Marche Maroc Fes, 2012

Last week was the last public Marche Maroc. These craft fairs were started by the Small Business Development PCVs in Morocco and are ending now that our sector is being phased out to concentrate on youth development. There will be another craft fair in Rabat mid-May but it’s a private fair for the American community and Embassy staff.

The good news is that the artisans have formed an Association of Artisans with the idea of continuing the markets. Zahara Amchech of Cooperative Adwal was chosen as 1st vice President of the board of directors. Given her will and fiery spirit, I have reason to think they will make a good effort.

One of our favorite spots in the medina, Cafe Clock, generously offered us an unused room for a showroom with the idea of showcasing some of the products available at the market. Unfortunately, the room was accessed down a dodgy looking alley between two chicken butchers and wasn't much visited. If only tourists had discovered it, they could have had a hassle-free, fixed price, authentic artisan shopping experience.

On leaving Fes, we discovered the grand taxis were on strike. All this meant though was that we had to walk down the hill to the disgusting end of the taxi lot normally used as a latrine where the taxis were parked around the corner. From there they appeared to be doing business as usual. It was an exceptionally long wait though for the taxi to fill up.

A young vendor brought out a plastic chair for me to sit on and gave me a tiny stuffed bear from his cart. It’s moments like those which make the other not-so-nice times bearable. Back in REK it was still cold although the predictions for this week are in the 90’s. So it seems we will go from the freezer to the frying pan.

NOW winter is over (Maybe)

I have not been motivated to write anything for the last month. This has been a trying time for me both psychologically and physically, so I was following the adage “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Winter was NOT over as last I wrote. BUT, today was finally a beautiful glorious day. The sun shown, it was warm, the wind wasn’t blowing, and it didn’t rain. It was a perfect day for a walk on the well-worn path along the ridge which connects the main part of town to the original settlement.

The old part feels like a rural village with its mellow sound of animals rather than the usual cacophony of engines, saws, mills, and loud voices all talking at once. There is new snow on the mountains and wildflowers in the fields. Goats, sheep, and donkeys graze happily on the green grass. Apple and cherry trees are blooming.

We met two Berber women on the walk, one with the traditional tattooed face, in the old town. They consented to having their pictures taken, then invited us to their house for tea. This is customary of Moroccans—the most generous and welcoming people I have ever met.

We passed by a large group of boys who started in with the usual “bonjours”, but when I said we were Americans, one of the boys ran alongside me saying in English, “Hello, my name is Ali.” Our lovely walk ended at a café for coffees. There, I was excited to see two young girls sitting at an outside table with their fathers. Things are definitely looking up!

Happy Easter everyone. Enjoy your ham!

Winter is Over

Today after work we drank coffee at the café under a willow tree exploding in thin bight green leaves. Later we sat in the late afternoon sunshine on the balcony shelling new peas. The streets rang with the shouts of children running, playing ball, and chasing each other. Just like that, winter is over.

Cooperative Adwal is busy preparing for the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market. Both the women going to Santa Fe successfully applied for and received their visas to the US. I sat with Hind at the cyber as she filled out the State Department applications online, in English, with only a few questions. She is my tutor and friend and I have to say she has learned a lot more English than I have learned Arabic. Visiting the US is a long- time dream of hers and I‘m so glad it’s finally going to happen. Her sister, Adwal’s President, went last year to the 50th celebration of Peace Corps in Washington DC so it’s not a new experience for her, but she’ll be seeing an entirely different part of the US. With luck, my grant application will be funded so that they can also attend the Handweavers’ Guild of America conference in California and get to see LA and the Pacific Ocean.

Last weekend, a British artist friend came to REK and put on a workshop for both my and Doug’s co-ops. One was on creativity and the other was on choosing a logo. They were both brilliant as she would say. The women were engaged and enthusiastic. Now we are looking into funding so that she can travel around Morocco and present similar workshops to other women’s co-ops. Since Peace Corps discontinued the small business development program in Morocco, I’d love to see something ongoing like this to add a little inspiration and motivation.

Speaking of inspiration, we were fortunate to be invited to a “meet and greet” with Hillary Clinton at the American Embassy in Rabat. Several PCVs were there as well as the embassy staff and the press. We were as close as we’ll ever be to a US Cabinet Secretary. I didn’t get to shake her hand as some did, but I was impressed with her very personable yet commanding presence. I am a fan.

Midnight Bus to Marrakesh

If any Peace Corps staff read this they will know that I violated the rule against traveling after dark. But honestly, if you have to commit 12 hours to a souk bus ride, wouldn’t you rather give up the night?—when there is at least a tiny chance of sleeping through part of it? The rule is for safety purposes, and young women or women traveling alone should definitely obey it, but my Moroccan traveling companion and I are both “mature” women who are relatively safe from harassment when traveling together. Since we were hauling several bags of carpets to Marche Maroc craft fair, it only made sense to take the only bus going all the way from REK to Marrakesh.

The bus ride itself was bearable except for the constant coughing and sneezing from the person behind me without any attempt to cover nose or mouth. I rode most of the way with my face buried in my coat. The nearly unbearable part was the four hours spent in a cold bus station, which, like bus stations the world over, was populated with the homeless and mentally ill. At 4 am we were treated to a song and dance routine from a man who appeared to be unnaturally animated. Later, when my traveling companion went to pray, I was approached twice by toothless men whom I couldn’t understand. A third stopped and spat at my feet. When he reached out as if to grab my arm, I jumped up and yelled “go away from me!”. Three young men kindly grabbed him and steered him away. In only 10 minutes alone, I became a firm believer in the no–travel-after-dark rule. Never again.

In Marrakesh, it was colder than I had hoped, but after the first day, the sun came out and warmed our bones. The craft tents were set up in what at first seemed an ideal location next to the main square where all the snake charmers and other tourist entertainers congregate. Plus, it was the weekend of the Marrakesh Marathon which brought an international crowd.

Although well located, the park (dubbed “pee park” by a PCV) was ringed by horse drawn carriages which cut the tents off from view of the tourists passing in the street beyond and created unpleasant odors. Even though we didn’t get the hoped-for tourist crowds, there was a steady stream of locals who did buy things. My counterpart made travel expenses plus some so it was not a bust. We are all awaiting final sales figures to compare to previous markets.

Since Morocco is discontinuing Peace Corps Small Business Development after our group leaves this fall, it’s not clear whether the artisans will continue these fairs without us. We will have at least two more this year and thankfully they are much closer to home.

The Food Network Comes to Town

In my considerable daydreaming, I never imagined that an English television network would come to our little town. But they did. Jenny Morris , the “Giggling Gourmet” celebrity chef from South Africa is starring in several segments on Moroccan food for the Food Network EMEA (Europe, Middle East and Africa). One of the segments is on the making and cooking of couscous, a staple Moroccan food. Thanks to our connection with Gail of Fes Food, Cooperative Eljawda , a couscous and bread cooperative in Ribat El Kheir, was chosen for the filming. I think I was more excited than the women, possibly because they have never seen the show and don’t realize how widely distributed it is.

First, the co-op women were filmed making couscous from scratch—rolling, rubbing, and sieving, through three different sized baskets to produce progressively smaller uniform grains. This is an arduous process that is rarely done today outside of rural North Africa. Most couscous is now made by machine. Since it takes days to dry, the following cooking segment was filmed with couscous already dried.

Jenny then set up on the ridge trail overlooking the valley to do her cooking segment where she made a sweet couscous dish (using my cloves!). We were extremely lucky to have a bright sunny day for the filming, and the snowcapped mountains made a dramatic backdrop. The co-op women were then brought in to taste the finished product. I missed this part since it had already gone dark and the final filming was done inside a house, so I will have to wait to see their reaction on (someone’s) TV.

A week later the film crew was back to do a segment on traditional olive oil pressing with the large stone horse-driven grinder. Jenny then made a salad with the olive oil in a dressing which Habib, the mill owner, and Doug were filmed tasting. I had to be away at a craft fair so I also missed this segment and will have to wait to see it. Who knows what will make it through the editing process and actually appear on the Food Network, but the film crew has promised us a DVD of the show.

The actual filming was a rather tedious process with many stops and starts and redos. Mostly we had to sit and wait and watch since our work of dealing with the logistics and with the local bureaucracy had already been done.

Snow!

When you think about Morocco do you imagine sand dunes? Well it’s not like that here. The Sahara is many miles south, and we are in the Atlas Mountains where it just snowed. We have been lucky for the past two weeks with sunny days, although the nights and inside the house are really cold. I’ll admit I’ve taken to wearing the same clothes around the clock for days on end. Who can bear to bare when you can see your breath? Practicality has trumped aesthetics as we stuff the cracks and drafty leaks with plastic bags.

We had to go to Fes to conduct some business, so we took the opportunity to go to a warmer place and stay the night in a heated hotel. It was total luxury—a hands-free shower, TV with English movies, washing hands in hot water, and sleeping without hats, turtlenecks and wool socks.

For lunch in Fes, we ate at a local favorite “Chicken Mac” where I had a large plate of rotisserie chicken, rice, fries, beans, olives and bread for about $3. It was warm enough with a coat on to eat outside, thus avoiding most of the cigarette smoke, but it did require putting up with a bevy of begging cats and rejecting offers of belts, quartz clocks, and a shoeshine. Some peddlers scored, however, as I saw a table of men buying underwear.

I have received more great news concerning Cooperative Adwal—they were awarded a financial assistance grant for both the President and her sister as an interpreter to travel to the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market. This made it financially possible for them to go, and we are all so excited.

Next week I’ll be heading to Marrakesh for another Marche Maroc. It should be a lot warmer there so I’m eager for the break. Doug will be tied up with TV filming of the olive oil press so I’ll be riding the souk bus with one of co-op women. I have learned my lesson on bus riding--I will bring my iPod and not drink water.

And Now It's 2012

2011 ended on a high note. Cooperative Adwal, my counterpart, received word that they had been selected as one of 367 applicants from 70 countries to attend the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe next July. They are very excited and are now waiting to see if they will receive a financial assistance grant.

For anyone traveling to the Santa Fe area July 13-15, the International Folk Art Market will be a great opportunity to buy quality crafts directly from the international artisans who made them. Other cooperatives making jewelry and daggers were also selected from Morocco.

The same week, I received word that a grant I had applied for to purchase a new loom for Adwal’s weavers had been funded. It was approved primarily because the loom will be used to train apprentices every year to help sustain the traditional weaving and design skills which have been passed down through generations of Berber weavers.

And more good news—a woman from a TV cooking show in the UK is coming to look at Doug’s co-op for a possible show on couscous making. If they decide to film here, the segment will be shown to a wide audience.

I spent Christmas in the US with family and had a wonderful time enjoying the comfort, cleanliness and conveniences of my former life. My reintroduction to Moroccan life began at the Casablanca airport where the bathroom had no paper products and only one working faucet. In the chaotic taxi lot in Fes, one of our fellow passengers had several bags of wool to add to the already loaded trunk. The solution of course was to leave the trunk open but secure it with a bungi cord conveniently carried for just such a purpose.

On the taxi ride from Fes back to REK, I marveled at the spectacular green of the countryside brought on by the winter rains. New crops were popping up and a few wild flowers were blooming. Baby animals ran about in the fields. Along the road the now familiar sights appeared—herds of sheep grazing in the barrow pit, families sitting on their bags waiting for transport, men riding donkeys, boys riding bicycle, wild dogs waiting for scraps in their usual place atop the hill. The taxi driver was engaged with the other passengers in the loud, animated style of conversation that I used to think was arguing. When the magnificent snow-topped Mount Buiblane appeared, I knew I was close to my Moroccan home.