Searching for other fun things to do in Ghana, I decided to go to Kakum National Park. I was told that there is a canopy walk that we can cross. After my experience in Rwanda attempting to cross the highest canopy in the world; I was courageous enough to be able to cross this one and this time around I have someone who watches my back all the time. No reason to fear! I thought….
After a long drive we arrive in Kakum National Park. It was nothing like the rainforest in East Africa but good enough to turn this into another fantastic experience. Upon entrance of the rainforest, we visit the museum and learn of Mount Afadjato. Mount Afadja is the highest mountain in Ghana, at an elevation of 885 metres (2,904 ft). The mountain is located in the Volta Region of Ghana at the border with Togo. I made a mental note to myself to research more about it and maybe organise during my next visit a hike up to that mountain. After hiking the Bisoke and Muhungwe in Rwanda, I have hiking fever.
It was time for us to enter the rainforest, it was raining a little bit and mosquitoes came from everywhere. The long sleeve jeans shirt and pants came in handy. We began the climb upwards and I realise I am not in good shape. How is that possible ? I have long time given up my sedentary life. Maybe it was the heat in the forest ? Not sure… The sweat was literally dripping off my body like a waterfall. There is a sign saying there is a rainforest suite at the highest bush point for rent. I quickly take the number as I would love to spend the night there.
We have finally arrived at the canopy bridge and it is nothing as the one in Rwanda. No steel but ropes only ! It is ladder or plank combination precariously hung as suspended rope-style bridges. It defenitely brings you into a jungle layer that is usually reserved for birds and monkeys. The canopy walk opened on Earth Day in 1995, and technically consists of seven separate bridges constructed with materials of the forest that hang from the trees over 130 feet above the ground, the walkway is about 1,000 feet and it does have a safety net. (So no worries.) According to the park guide it is regularly maintained; however by looking at the condition I am not so sure if that is true.
It was my turn to cross the bridge. As soon as I got on I felt I was in a scene of a Indiana Jones movie. The entire bridge was shaking, I was moving as a snail and it bothered other tourists. I was scared and thought the ropes were going to crack. But I made it across. Woohoo !!! Another canopy experience down my belt!
On the road away from Kakum, I stopped to buy fruits and many fruits I haven’t seen in West Africa so I had to taste them!
For lunch I went to a crocodile place called Hans Cottage. I got out of the car and saw a crocodile. I laughed and said HAHA, that is not a real one. It is a statue, look it has its mouth wide open that is not real. Little did I know that Crocodiles do not have sweat glands and release heat through their mouths. Therefore they often sleep with their mouths open and sometimes even pant like dogs. I ordered my lunch and the lady said: ‘Would you like to see the crocodiles ?’ Yes for sure I said. I thought to myself; I want to see the real ones not the fake ones yeah? Our guide slash waitress said you will buy some chicken and you can feed them. For sure no problem I have held a baby alligator in Miami before. You are talking to the crocodile mother here… I began walking and she points at the same crocodile that I pointed out earlier. Look he is sleeping …. Euh? So that is a real one. She goes and explains why they lay with their mouth open. I still thought it was a joke and really wanted to kick one to see if it was real. Thank god, I didn’t do that. Soon the crocodiles began crawling out of the pond and closing their eyes and moving. They smelled the chicken; it was feeding time. I threw the chicken and took pictures with a few sleeping crocodiles. Some are hidden in the grass and you almost trip over them. It was fun but not to do with little kids as there is no way that you can be kept safe. Definitely AT YOUR OWN RISK! Anyhow it definitely entertained my Dora the Explorer Spirit
After a long drive I arrive at Anomabo Beach. Yes for the first time I am saying it right! (I did have to google the name in phonetics though.) I kept on saying Animabi, Anumabo, Ambibo… ridicilous… So yes ANOMABO Beach it was. I decided to spend the night in the clay huts; watch the fishermen pull in their nets and dream away. Attached some beach pictures !
As in a few it is back to work - microfinance it is!
P.S.: If you ever take part in “Who wants to be a millionaire ?” and you are asked “Where is the international association of the honeybee ?” The answer is: KAKUM, Ghana. ;)
my next stop was El Mina Castle - It had been on my list of places to visit for a very long time. Yes a bit weird to be on places to visit but most already know where my interest lies. However, the castle is recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.
Arriving in El Mina was very interesting. As I drove through the town, one immediately notices the colonial atmosphere. The Portuguese colourful influence is definitely prevailing in this town. However I was stopped as the bridge to the slave castle as it was being renovated and it could no longer support the weight of the cars. I drove back to a nearby hotel to park the car and stopped a taxi near the road that could bring me to the beginning of the bridge. As soon as I got out the taxi - the hustlers came swarming. They wanted to know my name to flip tricks on me later. I learned my lesson in Morocco earlier this year not to say or accept anything. It is rude but it is the only way to not be hustled or tricked or even robbed.
I entered the slave castle and I immediately noticed the old Dutch writing on the walls. While awaiting our tour guide, I went into to the small museum shop.
Elmina Castle was erected by Portuguese in 1482 as São Jorge da Mina (St. George of the Mine) Castle, also known simply as Mina or Feitoria da Mina in present-day Elmina, Ghana (formerly the Gold Coast). It was the first trading post built on the Gulf of Guinea, so it is the oldest European building in existence below the Sahara. In its original days El Mina was a Portuguese Gold and Ivory trade settlement. Local Africans sold their Gold for weapons for nothing really. They had no idea of the value of the gold. It was only later that this gold trade settlement was used later for the Atlantic slave trade. The Dutch invaded the fort in 1637 after several previously failed attempts, with the help of local Africans after promises of better treatment, took over the Portuguese Gold Coast in 1642. According to the guide, who was very well informed of the history of the castle, the Dutch found the castle to be too expensive to maintain and wanted to sell it, which they did- they sold to the British. I think this anecdote seems right as the Dutch are stereotypically described as being very thrifty. The slave trade continued under the Dutch until 1814; in 1872 the Dutch Gold Coast, including the fort, became a possession of the British Empire. Britain granted the Gold Coast its independence in 1957, and control of the castle was transferred to today’s independent Ghana.
Inside of El Mina I saw where the slave women were kept and the slave men. They were kept in very dark spaces at the bottom of the castle, hundreds of them jam packed. There was barely any air to breathe and food wasn’t given regularly. Many slaves died in the castle from cholera. They were chained, beaten and raped. Being a fort housing an army, there were also rules for the soldiers, which when broken by drunkenness or general disorderly conduct, were punished. However, despite being in cells similar in size to those of the slaves, there were obvious differences in treatment and conditions. Whereas the slaves were kept in multiple numbers of claustrophobic surroundings, there was only one soldier imprisoned per cell at any one time. Also the cells housing the soldiers were situated in strategic locations which allowed for constant airflow whereas in the cells housing the slaves, air was an abundantly rare commodity.
The Dutch governor of the castle had a secret latch-door that lead to the female slave zones. He stood on the balcony, all the female slaves stood naked and he made his choice. If the women refused to go, they were chained to the ground in the full sun without food or water for days. (Many women refused to go because they didn’t know what would happened to them and the pregnant ones never returned.) They were now at the mercy of the soldiers. When the women did agree to the needs of the Dutch governor, they were first bathed in a latrine type of well that was inside the slaves courtyard. They were put in a dress and cleaned up for the governor and he did with them whatever he wanted. Many mixed children were born to captured female slaves. When the female slave was pregnant, they were moved in houses far away from the castle. These mulato children with Dutch last names were educated and some of them even send to the Netherlands for further education. Others were enlisted into the Dutch Army. The mixed children spoke different languages and were also able to negotiate with local tribes. Considering the female slaves weren’t in good conditions - I doubt that an incredible many children were born. When someone is underfed - fertility goes down. The hierarchy of colour was very obvious. First the white man then the mulato child and last the black (wo)man. In many countries this racism still exists. The darker, the worse off unfortunately. Today in Ghana you can see who is descendant of European colonials. There are quite a few Ghanians with Portuguese, Dutch and British last names. Also some Ghanians are much much lighter in skin tone. Some almost white to mixed looking even generations down the line.
We visited the mess inside the Castle. Oh yes the Dutch and Portuguese were very religious. They were giving the task to enslave and of course God approved. I don’t know what God would approve of this. Well the hypocrisy of the Church is something very prevalent inside the castle. In the name of God - everything is allowed isn’t it?
The guide took me to the governors room and later brought me to the gates of no return. This is the door where the slaves after being captive for sometimes even months boarded the ships and sailed for the United States of America and other island groups in the Americas. The gate of no return is very tiny as the slaves had lost so much weight due to lack of food and basic care. As skeletons they boarded a ship chained to start a new life to be abused, raped and tortured again.
I can not say that it was only the Europeans whom are to blame in the slave trade, Africans took as much part in it. During that time there were a lot of inter tribal wars in West Africa. When tribes fought each other, capturing and keeping of slaves were customary. Upon the arrival of the foreign powers, the opportunity to profit through trade was realised and effected, resulting in the sale of the captured slaves to the Europeans. Neither the Portuguese, Dutch nor the English had to go out to catch them. They were brought by Africans themselves. There were rare exceptions in which it was considered ‘sport’ by some rogue officers for their personal gain, but these examples are very limited, as in the overall view, the military had to maintain their discipline internally and externally. The manner, however, in which they conducted their militaristic affairs with business type incentives were without doubt, extremely deplorable. Africans not involved in intertribal wars also made a business of catching people and selling them off. What must not be excused or watered down, however, is the treatment of the African slaves after leaving the castle at the hand of the traders and what horrible events took place inside the castle. Also important to mention is that due to the arms imported by the West and given to the local tribes it promoted even more intertribal warfare. I’d like to describe it as a tactical move of the foreign powers. More weapons meant more slaves.
What I wondered however is that the Dutch took part in the slave trade but had no slaves in their countries nor did the Portuguese. Both did have slaves in their colonial countries but not in their home countries. I always wonder why there weren’t as many or none (to my knowledge) in Europe. If someone is able to answer that - please let me know as the guide couldn’t tell me either.
The atmosphere in El Mina castle is not pleasant, listening to the horrific events made me vomit. At the exit the guide took me to the last engraved stone of El Mina. He asked is there someone in the group that can read this. I said yes - I was actually a bit embarrassed; I wanted to say - I am not Dutch but Belgian. I have nothing to do with these ancestors. The guide asked me to read the text out loud which said in old Dutch similar to Afrikaans: Here lies the last Governor of the Dutch East Indie Compagnie.
After a guided tour of 3 hours I left the castle to be back with the hustlers. One came running, I have a gift for you. Oh no… It was a shell. I really didn’t want it so I returned it to the dissatisfaction of the hustlers. Hey no one is going to mess with Francine!
After shedding off the hustlers, I got mistakenly hit by a metal cemented construction pole someone was carrying in the street. On top of that I saw a big shark laying in the middle of the town; upside down with its mouth wide open. (No it wasn’t the head bump that made me see the shark.) Seriously, this town and Ghana could do so much better; an area in which so much history is situated should be well maintained. It shouldn’t look as a dirty street market in which sharks can just be thrown as rag dolls in the town surrounded by hustlers. Imagine how most tourists feel that never have been to Ghana or Africa in general??… C’mon on Ghana….This is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Hey if you need a consultant; I’d flip the town upside down- you know where to find me - No challenge is too big right ;) ?
Taking more time to relax in between work is the most productive thing I have ever done. On to the next adventure :)
Why I will never return to the medina of Marrakech ? Zero to 100 in a few seconds
Morocco isn’t an easy place to travel or work as a women being alone. Yesterday, I took the train quite late from Casablanca to Marrakech. I was told harassment in the streets would be less in Marrakech and considering I look somewhat Moroccan to some (not all) it should be easy. The train ride was amazing through the country, swinging around a mountain and the only thing you can see is the end of the train. At the same time it was scary to sit in cabins of 6 people with the lights out. The lady next to me was breastfeeding, this was quite surprising for me. I would never expect this in Morocco. Everyone on the train was very friendly. People helped me with my 2 heavy suitcases trying to get them off and on the train. The train was narrow but there was no pushing only people being helpful. I had a hard time staying a wake for 3 hours and after listening over 15 times at the Justin Bieber CD; I arrived in Marrakech.
I woke up very early as I was excited to visit the most talked about city of Marrakech. I began with the medina. I had put on a contemporary djellaba in the hope I would not picked on as a tourist. My so called Moroccan face should do the work. WRONG WRONG, was I wrong. I’ ll tell you all about it.
Today was Berber market in Marrakech, a place were original ‘mountain people’ sell biological products such as argan oil. The moment I stepped a foot in the medina it began…. Speak English, Espagnol, Brezilienne?, Paris, Marseille, Italienne, Ah American. You are the first customer today, it’s good luck I will break the price! I heard this line over 100 times today. I didn’t take much money as I didn’t want to buy anything in the souk because I wasn’t in the mood to haggle. Even if you haggle as a foreigner you will always lose. So I continued waking through the many different souks. I ignored all the comments and continued through the many tiny treats. I saw a beanie stand with a woman in a full niqab. I thought this must be beanies from a female cooperative and so she said it was. Real woollen beanies. I told her I didn’t have enough money on me and couldn’t buy the beanies. Obviously no one believes it so I decided to show me her entire wallet and so she accepted the price. I am still sure that I paid too much. Later I saw the beanies everywhere in the medina and realised this isn’t all from cooperatives. Many use the social character of the cooperatives to rip off people. I am a sucker for female cooperatives and small business. However, I get the impression that it is more being exploited by men. I found an argan oil cooperative with fixed prices and realised I wasn’t ripped off in Casablanca. Here prices were even higher. The price of argan oil is expensive here, I can find it cheaper in Belgium.
I continued through the souk and saw beautiful handmade boots. I was afraid to ask the price but I went for it. The man was friendly and brought the price down himself when I told him I needed to pay by bank card. He said discount with cash. I guess he thought I had cash on me. Again really no cash and believed me and brought me to the ATM in the medina. By the time we got to the ATM he reduced the price even more as I wasn’t lying. He said the slippers I was wearing are typical for Norwegian tourists. Maybe it’s the sandals that are making me look like a tourist ? Or is it because I constant take pictures ?
I bought 2 more belts with my last money and went through the same with the salesman. Dude this is my last money! He was eager to grab the coins from my hand and not in a polite way! Out of money, I check my map of the medina and hope to find one of the restaurants I had been reading about. I found Le Jardins and it was lovely. A peaceful oasis in the souk! A bird took a crap on my plate but all the rest was great. I asked the friendly staff to help to the Koranic school and the Marrakech museum. The restaurant had a back exit and a few minutes later I find myself in front of the mosque and museums.
Local people start screaming at me. You can’t walk there because that’s not for tourists. That’s the mosque, don’t go there. Some areas are for tourists some for locals. I am not sure if it’s true till now. A lady started shouting that I should buy her bangles. Oh it’s a gift take it. I traveled enough not to know not to accept. It’s never a gift. Once they push the item in your hands; you are screwed. Finish the complete dry-run starts. I needed to get out of this souk. People were all telling me to go back there is nothing there but I was told by he hotel manager not to listen or speak to anyone. He was right! He said Marrakech people talk too much; don’t tell them anything. Be careful watch your back! This is not a joke.
I passed next to the leather sale market that has a strange smell. Here the skins of goats, pigs and cows are traded. I am sure that a lot of it goes worldwide. This is the point where I got lost in the souk. People wanted to know where I was doing on. I refused to speak. Algerian ? French we will bring you to the square. I didn’t say anything and kept on moving fast. I didn’t see any tourists. It is low season anyway but yet not one single tourist. The neighborhoods became uglier, dirtier and poorer…. Where was I going ? How was I going to get out of here. This part is no longer on the map. A guy came up to me wanting to show me the way but I didn’t trust it. He told another man, I think a Mauritian to guide me out. I really didn’t want this but had no more hope. I followed him trying not to talk but he kept trying and I said No. He said are you deaf? What language ? Horrible 30 minute walk and still no exit. Then he tells me here you have to go to the right and then you are back at the square. Where what ? No we aren’t there yet. These are the tanneries. Tanneries is where they color the leather. Oh he said: “you wanted to see the tanneries!” I said what? No I didn’t ask you anything! I didn’t want this! He said pay me. I had no money in my wallet and even if I had I wasn’t going to give it to him. He said then I will walk with you to the bank. I walked off, he started shouting I need to pay him. Other people surrounded me and said I needed to pay him. I said no I didn’t ask him and finally said lets go to the police. They stopped. I continued walking but the guy began to follow me so I started swinging left and right through the souk. Till he stopped. I asked a group of Germans the way but they couldn’t specify either. A young kid overheard me and told me to follow him out. I told him don’t screw me over and get me out this souk. I decided that I would pay him if he gets me out completely. He stops after 20 minutes and demands to be paid. I told him dude I will pay you get me out and to a real bank. Finally after another 10 minutes I am out the souk. I went to the bank and paid him 5 euro. It was 5 euro well spent. Till I fell in the hands of the cobra men.
They are circling around the men square with snakes. I hate snakes. I tried to pass by quickly but yet I began staring when the cobra went to stand up straight when it listened to the music. I wanted a photo, I knew this was going to cost me. I told him to drop the snakes and walk towards me. I gave him my camera to take a picture. He asked many questions to which I replied I am Saida from Algeria. Saida which part in Algeria …. Euh American born Algerian… These people won’t stop. Here is 5 euro for the picture. Ohhh no he became upset 5 euro that’s nothing, you have to give 20 euro minimum for the food of the snakes ? What ? Here we go again Moroccans going from 0 to 100 in a few seconds. It’s almost like you are dealing with bipolar vendors. I opened my purse showed him all as there was no money inside. He said I see 20 euro, I said if you see it please give to me. He said ok give me perfume. Dude I don’t have perfume on me… Lol… I had a dollar still from NY. Here you go now yalla… Back to normal he said beautiful Saida Moroccan price. Whatever! I was sick of this BS and head to the thumbs in the kasbah. I don’t look around anymore and only speak to police officers and military. Now I am hardcore I am not withdrawing any money and only going to shops with fixed price that accept credit cards. The fixed prices are even lower than the souk prices!
After being asked 100 times where from, pushed into shops, cooperatives of Berber products, I decided I was done with the medina and ask a police officer for the way to Lamamounia. I have always wanted to go there. It’s more beautiful than on TV. Inshallah, I am in peace. I enjoy the orangeries and over priced food. No more hassle. I overhear 2 Belgians as they asked if they could use bankcontact. It’s maestro card I thought to myself but let’s have a chat. I asked them about their souk experience and it was like mine. Awful! At the end you don’t even want anything anymore. You become rude and don’t speak to anymore anymore. The blond Belgian girl said that she was happy she had a man with her because alone she would never risk it! Welcome to my world! Alone in Morocco as a women isn’t a joke. They will never get me back in the souk.
Not for me! I call these horse carriages: touristtraps … but nice photo though… When you didn’t think about the cruelty to the horse.#marocco #marrakech #northafrica #tourism (at Marrkech)
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 !
Today is a Public Holiday in #morocco January 11 Is the #Proclamation of Independence #Takdim ! watikat al-istiqlal - On a mission and not having to work today means another day of #tourism !
