When it Rains in the Sahara

There is a saying here: come to Morocco and be surprised. Another way to say this is that nothing happens like it’s expected to. This weekend we went to the Sahara and it rained.

After a long week of orientation, all of the English Teaching Assistants traveled together to Arfoud, a city in southeastern Morocco, very near to the Algerian border and the Sahara desert. The trip began with a big surprise. Our leader, Dr. Jim Miller, the head of the Moroccan Fulbright commission, was supposed to travel with us. However, his office forgot to tell the travel company he was coming, so when the bus arrived there was no run for him, and off we went, on our own, into the Moroccan wilderness. That was the moment I realized that for much of these 10 months I will be on my own and fending for myself. It was a bit of a shock, but a good realization. 

Arfoud, our destination, stands about 600 km southeast of Rabat, our temporary home. Without stops, it's about an 8 hour car ride. We stretched it to 12. Normally, such a long ride in a crowded bus would be torture, but we came together as a group and had a really fun time. Those of you reading this from Rice may be surprised that for some reason people in the Fulbright ETA group think I’m funny. We told stories and sang along to such great 1990s artists as Bryan Adams, Toni Braxton and Celine Dion. Moroccans love their Celine Dion and Dolly Parton. Both drives turned into great bonding experiences.


Our hotel in Arfoud was unreal in many ways. Built on the outskirts of town, it resembled a palace. The interior featured zellij, traditional Moroccan geometric tile work and a marble fountain. As you walk in, you're greeted by the smiling portrait of King Muhammad VI. Remember, Morocco is a monarchy. Along the way we saw many 'billboards' (words written using piles of rocks on a mountainside) stating the unofficial national motto: "God, Nation, King." This is Morocco's holy trinity. Hotels like the one we stayed at are monuments to the vision of the King and his government. Tradition mixed with modernity, all designed to appeal to the sensibilities of Western tourists.


Tourism is Morocco's second largest industry, and I'd like to share some thoughts on the subject. Along the way to the dunes Friday evening, we stopped at a Berber family's tent for tea. This was obviously set up by our tour company and some of our group decided not to participate in the stop because they felt it was too exploitative. It is true that commercializing a lifestyle is a form of exploitation, but I think that it is too simple to look at the situation in such a way. Westerners come to Morocco looking for an 'authentically oriental' experience. This is what we had over the weekend: we rode camels, we saw the dunes, we played drums and sang songs with Berbers. Those experiences are contrived and not 'authentic', per se. But on the flip side, Moroccans also look to Westerners as sources of income in an otherwise poor and economically depressed country. Touristic exploitation is not one sided in this case, it is symbiotic. When we signed up for our desert tour, we sought our 'authentic' experience. We also provided every Moroccan we interacted with an income. This is not to say that exploitation does not occur, nor that tourism is not exploitative, but I think it's important to realize that the Moroccans in this situation are not passive participants. They want tourist dollars and try hard to get them because they don't have many other options.


One form of tourism that is exploitative, as well as damaging to a 'native' culture, is sexual tourism. Morocco and much of the Middle East is a prime destination for sexual tourism. Many Europeans, and some Americans, travel to these countries explicitly to have sex. We saw this firsthand. When we arrived at our Saharan camp Friday night we were greeted by two Swiss women who explained they were there as guests of one of the guides. As the night progressed, it became obvious the were there for a specific reason. As we went to bed, they disappeared. There was some rustling in the bushes and then in the morning, they woke up next to the Berbers. 


This is the definition of exploitation. Westerners who engage in sexual tourism view their hosts purely as sexual objects. This also works both ways. Any Western woman who has been to the Middle East will tell you that harassment is a big problem. Men on the streets frequently cat-call or approach Western women, whispering 'Gazelle' or other things in an attempt to 'woo' them. On the surface this seems a result of a sexually repressed society and a lascivious image of Western women. While these play a role, a huge factor is that such behavior works. These men know that many Western women are in their countries to have sex with the locals, so they try to find them. The result is harassment. The presence of the Swiss women definitely changed the attitudes of our guides. All but one of them tried hard to work their magic on the girls in our group. Hyperbole is valued over subtlety. As we went to bed, one of the guides told Grecia that he would build her a hotel where they could live and run their own Saharan tourism business. Other were offered camels for their hands in marriage.


While that night was uncomfortable, nothing could dampen the effect of being in the Saharan dunes. As we rode into them as the sun set behind us, I felt very similarly to how I feel sometimes in the Rocky Mountains. Nature everywhere possesses a certain majesty, but certain natural phenomena impress that majesty on you in and overwhelming way. You feel submerged in this sense of connection with something much greater than yourself; an immersion into a realm of great power and permanence. I’ve felt this way staring up at a peak from the shore of a high mountain lake. I felt it again riding into the dunes, surrounded by mountains of sand. On our drive we passed through the Middle Atlas mountains. The dunes we saw exceeded these mountains in every description. It was truly an amazing sight and an amazing feeling. It permeated the whole experience.

As a closing note, I would like to mention that last Friday was my birthday. Thank you to everyone awho wished me well on Facebook and e-mail. But especially thank you to my fellow Morocco Fulbright ETAs who made that day one I will never forget. That afternoon they surprised me with pastries and sang me happy birthday. I was completely surprised and flabbergasted. Going forward in this experience, I am comforted knowing that though I will be alone, I have a community of 8 peers who are caring people whom I trust and who I know I can rely on for any type of support. I feel fortunate to be here in any case, but I am especially grateful to be in Morocco with such great people.