Oh, to Speak Arabic

Catching a whiff of spontaneity in the air, I joined a friend on a trip to Morocco. My ignorance about the country was only surpassed by my excitement to explore it, and packing my most conservative clothing as advised by a travel blog, I hopped on a plane.

Photo provided by: Megan Burik

We went to Marrakesh, the largest city in Morocco. The city is essentially divided into the old section and the new section, the old section inside the Medina and the new section radiates from the Medina. Surrounded by walls meant to fortify the city against ancient enemies, the Medina houses the heart of Marrakesh-- teeming with interlocking veins of meandering alleys. Vendors haggle with visitors over the tiniest trinkets to intricately woven rugs beneath the shadow of the Koutoubia Mosque tower.  The air is dank with scents of life, mixing smells of everything from the tender lamb rotating on skewers to the donkey droppings in the streets.  Above the playing of mock snake-charmers, the haunting intervals of the call to prayer sound throughout the city several times a day, beckoning to the followers of Allah.

Photo provided by: Megan Burik

My enjoyment of the vivacity of the open markets and gypsy musicians was only overshadowed in a small way by my observations about Moroccan women. I cannot say for certain what stance involving women is official in Morocco, I can only share my brief observations.  Most of the native women, especially the older women, dressed in long, loose clothing. Some of the younger women appeared more “Westernized” (whatever that term is supposed to mean) and dressed in jeans.

What specifically struck me though, was the way men treated my other woman friend and me. Whistles and cat calls and solicitations that would certainly warrant a dirty look or maybe a slap in the United States.  But this unwanted attention occurred with ungainly regularity. The vendors and men about the city did this to many foreign women.  I’m not speaking ill of their culture, just observing the stark difference between the treatment of women there, and what I take for granted in America.

Despite the gender cultural contrast, the city is alluring with the magic of dense history and complex architecture.  I left Marrakesh with the thirst to learn Arabic and speak to the common people milling about the city, women and men, vendors and beggers. Only through gentle communication can greater understanding be founded.