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Sunday, May 23, 2010

MisReading Morocco - A Travel Writer in Tangier



We do not usually re-post things that are displeasing to our tastes. But in this instance it is being done in what we hope is constructive criticism. The following piece was posted on worldhum.com and needs to be "unpacked." Western tourist in Morocco, can't help but think of gnomes when he sees the traditional jilleba, and overuses the term "modern." It seems as if he is obsessed with the impending modernization of Morocco. In other words, he is asking, when are these people finally going to be just like us? We are all too smart for this kind of voyeuristic travel writing about Morocco.
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The Back Lanes of Tangier

Rick Steves: On the pleasures of wandering in the evolving Moroccan city

05.18.10 | 12:11 PM ET
Tangier

A week ago Monday was my birthday, and no one in Morocco knew it. To celebrate, I took a couple of hours alone just floating through the back streets of Tangier, observing.

Looking at a window filled with photos of adorable little boys wearing fezzes and gauzy girls dressed like princesses, I realize why I like the display windows of family photographers throughout the world. They show the cultural ideals to the extreme—the way mothers dream their children might look—and provide insight.

I don’t know if men run the show here, but they outnumber women in the cafés 100 to one. I want to take a skinny teenage girl’s photo. She giggles with her friends, shows me her wedding ring, and says her husband would have her head if she let me do that. Yesterday my local friend told me, “Moroccan men like their women meaty, not skinny. But that is changing with the young generation and television.”

Old men walk around like sages in robes with pointy hooded jellabas. It makes me wonder whether a teenager might say, “Dad, I know you wear it and Grandpa wore it, but I’m just not going to wear the pointy hood.” Seeing these old men in pointy, rough cloth hooded robes, I keep wanting to ask, “Where’s the gnome conference?”

Wandering through the market, I collect a collage of vivid images. A butcher has made a colorful curtain of entrails, creating mellow stripes of all textures. Camera-shy Berber tribeswomen are in town today selling goat cheese wrapped in palm leaves. A man lumbers through the crowd pushing a ramshackle cart laden with a huge side of beef. He makes a honking sound, and I think he’s just being funny. But it isn’t the comical beep-beep I’d make behind a wheelbarrow. Small-time shipping is his livelihood, the only horn he has is his vocal chords, and he is on a mission.

Wandering deeper into the back lanes, I see henna stencils in plastic wrap—a quick and modern way to stain the designs onto your hands. Another gnome walks by with a pointy hood and a long beard—half white and half hennaed red.

Tiny shops buzz with activity. One small place, no bigger than a small bedroom, has been divided horizontally with a second floor five feet high. It houses a rickety loom on each level, employing four men who wiggle in and out of their workstations each day ... all their lives.

Around the corner, the click-click-click of a mosaic maker draws me into another tiny shop, where a man with legs collapsed under himself sits all day chiseling intentionally imperfect mosaic chips (as only Allah is perfect, the imperfection is considered beautiful) to fit a pattern for a commissioned work.

It’s pouring rain, water careens down the stepped brick lane, and, exploring on, I feel like a wet dog. Drenched, I follow a woman wearing colorful scarves into a community bakery. She carries a platter of doughy loaves under a towel ready to be baked into bread. The baker, artfully wielding the broom-handled wooden spatula, receives her loaves. He hardly misses a beat as he pushes and pulls the neighborhood’s baked goods—fish, stews, bread, sunflowers and cookies—into and out of his oven. After observing the baking action, I’m dry in minutes.

Spending my birthday in Tangier, barely seeing another tourist, I am struck by how the energy here just makes me happy. This Moroccan city is not pro-West or anti-West. It’s simply people making the best of their lives. This society seems to be growing more modern and affluent ... and on its own terms. And it’s a joy to experience it.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Moroccan Female Soccer Players Fight Uphill Battle for Resources




Here is an interesting article/radio piece about struggling female soccer leagues in Morocco. It is from a Chicago Public Radio show called Worldview. Click on the title below if you would like to hear the story. The text is below. Worldview - Moroccan Female Soccer Players Fight Uphill Battle for Resources
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In Moroccan society today female players who fought and won the right to play soccer have a new battle on their hands. They have a professional league, but they still lag far behind Morocco’s male players when it comes to the basics of the game- time, space and money.

Lisa Matuska reports from the Moroccan city of Casablanca that female football players today are entering the male-dominated field by the hundreds, and demanding a space to play.

Ambi soccer game

Saadia Salah is watching a local women’s football team- called Nassim- play a scrimmage. The team plays in Salah’s neighborhood of Sidi Moumen- a sprawling, low-income suburb of Casablanca.

ambi soccer game

A former player herself, Salah, 38, says when she played there were no girls teams. she would have to sneak out onto the field just to get in a few touches on the ball-

SALAH: the boys they would follow us throwing stones, when we would enter the field, they would climb the walls and throw rocks and we would stop playing, Then women wearing traditional clothing, they would peak over the wall and they would say, “come look come look,” they would call each other and just stare at us. We got embarrassed so we stopped. It was like they were kicking us out by just staring

Today many of the girls practicing here play in head scarves- wrapped extra tight, for sport. A group of boys huddles outside the fence, watching and criticizing almost every touch the girls make. Nassim is one of 24 teams in Morocco’s premier division for women’s football. The league began in 2004 and is run by the same federation as the men’s teams But Nassim’s coach Adil Farass says the women’s league is more disorganized.

FARASS: they told us this season there will be support but nothing has come, when we went to play Fqih Ben Salah we borrowed money for transport, today the referees came and we had to borrow money to pay them.

It’s difficult to compare the structure of men’s and women’s football in Morocco. Professional men’s football is supported by a youth structures like neighborhood teams, camps, and academies. Women’s football has no organizational youth structures. So when young girls want to play football, they have to join the boys in the streets.

JRAIDI: One day I was playing and Farass was with his boys team and he saw me play and came up to me and said, “you must play with my team, you play well and you have good skill” and from then on I was with him in Sidi Moumen.

Jraidi says now there are many more girls in the streets playing football.

JRAIDI: Now the problems are money, field, and the federation, we still haven’t gotten our stipend yet.

The stipend is small. Each women’s team gets 30 thousand dirham (that’s 4 thousand dollars) a year to cover costs like equipment, transportation and referees. If they have enough, the coaches try to give the girls extra money when they win. The men’s teams receive about twice that amount from the federation. Male players in the premier divisions typically have salaries that exceed what one girls’ team gets in a year.

Plus, the men’s teams get support from a well-established football industry- generating money from TV coverage, sponsorship and ticket sales. Girls’ teams in Morocco have looked for outside support, but few companies are lining up to sponsor them. Women’s games, which are free, don’t usually draw a crowd, let along a paying crowd.

Radio Mars show

Once a week on this daily sports radio show, Journalist Hassan Manyani covers women’s football - he interviews federation officials and coaches and people are calling in.

MANYANI: It’s the mentality around women and also it’s the federation which hardly manages to provide support or funds for the men’s leagues, so now there is a sort of awareness that it has to reorganize and develop women’s football but its coming, there is an awareness and this is already a good thing.

Officials from Morocco’s soccer federation did not make themselves available for this story, but Manyani predicts solutions will not come easily. One of the biggest obstacles is that most of these girls in the league are also still in high school. Men at their level are usually older, or don’t need to stay in school- for them football can be a job.

Soccer’s international regulating body, FIFA, held a symposium on women’s football three years ago. It said the next step to develop the sport is to have more women as referees, coaches and administrators.

BOUBIA: The Green Walker, This is my first team

Amel Boubia is a volunteer coach for the Nassim team.

BOUBIA: I wanted to play with Raja Ain Harouda but I stopped to practice football because I wanted to be a coach, I passed some course for football and now I coach team Nassim Hay Mohammadi.

She’s heard that this season the Moroccan federation is looking to give extra money for coach’s salaries for the women’s teams. But she’s skeptical. 37-year-old Boubia has an impressive resume in women’s sports: as a player and a coach she’s participated in women’s football camps all over Morocco. But Boubia says she still can’t find a salaried job in female sports. She uses herself as a cautionary tale.

BOUBIA: the girls must give importance for their study because the sport now is without salary and not job, you can practice sport only for your health and your feeling, not for a job.

Boubia also knows that as girls get older, more of them are pressured to leave the game by their families and society. And in her own job search now, she’s given up on Morocco- she’s practicing her English in hopes of finding a job outside the country. And that’s hard, because she sees something unique in the Nassim girls, and she’s like to continue to coach them.

BOUBIA: For the Nassim team, I think they have a good future because they’re all around the same age, they were born in 95, 94, 93 and they have potential, so hopefully they will do well.

Ambi sounds of Nassim game

On this morning Boubia watches as the team plays on a wet and rocky field. 18-year-old Ibtissam Jraidi is playing forward. While Jraidi’s playing, she isn't focused on the obstacles she’s overcome. She’s not thinking about advancing women's sport in a Muslim country, or giving confidence to young Moroccan girls. She says she’s here for another reason.

JRAIDI: Football, it’s mixed into my blood, I can’t spend a day without playing it.

And even the boys smirking behind the fence can’t argue with that one

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Casablanca's New Art Galleries and "Unsung" Old City


We must admit that Casa(blanca) is often (purposely) bypassed when in Morocco. It has too much of what we go to Morocco to get away from. Here are two articles, one from the New York Times, that celebrates Casa's burgeoning art scene and one from the Guardian that offers tips on appreciating Casa's medina (old city). Only the first page of this article is posted below because it is too long to post in its entirety. Please see the link above for the full Guardian article.
Peace!

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Now, Cultural Casablanca

By MARISA MAZRIA-KATZ
Published: May 9, 2010

ON the industrial outskirts of Casablanca, Morocco, feral dogs roam the grounds of an abandoned meatpacking plant. Today, the sprawling factory, still replete with dangling meat hooks and blood-stained floors, is the unlikely venue for Casablanca’s largest independent art exhibition space, Les Transculturelles des Abattoirs, or the Transcultural Slaughterhouse, which has featured unusual site-specific pieces: sets of sculptured feet placed side by side on the ground, for instance, and faces pasted directly on the white tiles lining the space’s walls.

The transformation was made possible in 2009 when Casablanca’s mayor, Mohamed Sajid, warded off eager commercial developers and placed the 215,000-square-foot complex (rue Jaafar el Barmaki Avenue, Aïn-Sebaa Hay Mohammedi; 212-526-51-58-29; casamemoire.org) in the hands of Casamémoire — a nonprofit architectural preservation society — with help from the city’s nascent arts community. The move was a testament to the emerging importance of Casablanca’s cultural sector, as were the openings, over the last two years, of a stable of contemporary art galleries across the city.

Nestled amid the street peddlers and roaring diesel engines that clog Casablanca’s boulevards is the nearly two-year-old Galerie Atelier 21 (21 rue Abou Mahassine Arrouyani; 212-522-98-17-85; atelier21.ma). For Aziz Daki, the gallery’s co-owner and an art historian, the city’s mushrooming art scene is a reflection of the cultural interests of King Mohammed VI, an enthusiastic collector. “His passion for the arts has been one of the inspirations for what is now a growing group of Morocco-based collectors,” said Mr. Daki, whose gallery represents 14 Moroccan contemporary artists. “He really is one of our art world’s most important role models.”

The years since the 1999 transition from the relatively repressive reign of King Hassan II to the more tolerant and economically savvy regime of his son, King Mohammed VI, have meant big business for entrepreneurs like Youssef Falaky, a co-owner of the six-month-old Matisse Gallery (2 rue de la Convention, Quartier Racine; 212-522-94-49-99), a spinoff of a location in Marrakesh. “Before the death of Hassan II, people were living in the dark,” he said. “No one wanted to look rich. But now people are spending, and that has meant more investments in the art market.”

Hassan Hajjaj, an artist who splits his time between his native Morocco and London, was one of the first artists featured in Matisse’s Casablanca space. “Casablanca has its own special flavor,” said Mr. Hajjaj, whose work updates stereotypical Orientalist imagery with an almost Andy Warhol Pop Art flair. “The city is at that stage where there are a lot of hungry people that need spaces to show. It’s a big, chaotic city. But good things are growing out of it.”

Myriem Berrada Sounni, 29, who owns the 11-month-old Loft Art Gallery (13 rue Al Kaissi, Triangle d’Or; 212-522-94-47-65; loftartgallery.net) with her 26-year-old sister, Yasmine, said the city’s art scene has gone mainstream. “At the opening of our last exhibit we had ministers and presidents of banks,” she said. During a recent visit to the gallery, little red dots signaling a sale could be found next to nearly every painting on its pristine white walls. “In Casablanca,” she said, “art galleries are now a place for people to see and be seen.”
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Of all the medinas … insider's guide to Casablanca

Few tourists visit Casablanca - which is a shame, says author Tahir Shah, because it is Morocco's unsung jewel

* Tahir Shah
* The Guardian, Saturday 8 May 2010

Close your eyes and think of Casablanca, and your mind most probably comes alive with images of Bogart, Bergman, and Sam tickling the ivories in the smoke-filled Rick's Café. And there's nothing wrong with that. Except that Casablanca the movie has almost nothing to do with Casablanca the city. Shot almost exclusively in Hollywood, the wartime film portrays Casa (pronounced "Caza" by locals) as a cosmopolitan colonial crossroads of the exotic east. It features just one (uncredited) local character, Abdul the doorman. It's a fabulous example of Hollywood not letting the facts get in the way of a good story line.

Six years ago I dragged my wife and two small children from our cramped flat in the East End of London to live in Casablanca. We bought a rambling mansion with five courtyards, gardens and a pool in the middle of the sprawling Sidi Ghanem shantytown. It is quite the most magical spot but the learning curve has been a steep one, especially when we learned that the house was said to be infested from the floor to the rafters with wicked spirits, known as jinn. After lengthy exorcisms and endless renovations, we set about getting to know the city that had become our new home.

Casablanca seems to bear the brunt of every Moroccan joke, while being given a wide berth by most tourists. But spend a little time here and you begin to see that those who scorn it are missing something very magical.

In recent years the international jet-set have discovered Marrakech and a handful of other Moroccan cities. They wax lyrical about the "real" Morocco they've found in the narrow streets of labyrinthine medinas. Yet none of them ever mentions Casablanca, except to relate how they escaped it as quickly as they could. And that's the first thing that appeals to me about Casa – the absolute lack of tourists.

Eat in one of its many restaurants and the food is consistently good – because they rely on repeat business, rather than on tourists they will never see again. The restaurants, cafes and nightspots are full of Moroccans, not tourists, and thus far more atmospheric.

When the French took control of the small Portuguese-built port of Casablanca a century ago, they set about transforming it into a showcase of their colonial might. From the outset, they conceived it as a pleasure dome of art-deco architecture and European culture, the kind of city in which local Moroccans would be reminded of the imperial motherland. Luring the greatest architects from France with the prospect of building a city from scratch, the French administrators had Casablanca designed from the air, the first city in history to be laid out by aeroplane.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Moroccans Struggle to Make Italy Home


Here is an article from the Financial Times about Moroccans living in Italy and the challenges they face.

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Moroccans struggle to make Italy home


By Guy Dinmore in Turin

Published: April 28 2010 18:33 | Last updated: April 28 2010 22:12

Change comes slowly in Italy and just as the industrial city of Turin is establishing itself as the country’s most progressive urban administration tackling integration issues, the tide of immigration may be starting to recede.

Evidence is anecdotal for the moment, but it appears that at least among the Moroccan community – the largest group of non-European Union immigrants, numbering some 30,000 in Turin – people are packing their bags and going home.

The economic crisis is biting and jobs are much harder to find. On top of that, new legislation makes it harder for immigrants to renew their residence permits, and the xenophobic Northern League, a hardline coalition ally in the centre-right government, is resurgent following its sweeping gains in regional elections last month.

Abdelaziz Khounati, the Moroccan president of an Islamic association that has the green light to build a mosque in Turin, reels off a list of cities where the Northern League has blocked similar projects, sometimes threatening to walk pigs across the land to desecrate it.

“First the League campaigned against the southern Italians who migrated to Turin decades ago, then it was foreigners in general. Now it is Muslims,” he says, standing in the large empty building, part of which used to be a Chinese-run clothing workshop, where the new Misericordioso (Merciful) mosque is taking shape.

It will be only Italy’s second formally recognised mosque after Rome’s, funded by the Moroccan government. For the moment Muslims across Italy worship in “cultural centres”, sometimes no more than a garage or a basement.

“We stand for an open, integrated, multicultural society where all people’s rights are respected,” he says. An Islamic cultural centre will be opened next to the mosque, promoting studies, social initiatives and inter-faith dialogue.

“The mosque has been a war of nerves,” says Ilda Curti, city councillor for integration under Sergio Chiamparino, Turin’s popular leftwing mayor, as she describes how the Northern League has tried but ultimately failed to exploit legal loopholes to block the city-backed project.

Turin, described by the United Nations as a best practice model in Italy, has focused on integration in schools and runs a scheme giving immigrant youths the chance to work as volunteer social workers, bending the rules to ensure they keep their residency.

But Ms Curti says difficulties in obtaining Italian citizenship are also driving away young and talented immigrants who have come through school but now face insurmountable barriers. The “medieval corporativism” of many professional associations makes citizenship a condition of membership.

The Northern League’s victory at the polls last month – where it defeated the centre-left administration in Turin’s surrounding region of Piemonte – is further bad news for immigrants. The League intends to strip non-Italians of their access to unemployment benefits, a feature unique to Piemonte, even though some have been paying their taxes for years.

Mohammad Mouharba was among the first wave of migrants in 1989, when Italy offered jobs and residence permits. Mr Mouharba now runs a popular bakery specialising in Arab and Italian pastries on the edge of Porta Palazzo, Europe’s largest open-air market where many fruit and vegetable stalls are run by Moroccans.

People he has known for years are going home, unable to renew their residence permits. “They expel you if you have no work. This is inhumane,” he says. “With the League it will get worse.”

His two children, aged 18 and 15, have Italian citizenship and are “more Italian than Moroccan”, he says. “But you always remain an immigrant here.”

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Les Etoiles de Sidi Moumen - a New Book by Moroccan Writer Mahi Binebine


Here is an article about a new book by Mahi Binebine that is once again treating the familiar subject of Moroccan slums and the creation of terrorists. It is a topic that peaks Western interest, but the books/movies on this subject don't seem to ignite any strong anti-poverty movement in the 'Ghrib.
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BOOKS: STORY OF A KAMIKAZE IN THE CASABLANCA ATTACKS

(ANSAmed) - PARIS - ''Les etoiles de Sidi Moumen'', the latest book by Moroccan writer, painter and sculptor Mahi Binebine, tells the story of the journey of one of the young kamikazes who took part in the Casablanca suicide attacks on May 16 2003, and the social, religious and human malaise of the Moroccan shantytowns.

Released in January by Flammarion, in addition to receiving positive reviews - it was recommended by 2008 Nobel prize-winner for literature J.M.G. Le Clezio - it will be turned into a film, directed by Moroccan, Nabil Ayouch. The adaptation of the book is one of the 15 projects chosen for their artistic quality by the Cannes Film Festival's Cinefondation. The projects will be presented at the next edition of the event in May to seek financing. The full-length film will cost three million euros and should be filmed in November in Casablanca and Fes.

At the beginning of the book, one would expect a Moroccan version of 'City of joy', but the shantytown-dwelling youngsters of Sidi Mounem get involved with an emir who offers Yachine and his gang of shoeless rascals who dream of becoming the best footballers of all time, ''the keys to paradise'', which will open the door to hell for them. Binebine imagines what goes through the head of a youngster from a family of 13 brothers, who grew up in the dumps of one of the worst slums only 15 minutes from the economic capital of the country, clogged with over 100,000 people. ''In Sidi Mounem, I discovered a Morocco that I did not know, which shocked me, a sort of Calcutta,'' said the writer, who took five years ''of pain and difficult writing to put an urban nightmare into black and white''. A childhood made up of robberies, bloody dealings, hashish, but also love for one's mother, laughter, football, and then the descent into the underworld towards a misguided Islam synonymous of terror.

A novel, not a political book, which speaks to the powers that be with a simple message, explained the author: take care of these youngsters, educate them, give them jobs, give them back their dignity. We are sitting on a powder keg, tomorrow there could be another tragedy.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Message in a Bottle from USA Coasts to Morocco


Here is an article from a small paper in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina about a bottle with a message that was sent by people from North Carolina that washed up on a beach in Morocco.
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Message in a bottle dropped off Carolina coasts to Morocco

by Staff
Monday, April 12, 2010


A message in a bottle dropped off the Carolina coast in 2008 was found last week by a couple in Morocco. On April 7, the couple e-mailed Cape Fear Community College that they were walking the beach in Tangier when they found a message in a plastic bottle from students enrolled in CFCC’s Child Development Center dated June 5, 2008.

The students created the bottled message as part of a school project. At the time, one girl’s father was an instructor on board a CFCC Marine Technology research vessel. He took the message in the bottle on a voyage and it was dropped into the Atlantic’s Gulf Stream about 60 miles off the coast of Charleston, S.C.

The finders, both Spanish instructors from Valencia described the way they found the bottle.

“We were on our way back to Spain after spending almost two weeks traveling around Morocco. We decided to pass the last night at Grotte d'hercule. In the afternoon we had a walk around just to stretch the legs, because we spent eight hours driving.”

When they arrived at their campsite on the beach, they saw the bottle floating in a small lagoon beside the sea. Even though the bottle was very dirty, the paper inside was white with big green letters and very easy to read.

“We felt some curiosity, because it wasn't written in Arabic. We can’t believe that it came from the USA . . it is something that doesn't happen . . . very often!! Once in our village, Valencia, we searched the Internet and the address of that college in Wilmington.”

The couple who are studying to become biology teachers said they valued the experience created by the schoolchildren to whom they replied: “Dear friends, when we find your message we were in a very special trip, visiting a very different country, people and culture. Travelling is the best way of opening the mind, to approach cultures and eliminate prejudices. And the finding of the message showed us that we are not so far (away) as we believe. Thanks a lot and greetings from Maite and Julio, Valencia (SPAIN).

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Trying to Make it into Melilla


Until we can find some more uplifting news out of Al-Maghreb, here is article from the Guardian about people trying to use the Moroccan territory of Melilla that was colonized by Spain to get their "big break" into Europe.
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Melilla: Europe's dirty secret

African migrants will do anything to get into the Spanish enclave of Melilla. And the authorities will do anything to keep them out

Back in the autumn of 1998, a teacher from Melilla called Jose Palazon noticed something strange was happening each night to the dustbin in front of his house. He kept an eye out and discovered that, under cover of darkness, a young boy was removing the rubbish from the bin so that he could sleep in it. The idea of the child being reduced to the status of trash was worrying but not entirely surprising to Palazon, who was used to the sight of migrants sleeping rough on the streets of his city.

Melilla sits on the north coast of Africa, surrounded by the waters and territory of Morocco. For the ceaseless tide of African and Asian migrants working their way northwards, it has a compulsive attraction: by accident of military conquest more than 500 years ago, this city which is geographically African is legally part of Spain. As the migrants reach the Mediterranean, where so many of their predecessors have died, Melilla offers them a safe bridge into Europe – if they can smuggle themselves across its barricaded perimeter.

Palazon and his wife, Maite, got talking to the boy and found he was only 11 years old and had been living in the dark corners of the city since he had come over the fence from Morocco three years earlier. They succeeded in adopting him and tried to persuade the city's council to help the other migrant children on its streets, joining with friends to form a campaigning group called Prodein. But, Palazon recalls: "They didn't want to help the children, as that would encourage more to come to Melilla."

And that is the problem behind the simplistic calls for British jobs for British workers – if you treat migrants well, give them the kind of human rights Europeans demand for themselves, you only encourage them to keep coming. So Melilla has become a kind of theatre, acting out the most intense human dramas which are calculated to send a message of deterrence to that great global audience of hopeful poor.

The message is: "Don't be fooled by the wide avenues and beautiful fountains of this Spanish city. None of this is for you. Stay where you are, stay poor and, if you dare to try to come here, we'll hurt you. If you're really unlucky, we'll let you stay here and you'll have no way out, you'll just be trapped and hopeless, without any legal rights to call your own."

This theatre clearly involves the Spanish, although they have shown some signs of attempting to be humane, but it is by no means uniquely their production. The Moroccans, too, are deeply implicated in the killing of migrants on the African side of the fence as well as in the entirely illegal export of men, women and children into the desert beyond their borders. And the European Union as a body is the power behind the Spanish, funding the production, writing the script, ignoring the casualties, whether physical or legal. To protect our jobs, the EU authorises Melilla to be a theatre of cruelty.

When Palazon found the boy in his bin, in the late 90s, this could be pretty crude. The Council of Europe's committee for the prevention of torture uncovered evidence that Africans who made it into Melilla were held in farm buildings where conditions were so bad, some took refuge in abandoned cars on a nearby rubbish dump. They were then likely to be given by the police a drink of water containing a tranquilliser, after which they could be wrapped in adhesive tape covering almost all of their body, including their mouth, for easy delivery by military plane to their country of origin where, in some cases, reports emerged of them being ill-treated and even killed by local law officers.

In those days, the 10km fence around the landward side of the city was not much more than rolls of barbed wire. In 1999, as EU resistance to migration grew, the city erected an intimidating new barrier – two parallel 4m wire fences, topped with razor wire and with a tarmac strip running between patrolled by the Spanish Guardia Civil, all of it monitored by 106 video cameras, infrared surveillance, a microphone cable and helicopters. In Melilla, a man who had worked on the fence told me he would arrive at work in the morning to find his ladder covered in blood, where migrants had tried to use it to climb into the city and had become victims of the razor wire.

Some made it over the fence. Some managed to smuggle themselves into the city in the backs of cars. Human Rights Watch found that children travelling alone were still finding their way in and were being held by the Spanish in an old fort, La Purisima, where they were beaten by staff, robbed and assaulted by older children, and kept in punishment cells for up to a week without bedding or toilets before being shoved back into Morocco where the police might give them another beating and put them out on to the streets to fend for themselves. Human Rights Watch concluded that the Spanish were breaking their own immigration laws and were guilty of "arbitrary and discriminatory" behaviour. (You begin to see why Jose Palazon's dustbin seemed attractive.)

Still, the new fence worked – not by stopping the migrants but by diverting many of them out to sea. They emerged from the Sahara and embarked for the Canaries or southern Spain in tiny rowing boats, sometimes succeeding, sometimes drowning – until 2004, when the EU paid for extra coastal patrols and sent them flowing back to Melilla and to a new and bloody crisis.

The migrants gathered in their hundreds in the scraps of woodland outside Melilla and organised mass assaults on the city's perimeter. By summer 2005, Amnesty was reporting that those who were caught on the fence were being treated with excessive force by Moroccan and Spanish guards, and those caught inside the fence were being illegally expelled back into Morocco, often to be dumped in the desert. By autumn, there was clear evidence of murder at Melilla and, along the coast, outside the similarly Spanish city of Ceuta.

A human rights lawyer from Melilla, Jose Alonso, went out to the fence at night: "It was the closest I have ever been to a war, going to the fence and seeing what was happening. There was a helicopter over the Spanish side with a huge light shining down on the Moroccan side. There was shooting. From where I was, I saw hundreds of people trying to get over the fence. Both sides were shooting down at them. It was like a film about a war."

Between August and October, there were at least 11 deaths at Melilla and Ceuta – most of them shot with live ammunition as they rushed the fence at night; one man with his throat crushed by a rubber bullet; dozens of others injured by bullets or by falling from the fence; many of them reporting they were assaulted and robbed by security forces. The Spanish said it was the Moroccans; the Moroccans said it was the Spanish. On one night during these months, six men were shot on the Moroccan side of the fence at Melilla: the Moroccan authorities said this was self-defence because the migrants were throwing rocks at them. Nobody was charged with any of the killings.

In the background, Amnesty tracked Moroccan security forces sweeping through the makeshift camps in the woodland, rounding up migrants, including asylum seekers, and dumping them out in the desert on the Algerian border, 30km from the nearest village, without food or water. Some tried to walk into Algeria, only to be caught by Algerian forces and sent back to Morocco. Médecins Sans Frontières found 500 migrants, including pregnant women, stranded in two villages in the area and reported that in the previous two years, they had treated nearly 10,000 migrants with illnesses and that nearly a quarter of them showed clear signs of violent attack, including beatings, shootings, attacks with dogs and sexual assaults, all of which the victims attributed to security forces. The Moroccans blamed the Algerians. The Algerians blamed the Moroccans.

Looking back at these few months of intense violence, Amnesty concluded in a special report: "In the past few weeks, scores of people have been injured and at least 11 killed while trying to cross into the Spanish enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla when they were confronted by the law enforcement officials of both countries… Hundreds more, including possible asylum seekers, have been rounded up by the Moroccan authorities and placed in detention or forcibly removed. The evidence we saw showed law enforcement officials used force which is both unlawful and disproportionate, including lethal weapons. They injured and killed people trying to cross the fence. Many of those seriously injured inside Spanish territory were pushed back through fence doors without any legal formality or medical assistance." The Spanish reacted by building an even bigger fence, subsidised by the EU.

By the time they had finished, the landward side of Melilla was protected by three 6m parallel fences, decorated with motion sensors, cameras and watchtowers, prowled by cars and helicopters and more troops than ever. The migrants kept coming. The guards kept shooting. On one night in July 2006, three African men were killed at the fence and 12 others injured. More started coming round the seaward side of the city, sometimes in small boats or even on jet skis, sometimes paddling in life jackets, sometimes face down and no longer breathing.

The Spanish and their paymasters in the EU reacted by creating a new kind of fence, a bureaucratic one. Migrants trickle into the city. Some apply for asylum, some simply ask for the right to reside. Their cases are considered and almost always rejected. Some of the rejects can then be expelled. But many come from countries that have no repatriation agreement with Spain. For years, the Spanish dealt with this by giving them a letter telling them they were expelled and putting them on the ferry to mainland Spain with instructions to take themselves back home, knowing that they would disappear into the world of black-market jobs and phoney papers. But as word of their success spread homewards, more followed. Now, they are not allowed on to the ferry; and they cannot be sent home because their countries have no agreement with Spain; they cannot be shoved back into Morocco because there is no agreement with it either; and so they stay, a living warning to those who might be tempted to follow.

There are hundreds of these stranded people in Melilla. Many are Asians who have paid people-smugglers to get them to Europe. In Melilla, I met them and heard stories of terrifying journeys, which began well enough, with the smugglers flying them from the Indian subcontinent through Dubai into central Africa, often into Mali, and then disintegrated as the smugglers betrayed them.

Shaibul was 23 when he left Comilla in south-east Bangladesh in January 2004, clutching his degree in commerce, aiming for Madrid and the chance to earn money to send back home. He was stranded in Mali for six days, alone in a house while the smugglers disappeared; he was stranded again with 17 other Asians somewhere in the Sahara when their driver vanished; then picked up and dumped in a date field in Algeria, where a gardener betrayed them to police, who drove them out to a scorching wasteland back on the border with Mali and left them.

"We found people in tents there," Shaibul told me. "They were lost, too. They called this place Zero. We begged food and water. One person in our group had a mobile phone and we spoke to our families. We were crying, very afraid. It was stone cold at night, baking in the day. There were high winds and sandstorms. Our families went to the smugglers, who said they must pay more money. My father said, 'I cannot lose my son', so he borrowed more from the bank and gave it to the smugglers. Other families did the same."

Moved by this extra money, the smugglers came and drove them back into Mali and, as the weeks went by, extorted two more payments from the families of their passengers while they drove them north and south, abandoning and rescuing them, until finally, having sold the family's land in Bangladesh, Shaibul's father secured him a place on a speedboat that took him from the coast of Algeria to the bottom of a cliff. "They told me, 'This is Spain, you must wait for the sun and then go up the cliff.'" Of course, it was not mainland Spain – it was Melilla. It was 29 December 2005 when Shaibul reached the top of the cliff and walked into the city. It had taken him 23 months to get there. And now, more than four years later, he is still there.

He can't move on to mainland Spain because the Spanish will not let him, although it is not clear that they have any legal right to restrain his movements in this way. He has not been charged, convicted or jailed for any crime. He is stranded. He cannot get back into Morocco or Algeria, because they will not take him. He cannot go back to Bangladesh, because they have no repatriation agreement with Spain, and anyway, Shaibul says: "My family have lost everything to pay for me to be here. Better to kill us than to make us go back."

He and several hundred other migrants survive in Melilla, partly because the Spanish authorities have provided a new Centro de Estancia Temporal de Immigrantes, known as the Ceti, where there are clean, safe dormitories and regular meals; partly because people hire them for odd jobs, washing their cars and sweeping their paths. They constantly ask Ceti staff for news of their permission to stay, but are told that it is for the police or the government to decide. If they become agitated, they are given tranquillisers. They say the only way to get a place on a ferry to the mainland is to act as a police informer. They refuse. From time to time, police make raids on the Ceti to grab migrants for expulsion. Many prefer to sleep on the streets than take the risk.

Moroccan soldier Hicham Bouchti applied for asylum in Spain after accusing the Moroccan authorities of running a regime of torture in their prisons. He has spent more than four years bouncing between borders, always coming back to rest in the nowhere land of Melilla. The last I heard of him, he was deep into a hunger strike.

Then there were the young parents of a baby boy. The mother was Moroccan, the father Indian. While the mother had been ordered back home – where she feared punishment from police and family for having sex before marriage with a non-Muslim – the boyfriend was told that he could not go with her because the Moroccan authorities would not accept him. Instead, three years after arriving in the city, he must continue to wait.

Ali Achet, who used to work in a CD shop in Dakha, has been stuck in the city since 9 December 2005. His family paid €3,000 (£2,626) to a smuggler, who agreed to fly him direct to Morocco. Instead, he was sent by bus to India, then by plane to Ethiopia and Togo, where he lived as a beggar for a year and was reduced to a walking skeleton, before finally his family helped him to bribe his way into Melilla in the back of a car. He said, "We came looking for liberty, but this is a prison. What have we done? Every day we wait for a solution. We are suffering. We have nothing now. A prison sentence is definite. This is endless."

Gregorio Escobar, governor of Melilla, sits in his well-appointed office in his neat grey suit. "We have a responsibility to take care of this border," he says, "not only for our own citizens but for all of Europe. Also, Spain has a responsibility to take care of the people who happen to get inside." He is no monster, and explains that he understands the pull of the city when the average per capita income inside Melilla is 15 times higher than it is on the other side of the fence in Morocco, and almost immeasurably higher than in sub-Saharan Africa, from where most of the migrants come.

Not far from Escobar's office, a group of about 50 Asians gather in the Plaza Menendez y Pelayo and chant a call for their human rights. Amnesty has continued to record reports of migrants being beaten and shot and dumped in the desert by the Moroccans. In Britain, the jobs are safe for British workers.

• Additional research by Jill Baron

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Morocco's Misguided War on Terror


Here is an article from Foreign Policy on the way things go for some people in the Moroccan judicial system.
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Morocco's Misguided War on Terror
How the persecution of Islamists across North Africa, in the name of fighting terrorism, is sowing the seeds for future instability.
BY AIDA ALAMI | APRIL 9, 2010

On a rainy Tuesday morning in February, a group of about 20 veiled women -- most of them dressed in black niqabs, the full-body veils favored by the most conservative Muslims -- stand silently in the street in front of the Rabat administrative tribunal. These wives, mothers, and sisters of alleged terrorists detained by the Moroccan government have come from across the country to show their support for one of their own, Fatiha Mejjati. Inside the courtroom, Mejjati is bringing a suit against the Moroccan government for wrongfully detaining her and her then-11-year-old son for nine months in 2003.

Since the May 16, 2003, bombings in Casablanca, when 14 terrorists launched a series of suicide attacks on several sites in the city, including the Belgian Consulate and a Jewish community center, killing 45 people, Morocco has adopted its version of the USA Patriot Act. This law increased the punishment for terrorist-related activities and, most importantly, criminalized the "intent of committing an act of terrorism," a crime the government interpreted broadly, using it to convict hundreds of people.

The U.S. government has embraced Morocco as a "moderate" ally in the region, more than tripling economic aid to the country since 2003. "Morocco is a leader in the fight against terrorism," said the U.S. ambassador to Morocco, Samuel Kaplan, in a televised interview in early February. He insisted that the efforts taken by the Moroccan government were "clear, direct, and strong." Indeed, the Moroccan government has taken staunch measures in the name of security over the last few years.

Human Rights Watch, on the other hand, stated in its 2010 annual report that "human rights conditions deteriorated overall in 2009 in Morocco." The report cited the unfair detention of presumed terrorists among the reasons for this decline.

Following the 2003 terrorist attacks, more than 2,000 adherents to a conservative interpretation of Islam, known as Salafism, were arrested and sentenced to terms ranging from 30 years to life in prison. Today, Morocco's Salafist population still labors under government suspicion and has been the target of repressive measures, including trials over trivial matters, kidnappings, and arbitrary detentions. These counterterrorism policies have particularly affected the families of the presumed terrorists. Many children remember very well their fathers' arrests and have themselves been exposed to scrutiny. Their parents warn that they themselves can be bombs waiting to explode.

Inside the courtroom, Mejjati, dressed all in black and holding a Samsonite briefcase containing pictures of her son, is making her case against the Moroccan government. She is the widow of Karim Mejjati, the deceased al Qaeda operative who was allegedly involved in the planning of the Casablanca attack, as well as the 2004 Madrid train bombings, which claimed 191 lives. He was killed in a shootout with Saudi forces in 2005.

In 2001 and 2002, Karim Mejjati took his family to live in Afghanistan and then Pakistan, with the stated goal of meeting Osama bin Laden, before settling in Saudi Arabia as a midlevel field operative for the organization. Fatiha Mejjati claims that one morning in March 2003, while she and her son Elias were on their way to the doctor, they were arrested and sent on a private CIA jet to the Moroccan prison of Temara, where they were detained for nine months. Fatiha Mejjati said she was interrogated about her husband's terrorist activities solely in relation to the United States. She said they underwent all sorts of tortures, such as sleep deprivation. Morocco denies Elias and his mother were ever detained.

Today Elias has serious mental and physical problems, including depression, paranoia, hormonal dysfunctions, and obesity. He is prone to violent outbursts. He does not attend school and only leaves the house to go to the doctor. "They ruined Elias's childhood; they must pay for it," said Fatiha Mejjati.

While Mejjati is inside the courtroom waiting for the judges to decide her case, her support group is waiting outside. Demonstrations such as these, a frequent occurrence in Morocco, are organized by An-Nassir, an organization that assists families of detained Salafists. All these women have a son, a brother, or a husband in a Moroccan prison. They all have a story to tell: the horrible detention conditions of their family members, daily repression from local authorities, denial of their rights as citizens, discrimination in the workplace, and marginalization of their children at school.

The women have a hard time containing their outrage. "Why are they in jail? Where are the proofs? Where are the bodies? Where are the bombs? To justify putting my brother in jail for 30 years?" demanded Khamissa Rtimi, the sister of Abderazak Karaoui. Her brother is innocent, she claims, and was arrested solely because he lived next door to one of the terrorists who conducted the Casablanca attacks.

Another woman, Rachida Baroudi, stands by herself. Her head is not covered, and she is dressed in pants and a jacket. Her son was arrested and jailed for a comment he wrote on a blog in which he expressed his anti-Western sentiments. "He is a prisoner of opinion. He has not done anything and is not prone to violence," his mother said. "I have to financially support his wife and his two children. One of them was born while he was already in jail. She only knows her father inside a prison."

The word "Salafist" is very often misunderstood and confused with terrorism. That is because al Qaeda's religious ideology rests on a particular jihadi branch of Salafism that encourages violence. However, the jihadists are the minority among adherents of Salafism. Most do not believe in using violence to spread their beliefs. The distinctive dress of Salafists -- the women are fully covered, and the men have beards and wear long blouses -- might make them easy to pick out of a crowd, but their ideology is poorly understood by most.

In fact, there is a politically quietist strain to many Salafist movements. French scholar Gilles Kepel, a visiting professor at the London School of Economics IDEAS center and an expert on political Islam, describes the original Salafist trends as nonviolent. "They are not advocating the revolt against one who holds power, against the powers that be," he said in a PBS Frontline interview. "They are calling for re-Islamization at the daily level."

In Morocco, however, all Salafists are treated as a potential threat to national security. Thousands have been thrown in jail over the last few years. Abderrahim Mouhtad, who runs An-Nassir, said the estimated number of prisoners today is around 1,000. Human Rights Watch's annual report denounces the conditions of suspected Islamist extremists of the 2003 bombings, who continue today to serve prison terms. "Many were convicted in unfair trials after being held that year in secret detention for days or weeks, and subjected to mistreatment and sometimes torture while under interrogation," the report states.

The Salafists have attempted a few hunger strikes to protest their detention, but with little effect. "There are a great number of innocent Salafists in the Moroccan prisons," said Mohamed Darif, a political science professor at Hassan II University in Mohammedia, Morocco. "There wasn't enough proof against the majority. They were convicted even if it wasn't clear that they were involved in any kind of terrorist activity."

According to him, Morocco's example is not unique. Many North African regimes, such as Algeria and Mauritania, in a bid to consolidate their power, have used the U.S.-sponsored war on terror as an excuse to crack down on their Salafist populations. "After 9/11, the American government has pushed many countries to fight religious extremism. The Moroccan government instrumentalized the May 16 attacks to pass an anti-terror law," Darif said.

King Mohammed VI, Morocco's ruler, has tried to soften the edges of his country's harsh treatment of Salafists. In an interview with the Spanish newspaper El País in 2005, he admitted that the measures taken in the past may have been "exaggerated." The king said that "there are no doubts that there have been abuses" and pledged that "it is necessary that such events never occur again." In 2006, he pardoned a few Salafists as a goodwill gesture.

According to Selma Belaala, who studies North African Islamic movements at the Centre d'Études et de Recherches Internationales in Paris, the Moroccan government successfully cast its counterterrorism efforts as a set of policies that not only employed the security services, but also aimed at reforming the country's legal and cultural norms. "The king did not only engage in a wide repression; he also reformed the laws, and society with a new family code," she said. "Women gained more rights, and the population was more educated. This is an effort to culturally fight radicalism."

From the Rabat courtroom, Fatiha Mejjati has a different perspective. She is waiting impatiently for the judges to deliver their decision. She paces in and out of the courtroom, thanking her "sisters" for coming all the way to the country's capital to show their support. She even fights with the security guards, asking them to let the other women in the courtroom so they don't have to stand in the rain. Near noon, the judges finally read their judgment: Her motion is denied.

"This court is a masquerade. God will give us our payback," Mejjati yells. She then walks out of the courtroom and hands the women assembled outside pictures of her son, Elias, showing him before and after his detention. A normal looking 11-year-old has transformed into an obese, sickly, acne-ridden teenager. The women start marching peacefully under the rain through the streets of Rabat in protest, followed closely by the police.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Building Affordable Housing in Morocco


Here is an article from the Financial Times about plans to increase affordable housing in al-Maghreb.
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Morocco offers home help to its poor

By Heba Saleh

Published: April 7 2010 17:42 | Last updated: April 7 2010 17:42



Standing outside her ramshackle home in one of Casablanca’s slums, Aziza El Shannani bemoans her living conditions.

“If it rains, the water comes in, and if there is wind, the roof moves,” she says.

Some 2,500 people live in the huddle of small dwellings made from breeze blocks and topped with metal sheets weighed down with stones. The narrow alleys between the houses are less than a metre across. There is no running water in the homes, with residents instead having to use a public tap.

Many such as Ms Shannani say they would like to leave but they have to wait for a government scheme to progress. Morocco has a shortfall of 1.2m low-cost homes, and every year this figure increases by 125,000.

It is a region-wide problem that the Moroccan government hopes to tackle with a package of incentives designed to revive the construction of low-cost housing, which was announced in its most recent budget.

This includes tax breaks for buyers and developers alike, with 10-year exemptions from capital gains tax for companies building affordable housing.

One company taking advantage of the new measures is Addoha, one of the North African nation’s largest real estate developers, which accounts for almost half of the low-cost housing being constructed in Morocco.

The company plans to build up to 25,000 apartments for people on low-incomes in the country this year, and 120,000 homes over five years.

“The tax exemptions are for 10 years so it gives us clear visibility,” says Abderazzak Oualieallah, assistant director-general of Addoha. “Our profit margin is 30 per cent but it was difficult when the tax breaks were abolished in 2008.”

The company has a land bank of 6,000 hectares, half of which is earmarked for affordable homes. Land for housing aimed at the poor is provided by the state at a discounted price.

Mr Oualieallah says he expects the easier terms for developers to encourage more companies to enter the sector and that the problem of unmet demand could end within 10 years.

Despite the fact that the company has yet to announce the locations of the developments, more than 150,000 people have put their names down on a waiting list.

“Renting is not good because landlords are always trying to throw you out,” says Khadija Greir, as she leaves the the Addoha headquarters in Casablanca after registering for an apartment for herself and her unemployed 34-year-old son.

Ms Greir says that King Mohammed, Morocco’s ruler, “is now doing us this good deed by giving each buyer a gift” of Dh40,000 ($4,750).

The “gift” is a rebate on value added tax to which low-income buyers are entitled, as part of the housing package announced in the budget. Registration fees have also been abolished.

The number of units a developer has to build to qualify for the incentives is 500 over two years. The units should be sold at the fixed price of Dh290,000.

The provision of cheap housing is part of the “Cities without Slums” programme initiated in 2004. More than 30 slums have been cleared, but many remain. The government aims to move 280,000 households out of the shanty towns.

The government has in recent years turned its attention to clearing slums after 14 suicide bombers from a shanty town outside Casablanca killed 45 people, including themselves, in 2003. Some of the larger slum communities had become breeding grounds for extremism, spread by unauthorised mosques preaching admiration for Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda.

The construction of low-income housing, however, had flagged after earlier tax breaks for developers were withdrawn in 2008, and even the cheapest housing is beyond the means of many slum dwellers.

The government now plans to spend $7.5bn during the next decade on low-cost housing and its slum clearance programmes.

It has also been encouraging mortgage providers to lend to lower-income families. In 2004 the government set up Fogarim, a guarantee fund, which is used to underwrite 70 per cent of the sum loaned. It is funded by a levy of about $12 on every tonne of cement sold in the country.

“This makes banks more comfortable about lending even to those who do not have a regular pay cheque,” says Youssef Benkirane, head of brokerage at BMCE Capital.

As a barrier to speculation, owners of the low-cost homes are not allowed to sell for four years.

For those who cannot afford the monthly mortgage payments of $120, which are the norm for the low-cost units such as those sold by Addoha, there is an alternative scheme that offers subsidised homes costing about $19,000.

Mr Benkirane says that the scheme has worked well during the past five years, and adds that the rate of non-performing loans has been less than 1 per cent – “because people do not want to lose their flats”.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010.