morocco part 2

ok, my blog is living my past!! but here goes!

So there we were, four Westerners dragging a car in a very third world way. The girls responded marvellously and that is one thing I have to say for rainbow people. They don't complain much, adapt easily and can still smile through it all. Just as well, because before long we were stranded on the side of the road without lights in the middle of the night and still not starting properly. At the mercy of some Moroccans at this cafe, we sat resignedly inside the car, trying hard to just keep positive at this early stage of the trip. I even thought I saw fearless Anka frown with frustration. Help came soon, though, some of the people outside responding to our plight and after checking a few things found one of the fuses to be burnt out, meaning that the ignition plus the lights were impaired. With a small wire we were on our way, in awe that such a small thing could bring to a halt something so big. We stopped the first night at a rivermouth in Kenitra, the girls just sleeping their first night in the North African country outside on the river's side while I, cowardly expecting a swarm of masked pillaging midnight raiders, squashed in the backseat of the Renault Clio. In the morning a cool guy with a little overgrown rat of a dog, invited us to his house, where we ate some food and got some of the local produce. Then we moved on south to Safi where cool couchsurfer guy Hicham was waiting for us at his parents' abode.

It was good to be there with those three very independent and happy girls in a culture which barely recognises their rights on a an equal plain to men. They were always so keen to connect with Hicham's mum and another visitor from France that they made the whole 3 or 4 day stay go by really quickly with me even managing to score a pretty hefty session surfing lefts near Safi that left me feeling the need to get back into the water after nearly a whole year of surf inactivity.

The girls also attended a wedding celebration where they danced away with other guests, shopping around town for djellabas and making new friends along the way.

Soon, however, it was time to head to the rainbow and in a beautiful journey where it actually rained upon us and the girls played guitar and sang joyfully for the whole length of the trip we finally got to our destination after encircling through various windy roads, a militarily controlled dam and various impossible speed bumps that had us all squealing for pain as the undercarriage clanged again and again. Actually finding the rainbow was also a mini-miracle, our map being wrong and only a memory jog from Anka helping us to realise that what we were seeing outside corresponded to what we were headed for. The little village 16km from Immouzer with the bridge and the turn-off 200m to the left were all there and all we needed to do was take them. We did and arrived at a parking where some over-welcoming locals told us to confide the car in their capable hands. Reticently I followed them and soon found the rainbow family hidden deep in the valley.

For anyone who hasn't been in a Rainbow, they are normally unique encampments in the middle of nowhere with very little in the way of modern commodities and as plain living as possible, very little electrical use (mobiles and even torches are frowned upon) and water is normally drawn from a spring, with the nearest one here being around 4km walk away meaning a dozen of us had to trek off at least every other morning to fill our bottles and carry them back on our bare backs. Food was clearly cheaper than other places though we couldn't count with recycling of course which is sometimes an option in European rainbows. Buying en masse at Moroccan souks was a funny experience as few expect us tourists to be doing anything other than minor food purchases at most.

I think the French travellers just get on so well there as their home language is so widely spoken that they really almost run the show. It's a mischievous thought because I love those guys to bits but sometimes I feel they step into the colonial shoes of their forefathers who conquered most of West Africa. They have no fear, but just authority and the sort of short-tempered snappiness you would expect of a colonial master at times, treating the Moroccans a bit as if they were barking up the wrong tree. Maybe I read it wrong and its just confidence. Then again, everyone asked if I was French so I think I will pitch for this last interpretation. I suppose as Westerners among a people so dying to achieve the wealth and freedoms our forefathers fought so hard for which then we turn down so easily makes us feel kind of superior. How can we value individuals who seek what we have turned down and which for them is so easy to achieve if they were not so greedy in the first place. Or are we worse, seeking to devolve our way of life only for the sakes of environmental or spiritual reasons when we should just settle for our decisions?