Law and Disorder

After six weeks here, I have come to learn that Morocco is a land of opportunity. On the streets, members of my cohort and I are consistently accosted by enthusiastic salesmen burdened with stacks of overpriced copies of Atomic Habits and other pop literature from western countries, hoping to sell them to dumb, unsuspecting Americans (don’t worry, I’ve managed to resist so far, but if they shake a copy of Twilight in my face, then all bets are off). My enterprising speaking partner, Youssef, is constantly running his business ideas by me, excitedly hoping to get my take on whether his ventures might have success in America. His latest brainchild is effectively a language tutor-based pyramid scheme, but since I haven’t taken ARAB 426: The Lexicon of White-Collar Crime yet, I was unable to be of much help on that one. And let’s not forget anyone moonlighting as a greengrocer. Don’t have a store? No problem. Just unload your 100 lbs of parsley right onto the curb and hope that no one drives over it with their motorcycle. Now, I’m not much of an entrepreneur, but just this week I identified a major opening in the market that has the potential to make some serious paper. 

For context, before we departed on the program, we were instructed to bring our own painkillers because the paracetamol in Morocco is significantly less potent than equivalent American drugs. Like any good American, I buy in bulk, so when I got on the plane in August, I was more strapped than a Sonoran mule with a package of pills that would have made El Chapo blush (1 bottle). Thanks, Costco. However, during our first week’s orientation, we were given another piece of information, which put a whole new spin on things. Apparently, the painkillers in Morocco are such low dosages that Moroccans can actually become addicted to our American over-the-counter options. Well, like anything important, I promptly forgot this information in favor of retaining how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, so when my host mom’s sister asked me on Friday if I had any headache medication she could take, I happily gave her some. I thought nothing of it until the next night, when she sneakily approached me again and asked for another one. Looking into her face, I saw a genuinely alarming gleam in her eye and suddenly remembered we had been cautioned about sharing our medicine. I told her I didn’t have any more (a lie that was about as airtight as a popped balloon) and shooed her away. I took pains to hide my pills in a safe, secret place, but as I was doing so, I realized I was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime. I had the chance to become the Pablo Escobar of Morocco by dealing Advil to all the toothless, wizened women in Rabat. I figured I could charge 5 dirham a pill, which would finally enable me to buy out the hanoot owner of all the ketchup-flavored Pringles in his store (so I can throw them away—they’re disgusting). I tossed and turned all night, trying to make up my mind. In the morning, I came to my senses—I am my mother’s son…but I am also my father’s, so I cut every pill in half and will be charging 10 dirham a pop. (For legal reasons, this is a joke).

Okay, so I’m not actually going to be Morocco’s most prolific transplant drug dealer, but there were some interesting, and more relevant, events that happened this week. The most important one is that Morocco is seeing a spate of protests across the country, which have significantly affected our program. Some of you might have seen this in the news, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t because I know there’s a government shutdown going on; however, to us on the program, this is something that doubtlessly bears attention. In recent years, Morocco has decided to invest a significant amount of capital in football (soccer). Now, lots of countries in the Middle East and North Africa, particularly the Gulf states, are doing things like this, but the difference between them and Morocco is that Morocco isn’t exactly swimming in money. So, in order to fund these projects, they’re having to cut funding in other fields. In a brilliant move, the two sectors they’ve decided to hamstring are areas that no one ever gives a rat’s about—healthcare and education. As you can imagine, the shabaab (youth) of Morocco aren’t happy, and so they’ve taken to the streets in protest. This isn’t the only point of contention either. This coming week marks the two-year anniversary of the Oct 7th attacks in Israel and the beginning of the Gaza war. So, we will be extra judicious this week as we prepare to handle any situation that might develop here in regard to those events. An interesting thing about Morocco is that in order to organize any sort of demonstration, you have to plan it ahead of time and get it approved by the government, so we knew about the demonstrations before coming here. Still, one thing you can’t plan for is the actual behavior of the demonstrators and the police response. In some areas of the country, protests have turned violent, with tear gas, gunfire, vehicular attacks, and other methods of suppression and coercion being employed, while other people have been shanghaied by being seized and thrown into police vans before being whisked away. These developments have caused us to have to make some changes to our program in order to make sure nothing goes awry, such as a mandatory buddy system after 4pm and a 9pm curfew. I want to clarify that the nature of these protests might sound pretty bad, and they’re something to be wary of, but being in the capital of Morocco, we are in an area that will likely be pretty tame compared to anywhere else—as it is effectively the king’s backyard. There isn’t any danger of our program ending early, and things are proceeding mostly according to plan. If anything, this is an interesting time to experience firsthand the political upheaval that has come to characterize the region.

Other than the protests, things have operated at a normal level here in Rabat. During the week, I spent most of my time studying, and this past weekend I had the chance to explore a few bookstores in Rabat. I was hoping to find an Arabic copy of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men, which is also a great movie by the Coen brothers, but wasn’t successful. Still, the owner of one of the stores told me that they used to stock the book, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to locate one. I also went to a delicious Indian restaurant that gave any Indian food I’ve had a run for its money—I’ll definitely be back. Finally, on Saturday night, I made the irresponsible decision to stay up until 3am to watch the Dodgers play the Phillies in the first game of the NLDS (Dodgers won!). This coming week is expected to be a fairly typical week, but the week after will see our entire cohort taking a five-day journey through the southern half of Morocco, something that I can hardly wait for. I guess that just about wraps up this week’s post. I salute you if you made it to the end, and I’ll talk to you all next week!