Casablanca (Part One)

While I was in Morocco in November I spent a number of days in Casablanca. Casablanca is an enormous city and is essentially the capital in all but name as this is the economic powerhouse of Morocco and where most of the wealth lies. The real capital, Rabat, feels distinctly provincial in comparison. My relatives have a nice little apartment right in the centre of downtown so it is a perfect base to explore this vast metropolis.

Until the French arrived, Casablanca was a tiny place and essentially comprised the area which is known as the old medina today. This area has a nice market in it and is pretty rundown. The bulk of the main town does not at all resemble anything recognised as “typically Moroccan”. Many beautiful old art deco buildings can be found downtown although they now have a faded grandeur, similar to what you can find in Havana in Cuba.

The atmosphere in Casa is also unlike the rest of the country. There is a lot of wealth here but only a small part of the inhabitants have it. The bulk of the people are quite poor and you can see examples of grinding poverty here, with many beggars and people quite clearly living from hand to mouth. It is also rougher in Casa and the city is ranked as the number one place for crime in the whole of Morocco. However, walking the streets here is still much safer than visiting many other African cities but I noticed that most of my female relatives feel quite unsafe here after dark.

In many ways, it does not even feel that you are in Morocco when you are in Casa. Sometimes you feel you are somewhere in France, at other times it feels almost like Cairo. I don’t particularly like Casa at all but it is a very interesting place and gives you a totally different side of Morocco that you would not expect if you just visited popular towns like Marrakech and Essaouira. Life feels gritty here and very real, not like the much-touted “magicalness” of Marrakech. Casa is not enjoyable, certainly if you want to relax. But it does has its’ charms and its’ good side. You just have to scratch under the surface a bit more to find it.

I already wrote in a previous blog entry about some of the challenges facing photographers in Morocco, and in Casa these are at their most acute. Morocco is not an easy destination to photograph people and Casablanca is definitely the hardest, especially if you are interested in street photography. Walking with an expensive camera here feels less safe than anywhere else I have been in the country and you have to keep your wits about you but also keep things in perspective. For example, I went out alone a few times and got some great shots and didn’t get any problems. Another time though, my activities caused offence and I had to leave the area as things started to get a bit threatening.

One of the most interesting experiences I had here was when my relative Mehdi took me out on a midnight drive around the city. We went down to the suburb of Ain Diab which is where you can find a plethora of beach clubs, nightclubs and restaurants. You don’t find any typical Moroccan restaurants here as it’s full with such fast food eateries like KFC, MacDonalds and others of their ilk. The clubs are all pretty expensive and it feels very European. I remarked to Mehdi about the irony that exists here. I am a European who visits Morocco and enjoys and treasures the simple beauty of the country, its’ spirituality and its’ sense of community. I only eat in simple restaurants, sit in typical cafes and am not interested at all in hanging around rich people and all of their pretensions. Paradoxically, many Moroccans feel that the western existence is more advanced than that in Morocco and hark after the trappings of the west, and therefore Ain Diab is to them a dream destination. I just felt that it was an empty, soulless place.

My last night in Casa was an interesting experience too. Mehdi took me to a Vietnamese restaurant in the heart of downtown. It was packed inside and so dimly lit that it was almost impossible to see the little plates of oriental tapas that were placed on our table. We met some friends of his there who were really friendly and with a great sense of humour, plus we spoke in English too which was wonderful after so much Arabic and French conversation. After ordering some soft drinks, I looked around and realised that no-one in the whole place was eating a meal. I remarked on this to my companions, and they replied that essentially the restaurant is just a glorified bar where people come to drink alcohol but without being seen that they are entering a bar!

After an hour or so there we went to a café in Ain Diab, met some more friends and enjoyed a shisha and a pot of mint tea. This establishment was also another different side to Morocco. The music playing was all from Khaleeji (the Gulf) and all the young women there were essentially prostitutes. All of them were caked in make-up and looked more like clowns going to the circus. It was a depressing sight. The conversation, company and the shisha were all great though!

I did meet some interesting people in my days here including a number of music artists and the author Tahir Shah, plus I took hundreds of photographs that I am still processing. Here are the first selection, more will follow tomorrow, and more again soon alongside various reports from the city Moroccans call “Dar el Baida”.

Berber Killer (Part One)

Morocco is a country inhabited by three peoples. They are the Berbers, the Arabs and the Gnaoua. The original people of Morocco are the Berbers who still constitute the majority of the population. They have distinct facial features and have a strong culture and also their own languages (three of them are spoken in Morocco). The Arabs came from Arabia in the seventh century, bringing Islam with them which became the dominate faith in north Africa and the Middle East, spreading at unbelievable speed. The Gnaoua are the black people of Morocco and are descended from the sub-Saharan slaves who were brought to the kingdom many years ago. Each of these peoples have their own traditions but they are all remarkably well integrated into Moroccan society, especially when it comes to music. It is almost impossible to find a Moroccan who does not like Berber music or the mystical sounds of the Gnaoua.

Berber traditions are most dominant in the far south (around the High Atlas mountains and the Souss area), the Middle Atlas mountains (near Fes) and the Rif mountains in the north. If you visit any of these places then you will find vast amounts of Berber music. One CD that I picked up in early 2009 was "Afulki" by the famous Berber singer Ammouri M'Barek. It has a smooth but strong production and is completely different from Arab and oriental music. Strangely, it almost sounds like Chinese music in places, making you think that maybe there was some cross-cultural crossover many years ago between these two peoples. You can also find some Berber people with Chinese-like features in the south of Morocco too.

This clip features the song "Afulki" from Ammouri M'Barek. He is singing in the Berber language of Tashelhiyt.

My Review Of 2009

1. New Album Of The Year:

Khaled - Liberte. Just when you had thought that the King of Rai had lost direction, he goes back to his roots and releases the best rai album for over a decade.

2. Re-issue Album Of The Year:

Various Artists - Can You Dig It? So many brilliant re-issues to choose from but Soul Jazz's latest compilation of music from Blaxploitation movies is superb, and it's a double CD too with a 100 page booklet. Simply essential.

3. Gig Of The Year:

Omar Souleyman in Manchester. I saw quite a few great gigs this year including Daby Toure, Rango, Abdullah Chhadeh, Gilad Atzmon, Lowkey, Ramallah Underground and Maghribibeat but this one reigned over all. It's been a long time since I spent a whole concert with a big grin on my face. Amazing and a little bit crazy too.

4. Performer Of The Year:

Daby Toure. His concert in York was a joy from start to finish and Daby always puts 100% into every performance. An uplifting night.

5. Biggest Musical Disappointment Of The Year:

The Live Room venue in Bradistan. Hopes were raised that this new venture would lift the city out of its' cultural malaise but it closed without prior warning about a month later.

6. Film Of The Year:

Synecdoche, New York. This film still has my brain scrambled and I hope to watch it again sometime soon. It was indeed overblown but it was equally a work of cinematic genius and complete madness. Not far behind, The Hurt Locker bristled with tension throughout and was a cracking thriller; and Che (Part One) was, despite its' lack of depth, a remarkable telling of the momentous events of the Cuban revolution.

7. Documentary Of The Year:

Soul Power. The story of the concert that accompanied the legendary "Rumble In The Jungle" boxing fight between Ali and Foreman was a perfect slice of 1970s soul and funk live and direct from Zaire.

8. TV Channel Of The Year:

Undisputably, Al Jazeera English. No other news channel can match it on any level.

9. Overall Disappointment Of The Year:

Barack Obama. Has so much hope ever evaporated so quickly? His speedy capitulation to the Israeli government over the issue of illegal settlements was shameful.

10. Embarassment Of The Year:

Bradistan's enormous city centre hole. Five years on and no end in sight and still the local council want to further destroy our civic heritage.

11. Scumbags Of The Year:

The Israeli regime and their assorted supporters across the globe. The barbaric siege and pounding of Gaza, the continued building of illegal settlements, the denial of human rights to the Palestinian people....the list is almost endless.

12. Heroes Of The Year:

The people of Gaza who heroically withstood the daily onslaught of the Israeli military one year ago. Little has changed since then and the world continues to keep its' eyes closed to their continued suffering.

13. My Blog Highlight Of The Year:

Almost impossible to choose but being able to get a photograph of the Bradistan Monk, a task where so many have failed, ranks high on the list.

One Year On, We Will Not Forget

One Year Of Blogging

One year ago today I started this blog and it has been quite a journey so far. I didn't realise how much time and effort would be needed for such a venture, especially that I have published something almost every day since then. It's been great to receive visitors from all over the world, sometimes from unusual places too including occupied Palestine, Gaza and even various parts of Asia and South America. Thanks to all who have given me positive feedback or posted comments on some of the entries.

However, I cannot keep up such a pace of publishing almost daily. I have tons of photos still to process from my trip to Morocco as well as writing various pieces that I have in my mind. Plus, like all bloggers, sometimes there is simply a lack of inspiration or even enthusiasm to write. Living normal life, having a full-time job, holding down various relationships and just doing various stuff all impact on my time to blog. So from 2010 I will publish less often but I will continue to update the blog regularly. I don't intend the blog to fade away as I do enjoy doing it.

I'm looking forward to bringing you more tales from Bradistan in 2010 and I wish all my readers a very happy and prosperous new year.

The Oath

A man who was troubled in mind once swore that if his problems were solved, he would sell his house and give all the money gained from it to the poor.

The time came when he realized that he must redeem his oath. But he did not want to give away so much money. So he thought of a way out.

He put the house on sale at one silver piece. Included with the house, however, was a cat. The price asked for this animal was ten thousand pieces of silver.

Another man bought the house and cat. The first man gave the single piece of silver to the poor, and pocketed the ten thousand for himself.

Heavy Metal Killer (Part Two)

When I was young punk skulking around the streets of Edinburgh, I always used to see an intriguing 12" record in the racks. It was titled "Motorhead" by the group of the same name. I didn't know anything about this band except that the tune was on the new wave label Chiswick Records which was a rival to the superior Stiff Records back in those days.

Anyway, one day, I asked to hear the record and put on the listening headphones to see what it was like. Well, I was totally blown away by the tune which far heavier than most punk records and hurtled along at breakneck speed. Everything about the song was massive, from the monstrous bass line, the powerhouse drumming and the great guitar work, including a brilliant solo. Suffice to say, I bought it and to this day it remains a real favourite of mine from those days. In fact, in my vinyl DJ box which gets an occasional airing, you can find the 12" sitting there - the lone metal tune in a sea of reggae sides.

I never thought Motorhead did anything since that really moved me in the way that this song did. Sure, "Ace Of Spades" is a real killer as well as some of the early singles, but this first effort has something really special about it.

The No Democracy Wall

Back in the last weekend of October, the Democracy Wall suddenly appeared in Bradistan. Constructed and installed by persons unknown, it was an ideal companion to the Odeon protests that were held in the city at the same time. The wall gave local people an opportunity to write what they felt about the enormous hole in the centre of town, the planned demolition of the Odeon and the lack of democracy and poor decision-making by the local council.

I did not expect the wall to be there for long and within a few days it was destroyed by the council. It's ironic that the council take action as what they perceive to be an eyesore while they have been impotent about the gaping hole that has now sat there for five long years, with no end in sight.

A few days ago I took a walk around the city centre to see how things were and if anything had changed as I had been in Morocco for almost a month. I was surprised to see all the artwork, poetry and graffiti around the hole still intact. It had been reported in the local paper that these would be removed but everything continued to be in place.

The Democracy Wall has gone though and arguably the way it has been left is more "ugly" than when it was there. It seems that the council were quite half-hearted in their clean-up. Here is a picture I took of it. Although all the messages have disappeared, the destruction of the Democracy Wall cannot erase the lack of democracy that it is in Bradistan when it comes to our heritage.

Summer Fun

Yesterday I took a walk in the city centre of Bradistan, mainly to have a look around to see if anything had changed since I had come back from holiday. It was literally freezing cold and despite walking fairly briskly, any exposed area of skin was really feeling it. I spotted this young man begging on the street and not in the best physical condition. He told me that he was from Armenia of all places and seemed pretty unaware of any local services that could help him at this time of particularly cold weather.

What really struck me was the irony of the sign in the window of the abandoned shop he was sitting in front of. He hadn't appear to notice the contradiction between this notice and his physical presence there. I was surprised that he let me take his photograph, and I am pleased that he did because for me, this is one of the most powerful images that I have taken in my one year as a photographer.

Safi Sunset (Part Two)

Here are more photos taken at the coastline in Safi, Morocco around sunset time.

Safi Sunset (Part One)

When I was in Safi last month, one of the most pleasant pastimes was to go down to the corniche in the late afternoon. There are always quite a lot of people to be found there. Young lovers finding a discreet place to sit; schoolkids enjoying the last bit of sunshine of the day; a couple of Moroccan "rastas"; and even some young men having an illicit drink were all characters I came across while I was there.

The last hour or two of daylight is perfect as it is still hot but more bearable than the earlier hours. The setting sun casts a golden light across all in its' path so photography was great at this time, although on some shots the saturation was just too much and these pictures I converted to black and white.

More pictures will appear in tomorrow's blog.

Johnny Mad Dog

Johnny Mad Dog is a film directed by Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire and is set in an un-named African country (but filmed in Liberia). It follows a rebel army composed of child soldiers as they advance on the capital. The film is a realistic, brutal and uncomfortable portrayal of a typical African civil war where children at are right at the centre.

For most of its' ninety-eight minutes length, Johnny Mad Dog is difficult to watch without arousing feelings of revulsion as to what you are witnessing on the screen. Vicious murders, rape and the terrorisation of innocent people are repeatedly shown, all perpetrated by young teenage boys. There is little light in amongst the almost continuous darkness.

The film is centred around two key characters - Johnny Mad Dog of the title, who is a brutal leader of his ragtag group but is shown to be sometimes very confused as to his real identity, not surprisingly as he is only fifteen years of age. The other person is the thirteen year old Laokole, who is struggling to save her crippled father's life. Both characters end up coming together at the film's climax.

Set in very run-down areas, the composition of the images are excellent and superbly shot. Hand-held cameras are used for large parts of the movie and it is very well-edited. I barely noticed any soundtrack at all, even now I can't recall if there was any music in the film or not.

Overall, Johnny Mad Dog is a very bleak watch but is a realistical portrayal of such a terrible conflict. Despite non-actors being cast, the acting is brilliant and I understand that former child soldiers were recruited for the roles. A tough, harrowing film that stays in the mind long after you have departed the cinema.

The Youth Of Jerrifat (Part Four)

Now that I am back home in Bradistan, I am slowly processing my images from my trip to Morocco. Today's blog carries on previous entries that feature the young people who live in the Jerrifat quarter of Safi, on the Atlantic coast of Morocco. This little series will continue running as and when I have enough pictures ready to publish.