(no subject)
It is very hard to be bored in Marakech. Although I am currently enjoying some time off, if I ever feel I have nothing to do I can just take a walk into the souks and try to get myself lost. Every day it takes me a bit longer, so I guess I'm slowly learning my way around. Yesterday was a weird one - I headed in and followed a straight line, turning neither right nor left, until about 45 minutes later I suddenly emerged back in the square just by where I had gone in. It makes no sense. If you go in with a compass, the needle starts freaking out like you're crossing the Bermuda Triangle. There are lost cartographers staggering around in the depths. Sometimes, entering an alleyway, you will see one with a twelve-inch beard and tattered clothes, clutching his instruments, crazy-eyed and babbling. Theseus would need more than a ball of twine to sort this lot out.
I have Mauretanised my name to Ouarouik El Hakim (i.e. in Arabic, وارويك الحكيم). This is now how I introduce myself to people and it seems to go down pretty well, helps to break the ice and so on. Hakim means ‘wise’, and there was some doubt when I suggested this moniker to Kamal whether or not I am allowed to use it, as it is one of the 99 names. However, after a phone call to his brother, who has a PhD in Islamic Studies, it was decided that it's OK and not sacreligious. I plan to find myself a cool monogram from the Arabic, which can be one of those pretentious affectations I like to use to confuse and irritate people.
This morning I met up with a guy called Ali, who is a journalist on a Marrakshi radio station. Ali was suggested by the Press people as a substitute for K, and I must say he was very professional and impressive. I contacted him a while ago about the possibility of talking to a muezzin, but that seems to be a non-starter which is a great pity. I don't know why, but religious figures here are very, very reluctant to talk on camera. However, Ali is now assiduously hunting for souk-based artisans for me to spend some time with and he seems fairly hopeful about it. He also said he would look into the possibility of my following one of their reporters for a day or so, which I thought might be an interesting way of getting around town. Incidentally, he was the first person I have ever met over here who had no problem with my name (Warwick). When I told him, he just said, ‘Warwick, ah yes, like in Henry V.’ I nearly fell off my chair. Unfortunately I couldn't think of anything to say about his name except ‘Ali, ah yes, like the Prophet's son-in-law...’ but that would have sounded rubbish, so I shut up.
I have Mauretanised my name to Ouarouik El Hakim (i.e. in Arabic, وارويك الحكيم). This is now how I introduce myself to people and it seems to go down pretty well, helps to break the ice and so on. Hakim means ‘wise’, and there was some doubt when I suggested this moniker to Kamal whether or not I am allowed to use it, as it is one of the 99 names. However, after a phone call to his brother, who has a PhD in Islamic Studies, it was decided that it's OK and not sacreligious. I plan to find myself a cool monogram from the Arabic, which can be one of those pretentious affectations I like to use to confuse and irritate people.
This morning I met up with a guy called Ali, who is a journalist on a Marrakshi radio station. Ali was suggested by the Press people as a substitute for K, and I must say he was very professional and impressive. I contacted him a while ago about the possibility of talking to a muezzin, but that seems to be a non-starter which is a great pity. I don't know why, but religious figures here are very, very reluctant to talk on camera. However, Ali is now assiduously hunting for souk-based artisans for me to spend some time with and he seems fairly hopeful about it. He also said he would look into the possibility of my following one of their reporters for a day or so, which I thought might be an interesting way of getting around town. Incidentally, he was the first person I have ever met over here who had no problem with my name (Warwick). When I told him, he just said, ‘Warwick, ah yes, like in Henry V.’ I nearly fell off my chair. Unfortunately I couldn't think of anything to say about his name except ‘Ali, ah yes, like the Prophet's son-in-law...’ but that would have sounded rubbish, so I shut up.