Hey everyone!  As part of my few requirements for the Watson Fellowship, I must submit 3 quarterly reports on my progress and the triumphs and challenges I am facing as the year continues.  Copied below is the report, which provides a good idea of the things I have learned since I have been in Morocco, outside of the research-related posts from before.  Enjoy!

Pondering...

I began my “Watson Journey,” as it is entitled on my blog, in Morocco, the homeland of my paternal grandparents. I was immediately struck by the metropolitan nature of my first destination, Casablanca, and was further awed by the beauty and variety of landscapes and cities that this country has to offer. I was additionally comforted by the familiarity of many Moroccan cultural characteristics; I found not only the food reminiscent of home, but also the warm, open and hospitable nature of most Moroccans, regardless of religion, which constantly reminds me of home and particularly, my grandparents’ house. However, I quickly learned, and continue to observe that, in any grouping of people, whether it be by locality, country, religion, or nation, both good and bad people exist. I believe that one of the intended or unintended outcomes of the Watson year is to develop the judgment necessary to navigate amongst the good and the bad, to learn when to trust others and when to be careful, and in my experience, there is no better place to innocuously do so than in Morocco.

Moroccan aesthetics were not the only thing to catch my attention within my first few weeks; as I began to explore my research topic of the Jewish migration from the country, I was bombarded with other aspects of the Jewish existence in this Muslim country. Originally, I intended to become acquainted with and assimilate into the Jewish community in Morocco, in order to learn about their stories and experiences during the times when other Jews were emigrating, and to gain access to trustworthy Muslims in which to interview on the same topic. Within the first week I noticed that while oftentimes this topic was not a preferred one for conversation amongst the Jews I had met, someone was always equipped with an equally interesting and relevant issue, usually pertaining to contemporary Jewish life. Continuously finding myself intrigued by the realities of their life in a Muslim context, its triumphs and facilities, as well as its challenges and failures, I decided to expand the scope of my research to include the present day. Currently, I am studying the causes of the Jewish migration, from both the remaining Jewish and Muslim Moroccan perspectives, as well as this phenomenon’s effect on the remnant Jewish and Muslim populations, in terms of the resulting realities of a minority Jewish community living a Jewish life in a Muslim context.

The following report will highlight the successes and failures I have experienced over the last three months in realizing these, albeit broader in scope than originally intended, research goals. However, I will also discuss the progress of my personal goal(s) for this year, which most importantly include a search for my personal identity. This question is probably most prescient in Morocco because of my Moroccan heritage, so I really spent the last 3 months discovering whether or not I can identify with Moroccans, perhaps not in language, but in the intangible aspects of identity that are transmitted in terms of character, values, and mentality.

Due to the extremely open, warm and welcoming nature of Jewish Moroccans (and Muslims as well, for that matter), I am very happy to report that I have been able to familiarize myself with the Jewish community here. About 2000 Jews reside in Casablanca and about 1000 throughout seven to ten other Moroccan cities. I have spent around 4 to 6 weeks in and out of Casablanca, particularly observing and engaging in their religious and cultural celebrations, attending synagogue, holiday parties, many dinners/meals at people’s homes and making friends and contacts throughout the community. I spent the remainder of my 3 months here travelling to 7 other cities that still have Jewish populations ranging from 30 to 250 people (Tangier, Meknes, Fes, Essaouira, Agadir, Marrakesh, Rabat). While I only was able to spend from 2 to 8 days in each city, the small size of its population facilitated meeting Jews and discussing with them their personal lives and stories, the specific history of the city, and how life is for them today. Generally, many of these cities display similar migratory trends: some of these cities’ populations are often the result of internal migrations from small mountain/desert villages into the city, Jews left Morocco in significant numbers after each Arab-Israeli war or conflict, each wave of migration displayed similar trends of causes and destinations, and ultimately, money, comfort and well-being played the most prominent factor in determining the Jewish decisions to either remain in Morocco or leave. Unfortunately, outside of Casablanca and Marrakesh, it becomes clear that Jewish life in these cities is in the process of becoming extinct, as none or very few Jews under the age of 40 now reside there. However, those that live in these cities are able to find most of what they need to live a appropriate and devout religious life (access to a synagogue, Rabbi, kosher food, etc.) Within Casablanca, on the other hand, the Jewish community, while smaller than earlier in history, is still vibrant; over 30 synagogues are still in use just within the city, kosher food, stores and restaurants abound, and a rich cultural life maintains the unity of the community.

From discussions with both Jews and Muslims, the historical and contemporary relations among Muslims and Jews in Morocco are 95% of the time characterized as “good, no problems, we are all Moroccans.” Many Muslims that I have spoken with express their appreciation for their Jewish counterparts, and many even convey regret that they do not have the same close relationships with Jews as their fathers did because the community is so small now. However amicable these relations may appear on the surface, after 3 months I observed that a mutual respect exists between the communities, but also a racism on both sides that generally keeps the two communities separated on a cultural and friendly level. The biggest problem is reiterated time after time to me by both Muslims and Jews: because Muslim-Jewish interaction has decreased as the Jewish population has diminished, young Muslim Moroccans only know about Jewish people from what they see on TV on Israel, which fuels not only misunderstanding and perhaps even hate, but dangerously blurs the identity-distinction historically distinguished amongst Moroccans since 1948 between Israelis and Jewish Moroccans.

On a personal level, I have been able to make progress on certain goals. First, both my Arabic and my French (an unexpected goal/accomplishment) has improved greatly in the past 3 months. I still use the Classical Arabic when I have a chance, but I have also become conversational in the Moroccan dialect! Furthermore, upon arrival I knew absolutely no French, and now I can understand main ideas of a conversation, and hold a simple conversation myself. Both of these languages will prove helpful when I reach my next destination, Tunisia.

As part of my search for identity, it was important for me to pinpoint or classify a generally Moroccan mentality or state of mind. I understand that this is a nearly impossible task because no 2 Moroccans (or any people in the same “group”) think alike, but I believe that a general sketch of the important values in Moroccan society, and how those translate into a particular mentality, has finally begun to emerge. The first, most noticeable value observed by someone travelling alone is what is called “Arab hospitality,” or what seems to be for Moroccans almost a cultural obligation- for example, it would be completely possible to live in Morocco for 3 months and never pay for a single meal. I have been invited to dine with everyone from a taxi driver, to men working in shops in the medina, to Jews at synagogue and more. Even while many Moroccans do not speak English, they almost universally know how to say the translation of the traditional Moroccan welcome “Marhababik,” or “you are welcome.” The second most prevalent component of the Moroccan mentality is based in the long-established and well-ingrained value of a gender gap, which manifests itself in very structured and rigid, although evolving slowly, gender roles. While women are awarded all of the freedoms and civil liberties as men according to the law, the customary practices and every day lives of women vary significantly from their male counterparts, and as a single women travelling alone, I am frequently made to feel uncomfortable or inappropriate and am often judged for my free and independent mind and research. I hear the following question often, from both Jews and non-Jews: “You are alone? What does your father think of this?” Unknowingly, these people are reflecting the aforementioned values and mentality because for them a woman proceeds from the protection of her father to that of her husband, and it is difficult for them to imagine a woman living and travelling alone not only without protection, but also without permission. Many more examples of the gender gap affecting my every day life exist, but essentially reflect the same lesson: Moroccans are caught between traditional values and morals defined over thousands of years of history and a desire to develop the country and lift it out of poverty and towards development. While in the United States these two are mutually exclusive, for a large portion of the Moroccan population, both are desired and pursued simultaneously.

As in the case of all other Watson fellows and all researchers conducting fieldwork, my triumphs are accompanied by plenty of challenges. The first and most pressing research-related challenge is in the logistics associated with obtaining the Muslim point of view on Jewish history and contemporary life. While I have met and interviewed Muslims in Morocco, the majority of my information comes from the Jewish point of view. I have met most of the Moroccan Jews I know here through synagogue or the community’s office, which in my experience constitutes the more religiously observant segment of the Jewish population in Morocco. This segment, for reasons I have not yet been able to decipher, tends to be more close-minded and racist and therefore, do not associate with non-Jews outside of the work environment. This has made it difficult for me to find Muslims to interview through that avenue. Another logistical issue lies with safety- I have found this topic to be relatively sensitive, and therefore I must be careful with whom I choose to discuss it.

Once I have ascertained a suitable interviewee (Jew or Muslim), I have encountered the issue of blatant “sugar-coating.” As a good judge of character and situations, I am aware when people either do not always tell me the truth or make the truth sound better or “sweeter” than reality. For Jews, the reasons are one or a combination of the following: 1. they do not trust me, 2. they do not want to seem racist, and/or 3. they fear that if they say something negative against Muslims or the government someone will find out and it will hurt/negatively affect them. For non-Jews the reasons are essentially the same, but are heightened because sometimes they know that I am Jewish so they choose what they say carefully, and also because they know that the government protects the Jews and speaking badly about them can lead to dire consequences from the government. Based on the research I did before the trip, I was expecting this lack of sincerity and feelings of distrust, and for these reasons have worked hard to develop relationships with people before conducting interviews, in order to gain their trust and be able to differentiate the truth from the sugar-coated stories I hear.

The personal challenges I have faced also came as little surprise to me. Loneliness, while at times cherished, can at others be debilitating- particularly as I spent the Jewish holiday season without my family and seeing others together and enjoying each other’s company, usually after some time apart. Compounding this loneliness were cultural misunderstandings on my part from the first two months here, which hindered my attempts to make real friends. More specifically, it took me a while to realize that the gender gap I observed, for example, in street cafes occupied only by men, reaches into the inner crevices of the Moroccan mind and mentality, and prevent the type of male-female platonic relationships that I am accustomed to at home. The greatest personal challenge I have faced since entering this part of the world is truly grasping the every day consequences and realities of such an ingrained cultural value, and figuring out how to deal with such notions that are so contrary to everything for which I stand. As a guest in this country, I have learned that I must compromise some of what I consider my personal freedoms, for the sake of assimilation and safety, but I am still searching for a way to balance these accommodations and my independent and free personality and spirit.

With all of this being said, I think that my original personal goal of a search for identity is becoming evident. Both the values of hospitality and gender roles in Moroccan society are reminiscent of my grandparents, my parents, and my home, which is something I have always known. What I have learned in these three months is where exactly these ideals originated. Now I see that my grandparents have, in fact, transmitted them to their offspring, and I am thankful to them for instilling in me the importance, for community and human connection, of an open-door policy for one’s home. I have always, and now even more so, truly identified and agreed with this aspect of my upbringing, and through my time in Morocco, I have experienced first-hand and appreciate the benefits this particular value can offer. However, I am also very much a product of the free, equal and liberal environment where I was raised and a maternal feminist grandmother that taught me from a young age that girls can do anything boys can. And I do not think that this is something I can compromise in the long run, even though I will make such accommodations this year, out of both respect and fear. So I suppose after Morocco I consider myself a Jewish American, highlighted by streaks of the Moroccan mentality.