And again, what is Morocco?
did later.
The coast. Simply amazing:
the light, waves, sand, high
tide, low tide, and the silence. It does feel like silence
after the crazy buzz and chaos reigning over Casablanca.
But all this is amazing only
under one condition: if you
forget a huge amount of garbage. Garbage everywhere (I
won’t mention the amount
of garbage in the city itself ).
Environmental projects have
a lot of potential in Morocco.
I guess I chose the wrong project.
All this was not happening.
Could someone give me a
pinch again, please…
When it was time to leave, Emmanuel
started to pick up the plastic coffee glasses and other things we had used to throw
them away (I must admit though it is not
easy to find a place to throw them away).
None of the locals we went to the coast
You must be fed up with the
question by now, but still what
is Morocco?
on the first floor of the building where we
stayed for a while.
Wait, there is more. El Fida and Morocco
Mall. These two are not simply separated by distance, but by light years…I had
a feeling it was a dream. It was not happening. Please, could someone give me a
White marriage. This is something which I have NOT experienced thanks to my passport,
as it does not have any advantages, as opposed to those
of European Union nationals.
Actually it is the only one occasion when
I can combine a ‘thanks to’ with ‘my passport’. Pretty remarkable.
Yes, again, what is Morocco?
Eid al-Adha, or ‘pauvres (fr.) montoni (it.) ’
celebration. Where should I start? It starts
dying animal.
It lasted longer than it should…‘Pauvre (fr.) montone (it.) ’. There
was blood on the floor. I could smell it. I could see all the interior
organs of the animal. This was supposed to become our dinner.
Oh mamma mia, why am I not a vegetarian? The head was cut off.
It was ‘grilled’ afterwards. The skin was off. The body was hanging
on the terrace so that all blood disappeared. Later it was brought
into the house where it stayed lying on a scarf for the next 24
hours. All this made my doubts grow even stronger. I really do not
want to know what happens to meat after 24 hours with a temperature of not less than 25 degrees. Later Danielle, Emmanuel
and I googled ‘how to preserve the meat of a dead lamb?’, even
though we already knew the answer. The fridge was the answer.
Isn’t it obvious…The four of us (I count Google too) agreed on
this.
Later that morning Danielle, Emmanuel and I went outside. It was
travelling in time. It was not 2013, no, it felt like the Middle Ages.
Fire in the streets. It is where heads were grilled. When you approached the place, you could feel a heatwave. Some heads had
already been taken from the fire. They were simply lying at the
side, completely black. I wondered how people who had brought
heads of lamb for grilling could distinguish the head of their lamb
from the other heads…Maybe it really does not matter and I am
asking irrelevant questions.
There was a very particular smell all over the district. In some
houses people were still busy with ripping off their lamb. You
could see open doors with blood running from the stairs of the
house into the street. At some point I noticed a boot covered with
blood lying in the street. I was just about to make a joke when I
saw a guy leaning against the wall, with one of his legs bandaged
all over. It was not funny anymore. As we were told later, the guy
put a knife for killing a lamb in his boot and he hurt himself while
taking it out. He had been sitting there for more than one hour.
His relatives tried to call an ambulance. In vain. No one picked up.
They managed to call an ambulance only when a policeman dialled a number by entering his personal code first. All this was not
happening. Could someone please give me a pinch, please…
with came up with this idea. Isn’t it sad..?
Or ‘It is normal. It’s Morocco’…?
…and the same question again
Contrasts. A strikin