A Comparatively Less Relaxing Endeavour

I called yesterday’s letter “A Relaxing Day in North Africa.”

Today’s will prove to be anything but.

It started off fairly relaxed, with a coffee and a newspaper by the side of yet another a very busy road, facing the Koutoubia, which is an ancient mosque here and dominates the skyline. A lady came over to the guy next to me with a tablet and got him to sign up to something in return for a pack of cigarettes. Cigarettes are still quite a big thing here, with pretty packaging without pictures of rotting teeth on it. I can see why they banned it.

I then wandered through the Medina, and stopped off at a cafe for a fairly disappointing shawarma, but hey ho, on we go!

I got a ticket to look round the Bahia Palace, which was about £10. It was built around the same time Britain built the V&A and I find it very interesting how cities that haven’t played such crucial roles in the world, à la Paris, Vienna, Istanbul, Rome, have such different cities by comparison.

After this, I got another coffee at a cafe on a square just by the place and then wandered out of the city walls and into what felt a bit like a forgotten part of the city. I knew there were some Public Gardens a bit further down this road, so I headed off in search of it. It was about 1500 at this point and the sun really was blazing red hot.

Now as I ventured down this road, I was increasingly aware that I was getting further and further from the city and approaching what would eventually just become the desert. I could see where the airport was (thanks to the planes coming and going) and once I passed that, I figured this would be a good point to turn off to the side, conveniently down a fairly busy road. I had a satellite map downloaded and I could turn left, then left again and head back towards the city.

As I made my way down this road, there were two major sets of gardens on either side of me, both fenced off. In fact, the one to my right had an ominous buzz, which suggested that it was electrified. On reflection, this should’ve been my first sign that these were not the Gardens I was looking for.

About halfway down the road, there was an open gate leading into these gardens on the right, and so I headed in. Two fairly homeless looking fellas were sat by a hut and started saying something to me in Arabic but I don’t speak Arabic. I went over to them and asked if I could go in, in both English and French but they didn’t seem to understand and eventually, with a sense of frustration, flung their arms in the air in way that I took to mean go for it. On reflection, this should’ve been my second sign that these were not the Gardens I was looking for.

I started off down this paved path, (the garden had a very convenient grid layout) aiming to get to the end, to the left of which there seemed to be a gate that would lead me back into the city, according to the map.

I headed off in that direction and noticed that a) there was literally nobody else in here, which was a fairly sizeable estate and b) the trees were buzzing in a similar way that the fence outside had been. This was a bit creepy (pictures below for context), but I figured what’s the worst that could happen and carried on going. On reflection, this should’ve been my third sign that these were not the Gardens I was looking for.

I turned off to the left at the end of the path and could see what I thought was the gate. I got about halfway towards it when, bumbling out of one of the other side paths (it’s a grid remember) comes one of the homeless looking fellas on a pedal bike. He comes racing towards me, gets off near me and shouts some things in Arabic which I took to mean “fuck off, go back the way you came.” At this point, I’d just about realised that these were not the Gardens I was looking for and that the situation was quickly turning SNAFU.

He cycled off towards the entrance and I followed him until he turned off the path. Now at this point, I had no idea who this fella was, had been trekking along this path for half an hour and the gate I had been heading for was about 5 minutes away. The whole place was increasingly giving me the creeps and I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. For context, see the attached pictures. With that in mind, once he turned off the path, I turned around and headed back towards the gate I’d been aiming for.

I started moving towards the gate fairly quickly, stopping only to inspect an open manhole cover - I couldn’t see the bottom and there was no ladder.

Eventually, I got to the perimeter wall and the gate was very firmly shut. I briefly considered trying to scale the wall, but decided against it and admitted defeat - this was clearly what the guy I’d assumed to be homeless was trying to tell me.

I turned off to head back towards the gate I’d come in from, but along the outside perimeter wall in case there was another gate. There were a few, all locked, and one wall that looked very climbable, but it looked quite fragile. About halfway along this wall, I came across what looked like a fairly stately building.

And a dog.

This dog was not very happy to see me, and quickly started barking. This attracted the attention of another dog, who quickly followed suit. If the situation was turning SNAFU before, it was now undoubtedly fucked up beyond all recognition. This was getting pretty fucking bad.

I turned off the perpendicular path and sharply walked away from the dogs who did not make chase. I did realise that I was in direct sight of anyone watching from the stately building and so hopped off the path and carried on in that direction in the undergrowth. The dogs didn’t stop barking and the sound of a motorbike coming from that direction didn’t do wonders for my heart rate at this point.

Eventually, I made it back to the paved path I’d come in on, and walked right by the man who’d come to tell me to leave - his friend was nowhere to be seen. I was a little worried that they’d close it and lock me in, but alas that didn’t happen and I made it out of the gate and back onto the main road.

Anyway, I made my way down the road, along the other side of the perimeter wall I’d been following when I encountered the dogs. On the other side of the road, was a Royal Palace.

As I walked down the road, there were lots of regular army checkpoint huts, with soldiers standing guard in them. One of these huts just happened to be by the very stately looking building where I’d found the dogs!

I was very tempted to ask one of these soldiers what that field actually was, but given the afternoon’s activities, I decided that that probably wasn’t a very good idea in the end. I found my way to the other side of the gate I’d been aiming for eventually, even if the route there was an eventful one!

After that debacle, I sat outside the Koutoubia Mosque and started reading my final book, Partition, which is about Indian independence and the creation of Pakistan in 1947. I did this by the side of the road, and whilst doing so watched a man get very frustrated with a bus driver until the bus eventually drove off without him.

As the sun began to set, the call to prayer went off and, being a Muslim in a Muslim country, I felt I ought to be called to prayer at least once and so went to pray inside the ancient mosque. It was an interesting mosque but complicated by the fact that there seemed to be two people on the microphone, which was a bit confusing. I’ve never seen that before, perhaps it’s a North African thing from the Maliki school of thought. Perhaps some of our North African readers might know?

After this, I wandered back through some of the souks and eventually settled down for dinner. I got a lamb couscous and sausage panini and they were both pretty underwhelming. The couscous in particular was just, well couscous. There was no sauce or juice from the lamb that has seeped in, and I had more vegetables than I did lamb. Disappointing, but c’est la vie.

After this, I moved to a cafe on the corner of the main square where I got a mint tea, rang home (they had Wifi, pronounced Wih-Fee in the French style, which makes me chuckle) and read my book. It was looking like a peaceful end to my last evening in Marrakesh.

Then people starting yelling and running out of the main Jamma el-Fna square.

I couldn’t quite see what was going on, but all the Moroccan people were yelling and trying to get a look. Once they’d seen, a good number of them turned around and legged it. I heard “gendarmerie” and figured that that was a pretty good sign to get off the x.

I very promptly made my way back through the souks and towards my Airbnb. General pandemonium followed, with pretty much every shopkeeper hurriedly shutting up shop and the erratic motor bikers behaving even more erratically than usual. It got less hectic the further away I got, but I was very conscious of the part of the world I was in, and that when things go bad here, they go real bad, real quick, so I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

Remember how I mentioned yesterday that there’s a lot of work going on for the 2030 World Cup in Morocco right now? Well, it turns out that young Moroccans are quite pissed off about the government funding this and not their lives, and have been taking to the streets the last few days.

In response, police have been driving their vehicles into protestors and there have been murmurings of a young boy being shot in Agadir. I struggled to find much evidence of other disturbances in Marrakesh that evening, so I suspect this was what had reared its head in the square. It’s difficult to be sure though, as the Arabic speaking world seems to use Morocco and Marrakesh interchangeably.

(Editor's Note: It was a protest - see below for more details)
New York Times
BBC (from the day)
BBC (follow on piece)

Anyway, so an eventful, and certainly not relaxing, day, but one full of stories nonetheless! I’d say that makes it all worth it, wouldn’t you?