Ma vie sur le train

"Salaam," I say to the ONCF conductor every morning as he takes my train ticket. "Vous parlez l'Arabe! Mezien," is often the eager response I get. "Shwia (a little)," I laugh. I have become a Moroccan commuter and I love it! Many of my interviews, as well as meetings with my Moroccan partner, require me to take the hour long train ride to Rabat. The other night, on my way home, I sat next to an older woman in a djellaba. She must not ride the train very often because she was very jumpy. Whenever the ride became the least bit bumpy she tensed up. When trains passed by at high speed, which truly can scare even seasoned riders, she jumped. Every time the lights went out she would say "Oh la la"with a sense of panic. Playing with the young boy in front of us seemed to console her, though. I do not know a Moroccan woman of any age that can avoid stopping to touch, kiss, and play with a child.

So far I have completed three interviews. I walked around the Medina with my partner, Sara, capturing man-on-the-street (mos) interviews about dreams of receiving public transportation licenses. The recent publication of a list of beneficiaries of these licenses is the subject of my story. The Transportation Minister, Azziz Rabbah, released the list and most of the names on it are those of famous athletes, singers, and business people. Moroccan monarchs have long used the licenses as a means of granting favors and ensuring loyalty. For example, Hassan II, rewarded Saharans who supported his Green March with licenses. The license basically allows its holder to do very little work, sitting back and enjoying revenue for life. The mos interviews revealed that average people dream that the King will bestow licenses upon them. Some even write letters begging for a license and throw them to the King. Clearly, although many people say Morocco is on the path to democracy, the Moroccan economic system is not very democratic. Aside from the fact that the King and friends own important shares in Morocco's biggest companies and huge plots of the best farming land, rewarding select citizens with a guaranteed life income is not an example of a free economy. Encouraging citizens to think that they will be the next to receive a 'get out of work free card' is also not a democratic principle. Rabbah's publication of the list of beneficiaries shows a step toward change and I want to make US listeners aware; I think they'll find it interesting and thought provoking.

Sara and I also interviewed Najib Akesbi (in French!), a top Moroccan economist. He had such interesting thoughts on the issue! He doesn't believe Morocco is on a path toward democracy and he thinks the list was a good first step toward change, but has yet to see a follow up. Then, last Sunday, we interviewed the US Ambassador and his wife off the record. Their home, Villa America, is beautiful and I greatly enjoyed their company as well as the company of their friends. We had a fascinating discussion on multiple Morocco related topics including the suicide of Amina, legally forced to marry her rapist at age fifteen. Originally a French law from the colonial era, girls are given the legal option to marry their rapists. Amina's parents felt this was a better option for her than life with her lost virginity, which pretty much guarantees that she will never find a husband. There is no punishment for rapists. While in France the law has evolved with changing society, in Morocco the law has remained and has become deeply embedded in culture. While many Americans would probably expect religious reasons, deeply rooted cultural customs are often the reason why Morocco is slow to develop in some ways.

Now I'm trying to get an interview with Aziz Rabbah, himself. After that I think my interviews will likely be finished and I'll just have to write the script, organize sound clips, record, edit, etc.

In terms of living on my own, I had a fun adventure this week when my power went out one night and had not returned by the next. I knocked on my neighbors door and as the 16 year old opened the door light flooded out from behind him. I was the only one sans electricity! I asked him who the building's superintendent was and we hopped in the elevator to find her. We ran into two other residents, a Moroccan woman and her Italian husband (I think they are husband and wife, but I'm not sure) who took it upon themselves to help me! First we went back up to my apartment to check le déjuncteur (the circuit breaker). When that didn't work, the Italian got the key from the super as she was picking up her son from day care, went into the dark basement, and messed around with my apartment's electrical conteur (counter) box. It made several zapping noises, which worried his wife. We had many interesting discussions including one about "Munhutta". The Italian kept asking me if I knew of a city just outside of New York called Munhutta. The neighbor's son joined in; he had heard about Munhutta too. Then all of a sudden he changed the way he pronounced it and the word became recognizable. Manhattan! "Yes, I told them! But Manhattan is New York City! It's one of the boroughs." None of them had ever visited the US, but they dream of visiting New York. "New York is my dream city," the Moroccan woman said. I told her to come visit, but she said she didn't have the means. One of the Italian's parents is Belgian and the other is Italian so he knows French, Italian, and at least four other languages that I forget. English, funny enough, was not one of them so all of our conversations were in mixed French and Darija.

About an hour later we discovered that my counter unit was burnt and an electrician would have to come in the morning. So the next morning I called the Moroccan version of New York State Electric and Gas and became their eager student and flashlight holder while they arrived and fixed my unit in less than an hour. That afternoon I went for a walk to a patisserie artisinale américaine, which I had stumbled upon when Princess came to visit me a couple of weeks ago. I bought my immediate neighbors and the Italian/Moroccan family two large boxes of cupcakes, demonstrating my gratitude with New Yorkers' current sweet obsession.

What a different experience living in Casa and working on my story has been as compared to living in Rabat and going to class everyday!

P.S. Sorry there are no photos, but my commuter status makes it difficult to pull out my camera like a tourist. I'll try to snap more photos soon when I'm not on the job.