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Blind Faith

By Amani Ahmed

The streets and even the sidewalks of the city of Fez are undeniably busy and crowded. If you don’t pay attention, it’s all too easy to bump into people or lampposts or trees or anything as you make your way toward your destination. I must admit that I, too, have had a clumsy experience or two. It’s not too dissimilar from the bustling nature of New York City or Philadelphia, two cities near to my own hometown. However, I witnessed a moment which describes the unique nature of Fez so perfectly. In my own experience, people in northeastern cities in the United States are generally completely focused on themselves and their own tasks at hand and expect that everyone else will do the same. There is an expectation that everyone else should take care of themselves and provide for themselves. The people of Fez seem to have a much more communal attitude. One day last week, while waiting for a taxi, I watched as a blind man made his way down the sidewalk of a main city square, with all the confidence in the world, because he knew he could trust his fellow citizens to help him on his way. As he walked, somebody would assist or direct his path and then leave when the coast was clear. After a couple steps, a new person would suddenly be at the man’s side to help him toward his destination. The whole ordeal was not rehearsed but it was completely fluid and I can honestly say I have witnessed few moments of engaged citizenship as beautiful as that. This man was able to have all the trust in the world in the people around him, people who are strangers to him, because he knew that his city would not let him down. Without hesitation, average people stepped up to be good neighbors and I think that defines engaged citizenship.

 

Engaged citizenship involves contributing positively to your community. Each person that decided to help that blind man that day decided to be forces of goodness. They helped to foster a society characterized by supportive and generous behavior. They became active members of their community in a way which enhances everybody else’s experience, because it allows for a greater trust to permeate the community. Knowing you belong to such a society would only make you want to return the positive attitudes and actions. It’s the perfect cycle of community and it creates good and active citizens.

 

I did not see that man make it to wherever he was going, but I know with all my heart that he made it there safely. I’ve never seen engaged citizenship practiced so perfectly before but I’m glad I finally have. I learned what blind faith looks like that day, and my own faith in humanity grew a little bit more. I was reminded what community should look like, and I feel encouraged to contribute more positively to my own communities. Engaged citizenship exists, and if everyone saw that man like I did, I am convinced that they would be reminded too.

 

 

Citizenship Interview

Today, I had the opportunity to speak with a man called Ismail about citizenship. Ismail is a young Moroccan math teacher and is from the city of Fez. I interviewed him about his perspective and thoughts on active citizenship in Morocco through an informal conversation. For Ismail, being a Moroccan citizen most involves being connected to the culture and the faith that informs the country’s principles and values, Islam. He spoke about how Islam positively influences Moroccans and shapes the country’s narrative. When I asked more about other cultural aspects that are important, he explained how food is so central to the essence of being Moroccan. In his opinion and his experiences, people in many other countries do not eat as well as Moroccans do, and the practice of sharing traditional meals enriches the Moroccan culture. When people take the time to share a wonderful meal and tea, they are uniting friends and family, stepping away from busy schedules to enjoy the day.

Next, I asked Ismail about what a “good” or “bad” citizen would look like. He explained that he feels it is most important for a good Moroccan citizen to read. He feels that in the United States, people study for the sake of learning, because they have genuine curiosity and are passionate about their fields of interest. He explained how he has had access to American textbooks and they are more cohesive and conducive to understanding the subject matter. He feels that people in Morocco study to earn a degree and mostly memorize information instead of internalizing and genuinely understanding it, as he feels Americans do. In Morocco, he feels that many people, especially young people, do not have a desire to read books and develop their intellectual interests. He quoted a study he read once that claimed that in the United States, the average person reads 35 books a year. In the Arab world, one book is read for every forty people. This illiteracy is tragic and shameful for the Arab world, in his opinion. Ismail articulated how Arabs are often portrayed as oppressive, as terrorists, etc. in media throughout the world (particularly in Western nations), and he feels like the Arab world’s illiteracy contributes to an inability to properly defend and represent the true Arab world. When I asked him how illiteracy should be conquered, he explained that it is everyone’s responsibility, and programs should be created by good citizens and the government.

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Regarding the government, Ismail is not so concerned with the responsibilities of the government or the relationship between the people and their political representatives. He said it is most important for each individual to be good. “Good” means knowledgeable, curious, empathetic, active, in Ismail’s opinion. People need to be good at their very core, in their hearts and in their minds. He continued to say that if people were all good, the government would be good by default. I was really struck when he said that the government is only as good as its people – its representatives and leaders are not the worst in Morocco, but they are certainly not the best. They are average, and they serve a community which they reflect. Individuals need to focus on themselves, and their own purification in order to create a society which deserves and requires certain privileges. For Ismail, Moroccans need to find goodness in their souls, always seeking knowledge and wisdom, especially in a way which may allow people to learn and contribute back to their communities

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Smashing Watermelons, Smashing Politics

When I was still in the states, the two most common responses I got after telling people about my upcoming trip to Morocco were 1) that I would love the food or 2) that I would need to be careful not to talk about anything political lest someone find out that I am American or Jewish or both and somehow try to kill me. I excitedly received the first response, while rolling my eyes at the second. I was still surprised to find out just how vastly unbalanced the aforementioned view of the Morocco is. The food here is perhaps the most delicious I have ever encountered. Every night, my host family serves the most delicious koftas, tagines, couscouses, and even harissa-flavored pastas (no, I didn’t know that was a thing either, but look out America!). Fresh fruit accompanies just about every meal, including some fruit I still don’t know the Darija name for, let alone its English name. Even the watermelon here tastes better, especially when served at the end of a phenomenal meal by my host family.

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It isn’t only the food, however, that makes mealtime so fascinating. This week, every meal has been accompanied by some of the most intriguing political conversations I’ve ever had. Sure, the language barriers have kept the conversation from getting very conceptual or abstract, but this actually seems to be a positive thing. It is much more tangible. On the first night, my family asked me and John, who shares a home with me, about ourselves, including our religions. Although I was at first apprehensive to admit I was Jewish, fearing that I might have to explain every small component of the complicated, depressing affair that is Israeli politics every time I returned home, I instead found incredible cultural exchange. The families eyes lit up, excited to explain their happy attitude towards Jews, informed by the rich history of Jews in Morocco. I found that discussing the politics of the Israeli Palestinian conflict was a feature, not a fright, in my stay in Morocco. The son in the family, Mohammed, explained his support for one state, while I explained my own for two. After some discussion on the matter, Mohammed’s mother casually commented that she thought the Palestinians absolutely crazy. Intrigued by this position that is even more extreme than some of the more right-wing Jews in the US, I inquired further about here opinions on the Palestinian Israeli conflict. Being that she could speak only Darija, she simplified her answer to a hand gesture in which she explained she actually preferred Israel to Morocco, if only she could live there: Israel straight, Morocco windy. Very tangible indeed.

When our program visited Sidi Mohammed ben Abdullah University, we found some obvious questions about Donald Trump. The questions, however, focused not on why all Americans were stupid, or racist, or fascist, but instead on how we thought someone as hateful as Trump could gain a foothold in America, such a powerful and respected country that is known for at least being domestically democratic. Perhaps we should have expected a Trump question, but we were nonetheless unprepared to answer. Whether because of the nature of Trump or because of the unexpectedly nuanced nature of the students’ questions, I can’t say, but evidently our confusion showed.

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While all of this has certainly been a blast, and being able to tell my parents all the ways they worried too much has its perks, it also highlights a concerning dynamic in America’s relation to the world that most people I ran into expressed a severe concern for my safety and ability to have truly advanced debates in Morocco simply because it is Arab and speaks Arabic. Many scholars think that the Arab Spring failed because the Arabs aren’t intellectually prepared for democracy, but this trip has smashed that interpretation of politics for me. At least in some parts of the Arab world, the people are ready for debate about democracy. The question is, are we?

 

 

Cafe Culture

From the window of my room in my home-stay family’s apartment overlooking a busy city square, I have been observing the city below and have been struck by the relaxed pace of society and the communal practice of people-watching. From my perch at the window, I can see several cafes, and throughout the day, the outside seating is always crowded. Even when seated with other people, everyone seems to sit facing the street square. The clients of these cafes sit there for long periods of time, not feasting on three course meals or having lively conversations. From what I can see, this tradition is all about tea and quiet observation. This is a practice I would like to try. Having grown up in the Northeast of the United States, I am accustomed to a fast-paced society in which everybody focuses on themselves and is always in a rush to get somewhere or do something. Nobody really spends time truly appreciating the places they are exploring, the people they are meeting, the food they are eating, etc. Since arriving in Morocco, I have noticed how people generally walk and talk at a more comfortable pace. I think people seem to take time to absorb and think about their surroundings.

However, it is interesting to witness the contradiction of the busy street with honking taxis and cars speeding by against the calm and collected groups of people watching the day pass by them. Many of the café customers do seem to be of an older generation, so I wonder if this tradition will fade away with time as younger people become more and more rushed and impatient. I hope that is not the case. I think we can all gain some patience and wisdom from sitting with our elders and observing the world with them.

I believe that this café people-watching practice is a form of meditation as it forces people to relax, collect their emotions, abandon any pressing concerns for the moment, and quietly reflect. Meditation and reflection is a big part of prayer. Moroccan culture is built upon Islamic values, and prayer is a major concept in Islam. The practice of prayer invites people to stop what they are doing five times a day and reflect and remember God (I have attached a photo of a mosque in Fez, where people will take the time to pray). While not everyone prays, I still think this value has factored into a community of reflection. One day while I am still here, I would like to sit at one of these cafes and participate in this form of meditation and people-watching. Sure, I am watching people from up here at the window, but it is not the same as sipping Moroccan mint tea, sitting among locals and watching the world as sort of a peer and not from a separate and isolated location. Not only would I be sitting with locals and engaging in a common practice with them, but I would also be observing and studying the actions and interactions passing me by, which would contribute to a more comprehensive understanding and impression of the culture and society of Fez.

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