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MOROCCO
TUESDAY 23-2-2010
As you realized distinguished reader, The
crossing from the Algeciras port on the
European continent to Ceuta town, on African
soil ,was a stormy one indeed.
I'm sorry to say, I was not feeling
well, coughing and throat pain since over a
week; now, the ride in the catamaran ferry
was adding
to my misery.
Fortunately the sailing time was less than a hour and we
stepped once again, onto the African
continent which we left in 2007 via
Egypt.
When the ship cut another of the
on-rolling waves, the spray was flying high
created rainbows in the glittering sunshine.
The border was in vicinity of Ceuta town and we rolled slowly
through the Spanish site, passing it without
being stop.
Before the Morocco border post, were already the ever-present
hustler trying to sell you some very
important "fiche" which are
needed for the formalities. We ignored them and when finally
halted, were approached by Aziz a old, tall
man, so thin that he
would not need an umbrella in bad weather, as he could walk between
the falling raindrops. Only three lower
teeth left, he was
worn out by a live of hardship.
Speaking four languages, he made his living by helping tourists
into Morocco, and drug pushers out of jail.
"She was a German nun" he told us and came, to get her brother out of
jail. He was caught with 6 kg of hashish,
which is freely grown
in the Rif, more precise, in the Ketama region. "How much did it
cost her?" "Euro 12,000.- for the lawyer. I
was the interpreter" "How
could a nun devoting her life to prayer get that kind of money?"
I asked. "She begged rich people. "And he
told us more. "They catch
on the border pensioners in their motor homes. One had 16kg with
him, this silly man."
The border formalities where fast. The customs boss took the green
custom form we had filed before, he saw my
hubby's name.
"Your name Harun?" "I'm Muslim"
"You Muslim?" "Yes Boss". "Muslim no problem!" said he and "bang
,bang," two stamps, one front, one at the
back, his ever
important signature under, and out we were. "Shukran Chef" said
Harun to the smiling Officer.
Aziz came with us. He told about his family life, that he is the
only breadwinner although having five boys,
the oldest being thirty-five
years. "What do they work?" "Nothing. only site at home".
"Aziz sorry, but there is something wrong!
Why do you not kick them
out of the house to earn for themselves? " "My wife does not allow
that".
And hence poor Aziz never grow a body big enough to need an
umbrella.
We got the Morocco car insurance in town, tipped off Aziz and drove
into the evening, towards Rabat. Flags
everywhere and people
waiting to get a glimpse of the King, who happen to be in town.
Still in Ceuta
"Guns and Roses?"
The King is in town
folks waiting humble for a glimpse of the
ruler
It was getting late, somewhere at the petrol station, adjacent to
restaurant and sanitary facilities, was the
right place to set up for
the night. Curtains drawn, a last study of the map before the lamp
is switched off and the eyes close for an
undisturbed slumber.
At the parking lot
A last study
WEDNESDAY 24-2-2010
The fine highway towards Rabat
flooded houses and agric fields. see the tip
of the fencepost
We drove on a Highway, which could not be better in Europe. The
torrential rain which had plagued
Morocco too, had finally stopped.
It pained the heart to see, that left and right, the lower
agriculture fields had drowned, including
farmhouses.
Where wheat and barley should grow, cash crops like strawberries
and bananas in plastic covered shelters,
nothing but water, like
lakes a mile wide, driving farmers into despair.
Two hours later, we curved into the entrance gate of our
representation in Morocco.
It was a feeling like coming home.
In Rabat, our
Representation
The "miracle men" The Charge de affairs Mr
Hj M.Nordin Ahmad and Mr Hj Ibrahim Hj
Merassan
They were waiting for us.
Let me ask you honorable foreign reader of our web site, have you
ever needed the help of your Embassy?
Were you not happy with their performance and treatment of your
requests? Then advise them to come to
Morocco and get a
course in efficiency, devotion towards a cause, concern for their
own people. Let them come to the Brunei
Representations to
learn how a small team can perform almost miracles. Miracles for
you. This is the story clean and plain, as
it had happen to us:
We had no visas for Trans Africa. To obtain them would mean
traveling to Singapore, Kuala Lumpur,
Jakarta or even beyond.
Time and money consuming. Therefore we planned to pick them up on
route. But knowing well that some countries
are very fuzzy
about. Since Morocco is a progressive nation with many
foreign representations, we decided to ask
the Embassy for advise and
eventually help, to obtain some visas here.
The whole Staff was busy to help our cause
They sprung into action and within three days they obtained for us
seven visas.
Something, we would never been able to do. "We try to get you all
the visas right to South Africa in these few
days" said
Hj Ibrahim, just returning from an foreign Embassy with a bunch of
documents in his hands.
"You may travel now in Morocco, we keep in touch and once we have
them all, you come and pick your passports."
Honorable reader; do you know the feeling when one is ashamed of
the many goodies, but grateful on the other
hand?
We slept in Hj.Nordin's house, ate there, served by his charming
wife Mdm Hamidah, we were unexpectedly
invited for meals in fine
establishments, and treated like dignitaries although we are only
travelers of many miles.
"Gosh" one feels like having to say "Thank you" all the time.
THURSDAY 25-2-2010
After a sound but coughing sleep we had chance to see the town a
bit. As in the old WILD WEST the horse was
taken care of
first, so did we with our JAMBO.
Sale and graveyards outside the town walls
"Where is the problem?"
While we had a first glimpse of Rabat, got JAMBO prepared for the
long haul, changing oils, greasing it,
topping gear oil, did all the
nitty gritty thing needed, went to the specialist to cure hopefully
and finally my coughing, the visas were
flying into out passports and
life was made easy for us.
scrutinizing inspection and engine oil
change
A genius devise. A wiper motor turn an oil
pump
to fill gear oil
Greasing
was done, and guess where? At TOTAL! A
main sponsor of our expedition
These Frenchmen value performance just as in
their Brunei drilling operations
Waves
where hammering the shoreline, the heavy
rain one can see on the muddy waters
extending into the sea. Yet windy, but
people search for a place of their liking. Here a young couple, he
is trying to convince here of something with
"sweet mouth",
there a lonely Moroccan beauty, listening to the waves and perhaps
her innermost, troubled like the sea behind
her.
The Kasbah des Qudaias
Long ago was this Kasbah also the residence of the Sultan, today a
historical site with art gallery and cafes.
In the 17th century when the area was called Bouregreg she was
feared for piracy until Mulai Ismael took
control and ended
their reign.
Alley in the Kasbah
5 dirham a glass that is Euro 0.50 or B$ 1.-
The orange juice is squeezed by handwork in front of you
having the extractor constantly busy;
His orange crates empty over the day, and "klingling" the five
dirham coins fill his cashbox fast. There is
almost a line up for the
juice.
Typical house
door
Fatima's hand protecting from evil
Narrow alleys and ancient doors, the inhabitants protected by the
hand of Fatima.
The day was over in no time and we retired once more in the
exquisite home of Hj. Nordin. To him and
wife Mdm Hamidah belongs all
our gratitude.
FRIDAY 26-2-2010
After loading the events we are leaving Rabat and Brunei's
hospitality, to travel through the country,
awaiting the visas which will be
completed by Tuesday next week.
And you, honorable reader, should you not be too bored, click in
for updates on our "Journey around this
wonder some World".
The former "Kingstown" Meknes was only 3
hours driving away. We cruised as in the
last days on a fine highway. passing cork
oak
forest on our way.
A tree with a stripped off section
the 60 mm thick bark
When you, French gents and ladies, with
exquisite taste for wine or even champagne
open one bottle, perhaps in candlelight and
in front of the fireplace, you would not think that conceivably the
very cork originated on a tree in Morocco.
Here cork is harvested
and made to seal bottles all over Europe. The often sour, mixed and
punched drinks of the ordinary men is only
plugged with a
plastic sealer cap.
Meknes has a
turbulent history. She was founded by the
Berber tribe of Meknassa in the 10th
century, was taken over by the
Almoravides before the Merinides in the 12th century and finally
the Saadier's.
Moulay Ismail became the ruling sultan from 1672- 1727. that is for
55 years, uniting Morocco. He insisted to be a close friend
of Ludwig the XIV of France. Even tried,
to convince his" friend" to a conversion to
Islam. Why? He liked to marry the daughter.
Main entrance Bab Mansour
The marble pillars are roman made, taken
from Volubilis a Roman bastion
a long way around even with a "Kalescha" a
horse cart
He must have been somewhere weird. When his reign begun he placed
700 copped-of heads on the walls of Fes. "Be
warned
revolutionaries!" His excesses were soon talk of the land. Horrible
stories lingering around, of which we better
do not tell about here.
The legacy of his reign is still visible
everywhere.
The walls of the palace area are 25 km long, his
30 or so palaces within, were build by 3000 slaves and 25,000 prisoners. It is said,
they were locked away
down here.
You see nothing from above
but below these
bricks are vast catacombs
Without
sanitation, the ceiling holes where made
later
the stairs down with the iron gate
His army of 150.000 men held
the country in check and a royal guard of 30,000 Sudanese him in
power.
An army needs horses! His
stable had space for 12000 horses whereby
everyone had it's attendant. He build water channels that
they may
only drink fresh water in the stables.
part of the horse stable a wooden waterwheel to pump water up
The Place El Hedim opposite of Bab Masour
This large aerial was earlier a part of a Medina. Moulay Ismail leveled it
to make space for the entrance to his
palace.
Let us face it; this sultans actions were in all accounts of
humanity questionable. He had 500 wives, (not
all at the same time on his
divan we assume), and yet-his mausoleum is revered by the population. People
pray there, as it is said his remains have "Baraka"
magic powers.
Details in Moulay Ismail Mausoleum
Soon we were on the way to Fes
the third of the Kings towns, less that 70
km away and settled tonight in a camping lot
with geese,
a wild rider and French motor
home campers.
SATURDAY 27-2-2010
the rascals
red cover for man and machine
They snapped me in the leg if they did not get a bread in time. "Be warned
geese, it is easy to find a cooking pot!"
Last night around midnight arrived a couple
with their mobile cabinet. You know these
big machines, where the drivers sits small,
surrounded with storage boxes as big as a
kitchen cabinet. Put a tent up, cover the
machine, took them until about 1:00 am.
By 8:30 already, we were on the way to Old
Fez.
For many this is the
secrete capital of Morocco.
800,000 people still live in the
Medina, here was the first dynasty of
Morocco founded.
From Bordj Nord one has a splendid view of
Fes. Right side, separated by the small
river are Fes el Andalus, and Fes el Bali.
Fes el Bali
Fes el Andalus
When Muslim were driven out of Spain (see
our we site Spain) many settled here. With them
they
brought skill and knowledge.
Between both
Fes was a wall raised, separating people and
opinions, which was only torn
down in the 11 the century by Youseff ben
Tashfine, who build bridges over the river. However the once clean water which
sparkled in hundreds of public
fountains, bath,
mosques and private houses of rich families became meanwhile a sewer where
garbage floats down river and coppersmiths
wash acid
from their brass tin-creations before polishing takes place.
the rushing river seen from a bridge
one of the many dried up public fountains
Trades are established in the same family
since generations, often only as a one man
business, like the sharpener. He, once
playing
football in the national team, has
in old age still strength to to rotate his
mega grinding stone by foot.
this grinding stone will last the owner out,
that is for sure
From pocketknife to scissors to a butchers
cleaver, awaiting collection of the rightful
owner.
From a vantage point we could look down to
the tannery. Nothing much has changed since
the middle ages. Young men dip the skins
repeatedly into the colored pots, filled
with natural colors like indigo or saffron,
or whatever color is required.
the sheepskins are dipped into liquids (including
a mix of cow urine too) and
walked on, by bare feet.
The products, in bright colors end up
in a shop first and then in the home of
passing tourists.
One bread is sold for dirham 1.5 that is
about B$ 0.30
The bakeries are partially mechanized and
the baking oven is now fired with oil.
Waving is partially mechanized, the
workers job is to pull the string once a second to the left and let the "ship" fly,
and to the right,
pushing the
pedal alternate.
That is 3,600 times an hour or 28,800
times a day for B$ 15.-. Every day. Do
you like to apply for such work?
The Kairouan Mosque is one
of the largest in North Africa and has space
for 20,00 believers.
She was founded in 859 AD by Laila Fatimah Fihrya who emigrated from
Kairouan Tunisia. The Merinide dynasty in
the 16th century
extended her. Exquisite stuck and tile work is as well as
glazed roof tiles were added.
Attached to the mosque is one of the oldest
universities of the western world, and the
library dates back to the 9th century with
an
outstanding collection of Islamic
literature
The courtyard
tiles and stuck work; finest
craftsmanship as we saw in Andalusia's
Alhambra
The alleys are narrow, sometime two can
hardly pass each other, some of the walls are
in a desolate state and have to be supported
already. UNESCO funds flow in, to preserve
this unique character of old Fes.
Peppermint leaves before the Tannery...
a beggar and a beautiful decorated entrance
Occasionally the alleys widen and there one
finds the garden product merchants such as
the peppermint leaves used for tea. Should
you ever go to the tannery, stick a few
leaves into your nose, as it stinks to
heaven there.
Many books have been written about Fes which are worth to read should you
like to go deeper into the history.
Aziz our guide was sour: on the way to the
car he told us already, how many children he
had and could we not top up his fee.
"Sorry Aziz, a deal is a deal." I was
strict, started JAMBO and were on our way
towards south.
Clear sky and barren landscape, occasionally
a village nesting below the mountains.
The passports we left with our Embassy, they took care of the visas and
upon our return, we should have most, of not
all visas.
We are so grateful for their help and paced
along towards the arid South behind
the Atlas mountains.
Boulemane
town,
just before the mountain pass
Harun
holding siesta
The evening approached and we set again a night in our "Hotel de la JAMBO",
a 80 km before Erfud town.
SUNDAY 28-2-2010
Only this morning we knew, where we had
camped last night. And there was the unique "toilet with a view".
A squatter hole without water, but one could
observe passing people. And they you.
Lucky me, I found another one inside the
restaurant.
We had made it last night to the
Ziz Gorge and drove this morning further
south.
Picturesque are the date palm trees along the riverbank. They grow olives
too. However the river carries water only
during springtime.
Deep below the palm gardens of Ait Amira
The wind had picked up and developed to a
sandstorm gradually, fine dust was flying,
crawling through every little gap and hole
into
the car. We had to secure our
electronic equipment packing it into the
designated bags.
women gossip on mules Erfud town
The group was on the way to Erfud market. With "babies on board"
chatting, while the kids sat patiently on the mules back, held tight
by mama.
The strong westerly blowing from the Atlas
Mountains must had frequently blocked the
road. Therefore they made from palm branches
barriers wherever sand was drifting with the
wind.
 
The desert track
Only a few acacia trees survive in the
desert
We headed further south on a track towards
the Algerian border and reached one hour
later the sand dunes of Merzuga seen faintly
in
the picture.
However the storm was blowing in full force,
blurring the sun by sand particles in the
air, therefore we decided to return to Erfud and
stay a night in the hotel, to
update our web site and have a good shower.
MONDAY 1-3-2010
Brilliant sky just as there was no storm last
night. Towards south we directed JAMBO again and by 9:00 am,
we reached the
sickle
dunes again.
like soldiers march the camels, one behind
the other, as seen done in caravans for 1000
years
The
dunes rise about 300 m into the air. There
are only two in Morocco, otherwise the desert
consists of rocks and gravel.
Tourists
arrive daily by 4WD as
far as from Quarzazate town, 250 km away.
Sleeping an night in a Berber tent,
ride a camel,
providing income for locals, the Berber. One can
see them in the afternoon, guiding the camel,
on the back a tourist with camera,
wandering up and down the dunes to
give some Sahara desert adventure feeling.
high up on a "ship of the desert" , locals
and tourists alike
beautiful to look at, the dunes change
color with the sun during the day
Then we met these two camels and followed their discussions
closely.
"Look Aziza" said the hubby to her; "this
Asian lady coming here. 'How' small she is"
perhaps I should welcome her with a kiss
"Yack!"
Erfud is the self
declared capital of fossils and truly in
the vicinity, locals cut stones with
compressors, transport them to the
workshop,
where they are worked on by chisel, hammer
and cutting tools.
You can't miss this one chisel and
hammer
hand work
starfish
Through their skilled craftsmanship 300 million
years old life is exposed. Ammonites, sea-lilies and
starfish, shark teeth, to name but
a few.
Their products are exported all over the
world.
A plate with sea-lilies prices at about US$
4,000.-
Bedouins try to maintain their
lifestyle, wander with their goats, where
there is some vegetation, sleep and live in
their woven tents.
They do not leak, as when to cotton gets
wet, it soaks up and seals the pores. There
is no privacy in such a tent.
We met the family on the way. The husband
was out with the animals, leaving back
home mama
and her three girls.
Arda,
Hada, and Anima liked to post for this photo, whereas mama looked
rather critically.
Their way of life will come to an end,
as their kids do not get to school, a handicap
for their future. Moreover there
is no healthcare for
them. If they are sick,
a goat is sold to take care for the
expenses. But what about the teeth, the
personal hygiene etc.?
After the brief visit and we were soon on
the way to Quarzazat.
they
did not bother much
Our flag over the Moroccan desert
The Angola visa becomes a critical point. It
might be very well that we have to abandon
the plans to go to South Africa, but
rather ship
JAMBO from Casablanca or
Europe to the Americas.
Now we have contacted TOTAL, and the Angolan representation in
Vienna.
There might be a chance.
It seems they issue the visa at will or
better not at all.
There is no alternative routing to South
Africa. If we try to cross over to the east,
that is Chad- Sudan, we step right into the
rebel
zones of Darfur, known for starving
and refugees. The Central African Republic in the East is a "no go" area due to
banditry. Left is
the Congo, there is one
mud road, to cross west to east but coming
into Rwanda. Hundred thousand refugees from
the Tutsi - Hutu
conflict, and active rebels;
that seems to be too risky, if done, we may
not see Brunei again.
Angola is our only option. We do not
give up easily. Travelers in the internet
say, one can get a transit visa in Abuja,
Nigeria.
We tried to phone then them, however both
tel. numbers from their web site have been
changed.
the hazy sun a warning sign still at daylight, the storm was
approaching.
When evening came we stopped again for a
night in "Hotel de la JAMBO" a 150 km after
Erfud, driving off the main road into the
gravel
desert, parking under an acacia tree
to have a little shelter and went soon to
sleep.
Nothing much to worry we though. Around
midnight Harun waked me. "Yati the car is
shaking". And indeed someone rattled on
JAMBO. Then I saw lightning followed by
thunder. I counted the seconds. Knowing that sound travels with 330 m/sec,
whereas light
comes in an instant.
Nine seconds between the light and thunder,
the weather was three kilometer away.
Then again, now only one
kilometer and then
right above us. A hailstorm had developed,
we thought all hell breaks loose. Then
hailstones, as big as goat
droppings hammered on our windscreen. We turned the
vehicle around to protect the glass.
Then a bang on our roof rack.
Something has hit from above. Harun had to
go and look, holding the door with both
hands.
I hear him screaming against the wind. The
storm had broken a big branch which was now
jammed on our roof carrier.
This was no more fun. Harun had to climb up.
A broken branch stuck under a padlock. He
had to open it, meaning finding the right
key
by torchlight up there. Finally the
branch was loose and blown into the darkness
by the fierce storm. JAMBO rattled and shacked by
every gust of wind as if five giants would
like to bring him down.
Starting the engine we tried to escape, to
find a place sheltered from the storm. We
could not see anything in the rain. Slowly
we
crawled back towards the road guided by
our GPS, which we luckily had switched on
before. The instrument showed us the way
back
and out, we just followed the line on
the screen.
A "good night" we had from 2 am one behind a
house. It was heavy raining until morning. Harun was shivering and cold. Hopefully he
does not get sick.
TUESDAY 2-3-2010
We survived the night, but it became cold, almost zero degree,
yet set our course
towards Quarzazate, still 80 km away.
The Road was on several sections flooded;
but no problem for JAMBO
JAMBO needed new rubber bushings fro the
springs, as wanted to get all in order before we
proceed into inner Africa, that is, if we
succeed to get an Angolan visa. Therefore In Quarzazate we searched for a workshop
to change the rubber inserts
for the shocks
and springs.
After all, they had 12,000 bumpy
Siberian kilometer behind them.
 
Hard work for three mechanics
the changed rubber bushings, not that bad as
we thought
Checking into the Quarzazate camping ground, we hardly found a
place. It was full with French motor homes.
Elderly retired couples
with little barking
doggies. Grouping together exchanging views,
gossiping. Some had a bike mounted behind,
others a small 4 wheel
drive attached. These
Mobile homes are sold at around B$
140,000.-.With exemption of one. He had
mounted a top cabin" on a VW
tied down with
metal bands, that he may not loose it on a
up hill road. A little bit in the knees was
the vehicle at the rear due to the
load. "How you manage curve as your camper seems
somehow out of balance." "I go very
slowly".
 
How small was JAMBO in-between. How narrow
the space for us.
But, when it comes to
off-road performance he will begin to
enjoy the wilderness,
where all others have stopped and
discontinued the journey.
And that is what counts for us.
On this camper lot were at least motor
homes for B$ 3 million. And there is another
thing I observed. The older the people the
bigger
the camper they drive.
Before we left, Fifi our neighbors puddle came out
and did what all do. He pee on all four
tiers looking at us as if he want to ask:
"Anything wrong with that?"
all four tires every morning, as this is his
domain
WEDNESDAY 3-3-2010
We said
Quarzazate finally "good bye" and headed
northwest towards Marrakech. A last look at
the Atlas mountains, snowcapped
still, and we drove out of the town,
flanked by streetlights hanging like flower
buds on a sunny spring day. It was warm 22 degree
centigrade.
The travel
book mentioned a small salt mine, still
operated with pickaxe and wheelbarrows as in
forefathers times.
Although we had
to make a diversion from the main road, the
map showed we could get out on the other end
in less than 100km.
And hence it was about on the way to
Marrakech our next destination, we turned
right in, about 40 km after Quarzazate
along the
Asif Ounila gorge.
Initially a tarred road we came to a
viewpoint at Tamadaght village, where Minibuses with tourists
shot the usual "look where I was
photos". An
old man tried to make some money and had
placed on a table objects of curiosity for
the people to buy.
The deserted houses of Tamadaght
On the viewpoint he was standing there every day
among his artifacts, placed on a table. From mirrors
to Tanjin pots, old
pipes and figures
as they are made for magic practices, since the days of lore. The old
man, maybe a magician himself had two
snakes
and convinced the white lady to hold them.
The actual reason was not clear to us. It
was not money. Maybe he like to excite
her,
which from the look of her face did not seem
to work.
The old man's treasures
"the snakes are your friends; lady!"
 
was
this a "Needle puppet"? "Do
not be born as a girl in these mountains"
The tarred road was soon gravel, then no
gravel then it became a road under making.
JAMBO performed perfect, as expected, this
was a task he liked. But it was a bit
worrisome for me too.
The begin of the dirt road on the left
muddy river just space for JAMBO, left a ravine, right a
deep waterhole
not much here anymore
The construction site
Two workers came and when asking if we
could get through, they nodded. One saw big
rewards, took shovel and pick axe, ready to
remove anything in our way. Well the
washouts were allot, and stones big. We
drove in low gear all wheel drive after going ahead to
look for a passage., avoiding
the lightest mistake.
The whole procedure for 300 m, took 1/2 hour
then we were on the top of the mountain.
"Yes they said , now the road is good..."
Twenty dirham Harun wanted to give; "No".
Leveling What a track; the men working ahead
With commanding gestures, angry face and shouting, like a corporal
he refused 50.- dirham blocking our
way.
The face sour, Harun pulled 100.- dirham
out. Only then he stepped aside. Passing him,
we could see he was smiling. That was the
"mountain rip off", but what to do? We could
have dropped 50.-, but what goes on in
the head of the man?
Maybe he throw a stone?
Better we pay.
Don't' photo!
arid landscapes
It looks that he pull us, but it is the other way around. He was
stuck in the mud, so we pulled him back out, that we had chance to
pass. After another
hour or so we reached the salt mine. The
white residues is washed out salt.
The colors are astonishing.
When we arrived no one
was there. From a hut further up on the
slope came a man down, obviously the
operator.
He lighted up a gas lantern and show
us the cave. The walls were made from plain salt.
salt rock Inside the cave, with cave
entrance
This is a salt rock about 50 x 30 cm which they hack from the cave
fascia. Where water seeps through, salt
dissolves and drip down.
the operator
ready packed salt
I took a block with us, whenever we have a soup, instead with a
spoon I stir with my salt stone to
season it.
Another 20 km, we reached the main road again. Over the pass and down
towards Marrakech we drove. The landscape
was
astonishing; brilliant colors,
that was nature at its best.
It cannot get better
Marrakech was only 100 km away and we hurried up, as there is the
Djemaa el Fna. A square in the medina and
perhaps Africa's
greatest spectacle. Rows of
food stall align the square, foremost the
fresh orange juice sellers.
Ibn Batuta was here in 1352 and he writes:" we arrived in
Marrakech. the town is one of the most
beautiful, I had ever seen. Only
Bagdad exceeded her. Mighty palaces, gardens and mosques.
within walls surround the town.
In the middle lies the "place of the death"
Here, prisoners and criminals are beheaded, and their heads stuck
on long stick as a warning. Then women of
Marrakech are very
beautiful, many come from the land of the nigger in the south.
Most female slaves are black; they are sold to Muslim, which have
the right to purchase one.
I too took a slave myself ; she had a nice figure and knew already,
what slaves must know when serving a master.
She
cost me several camels"
The place he is talking is Djeema el Fnaa, no heads stuck on
top of long poles anymore. Today, "money
talks"
Djemaa el Fna
, here a lunatic is
pulling a show; shouting and jumping
The belly dancer lady boy is out for cash
too
You will be drawn back in
time as you find jugglers, musicians,
storytellers, snake charmers. magicians,
acrobats, lady boys as belly
dancers
swinging hips and stuffed out "bubbies",
soothsayers and simple lunatics, all out for
your bucks. Beggars. From children to
women
wearing the burka, the face veil, that they
may not be recognized, perhaps.
The soothsayer whispering the young man his
future; hope for a few dirham
delicacies like snails and a sheep head from the grill
fishing for a soft drink fried foods
A glass orange juice freshly pressed 0.60
cent Brunei the fiddler with one string
You walk with spectators,
shoppers, hustlers, and occasionally
thieves. Herbalist sell you a potion against
anything, including luck
with money. "Why are you here and do not use it yourself?" I asked.
"it only works on other persons" he insisted.
It was 10 pm when we left,
the show was still on.
THURSDAY 4-3-2010
Early morning we were on the way to
Casablanca. The reason being the Hassan II
mosque and we wanted to enquire with a
shipping
company about our possibilities to
ship JAMBO , in case we do not get a Visa
for Angola, from any port in Nigeria or
Ghana, to
Buenos Aires direct. South Africa is not
new, we were there in 2007.
The Mosque HASSAN II was a present from the
nation to the king on his 60th birthday. The
prayer hall has space for 20,000 people.
The roof stands 65 m above and can be electrically opened.
The minaret is with 175 m the highest
in the world. 35,000 worker worked 50
million hours to complete the mosque.
Cost is estimated at 750 million US$
any
idea what the 6 p0inted star like decorations
mean?
artistic craftsmanship
Local material was used, wherever possible.
Marble from Agadir, granite from Tafraoute.
Cedar from the Atlas mountains.
colonnades to the mosque the sea breeze take its toll on the
porous travertine marble
We wanted to film inside but the security
did not allow that. "No video" . "Sir, I come
along way, from Brunei"
"So what. No camera allowed."
A group of visitors, curious about our
travels, loved to know more about Brunei and
wished to post with our flag for this photo.
FRIDAY 5-3-2010
After a night in Hotel de la JAMBO, we drove back to Rabat to get
our passports. The Embassy was as efficient
as it can get.
They obtained eight visas in six days for us.
The proof of
performance
The dinner in the "wrong" restaurant
JAMBO was
honored by this picture with such
distinguished guests.
There was nothing more for us to wait for, we had, again as guest,
a last lunch together and departed
towards Casablanca.
Terima kasih Tuan Hj Nordin, and thank you to Mr Hj Ibrahim.
The final
"bye bye"
Thank you for the fine Daging curry
No, not yet final, there was still Makanan
Melayu cooked for the long way by Mdm
Hamidah. Thousand thanks.
Our gratitude to the local staff ,which wrote their finger wound on
application forms.
We met almost all foreign representations during our travels, and experienced the
differences between "I do my job" and
outstanding
devotion to a cause.
This here is highest level, as experienced in many other countries
too. It is good to be
a Bruneian, I know I'm cared for.
By
1:00 pm we were out of Rabat on the highway
to Casablanca
For the "Hotel de la JAMBO night" we stopped somewhere south
of it.
SATURDAY 6-3-2010
It is my birthday today. I did not bother much, usually I like to be
alone reflect back what I have done so far
with my life. What can I
improve spiritually, mentally or physically. Harun insisted to
check into a hotel in Agadir, because of
comfort.
SUNDAY 7-3-2010
We are on the way south, and out of Morocco although we have
only seen a little of the great Nation.
And I like to end our travels here with a story of the Kasbah Zigiz,
of which today only a ruin remains.
Kasbah Zigiz
Although a
few window glass indicate, there are
still some souls occupying the Kasbah
today.
Once it was the palace of sultan Mahmed
III who ruled over this land here as an
absolute monarch. Every caravan passing
the Qued had to offer their reference
together with gold coins, before getting
the permission to pass unhindered. His
army of 5000 Tuareg warriors, these
dreadful fighters from the Sahara Desert
assured his absolute domain.
He use to sit on a divan, dressed in
Moorish style. surrounded by beautiful
women wearing crowns of diamonds and
pearls. Black slender female slave,
dressed with the finest garments served
him.
Live was good to the Sultan.
However one day when he was riding on
camel through the village just
returning from the Medina, leaving three
men behind, hanging from the gallows.
Not that they steal or murder, no. They
hung to warn others. " Dead man do not
rob" He use to say.
Suddenly there was tumult, one of the
Tuaregs came out of a house, which he
had searched for virgins, dragging
someone what it seems to be a woman in
old and shabby cloth, behind him.
One must know that the village damsels
avoided showing the beauty of youth, as
the Sultans lookouts were in
constant search for harem maids.
Part of this village is still standing
avoiding to show beauty. she is maybe 17
years old
When the head cover was removed,
Morocco's sun exposed the fairest woman
he had ever seen, with white skin as
Atlas mountain snow.
"I must have her" cried the Sultan.
So, she was brought to the Kasbah washed
,perfumed with finest oils and prepared
to meet the Sultan that evening. Now we
should say that although looking like a
fresh flower, she was deeply in love
with a young and strong man from the
other side of the Qued. They use to
graze sheep and goats on the barren
land, wandering often out for miles to
find some vegetation.
While the animals ripped off the
last grass-bushel, they fell into their
arms, never mind the stony ground.
What can we tell?
She had experienced the strength of a
young man and was deeply in love with
him. What a tragic course of faith, she
had to end up with the sultan, who in
his sixties had overeaten himself to an
extend that two men had to lift him to
his feet.
The very night when she was brought to
him, he was sitting on the divan
undressed. Looking at the mass of
wobbling fat, she wondered how would
he...???
It was no stormy night, not even wind
whisper for 5 minutes. No, all what was
happen was a trial.
The sultan never called her again. She
longed in the Harem for her lover and he
standing next to the palm trees looked
up to the openings of the harems comfort
rooms. There where today the
storks nest, was the harem. filled with
most beautiful maiden, the sultans men
got hand on.
Behind the
palm trees and on the other side the
lover was standing every day to get a
glimpse of his love, rotting away her
youth in the harem, watched over by
eunuchs, who as we know had been
castrated, that they may not touch
sultans property.
Once a while with the help of two others
which lifted her up to the height of the
opening, she could lure out and see him,
she longed so much for. Tears were many.
And one night in unbearable desperation,
he climbed the walls. "Come what
may" he said to himself My love is too
strong.
Over the wall you see here he jumped,
while the guard looked to the other side
and climbed on the edges up higher and
higher.
The lovers way up
the comfort rooms above the eunuchs
windows
We know that such Kasbah's were made
from mud. It was easy for him to dig out
holds and the clock did not struck
twelve, he was up an in the harems
comfort room, where he hide in a
cupboard, hoping his love will come
first
But how many women came this night to
follow the call of nature? He, luring
through a hole could see all things of
which we do better not speak about.
At last in the morning his love
appeared, did with a thunder noise, what
we all do, before she hear him whisper:
"Gsst, Farida, Gsst, it is me Ahmed!"
When he opened the door she held both
hands before her mouth to hold the
scream, That was triumph of love.
Only Allah knows how many time she had
henceforth visited the room, claiming
belly cramp and stomachache, locked the
door tightly and fell into his
arms.
She ate suddenly double and triple, that
some of the harem girls whispered;
"maybe she is pregnant. " as she had to
fed him.
Until, unfortunately much to soon, one
night another damsel demanded urgent
access to the place. While she did in
the shine of the oil lamp what was to
do, the loosely cupboard door opened,
exposing the content, that was the young
man.
Allah u Akbar" what treasure was hiding
there.
She did not scream, no, closed heir eyes
and demanded to dream in his arms her
sweetest dream for a long time.
From now on, the young man had two girls
to keep happy.
But do we not know such harems are a
place of gossip?
Soon there was a line up for the toilet
that the eunuch complained about the bad
food coming from the kitchen, giving the
girls diarrhea.
Warned, the cook tried everything but
the girl still went to the toilet. So
furies was the sultan, that he throw him
for a moth into the darkest cellar.
Time passed, the lover serving like
a cock
all hens, slimmed down as if he would
suffer galloping consumption.
He got skinny and weak, from too much...
you know what. "Come on, you are already
like the sultan, without strength."
complained many of the prettiest girls.
But to much is too much! All feeding was
of no avail, more often he was
looking up to the opening, thinking to
escape.
And one night, when alone a moment, he
climbed up, out, and down on the other
side, - into the arms of a waiting
guard, who, by chance was not sleeping.
That is the
end of the story. The sultan throw his
unfaithful harem down the river, all of
them, and the lover hung in the Medina
until the crows had picked from him
whatever they choose.
The lovers faith; like the camel he
rested exhausted every morning
Night we
sleep in Tan Tan Plague, in hotel de la JAMBO at a camping ground on the
Atlantic. Nothing much to report, expert
the west wind was as usually strong. We
left early.
Tan Tan Plague camping ground
MONDAY
8-3-201
Our journey to south continues, driving all day,
The further south we came, the drier
became the land. Here still some green,
300 km further the desert appeared.
On flats, salt was collected; this area is sparsely populated.
Wondrous homes dry ;land and bad road
Nothing to report except we run into a police crook.
The story is this:
The road was wide and
visible for a kilometer, gentle
descending into a slight depression. There was a signboard
40 km, then 20 km. Why? Because the was
a construction site exit. But no one
worked.
The police car was waiting concealed up
on the
hill. Two guys, presumably broke.
One ask us to stop. The other held triumphal the speed camera up showing
the exceeding speed with one hand ,while
the other held the red fine block with
the big DR 400.-, to frighten us. We
complained and because we were Muslim,
it cost only 200.-, he said. Cash off
course.
They had a heyday, money was
flowing like the syrup on the caramel.
While we were there, two other cars, all
foreigner, members of a rally were
stopped too.
Upset we drove on and reached Dhakla at
night. To
crawl again in our "Hotel de la JAMBO"
TUESDAY 9-3-2010
Mauretania was 400 km away. We left
early morning and reached the
border around 2:00pm and were in
Mauretania by 4:30 pm.
We had chopped out
in Morocco and went into the
no-man's-land between, a few hundred
meters.
There are two ways to reach
Mauretania! The normal way for the small
distance where all cars travel and the
"silly mans route". Guess what Harun
did? He choose the silly mans route,
where there was sand! Deep sand and, he
thought to get through only with rear
wheel drive. What a mistake of my hubby. We got stuck!
But no problem, because out of nowhere
came a jeep with ready attached rope to
pull us out. It was his business,
and cost us B$ 20,-
forgotten and dismantled; in the no-mans
land
Who was the silly man? Harun!
The tow truck
Waiting
at the Mauritanian border
Where is Brunei??? Respect! You
travel all these distances.
When evening approached we went to
Nouadhidbu into a camping ground for our
first night in Mauretania.
If honorable reader like to follow our
journey, then click
mauretania where
our expedition continues.
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