Morocco, Day 3: Volubilis and Fes Continued

My hotel roomie and I woke up early the next morning to partake in a Moroccan breakfast. I was still as pudgy as a piglet from the day before, so I had one piece of Moroccan flatbread with honey and called it a day. I did, however, drink enough of the fresh squeezed orange juice to guarantee perfect eyesight for the rest of my life. Wait. That's carrots. Hold on...no, it doesn't really matter. The point is, after breakfast we got back on the bus and headed for the Medina in Fes.

It was around this point that we started to learn that the SAS tour guide we were given wasn't exactly running what you'd call a "pure" operation. He took us to all of his friends' shops and wouldn't let us go anywhere else the entire day. Granted, they were fascinating places. First I got to see how all of that famous Moroccan pottery is made. So much effort goes into making even the smallest little plate. There are at least 3 people doing work for one little egg cup, and you have to go through a crazy apprenticeship process to even be able to call yourself a potter. Same with the tanneries. Apparently no one wants to be a tanner, like seriously nobody. It's essentially a father-son business because the families can't find any other apprentices. We were given mint plants to hold under our noses as we went to see where all the Moroccan leather is made, and now I know why. It's not just rotting cow skin that you smell in a tannery, you're also smelling what they use to wash/dry/stain the leather. I don't want to go into detail, but suffice it to say that the words "pidgeon shit" were used multiple times by our guide. We also saw Moroccan carpets, which can take up to a year and a half to make. Apparently, Moroccan women used to be abused by their husbands via carpet-making. They'd work on the carpets for years at a time, sell them at the market, and get to keep NONE of the money. I guess now it's better, but the guide was never entirely clear on that.

The issue with being taken to all these educational visits of course was that they were not completely educational. We were pretty much held hostage in each of the three shops until enough people bought things that the tour guide and his friends were satisfied. Like, literally. At one point, we were all kept in a little room surrounded by carpet after carpet for over an hour. We all sat in chairs, looked awkwardly at each other, and ooh'd and ahh'd at the carpets we knew we'd never be able to afford. Of course, the longer we sat and sweat in there, the more we started to want the merchandise. It's a good business strategy: get the patrons to ungodly bored that the only thing interesting to look at is what you're selling. I think they managed to convince one woman out of the 30 of us to buy a carpet, and they were clearly getting frustrated. But seriously, gorgeous as they were, how many college students can reasonably afford to buy a $500-$700 carpet? I mean, seriously, rich guy had already spent $400 on a blazer in the leather tannery. When even rich guy is struggling to buy more, you know you've got to let us go.

Somehow we finally got out of the carpet place and were served a huge, multi-course meal again. I groaned and held my stomach...and then of course proceeded to eat the food.

Shifty as our guide was, he definitely kept us all safe in Fes. We were quite literally escorted by policemen the entire time were were walking. Granted, I don't think they did a very good job at all. At one point, I noticed that an adorable little boy, no more than 8 or 9, had sneaked his way into our tour group. He followed us for around a half hour, and stuck close to me in particular. Don't get me wrong, I knew what I wanted. Eventually I greeted him and smiled at him. He spoke quietly and pulled me in a little closer. "Money." I sighed and pulled out a coin to give him. "Thank you". He ran away. I knew it wasn't a great thing for me to do. This kid was one of thousands of poor Moroccans I'd seen already, and I wasn't doing him much good by teaching him early that you can make money by doing nothing by following tourists around and looking cute (granted, that's pretty much what my job was this summer). Nonetheless, I figured, it was better to help someone out for five minutes than to coldly refuse to help anyone at all. I saw him again about 15 minutes later around a dessert stand. I presumed he must have been buying a snack, because he waved at me and gave me the cutest little smile I'd ever seen. My heart was lighter than air. "Marek," I told myself, "you've done good". Of course, that was until about an hour later. I saw the little boy again. SOMEHOW he'd manage to track us down. I began to wonder if he'd memorized this tour. Only trouble was, this time he'd brought along 5 of his little friends. They SWARMED me. I had to push the poor things to get away. No good deed goes unpunished. In retrospect, what I should have done with the original boy was what another girl did: she told the boys they could have some money, but only if they took a picture with her. Genius. They had to work for their coins.

The poverty is Morocco is very saddening. Of course there are always the cute little boys begging the susceptible tourist girls for money, but there are also some much sadder scenes. Until recently, single mothers and their children has almost no rights whatsoever. The kids were basically not treated as people: no access to education, healthcare, nothing. In recent reforms, they've been given better treatment. However, it's still not uncommon to see mothers in street corners holding their unconscious children in their arms and begging for anything they can get. I saw this at least 3 times. The hard part is, I've also come to learn that some Moroccans know that holding an unconscious child automatically makes you more money, so they pose that way for the tourists. It makes it very hard to tell who's "worth" giving to, if that makes any sense.

I'm getting to the point where I'm seeing that honest about their actual situations or not, poverty is a HUGE deal in Morocco. Every other person was begging or looking for an excuse to get near our food and wallets. It's really very sad. I want to do something about it, but I don't know what I can do. When I get home, I want to try to be active about homelessness in the states. Whether you're in the US or Morocco, everyone should be entitled to a home and a reasonable standard of living. I'm no longer going to just sit by and, like rich guy does, brush the homeless off and say "there's nothing I can do about it". Bullshit. There's something everyone can do about it. Be the change you want to see in the world, right? Hold me to this, guys. When I hit the US in December, it's time to start helping the homeless. The picture of Morocco was awful...but it was reminiscent of the same scenes I've seen in Denver so many times before.