I'm Confused

Two years ago I went to the town of Ben Slimane, about 50 kilometers from Casablanca, to meet the parents of a student who would be joining our International House program at Jacksonville State that September.  The location of the town and the family’s hospitality motivated me to visit with them the past two years as well, usually on my next to last day in country.  I made two or three observations yesterday in Ben Slimane that confused me, in fact, made me wonder if I were in some type of time warp.

The first occurred when I asked if there were a cybercafe located in this small, somewhat rural town.  The father answered yes, and we left immediately for me to go check my e-mail.  About 100 yards from the apartment building in which they live, just on the edge of the commercial part of town, he motioned for me to climb into this horse-drawn carriage.   There are about 7 or 8 of them that pass back and forth through the middle of town, serving as taxis I suppose, since Ben Slimane has none of what are referred to as Petits Taxis, which operate within the city limits.  Furthermore, there are absolutely no tourists in town, so the carriages are not present for that purpose.  You might be interested to know the fare was about 25 cents per passenger, and that several of them have a “fringe on top.”

As we were proceeding to our destination, and stopping to pick up a couple of other paying customers, I thought about the incongruity of the situation.  Here I was, being transported by a horse and buggy, in order to surf the web.  That just seemed a little weird.

Afterwards, when walking back to the house, I noticed how many people were in town who appeared to be from the country.  Many were riding on wagons or in some type of two or four wheeled carriage being pulled by a horse or donkey.  Having just spent several days in Rabat, which is a very cosmopolitan city, I had trouble adjusting to the folks around me.   I didn’t think any less of them or anything; perhaps I had just forgotten how wide the gap is between the rich and the poor in this country.

I noticed that one store displayed a photovoltaic panel out front, along with a sign advertising that they sold solar enery equipment, and provided service after the sale.  I’m sure many of these folks I saw had no electricity at all in their homes, and assumed almost none of them would have the capital for that kind of purchase.  I did consider it noteworthy, however, that in a country that is so far behind in so many ways, this fairly advanced power system is being made available to exploit the well-known sunny weather here.

We also stopped at one of the many cafes along the main street in Ben Slimane.  Since sitting in cafes is by far the most popular leisure activity for men, even a small town will have many cafes from which to choose.  It surprised me when our waiter turned out to be a woman. Even though there was not a single woman in the place, and in most of these cafes, that’s always the case, a woman in her twenties probably, wearing slacks and a shirt, occupied that traditional male position.  I have never seen a woman serve men in any such cafe, even in the large cities like Fes, Rabat, and Casablanca.  While walking to the house, I noticed every cafe had women employees; not a single male waiter in the town that I saw.

That confused me too.  As I mentioned,  this seemed to be a very traditional town as evidenced by the attire of the people I saw on the street.   Most everyone within 10 or 15 miles of the town is engaged in agriculture, not an economic sector from which social change is likely to come.  And yet, here in this environment, there seemed to be a fairly progressive acceptance of the changing role of women.

I had difficulty determining if I were on the cusp of a revolution or simply gaining whatever advantage I could from the end of a bygone era.  I think that the absence of a clear linear progression leads to a confused state of mind. I suppose one needs not abandon all of the past, especially if its useful, regardless of what tomorrow offers.


Fred

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