go back to Vienna)

–Casablanca (we made it to Rick’s Cafe, inspired by the classic Casablanca, visited the splendid mosque Hassan II, one of the largest in the world after Mecca)

-Tangier (met up with a friend, walked the city with our suitcases, ate some seafood)

-Ferry over to Spain (it only takes 35 minutes!)

–Sevilla (spent Christmas here!)

–Barcelona (toured city, art & architecture, Picasso musuem and a lot of eating)

–Istanbul (spent New Year’s here, visited major sites like the Blue Mosque, Turkish Bath, Whirling Dervishes show, Bosphorus cruise, and so much more!)

–Paris (met up with my Dickinson College roommate Kim and wondered about the city for a few days and stayed with some of her family friends!)

And finally, back in town. All of my travels were fantastic and certainly expanded my travel experience. Being in Turkey was like nothing like I’d ever done before and it was quite enthralling to see a city literally straddling two continents with such a rich and fascinating history that I had only read about and discussed in class). Oh, and everyone thought my dad was Turkish? How funny is that? To me he looked like an American tourist (love you Dad) but when he was around the Turkish, they would just flock to him and start speaking to him in Turkish! Rich!

Though these travels were incredible, I found myself missing Morocco, my host family, my friends in Morocco, and the city of Rabat itself. Being away really enforced how at home here I’m starting to feel. Though I will jamais (NEVER) fit in and pass for a Moroccan, no matter what I wear or how I comport, or how well I speak Arabic and French, I really have started to put roots down here. Even though I continue to turn heads in the street and I always get a susprised look from taxi drivers and waiters when I start addressing them in the Moroccan dialect, I have noticed that everything is going much more smoothly and there’s just so much less friction during my interactions with Moroccans. I am beginning to learn things like the streets of the city better, where to get the best sandwiches, nuts, and chicken, the best cafe to spend an afternoon sipping a cafe creme and reading, and which hamam I should frequent. However, a trend that I noticed since I got back that tells me that my roads lead to Rabat for at least the time being (meaning I’m here, where I genuinely believe I am meant to be for now, loving it, and fitting in), is that I started running in to people! In the last week and a half since I’ve been back I’ve ran in to a number of people when I was just walking around the city, something that didn’t really happen to me last semester. Now I leave my house and I see friends, host family members and extended family, acquaintances, etc. Rabat is starting to transform from a new mysterious and intriguing place to my city, home, a place filled with wonders and many things I have yet to understand, but still a place that is deeply a part of my life.

I’m looking forward to the rest of this semester to see what’s in store for me, if I will continue to feel such a bond with Rabat, and if I will continue to consider it as ‘home’ as I have been lately. And thus, I have made a New Year’s resolution (which I must keep!) to write more prolifically while I’m out here. Yay!

Keep in touch!

Rockin’ Morocco Dickinsonian Column

As most of you know my life back at Dickinson involves a great deal of time spent slaving away at my campus newspaper, The Dickinsonian. Did I leave that behind when I came to Morocco? To a degree. . . I’ve decided to be an abroad contributor and write a column ‘Rockin’ Morocco’ biweekly (ha, yes a column involves much less work, aggravation, and fun than editing). My first column was published this week and can be accessed here. For those of you who read my first blog post some of it may seem similar. . . that’s because I used some of the same material to get the column going. Anyway, check it out, here’s an excerpt:

I remember freaking out when I saw streams of ants crawling in my kitchen last year in Stuart. I exclaimed to my friend how gross it was that an ant colony was thriving in our on campus kitchen—he just laughed at me and said, “Clearly you’ve never been to a third world country before.” He was right, I definitely had not.

When I decided to ship out for a year to Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, I knew I was signing up for adventure. While I was expecting a life full of Turkish (squat toilets), no silverware or washing machines and riding on camels through the desert, an entire ant population in my room was not something I had really thought of. . .