Many years ago I saw a Hitchcock mystery film with James Stewart and Doris Day called The Man Who Knew Too Much. (1956). At the beginning of the movie an American man comes stumbling across the square Djemma El Fna (Square of the dead) in Marrakech, with a knife in his back, and collapses into Stewart’s arms and dies. His
face was painted dark as if he were undercover posing as an Arab. It was a Paramount production but, like MGM and other Hollywood studios, it portrayed Arabs as knife wielding sheiks, to be feared by all. In short, Hollywood gave them a bum rap long before any disruptions in this country occurred. This decision was, no doubt, brought on by Hollywood’s heavily Jewish influence. I’ve been hanging around that square, which is one of Morocco’s top tourist attractions, off and on for more than thirty years and have never seen any crime worse than a pocket picked or a camera stolen. Story tellers, snake charmers, acrobats, water sellers and food vendors, who have permits issued by the government, ply their trades in the square for the tourists and change.
I’m not saying a certain part of the Arab world is not something to be wary of. Our own nine-eleven tragedy taught us there is an enemy out there that must be dealt with, but Moroccans are different. Gentler. For the most part the poorest Moroccan would rather have nothing than attack someone and take what doesn’t belong to them.
I asked my Moroccan brother, Latif, if he had ever heard of a bank being robbed in Morocco and he cracked up laughing. He said “If someone ever pulled a gun and tried to rob a bank here, everyone would want to be the first to jump on them and save the bank.” Morocco is a small, tightly governed country where people tend to stay close to home. It’s not like the US, where someone could commit a serious crime in Chicago and scoot off to Texas, in a flash, to hide. Moroccans pay attention to what is going on in their country. I think it’s the kingdom mentality. Some years back five Algerians came to Morocco and planted a few small explosions in places where American interests were concerned. Two of them were caught and arrested immediately and three got away. Weeks later some Berber tribes people from Ourika Valley (where I have a little country home) found the other three in hiding and brought them in to the police, themselves.
Moroccans are nice people who keep life simple. I wouldn’t have written a book (A Treasure Hunter’s Guide To Morocco) encouraging people to visit if it was dangerous. By the way, if you would like to receive a free copy of the book you can download it for free by visiting my site, www.alftaylorsmoroccanrugs.com. The law and religion are separate so the typical strict codes of conduct that you may find in other Arab Countries do not apply. The young are taught the Koran in school. After that, they are left alone to pray in the mosque, at home, in the street or not at all. They, and the tourists who visit them, can dress as they wish and, other than tourists in the mosques, go where they wish. If a Moroccan Muslim wants to have a drink of alcohol they get no resistance. They are simply considered to be lesser Muslims than those who don’t. Mole hills do not tend to become mountains in Morocco.
Moroccans welcome everyone to visit their country, especially the Americans. Along with the fact that our longest treaty of friendship is with them they have things to say such as. “The French come here and buy a dress, some scarves or a gown for their, already dressed beautifully, ladies. The Spaniards like to buy a leather jacket or belt, even though their own leathers are superb and the Germans shop carefully for knick knack souvenirs. The Americans buy ten rugs in one afternoon.” American tourists are the shoppers of the world.
Don’t get me wrong. Accidents or incidents can happen anywhere. But, last year, in Tucson, Arizona, the Dunkin Doughnuts where I sometimes have breakfast suffered five bullet holes from a random drive-by, four AM, shooting. The police investigating it brushed it off quickly, saying the same thing was happening all around town. Nobody
was hit but this would NEVER happen in Morocco…Never. Nevertheless, no matter who you are, where you are, or where you’re going, whether you’re eating a doughnut or couscous, I’ll quote myself from my book…”the word beware derives from be aware.”
