Changing the Moroccan Mentality

 

As I was crossing the Boulevard Des FAR in Casablanca, not far from Bab Marrakech, heading toward El Glaoui Passage, I heard a strung out voice coming over a loud speaker. It was around six PM and the streets overflowed with shoppers and wanderers, the cafe terraces brimmed with patrons leisurely sipping on a sweet mint tea or qahwa mharssa while reading their daily newspapers or chin-wagging, the roads were saturated with vehicles rushing through traffic. Drivers zoomed past people without commiseration. The flow of pedestrians jaywalking across the boulevard was uninterrupted even when the traffic light was green; few were those who used the designated crossing areas, and fewer waited patiently for the traffic light to turn red and for the cars to stop before crossing.

“People, use the designated crossing areas,” the voice over the loudspeaker yelled. “Do not jaywalk. Safety is everybody’s responsibility.”

In one corner of the Boulevard Des FAR, standing by a traffic light, there they were, wearing green and yellow reflective vests, one shouting through a loudspeaker, the other handing out fliers to callous passersby. A few people drawn by curiosity stood at a distance contemplating them, surely wondering why these youths are wasting their time. But Karaouane Amine and Assadi Imane stood there by dint of determination to see things change for the better in Morocco. They figured that for Morocco to develop, the mentality of its people needs to transmute into a law abiding, justice seeking, and respect inducing functionality. Their positive attitude was heartwarming, but hardly enough to inspire the herds of pedestrians, some with children in tow, still crossing the boulevard whichever way, dodging taxies and buses.

One shout at a time, the frail voice over the loudspeaker will be the inner voice that will convince people to respect traffic laws, to cross from the designated areas, to wait in a line instead of cutting it; the inner voice that will dissuade from corruption; the inner drive to simply do the right thing.

Ahmed T. B. Copyright © 2008    

FRMA, “Rachid Ramzi” ca vous dit quelque chose?

Moroccan athletes do bring in the gold, but not for Morocco. It goes to tell you that Moroccan athletes have the potential to achieve internationally competitive results if only they were surrounded by competent and professional cadres. Rachid Ramzi left Morocco in 2002 disenchanted by the unprofessional and sardonic treatment of the Fédération Royale Marocaine d’Athlétisme (FRMA). Bahrain recognized a good investment and is maximizing on it. Many other Moroccan athletes, who were less fortunate than Ramzi, simply gave up their dream to achieve international renown because of the incompetence of FRMA leadership and staff. What about Said Aouita and Hicham El Gerrouj you might ask; a sad record for FRMA to have formed only two world class athletes in over two decades. Mark my word; after the Olympic Games, many more Moroccan athletes will double-time into warmer foreign embraces.

Ahmed T. B. Copyright © 2008

The Flight From Hell

 

I took an Air France flight from Paris to Casablanca. I have flown Air France many times before and to different destinations. This one proved to be the least enjoyable. Being cranky and tired from a previous long flight made it that much more of a chore. The rear flight attendant stood there leaning against the latrine door with one elbow, one hand on her hip; she looked like a despondent harlot waiting at the step of her ramshackle room in Rue St Denis on a salvational pleasure seeker. Judging from her annoyed countenance, her assignment to the flight must had been a punishment. She gave the passengers wary looks as they boarded the plane. She shook her head in disapprobation as two young Moroccan couples with a baby each walked up the aisle and settled towards the back of the plane. The fathers struggled to put their bags in the overhead compartment while the mothers nursed their crying babies. As I walked towards my seat I looked at the gentleman next to whom I would spend the duration of the flight. His eyes looked up with a begging insistence. In his mind, surely a voice pleaded with the heavens to make his fortune for the day nothing more than to leave the two seats on either side of his empty. As it turned out, he too had a long flight and the Paris – Casablanca portion was the last leg of his trip. All of a sudden, the plane erupted into a mixture of laughter and angry voices. The dry smile the flight attendant plastered on her face totally disappeared when into the plane ambled a group of teenagers, dragging their backpacks as they pushed each other on a race to get the window seats. Their two overwhelmed chaperons screamed orders that went mostly unheeded and added to the accrued irritation of the already seated passengers.

The front flight attendant who welcomed everyone with an upbeat attitude lost his smile after he walked up and down the aisle a few times clicking in the number of passengers. “Please, take your seats,” he kept saying to the teenagers who were still standing around engaged in jovial, unstilted and gesture filled  conversations with their buddies.

The safety briefing went into a hole of obnoxiousness, totally muffled by the screams of overexcited teenagers on a field trip to Morocco, crying babies, and raucous French travelers cursing their travel agents. The quieter ones had their headphones on; their heads bobbed as they looked on at the unfolding  chaotic scene. The flight attendant decided to remain detached leaving the passengers fending for themselves. Sometimes, a passenger would approach her with a protest – no room for his luggage in the overhead bin, the assigned seat taken by someone else. To this she would flail her arms in annoyance and grumble some incoherent directive without budging from her apathetic position.

Just as everybody thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, the pilot announced we were being delayed. There was then no wonder in my mind why Air France flew in the least number of visitors to Morocco this year in comparison to Royal Air Maroc, JetBlue, and EasyJet.

Two days later, my stomach was still rumbling from the stone hard, freezing cold rice and chicken meal they dished us out.

Ahmed T. B. Copyright © 2008