Independence Day

In 1956, after nearly 50 years as a Protectorate, Moroccan people from all regions unified under late King Mohamed V (grandfather of our current king, who is in my town this week!), which caused him to be exiled. The people rallied in protest of the exile of their monarch, and he was returned to them from exile, bearing the Declaration of Independence. This holiday is not celebrated in any particular way now, except that we have a day's vacation every year in commémoration.

The 18th of November was a Wednesday this year, which I find to be the best day of the week to have a vacation. Ethan's birthday would be the following day, so we took the opportunity to celebrate when we could. Five teachers grande-taxi'ed to Ifrane, a pretty mountain town (with the original Atlas lion sculpture) and had Malawi with one of his Berber friends. We got delicious malawi with honey, and took some in a bag for lunch.

Ifrane was chilly, being a mountain town, but very set apart from other residences. With the sun shining down on us as we left, we found the day perfect for our cross-country 17km hike to the next town of Azrou. The desert shrubs made the going difficult sometimes, but we made it out into the farmland between the towns, open golden fields, shepards leading their flocks to graze, and locals wrapped in whatever garments they had of every colour stading out against the sunny earth.

Ethan found his compass in a book of maps, and we wound our way through the low mountains without losing our bearings, and without being eaten by any of the mangy guard dogs that ran from forever away to bark at us. We arrived in Azrou just after sunset, when the light was fading fast and we were just thinking that we would like to be at our destination. We took a bus back to Fes and stopped in the Medina for tagine at Ethan's favorite rooftop cafe.

Ethan and I decided to walk home from the Medina, and the others caught the red petit-taxi's. From the Medina, the old walled part of the city, you walk south through the old Fes J'did, and the old Jewish quarter, and then you arrive in Fes Nouveau, the more modern part of the city, where there are streets with cars. As we were entering Fes J'did, and turning off onto a back-path, suddenly the town went dark.

There was a power outage in the entire Fes J'did and Mellah.

The residents spilled out of their houses, since it was after dark and their houses would have had NO light, and there was some time of bustle as they ran back and forth with torches made of crumpled paper or cardboard tubes, or ran for their motos to turn on the headlight. Gradually the town settled down again, with the magic that a power outage inflicts: the people resumed their work, but left open their doors and windows to catch whatever starlight they could. As we walked through the narrow streets, we could see the flickers of life pinpointed by the fires of candlelight. In the darkness, in one window was a candle next to a woman working her embroidery; in another door was a man by a lit buta tank tallying the books from his day at the hanout. It was like having life highlighted for us in a soft glow that seemed very appropriate for this country, and we were bit dissapointed 20 minutes later when the streetlights limped back to life.