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| The busy streets of the Fes Medina (Mr. Australia with the backpack) |
Morocco is great! The people are friendly, helpful and always willing to show off a little something they know about your language/culture. There was the girl on the train who nudged me awake before she got off at her stop so that I wouldn't miss mine. The taxi driver who realized I was nervous arriving in Fez at midnight and so got out and walked me to the front door of my hostel. And the lady at the bus station who excitedly told me her great grandmother was Italian and spent 20 minutes telling me how much I looked like that side of the family. I have truly found kindness and generosity in the people here. But everyplace has its assholes and Morocco is no exception. At times the nature of Moroccan life itself can be infuriating. This is a hustling, bustling, scrappy, gritty place and the hustle is always on. You can NEVER simply ask for directions; can't be seen looking at a map. Even your gait needs to be steady, for a hint of hesitation is an invitation for an offer to "help".
"My friend! You want to go to old city? Come. Come!"
Some will straight up tell you they expect to be paid. The sneakier ones will say it's free, then ask for a "gift" at the end. On the whole, the concept doesn't bother me. I get it. I read the guide book. I know what I'm getting myself into. I have no problem with smiling politely, firmly saying no and then walking away. I'm also not worried about being perceived as rude for ignoring the more persistent ones who, even after a firm no, follow you down the street or start walking in front and guide you regardless. Most of the time, I found people really nice and helpful even after my "no's". However, things change when traveling with others. You and your co-horts need to be on the same page.
Here in Fez, I was fortunate enough to find a friend; well he found me, a bright, funny, extremely intelligent Australian who was also traveling alone. We got along swimmingly. He; however, was too nice and his idea of a firm "no" was wobbly at best. Most times he would rather slip someone money than deal with the hassle. And let's get this straight, we're talking about 1 or 2 dollars to navigate a labyrinthine city center (the largest in Morocco) that even with the best map would still confound. Overall the pairing was perfect; good cop/bad cop. Sometimes he would acquiesce as I would roll my eyes and other times I would step in when we really didn't need the hassle. This morning, however; something went wrong. Maybe it was because we had acquired a 3rd person; a friendly and quite chatty Chilean guy. Maybe my patience was wearing thin from the day before. I don't know. All I know is that we knew roughly where we were going...the Jewish Quarter to visit a cemetery and synagogue...and we knew we were heading the right way. All of a sudden a guy approaches Mr. Australia (since I'm a woman I'm never approached when in the company of a man). The guy offers to take us somewhere. I can hear Mr. Australia mumble under his breath, "oh not you again" and then continue,
"Oh thank you. We're just walking around. Thanks!"
I don't hear him actually use the word "no" but I do watch him nod his head up and down while he speaks.
It's clear that while he's speaking English, the finer points of the language may be lost on this Moroccan guy. I'm pretty sure that all the nodding and thank you's will NOT lead him to leave us alone and now our little group is stopped in the middle of the square. So I turn around and with my hand on my chest (a gesture of respect in Morocco but one I had the habit of doing even before learning this) and say, "Thank you but no", twice firmly but not angrily or aggressively.
FUCK YOU!That's his response. And he doesn't stop there.
"Who are you to do this (he mimics my gesture) and talk to me like this. Fuck you and I fuck your mother!"
My companions are shocked. Strangely enough, I'm not bothered. His words cause no reaction in me and I don't fear for my safety. I'm pretty sure a young Moroccan boy is not gonna use violence on a woman tourist in an open square in the middle of the day. Also I find I have a pretty good instinct about who is just blowing off steam and who has a real potential for violence. And so, I am calm-even pleased. My intervention has had the desired outcome. The guy turned, walked away &; left us alone. I turned around to my new friends.
"Wow...ok...I wasn't even rude to the guy, was I?"
Mr. Chile responds, "Well, yes..you ARE a woman".
I stop short. I feel like I've just been told to remember my place. I feel like I've just been gut-punched. Then Mr. Australia says something about me coming off as masculine or aggressive or something. I don't really know because I can't really hear him. He's standing right next to me but I am crumbling into myself. My entire sense of self plummeting to my feet as a hot molten rage boils and rises; ready to blow. My insides are crying and screaming. I open my eyes and realize the universe is not as I thought. No one here thinks I'm equal. Even these seemingly seasoned travelers believe there is something not right about a strong direct stubborn, outspoken female. I can't believe they would have found anything wrong with the same action had it come from a "dude".
Heavy with sadness, I took a moment for myself to breathe and let the tide of emotions swing wildly until it passed. But I was changed. After that I became acutely aware of my tone, my choice of words. I didn't offer my opinion; kept my thoughts to myself. I realized that it is these subtle beliefs that can be more damaging than blatant ignorant brutality...which can easily be ignored.
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