Ceci’s Watson Journey

The opposite spectrum of the obstacle of interviewing Muslims is the openness with which the Jews from Casablanca are willing to speak about their identity, their life in a Muslim country, and their long history here. Immediately, one can recognize a real sense of pride among Moroccan Jews; they remain proud of the plethora of Jewish scholars and tzadikim that have flourished in Morocco historically (over 600 of whom are buried and their tombs preserved until today), while also identifying as distinctly Moroccan Jewish, with the latter as the primary source of identity.

However, they recognize and emphasize that life here is not necessarily easy: always having to watch what they say or misstepping the truth around Muslims, and particularly, the extent to which the Jews of Morocco socialize almost exclusively within their own community (this is highly manifested in their personal identification- they are “Jewish Moroccans” and the Muslims are “Arabs”). The same man who told me that my “Arab” friend would probably say he loved Jews also told me it would be interesting for me to ask the following question to Jewish Moroccans (which is probably the most interesting and stimulating proposition for my research I have been presented, of yet): if you could have the same lifestyle as you have here, anywhere else in the world (ie. USA, Montreal, Israel), which would you choose? He hypothesized that the answer would be somewhere else, and a few have confirmed that as such. So for me the questions beg to be asked are when, how and why did the fissure occur between such a strong identity and the desire to leave the homeland that has nutured it for centuries? Hopefully, the answer will become clear…

The wise words of many of my professors have already begun to ring true during my first week in Morocco; research, and particularly of the anthropological sort, is fluid and the mark of an experienced and sound researcher is his/her ability to adapt to the circumstances the field presents.  Interestingly, the same qualities are a necessity for a Watson fellow, and one factor on how they make their decisions.

Now, only in my first week in Casablanca, I am experiencing the difficulties and rewards in learning these skills.  The original focus of my study was to examine the Arab Muslim perspective on the causes for the Jewish migration; however, I am finding it challenging to meet Arab Muslims in the first place, and as for the ones I have met, the problem lies in developing enough mutual trust to allow for a conversation on such a sensitive topic to take place.

For example, I made friends with the receptionist at the hotel I was staying at when he helped me take care of my cell phone and found a sim card I had lost.  He showed me around Casablanca for a few hours and we stopped to have a cup of coffee at a cafe.  There, we began “talking politics,” which since then I have learned is just not a great idea.  He told me that he does not like the king of Morocco because he is friends with Israel; understandably, after that I deliberately concealed my identity and did not feel comfortable enough to ask questions on the Jewish migration.  Later in the week I told this story to a Jewish man whose family has been incredibly welcoming and helpful to me, and he said that if I would have told him I was Jewish, he probably would have told me he loves Jews.  So, this research is truly becoming a balancing act of judgment calls, and it seems that I still have a lot to learn.  Good thing it is only the first week:)

My first real exposure to the non-white (as a majority) world was in JFK airport waiting on line to check into Royal Air Maroc flight AT203 non-stop to Casablanca. It felt as if I was standing at the cross section of the world; I saw people with lighter skin than me and dressed as if they just stepped of a Parisian runway, then African women dressed in colorful, flamboyant garb that is their trademark passed through my line of sight, until I finally laid eyes on the covered heads and thick dark mustaches I had been expecting. I heard people speaking everything from English, to French, to Arabic to Spanish to African dialects, and I had never felt like I had stuck out as so different in my entire life. I suppose this is why I’m here; to occupy my observational post as an outsider (like a good anthropologist), and when appropriate, engaging and immersing myself in the people and culture I have studied from the far reaches of my books and scholarly journals. I wish I could be more specific about “people and culture” in this inadvertent narrative of my personal and academic goals for this trip, but for now I am only certain that I will try to understand something about this part of the world by being here. As of yet, I have no sweeping conclusions to speak of, but it’s only the airport.