Thursday 21 February 2013

Dr. Morocco - A PHD in Theater




After having spent almost two months in Morocco and being able to compare a big blend of provided information I have to stop. Stop and bow. Bow deep for Moroccan politics, their charades, international face which is colored with beautiful make up, a big and friendly smile which tolerates everything. Yet, in the meanwhile..

Politics and the Arab spring?
They will solve it with a new constitution: freedom of speach and change they want? With the people we stand!

Music?
There is Mawazine: let's dance and suppress any form of underground musical creativity which could transcend any form of actual truth.

Media?
Under restricting control. Why show Moroccan real life when censorship is still to be tollerated by a majority of its inhabitants.

Education?
A state which creates many forms of new educations yet lacks to provide a place in the workforce. And while we're there let us keep tradition in formal stance by delegating how students should dress, act and move within their educational environment. A girl should keep her hair long, not be active in politics and be in the dormitories by 21.00 o’clock. And boys should not keep their hair tall and wear festive colors which is for girls and while you're busy being masculine, dormitory closes for you by midnight.

Work field?

Monopolizing the economy and block any form of economic potential among Moroccan youth. Accepting international aid which is bounded to a high debt rate will not make the economy grow.

Health system?
That is a luxury when one is able to survive from day to day, let's stress that when actually needed.

I bow for Morocco and its (inter)national tactics who have been able to fool the observers and suppress its actual inhabitants. I bow for the way they have been able to take away any form of small hope for change people had during the Arab Spring and their demands for actual development.

Yet, at the end of the day I applaud for the observers. Not those who look at the play and not dare to criticize it or would suggest any reform in structure, music or speech. I applaud for those who had hope for change and dared to enter the streets and demand it in public. Those who stood at the frontline and lost their anonymity, trust and security within the state. Those who look backwards twice before they turn a corner and those who have lost the freedom of a private phone call or trust in the state. Those who have lost hope, feel pain, suffocation and restriction yet decide to fight back through civil activities. Those who invest time, energy and dedication for change: whether it is through being active underground or at the surface.

The thing that has caught my attention most are the activists’ eyes. Not only the sad and frightful look when they speak about the circumstances but also the different ways they analyze everything that happens around them. Even more I respect their will to proceed after all the harshness their eyes have had to process and how their will to see and live actual change wins at the end of the day.

For the time being I am grateful that they've opened their doors, minds and hearts for my eyes to see, my mind to understand and my hands to transcend.

Saturday 2 February 2013

Morocco, the country of..

The country of sweet honey and sour circumstances.

The country of shame, blame and pride.

The country of sunny suppression and lightening growth.

The country of contradicting messages. Which one to follow: the red or green?




It are the same colors making the Moroccan flag; one which is used in festive and less celebrative periods, carying varying sentiments.

Sentiments which keep attrackting me to the country of sweet and sour contradictions.

Whether it is for a sunny stay at the shore, working hard with little social ellements to educative purposes: the country keeps whispering my name.

One day I will know whether the aftertase will be in- or against my favour as my inner Moroccan paradoxes seem to grow under the sharp yet gentle sunbeams.