New projects abound, new dreams are developing--and that is to make it to Algeria in the very near future to begin ethnomusicological research. This video helps explain why:

Another Chapter

<--The glass pyramid outside the Louvre Museum in Paris


Well, it's been a very packed 10 weeks. I'm pretty tired and ready to be back "home" I suppose.

The last 2 days of exploring Paris were nice enough but as impressive as Paris is for its grand architecture and high culture, I'm reminded that European cities aren't my thing. I wanted to at least see Paris but I don't enjoy museums or crowds so I just wandered around to get a sense of the city and tried to stay away from the hoards of tourists. I was dumbfounded at the lines for all of the attractions, particularly for climbing the Eiffel Tower.

It was good to have the affirmation that I'd rather be in South America or Africa on a dirty, rusted out old bus filled with chickens and goats, lurching down a pot-holed road, sweating my butt off than in a museum or 1000 year-old cathedral with sculptures of dead white saints. ha

In any case, yesterday, I wandered by the Eiffel Tower and hung out for awhile inside Notre Dame cathedral. Today, I ventured out to a big bookstore in Montparnasse to buy a book by a French Gnawa scholar I've been wanting to read. Then I wandered around the grounds and garden of the Louvre Museum, down towards Place a la Concord and further on. I spent about 8 hours or more on my feet and it felt like half of the day, I was searching for a toilet, only to turn around and spend $6 or more on a cappuccino.

Looking back on the 10 weeks, I packed it pretty well: the big wedding in Casablanca; four weeks in Tetouan studying guimbri and Arabic, and three lilas with a trip to Asilah and Tangier to meet more ma'alemin; 5 weeks in Essaouira for the Festival and for studying more guimbri, beginning to learn how to sing and play the songs on the guimbri, as well as general Gnawa concepts; meeting several people in Essaouira who changed the direction of my Gnawa research (Zilabidin, Laraby, and of course, Sidi); various trips to Sidi Kaouki, Aourir (the village near Agadir), Diabat, and Imessouane for lilas; hanging out at Ma'alem Seddik's house and spending more time with all the guys there, learning so much about various perspectives on Gnawa; attending the Hamadcha mosseum and developing my teacher/student relationship with Sidi; studying French in my free time.

I feel very satisfied with my trip and hope that I gave myself enough rest time, too. I guess I'll find out when I get to Boston. I am really craving nature right now. Except for my trips to various beaches here, I didn't get to see the mountains in Morocco, which are magical. I'm very much looking forward to nurturing that need in Colorado when I spend 2 weeks with mom. It will be good to be "home;" the only real home for me right now, I suppose. I am so glad I went back to Morocco as even 10 weeks there really made a difference for how I will approach the next 2 years of my Master's program in Ethnomusicology.

Now, my questions are very different and I'm curious to see how I will approach the ideas of music in trance and possession. A part of me feels like I need to go do some research in Niger or West Africa and experience West Africa vodou or NE Brazil. Who knows. Right now, I'm looking forward to a big hug from mom, a home-cooked meal, iced tea on the patio, and soon after that, the Colorado mountains.

I'm waking up at 4:30 AM tomorrow to get to the airport in plenty of time so I'm going to sign off now....

I leave you all with a beautiful practice I learned in Morocco: before you put anything in your mouth, liquid or food, and before you walk through the door to someone's home, take a moment to give thanks. The Moroccans say, "Bismillah" which means, "In the name of God." It is a way to remember what a gift it is to eat and drink and to have a home. At this very moment, although we are more sheltered from it in our Western society, there are so many people going hungry, thirsty and living on the streets.

For every bit of sustenance that passes your lips and blesses your life, give humble thanks.

After Midnight in Marrakech

<--the photo I took of Sidi in 2009 of which I gave him a copy





















My long journey leading me back home began when I left Essaouira for Marrakech on Sunday afternoon. Hassan has a friend there, Munir, whom he wanted to see and who offered to put me up, too.

It was surreal to leave Essaouira and still hasn't really sunken in that I won't see that place for awhile. I did get a chance to say goodbye to Ma'alem Seddik Sunday morning, but not really anyone else since I ate some bad mayonnaise (or something) on Friday and was sick most of Saturday. In any case, I managed to squeeze out enough energy to make some copies of pictures for the guys at Seddik's so I could at least leave behind some nice memories.

After cleaning up the apartment and giving back the key, Hassan and I left Essaouira and arrived in Marrakech around 10 PM. My first impression of Marrakech back in 2008 was pretty negative and I hadn't really been looking forward to going back, especially in the miserable heat of summer where it was hanging around 45-50 degrees Celcius. However, it was the only way to split up my journey back to Casablanca into sane segments and even more important, it was a way to see Sidi again, the Gnawa ma'alem/guru I previously wrote about.

The first order of business was getting a taxi to Munir's house, which as a tourist in Marrakech, even for Hassan, is already a test of patience and nerve. Within minutes of arriving, Munir presented the tajine he had prepared for our arrival. As a side note, Munir told me it was rabbit meat after I had begun eating it and once he did, I had a hard time continuing; I always had rabbits as pets as a kid. Anyway, Munir decided to join us in our rendezvous with Sidi, which was helpful since he knows Marrakech so well.

Sidi met the three of us out in the street near his humble apartment. We followed him that up steep and narrow concrete steps into a one-room, concrete studio. He has throw rugs on the floor which double as the sitting and sleeping area and another small, steep staircase leading to a fridge on the first landing and the kitchen above that. Unbeknownst to us, Sidi had actually reserved us an apartment when we told him we were coming to visit him so we felt guilty that we had to break the news to him that we were staying with Munir and only visiting for a night. However, I was very moved by the gesture.

After a bit of small talk, Sidi set about making us the most amazing tea I think I've ever had which is saying a lot here in Morocco: it had a touch of the famous Moroccan mint but also two other herbs that I couldn't place. The prepration of the tea took him about 40 minutes so I didn't ask for the recipe.

Sidi put on a video of him playing in the 2009 Gnawa Festival which was a perfect segue into one of the small gifts I had brought him: a stunning picture I took of him at that very concert. He also put on other old videos of Gnawa performances and began talking. Munir and Hassan occasionally translated into French for me. I asked Hassan to ask Sidi if I could come back and study with him, and to tell him that I am going to seek a grant or some other form of money to come back and study with him.

When Hassan began translating his response, Sidi reiterated that I needed to study with a single ma'alem and really focus and think clearly about the decision to come back and study. He also said I would need to forget everything I already know about Gnawa as if I've never heard of it before: I need to be a blank slate in a way. This makes sense to me for all the scattered stories and mixed up “truths” about Gnawa that currently exist. And from what Sidi is saying, it sounds like a great deal of what is already written about the Gnawa is also not on target. I agreed with all he had to say. At one moment, when I thought we were still talking about what I would need to do, he turned to me and said, “Wakha, lalla, Wakha” Okay, madam, okay. “Lalla” is a very polite form of address from what Hassan told me and Sidi's voice was sweet and delicate when he said it, lit up by his bright smile.

Most of the discussion that evening was somewhat of a continuation of the evening he spent at my apartment in Essaouira: how much Gnawa has changed and how it really was in the old days, what *really* is the tradition and the meaning. He also recounted a fascinating story about the first time he met Viviane Paques, one of the most highly-regarded scholars of the Gnawa. After hearing his story, based on what he recounted of Paques, I had another wave of feeling like a chance to study with Sidi would challenge an enormous amount of previous Gnawa documentation in perhaps a very controversial and yet dynamic way.

Sidi talked until 2 in the morning and would have kept going if Hassan had not urged us out the door. The three of us were exhausted, except Sidi. I had brought Sidi a pair of the traditional leather men's pointed shoes or babouches and I picked up a natural brown color since all the men typically already have yellow, the traditional color. He seemed pleased but I got the feeling that Sidi doesn't really need or want much at this point in his life. Even when I handed him the picture of himself from the 2009 Festival, he smiled at it and started to hand the photo back to me when I said to him, “No, it's for you,” and then he thanked me and posted it up on his wall near some other tattered and faded posters of his performances.

When we left, Sidi said he'd walk us to a place where we could find a taxi. We must have walked 15 or 20 minutes until we reached Djemaa El Fna, the famous large square of Marrakech. I was taken aback by how charmed I was by Marrakech after midnight. It was incredibly hot, probably in the 90s even at that time, and I was flashing back to my travels in West Africa, the only other place I have felt that hot. The streets were nearly deserted but there were still some stragglers in the narrow market streets: boys hanging out around shop fronts and street sweepers. Somehow, in the heat and emptiness, Marrakech grew on me. I asked myself if I could live here for awhile, which would be a given if I come back to study with Sidi. I suppose I could. I suppose I could learn to love Marrakech for its chaos.

This time, Sidi's goodbye was a touch more encouraging. He had made eye contact with me a bit more than before, something that I guess is just part of the culture of him being an old man and a teacher and probably never having had a “young” female student before. Although I realize it's probably a form of respect, it's still challenging when the guys are talking, rarely acknowledging that I'm there, and little eye contact is made. At the same time, Sidi is a sweet old man and so I know it's not some form of neglect. In any case, his goodbye was warm and we piled into a taxi back to Munir's house. It was so hot it was hard to sleep but I managed to doze a couple hours before catching the train at 9 AM for Casablanca.

Soirée in Imessouane

The guys during the soirée with Ma'alem Seddik in the green/center. Not sure who the guy in the blue is. He just showed up in costume. A Gnawi wannabe I guess.

Last Friday, Ma'alem Seddik had another Gnawa gig in a very small and relaxed beach village called Imessouane about 2 hours south of Essaouira. Although it was being called a “lila,” this one in particularly was absolutely not a lila. The event was at an auberge, run by a large, busty Moroccan woman with bleached kinky hair and dressed in sexy European attire. Ma'alem Seddik wanted to be there for the sacrifice, which would be done early, so we left Essaouira at 7 AM and arrived a little after 9. There was a little bit of stress with the departure when Najib didn't show up and some of the other guys were late. Najib caught a taxi later, though.

In the end, the sacrifice was really just the butchering of a female sheep who cried and cried when she was drug over to be inspected by the woman. That was tough for me and it really did nothing for the ceremonial context of the Gnawa.

After being served breakfast, most of us went for a walk in the port and burned time drinking coffee and wandering around, followed by a fresh, grilled fish lunch in the port. By early afternoon, the clouds had cleared and it was warm enough to go swimming, including Ma'alem Seddik. I sought out a smaller, less frequented beach with Hassan because I didn't feel super comfortable getting into bathing gear in front of all the guys. We stayed until close to 5 PM when we found everyone else back at the Auberge, relaxing on the terrace.

We all got a last bite of dinner to eat before the music started at 8 PM. I made the mistake of smothering my dry sandwich in mayonnaise which the guys warned me about after I'd eaten most of it (and sure enough, the next day was rough).

The beginning of the concert, before loads of people showed up at the auberge drinking, was the best. The energy and singing between the guys was fantastic; there was great energy and clarity in the chorus. However, once the “sacred” songs began that call the spirits, it just started feeling weird. The atmosphere felt blasphemous for a music that is intended to be spiritual and healing.

I had brought special incense for Moulay Abd el Qadir Jilani again and tried dancing but it was very difficult to “go deep” into the music and concentrate on the dance. Whatever momentum I had going was interrupted by a guy from Essaouira who showed up drunk and started stomping out of rhythm next to me. That really killed the feeling and I sat down.

I became quite saddened watching most of the rest of the “show” and tried following the power of the music; I tried dancing again to Moussawine when Ma'alem Seddik pulled me to my feet (one of his prodigies was giving him a break on the guimbri so he was acting as a moqedm of sorts) but I couldn't hold the feeling; the atmosphere was just too weird. The large woman seemed to not be too fond of me either since I was traveling and hanging out with the musicians. Maybe she thought she was going to have to pay for me, too. But Hassan told me, “You are one of the group now, we aren't leaving you behind,” so I didn't need more of an invitation than that.

When the music finally ended and most of the clients had gone to bed around 1:30 AM, the second best part of the day, second only to the swimming in the ocean, followed: sleeping on the terrace under the stars. Although it was a bit breezy and cool, the stars were amazing. I saw a few shooting stars before I fell asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, I had a pain in my stomach and felt nauseous: the bad mayonnaise was taking hold and it stole most of Saturday from me.

Maalem Seddik

Soirée With Friends

Left to right: Hassan, Ma'alem Seddik, Mohammed Sherrif, and Amin

Nuksha

The guys begin the Nuksha series of the Gnawa Bambara repertoire