Having visited Morocco countless times over the past thirty years, my affection for this remarkable country and its people remains unwavering. Morocco epitomizes a unique blend of tradition and modernity, where minarets grace a nation led by the Amir al-Mu'minin, and the culinary landscape is rich with exquisite dishes such as couscous, tagine, and pastilla. The vibrant attire of its inhabitants, stunning ceramics with intricate patterns varying from Casablanca to Rabat, and the presence of street performers and shepherds in the vast deserts further enhance the cultural tapestry of this fascinating nation. The soothing scent of henna fills the air, while the distinctive flavor of Moroccan tea captivates the senses, complemented by the ubiquitous use of argan oil in daily life. The country boasts the most renowned traditional bathhouses in the Arab world, alongside a remarkable fluency in the French language and a robust understanding of how to engage with tourists. It is worth noting that young women walk freely in the streets without facing harassment, a testament to the country's progressive social dynamics. The European-style cafes, bustling with youth from both genders, are filled with open laptops for work or leisure, creating an atmosphere of creativity and connection. Morocco's vibrant political culture, strong feminist movements, and unpredictable electoral outcomes contribute to a dynamic social fabric that allows for change beyond the hereditary monarchy.
Nature in Morocco is undoubtedly a divine gift, characterized by long stretches of beaches along the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts, as well as the majestic Atlas mountains, a sight not to be missed. However, human intervention has played a significant role in highlighting this beauty and framing it in the best possible light, as lush greenery flourishes across the landscape and palm trees cast soothing shadows during the summer heat. It is common to witness Moroccans enjoying public parks in the evenings, gathering in large groups with family, friends, and lovers, as well as solitary individuals seeking a refreshing breeze and free entertainment. Many cannot afford the entrance fees to paid parks such as the exquisite Majorelle Garden in Marrakech or the Menara Gardens in Tangier. Notably, Casablanca features a large park named after the Arab League, which was a delightful surprise for me, as I was only familiar with streets bearing such names in Egypt and other countries. Urban planning in Morocco ensures that each city possesses its own distinct identity, with a unique color palette for each location. Marrakech is known as the Red City, Casablanca is the White City, and Chefchaouen, or Chaouen as pronounced by Moroccans, is a charming small town adorned in shades of blue and white, capturing the heart effortlessly.
In Morocco, as in other Arab countries, Egyptian art plays a significant role in fostering bonds of love and affection with its people. It is challenging to separate the memory of Jemaa el-Fnaa square in Marrakech from the iconic scene of Souad Hosni and Rushdy Abaza meeting there by chance in the film "Lost Love," a masterpiece by the revered Arab literary figure Taha Hussein. This film paved the way for many other Egyptian cinematic productions. The phrase "How are you, Pasha?" greeted my husband wherever we went, as Moroccans often associate this expression with the warm welcome Egyptians extend to one another and others, a notion that is justified. In our culture, we use the title "Pasha" for esteemed officials and their families, alternating it with the title "Doctor," which we bestow upon nearly everyone. It also serves as an innocent flirtation from a lover to their beloved, and on rare occasions, can be used humorously. I recall a moment in Tunisia when a colleague at a seminar attempted to engage with me by saying, "Thank you, Adeladi!!!" stretching the words, believing this was the typical way Egyptians address each other.
The most significant presence of Egyptian art in Morocco comes from the golden age of Egyptian cinema, as many young people shared with us how their families are enamored with the songs of Umm Kulthum and Abdel Halim Hafez. The relationship between the beloved singer and King Hassan II was also notably close. One charming hotel worker demonstrated his upbringing in a household that cherished Egyptian music by singing "Sawaah w Ana Mashy Layali... Sawaah wala Dari Bi-Hali" from the moment we requested the elevator until he delivered us to our room, albeit with a voice that was just passable. "Is it really that so, Rashid?" I asked him proudly, with the background of the song "The Egyptians Are Important" echoing in my mind. He smiled and replied, "Yes, Egypt is the mother of the world, and Morocco is its father!!!" Regardless of the appropriateness of this statement, the saying about Egypt being the mother of the world and Morocco being the father is widely recognized in Morocco, perhaps due to both countries being among the most ancient in the region. Occasionally, members of Generation Z have mentioned listening to songs by Tamer Hosny and Ahmed Saad, while a ticket agent at a folklore show warmly carried the tunes of "Salam Har" from Wafaa Abdel Razek.
I fear to say that many Egyptians, including some officials, do not appreciate the immense value of Egyptian art and its unique ability to resonate with the hearts of Arab peoples. Systematic campaigns of ridicule, distortion, and belittlement of art and artists are pervasive and cannot be ignored. The media thrives on sensationalism, spotlighting what is obnoxious, repulsive, trivial, and ugly, generalizing it to all. There is incitement for censorship, prohibition, and punishment, treating art as a sin that necessitates repentance. This disdainful attitude towards art is part of a broader atmosphere that stifles beauty, elegance, and refined taste, using loud voices to silence dissenting opinions. While I can understand that some art contributes to this negative perception through the low-quality works it presents, there is another, intentional side to it. Personally, I was deeply upset when the lights were turned off during a student performance at a university in Egypt, simply because art was deemed forbidden. When we look at the early beginnings of some of our great artists, we find that they were often linked to university theater, and their talents were honed through heavy theatrical works such as "Hamlet" and "The Merchant of Venice." However, I am not surprised by these officials' prohibition of art, as they are a natural product of a coarse and closed environment. Unless the state prioritizes art and creates an environment that fosters creativity, the scope of prohibition will only widen.
My heartfelt salute goes to every Egyptian artist who has left an imprint within the Arab sphere; these artists are Egypt's soft power, and we owe the warmth with which we are received by Arab nations to the way we speak... through films and series.
As reported by shorouknews.com.
