Fes
wherein Sue stands her ground as her kind hosts try to convert her to Islam.by Sue Chau
April 2000
the second of five letters from Sue's solo backpacking trip to Morrocco.
I decided to leave Saida and her family and travel alone to Fes by bus while they return to Casablanca (Casa). I met Fatima, with whom I spent the next 3 hours talking, as the spectacular mountain-scape unfolded around us and nearby children vomitted from motion sickness. Fatima was returning to Fes after more than a week's off on vacation. Our conversation ranged from the scenery to our personal lives, and naturally, she invited me to stay with her and her family. So onwards with the next adventure, and I've inadvertently replaced one family with that of another. Substitute family with identity or religion/faith, and you have the circular path of man.
But as before, the feeling of constraint is ever present. I've kindly excused myself for a couple hours today by telling them I'm going to an internet office to check email. Fatima and her family is a religious bunch, and I am in the best of hands. We spent quite a bit of time discussing religion the other night, and I had a difficult time extricating myself from the conversation. In the end I pretended that my understanding of French was at its maximum comprehension, and that was that. They told me the virtues of Islam, and how it is naturally better than Christianity and Judaism for the very fact that Islam validates the existence of other prophets (Islam being the most recent derivation of the word of God). They also explained that the Qua'ran is the only book that has not modified the word of God. They explained the rituals of praying and fundamental things I should know about the beneficient Allah.
Then they asked about my religion. In the beginning, I was evasive because my belief system differs so much from theirs. I attempted to explain my belief that whatever names one uses in different religions, there is a similiarity, of a source of creation. I couldn't define this source, and explained the little that I know of eastern philsophy and theories in psychology. They didn't want theories and asked the basic questions: do I believe in God, heaven and hell, and what are my basic principles. For them, religion is the motivation to act generously and to be good citizens in life - they explained the logic of heaven and hell analogously as good or bad grades in school. If you don't have final exams, what is the purpose of doing well; they admit to the dichotomy of men and that men can act justly or not. I did not want to argue about religion with convicted people because they cannot be persuaded otherwise.
I told them I am accepting of different religions, because in the end they're the same. They way I would put it, however, would be that every individual is his/her own God. How could I tell them that each person is a God. That would be worse than polytheism, a crime which I've already committed since I talked of Hinduism. They already told me I am going to hell (indirectly). Ultimately, they want to save me, from the depths of hellfire. They are acting in accordance with Allah's law, and Muslims, I would say, practice what they preach (most).
Despite all of that, they are very generous, and want to give me anything in which I expressed interest - I am aware of this and have done the utmost to not show my admiration. I had said I liked hirira (Moroccan soup), and they made it for me that evening. I said I hadn't tried cousous, and they made it for this afternoon. At the souk, I mentioned that I wanted to get a cassette tape of the reading of the Qua'ran, and they bought me one. Then they bought me a vase because I said I was looking for ceramics with designs native of Morocco. They got me a vase made in China...but I know I am helping them because such opportunities to help a seemingly lost woman (because I am alone) is a point scored for them in the eyes of Allah.
For example, Fatima has explained it thus that if you don't pray within the constrainted hours (repeated five times a day), that is a point away from God). So we have a mutual relationship; unfortunately, they won't get the extra bonus points for my conversion.
The lifestyle here is interesting. Always a mix of the old and the new. The medina (old town / walled city) is a beautiful sight. It is composed of narrow pathways that make up an intrigue labrinthye. Because I have contacts here, I was escorted through part of the medina. No worries concerning annoying guides, but I felt less capacity to explore. Though the crumpling walls betrayed the ancient history of Fes, the modern goods being sold took away from the mystique of this ancient city. It is hard to tell between the modern and the traditional, but I've come to know how traditional these people truly are.
I tried to find the pulse of this society, in the limited time that I've been here and the little that I know. The first few days were for breaking assumptions - realizing that I have to discard my acceptance of the western way of life in order to understand the Muslim, or Moroccan way. I was never truly comfortable by everyone's stares. At first I thought it was only men who stare, but later acknowledged that it was because there are mostly men who has nothing to do but sit around in cafes (women mostly stay home). It was at first an invasive feeling - to be encroached despite the physical distance. Then I noted that they only stare in the face, which carried with it no threat. Now I realize that because there is a lot of time in their hands (unemployment is 24 percent) and God's word - to help others, etc. - they stare and participate in other's lives (particularly strangers).
So the pulse of life is slow and naturally flowing, in keeping with their most popular word - Inshallah. It means God Willing.
I'm a bit tired here, although I'm not rushing about trying to see everything. It is more emotional - being who I am (when they are not used to someone like me) while giving utmost respect to the people and their country. The experience is incompable (thus worthwhile) and I am far too overwhelmed to express it as a coherent whole.
This morning I went to a hamman (bath house) - showers have been less frequent but much more than Moroccan's usual once per week (there is no hot water except in some hotels). People bring their own buckets and get water from the taps. Interestingly, people wear their panties while bathing. And it takes nearly one and a half hours. I continued bathing although I was clearly finished.
I will stay in Fes another day to day and a half. Tomorrow I acompany Fatima to the primary school where she teaches arabic (for half a day), then to the medina to look for the Sufi master, Sidi Ahmad Kostas. Tuesday I take the train to Meknes and hopefully to the roman ruins of Volubilis. I should return to Casablanca for two to three days and visit with Saida and her family. Sunday I leave for an overnight stay in London, and will spent an afternoon probably in the Picadilly Circus area. Then homeward bound.
I haven't had much time to write and I've met no other tourists in my journey. I have been aching to express these thoughts. Thanks for being my canvas.
9 April 2000
Next: Meknes