In Tangier, I saw the beautiful Kasbah; In Casablanca I visited the Medina, the Mosque of Hassan II, Place des Nations Unis, Arab League Parc, Casablanca Port, Playa Ain Diab La Corniche, Anfa Shopping Center and passed númerous other places worth visiting. Casablanca is supposedly super busy but after being in Mumbai, Lagos and even New York; I don’t find it hectic at all. There is no need for speed or stress here. Everything can and will be done at is own time. In Rabat, I visited the medina, the royal palace, Hassan tower, the mausoleum and Mega mall. I bought myself a beautiful djellaba modern style that can be worn pretty much as a winter coat in Western countries. I also put a cape looking thing that I can’t wait to combine on a pair of jeans and some stilettos. I have the outfit in my head and I know it’s going to look awesome! Shopping for European brands here isn’t a good idea. Many American franchises are here as well but charge ridiculous prices. In the mall there is Payless shoes which sells shoes for 10 dollar in the U.S. whereas here they go for 50 dollars! Etam, a French brand also charges much more than in Europe. I stick to shopping at Diamentine, a store that sells contemporary Moroccan fashion! It was 2 + 1 for free so I got my son a small traditional outfit as well. He also has an Indian traditional outfit and he looks really good in it. I am sure he will rock the Moroccan outfit as well.

On this public holiday I am enjoying sitting on a terrace. A la francaise! In my djellaba though. It is not easy being a woman in Morocco. Many men constantly approach you hence I decided with my looks to pretend I am full Moroccan and just not talk. I thought the djellaba would shield me but I am wrong. I asked my colleague why men are still following me even in traditional wear? She said it’s the face. I have a beautiful Moroccan style from the region of Marrakech. Taxis is another big no here as a foreign woman. Taxi drivers refuse to turn on their meters. For a ride of 2 euro they will charge you 10 euro not on the meter. If you don’t have small bills you are totally screwed! Only a bill of 20 euro/ 200 dirham? No change and drive off with it. I don’t trust taxi drivers in most countries but the ones here beat everything. When entering a taxi in my disguised Moroccan outfit, they will combine the ride with other people. Ohhhh nooo… I am totally done with that and decided to walk everywhere. Cities in Morocco in general seemed to be very well structured. Without a map and with key places in my head such as the mosque and the ocean. I found my way around Casablanca without a map. I needed to go to the train station to catch a train to Rabat and walked straight to it with the media in my head as orientation point. I never get lost, I have always had a good sense of direction. While riding in cars, I pay attention to key buildings or banks and map out the entire city. I also walked back from the mall to my hotel which was about a 2 hour walk. I will do anything to avoid taxis even if I have to walk for 6 hours!

Slowly I m understanding Moroccan culture here and in the diaspora in Belgium. I have to admit that I was scared to take a train alone from Rabat to Casablanca after the experiences that I had here. In the train, I made sure I was sitting near women even though they only spoke Arabic and I couldn’t ask anything. I knew I had to get off in Rabat Agdal and that there were 2 stations in Rabat. I saw a lot of countryside and thought to myself the first modern buildings I will see must be the first station in Rabat; and so it was. I made it to my destination without a problem.

Raja El Alaoui, country coordinator of Morocco husband was picking me up. I had told them on the phone that they could recognise me by my shoes. I was wearing bright pink sneakers. A few minutes later the husband picks me up in a brand new BMW. He gives me a warm welcome smile and tells me the plan of the day. I will first go to the family house for tea to get to know Raja. After that Raja will show me around Rabat and we will have lunch in the house together. The afternoon wasn’t planned yet. Raja’s husband explains me that everyone is tired as they had stayed up till 5 am in the morning partying because their daughter had finished part of her residence doctoral training. Impressive ! I arrive at the El Alaoui residence which is one of the most upper class neighborhoods in Rabat. Mrs. Raja is waiting for me in the doorway. A beautiful women with a magnificent smile. First thing that crossed my mind is that we look rather similar. I am just a younger version of her. How weird is that? Mrs. El Alaoui is very classy and we have an immediate click. There goes the chatter. The husband tells me that he has been working for PUM (Dutch version of Exchange) for 15 years and he is an economic consultant. It was quite obvious that he has connections at the highest level. He leaves Raja and I alone to visit Rabat. Raja and I enter into her daughter’s car; a cute Fiat 500. (Now I am thinking to replace my car with a Fiat 500 as well, I enjoyed it a little too much).

It’s Sunday and awfully quiet in Rabat. I love it! I love quietness. Raja and I enter the medina and we are one of the few customers. Rabat medina is much nicer than the medina’s I have seen in Casablanca and Tangier. It is much wider and cleaner. From the medina we visit the Mausoleum which is a stunningly decorated building with all the characteristics of the Alouite Dynasty. Curious as I am about the Kingdom of Morocco, I began to ask many questions to Rajal. I wanted to know whether the King of Morocco is allowed to marry outside of the nobility. The answer is Yes! His beautiful wife is a commoner. She comes from a normal family but studied hard; highly educated and met King Mohammad 6. The wife of the King doesn’t receive the title of Queen as they do in Belgium. Morocco doesn’t recognize queens (yet). The King’s wife is a Princess but not a real one Mrs. Raja says. The brothers and sisters of the King are the real Princes and Princesses of Morocco and the people do differentiate. The King and Princess live in different palaces. They can not live together. The King has a busy agenda and needs to be available at all times. (La vie du Roi eat tres difficile, c'est une vie exceptionelle.) I feel sad, even if my husband is a King; I would like to live with him. Luckily for them they sometimes have similar international missions to be present at. The real Princes and Princess’s of Morocco pretty much always are in Paris. In Paris they are free. In Morocco they aren’t. They are not allowed to even walk on the street alone. The representative of APEFE, Chahine Majoub told me that when the King’s wife gave an interview in local (dialect) Arabic he was in shock. The entire country was in shock. Royal people speak French and English not local Arabic. Chahine something so normal as a Royal speaking the local dialect is perceived not normal as the previous Royals didn’t behave this way. It is a new era since 1999 for Morocco.

I continue asking Raja El Alaoui (Morocco representative Exchangevzw) more questions. I wanted to know if there were more Royal members or noble families in Morocco. She replies: “ I am noble”. Euh what? ‘Yes my last name is El Alaoui like the King of Morocco. We are descendants, we are related. Ok why didn’t I know this ? Well the King of Morocco is referred to as his Excellency Mohammad VI (without a last name). I didn’t know what the King’s last name was nor was I aware of the Alouite Dynasty in Morocco of which the current King is a descendant and so is our representative Raja! I am definitely loving how this conversation and Royal twist while at the Mausoleum came about. Off course I asked her the next obvious question: Is your husband noble ? The answer was no. Raja tells me that before in her family nobility had to marry amongst each other. Titles were important so women were married to cousins with many instances of marital abuse. The family then decided it was the person and their family that needed to be screened before everything and titles. This reminds me of how Indians marriage. After our extensive chit chat we head to the Royal Palace which isn’t open for the public but Raja gets us in. It’s an entire village on its own for the administration and staff of the parliament. The king lives separately but when he was a young child that was his home. After that we went to her clothing boutique because Raja has a small store in the neighborhood of Rabat ville. I was curious so I had to see it. Once in her store we began discussing the topic of women and Moroccans in the Belgian French diaspora. First she told me all about women were completely oppressed in Morocco and King VI has freed the women of Morocco. The system was set up that women couldn’t divorce their husbands. They could only do it if the family agrees and if a high price was paid. Leaving most women in abusive relationships. On top of that women weren’t allowed to work or be educated. Only women of nobility were allowed to be educated such as Raja she has a law degree. The men could refuse a divorce always. He could also throw the woman out and she would have if her family accepts her live with her parents and kids. He can take another wife without being divorced and go to the law ins and come and collect his wife anytime. He can do whatever he wants to her, she is his property. The husband can always go to the police and tell them that the wife and kids ran away, while he is the one that threw her out. The police will deliver the wife back to the husband. The King’s sisters all married people of high society and suffered in their marriages. All of them are divorced with kids. Apparently realizing the misery of the Princesses he must come to understand what a nightmare it is that you can’t divorce. The King and his counsel adopted the divorce law and women can now leave their husbands without a reason. They are also trying to stop violence against women. Misbehaving husbands can now go to jail and they are afraid of that. Now that I know the mentality towards women; every time I see a woman begging in the street I give her a handful of money. God knows what she has been through ! So time is changing. The King is giving women a platform! And that is first in the History of Morocco. The female entrepreneurs that I coach told me the same. AFEM, the association of female business owners have received several visits by the King of Morocco. The King wants Morocco to advance and the women will do it. Cheers to that. I feel we need even more of that spirit in Belgium! For lunch we had a family stile couscous, husband, 2 daughters, fiancé, mother and I all at one table. The hospitality was amazing. In the late afternoon I went shopping with Raja’s daughter and fiancé who is a renewable energy engineer. We had a fantastic time! I can’t thank Raja enough for her warm welcome in Rabat! Rabat reminds me of a better less artificial version of Dubai… Sorry for the typo’s all written on a Iphone6 from a terrace in the Arab League Parc. P.S.: Rumor has it that the King spend a lot of time in social countries such as Brazil to get good ideas on how to develop his country. He is sure doing a good job !

Nyanza King’s Palace The plan was to see the whole Rwanda in 7 days. So we now arrived in Nyanza to see the King’s Palace. Before booking this I didn’t google online. I was expecting a large palace but I was wrong. I kept on asking ‘Are you sure this is the King’s Palace?’ I don’t see a palace, this is giant hut. Little did I know about how the ancestors lived. We decided to hire a guide so I could understand everything. My mom had been whining because the journey is quite heavy. Long car drives to arrive at amazing things. She loved Nyungwe, Kibuye and the Holy Land. She thought I was over exaggerating but I want her to learn and see. She is too materialistic and needs to enjoy other cultures. I need her to see there is a life outside of the Church. Surprisingly enough she wanted to see the King’s Palace and took great interest till they started speaking of Sacred Cows. The King’s Palace is wonderful. It is a compound with 3 smaller huts and 1 large hut for the King and Queen. In front of the hut there is a semi circle. The King would sit on his throne in the entrance. (The chair I am sitting on in the hut.) My mom kept on asking where is the large throne with decoration. She was baffled to see it was small wooden chairs. Nothing compared to the lavish ancient Nigerian kings, she said. Everyone who wanted to visit the King, first had to stand in front of the semi circle and request entrance. If the King agreed that they could enter, shoes, sandals had to be taken of before entering the hut. The hut could be entered via the side opening. No one was allowed to step over the semicircle. This was considered disrespectful. One was never allowed to turn their back at the hut neither. There were many school children visiting as well and all of them stepped over the semi-circle and turn their back. Respect culture always is the message but they didn’t . The hut was very large. I was beyond surprised when I walked in. There was a seating side for ladies and one for men. There was a common living room to receive guests and a large wood ancient heater in the middle. The King’s bed was bigger than a king’s size. There was a King entrance and the queen had to climb on the bed from the back. There was a maid area that would sing to get the King sexually aroused. While making love the maids would sing louder and clap hard to keep the King in the mood. In the hut there was also an area where the Queen could receive her friends or ladies. The children of the King each had their own hut. No one lives together with the King. From the King’s hut we walked over to the milk hut. Milk was considered special and the milkmaid had to be a virgin. She was trained and selected to become a milkmaid at age 14. The milk was kept in the hut and she made dairy products for the King. She also first tasted the milk to make sure there was no poison involved. The milkmaid hut had storage facilities in different size of paniers. The milk maid was only released from her duties and the end of the King’s reign. Before that she had to stay Virgin single. From the milk hut we walked to the beer hut. In the beer hut, a young boy lived and had to conduct quality control on the honey and banana beer. Fermented alcohol thus. Like they do in jail with potato and orange peels. These type of alcohols hold sometimes more than 90% alcohol. The King loves honey beer. The quality control boy received beer from all over the country and had to taste it. If it was bad, the beer was send away. This hut didn’t have a semi circle because when the boy would be drunk. He would fall. Semi circles are now in cement but they used to be in colored red and white earth. No man could enter the milk maid hut and no woman could enter the beer hut. From there we walk over to the sacred cows. My mother can not deal with animal worships and didn’t want to touch the cows. So I forced her :) The cow herder sang for the cows and they liked it. I was allowed to enter and touch the cows on their heads. When you touch them in between their horns they become almost catonic. The guide told me that these cows also exits in Belgium. I don’t think that’s true, I have never seen a cow like that. They resembled the longhorn cows in Texas. After spending time with the Holy cows, we visited the modern palace of the last King. Aha there is a stone palace :) This palace was given by the Belgians in 1932 as a bribe to the King. The King’s father was deported from Rwanda as he didn’t want colonisation. In order to get the son on the Belgian side, they blinded him with money. He received a countryside type of house because that’s what the palace looks like. (It even had a wine cellar.) He received a Volkswagen and a Porsche. He loved the money. He started wearing European clothing instead of the traditional King’s wear. He was also the first King to live in a brick house. Inside the palace, pictures weren’t allowed. I found it very unfortunate. It had pictures of the Rwandan King in Belgium standing in the Parliament. They had completely corrupted it. When the King find out what the hidden agenda of the Belgian was and decided to turn against them. He was mysteriously killed. During his reign, he had build another palace across from the first palace but never had to chance to use it. Nothing comes free in live. This makes me reflect on development aid. As nothing is free in life so is Development aid. It comes with conditions. Maybe development aid is a disguised version of colonialism ? You receive the finances if you follow the rules. Maybe it is time to learn from our history. I understood that Rwanda has created a fund in which people can donate money. This fund can be used in case of emergency so that the country in crisis doesn’t need to rely on development aid. Very clever, Kagame. Rwandans understand that they have to help themselves. No one can. Greediness can ruin a country.