The Paradoxical Paradigm of Marrakech

To paraphrase a friend of mine, who was paraphrasing the writer Paul Bowles,

“people come to Morocco looking for mystery, and they find it”.

Didn’t you know Marrakech is full of randy turtles?

I have been living here for a little over 5 months now, and I can honestly say this country still shocks and confuses me daily. Sometimes in bad ways. Sometimes good. More often than not, just simply in a suprising way.

The complexities can not be overstated when in the understanding of a place filled with chaos and constant noise; where there is such rich culture, traditions and heritage; of people who commonly speak 4 languages and have impressive national pride, who traverse with ease between nightclubs in the city and desert villages; of a history filled with contrasting views, and people, and events (I recently watched Casablanca).

Badii Palace terrrace view

Over hundreds of years the cultures of Africa, Europe and the Middle East have smashed together to create Morocco. With Marrakech at the focal point. Something clearly seen when walking for 40 minutes through the ancient scooter filled alleys of the Medina towards the broad European streets ‘new city’ of Gueliz. You go from watching the story tellers, snake charmers, henna ladies and monkey wranglers to sipping lattes in Starbucks or watching men pick up prostitutes at McDonalds.

There is no amount of reading that can really prepare people for what they expect when arriving in Morocco, and specifically Marrakech. So I will try to just give you an idea of what life is really like here.

[Disclaimer: this is from my narrow perspective of a poorly integrated ‘expat’ living solely in a big city and not speaking the language(s)]

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Coming from the West, I know there is a preconceived notion of Morocco being a ‘Muslim country’ where the people are oppressed (especially the women), the religion is stifling and people are harassed for simply portraying western ideals.

But since being here I have learnt how Morocco is viewed in other parts of the world. Contrastingly, in the Middle East Morocco is viewed as country of gold-digging women who use their black magic to lure their men into precarious relationships.

So here is a list of rambling, paradoxical truths of every day Marrakech:

It’s an Islamic country – the majority of people drink alcohol and the clubbing scene is great.

It is illegal to be gay – Tangier was previously a hot spot for gay men to hang out before Europe relaxed their laws; today if you get Tinder or Grindr you can go for a night out on the town and be pretty sure to pull the same sex.

Sex before marriage is illegal, as is living together, and the oppressive Muslim traditions still create arranged, forced and multiple marriages – divorce is very common; young people date enthusiastically; romantic gestures (chat up lines, premature declarations of love) are a little too common for my liking.

Women are oppressed, harassed on the streets and forced to cover their bodies – Moroccan universities have a heavy majority of female students; girls can be seen everywhere wearing western style clothes; the women are the strong head of their households, a force not to be reckoned with.

Abject poverty is seen daily – a broad range of ‘middle class’ are seen everywhere – the elite live a life I can’t even imagine in modest Northern Ireland.

People will harass you simply for walking past, even getting angry when you ignore them – everyone loves to talk, constantly, all the time; they want to know who you really are and will make jokes just to get your attention.

Personal matters (such as cheating, drinking problems, domestic abuse) are ignored as ‘not my business’ – if you air a slight issue in public you will have a queue of people telling you exactly what you should do (god forbid telling anyone you’re looking for work as they will immediately take your number and ring a bunch of their friends, a tad overwhelming).

The arts scene is rather lacking, with a mistrust of photography and no attention given in school – their culture is rich with the most beautifully incredible handicraft and trade skills.

Pictures of Berbers, Touaregs, Arabs and more are shown worldwide to capture the imagination of tourists everywhere – you can party in a club next to the desert nomad or do jaegerbombs with the carpet salesman who served you mint tea earlier that day.

The men riding donkey carts bringing fruit and veg to the city are an ageless site – these same men will put out their smartphones to take selfies on the back of said cart.

Child prostitution; street children begging; kids working on stalls rather than going to school – there is a community feel to treating children with such kindness seen everywhere.

Animals are treated badly, overworked and abused – the kittens and cats find a spot of the city to call their own and are looked well after by the workers in the area; men in the souks feed their local stray; I have seen big, burly men coo over an adorable kitten and fret to get them out of the way of oncoming scooters.  

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Every day here is a confusing mix of “ah yes, that I understand” and “what the fuck?” smooshed together in the most delightful way. The list could go on forever.

Here is a great example is a friend of mine here who last week experienced this first hand, when she accidentally used a prayer rug as a table cloth when on a date. As you do.

Sleepy kitty cat on a bed of dried rosebuds…

This may not have given you any more of a clue into the life of Morocco, but maybe you are now more intrigued to visit. And when I tell you that you can sit on a terrace bar drinking beer and overlooking a beautiful mosque, or on one trip to Marrakech easily visit a sunny beach, snow-capped mountains and ride a camel in the desert believe me…..this place has to be seen to still not be believed.