(<--my Moroccan disguise/attempt to fit in a little.)Friday night I had to keep pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
A day or so ago, I had inferred that Arafa has- for lack of a better word- Gnawa “jam sessions” at his little cave tucked in the medina just about every night during Ramadan. In the most polite way I could think of, I asked if I could drop in and listen.
After making sure it was okay, the only obstacle at that point was to be able to find the place by myself at night when everything looks so different (it's a bit of a maze to get there) but I made it. When I showed up, Arafa and Youssef weren't there yet but about 8 of Arafa's followers/students/understudies were there.
(I'm not sure what to call them- but in Gnawa music, a maalem or master will have a community of musicians around him to be his group, to study with him, to play qarqaba, sing and clap in driving interlocking polyrhythms)
Despite feeling a bit awkward to walk into this little cave packed full of guys chatting, singing and smoking up, I greeted them cheerfully, trying to throw out all my Darija greetings. They all fell into silence when I walked in then one of them pulled up a chair for me and poured me some peach juice. Once I was seated, they went back to talking and smoking and singing. They all looked to be at most 25 or under. I tried to converse a little with the guy I was sitting next to who had dropped in one day during a lesson of mine. He was friendly, chatty and easy on the eyes.
When Arafa and Youssef showed up, the serious music began soon after. Arafa plugged his guimbri into an amp (it never occurred to me that this could be done with guimbris) and several of the guys picked up giant qarqaba, at least one size larger than mine. Over the course of the next 30 minutes, another 4 or 5 guys showed up, including a few older men, making for a total of 12 or 13 by that point, crammed into the cozy little cave, sitting on whatever they could find or just standing.
I can describe the next three hours simply: pure bliss. Until almost 2 in the morning, I sat there in heaven, listening to Arafa sing and play the guimbri (he has the most gorgeous voice) accompanied by stunning qarqaba playing and call-and-response singing from every soul in the room; I had full-body goosebumps.
I will admit that I felt a little out of place. It was obvious that this is not something that women here do: hang out with guys at night playing music (or anything else for that matter). In other words, the women and men socialize separately. But even as I sat there trying to be as proper and lady-like as I imagined I should be, I clapped along with the qarqaba parts and tried singing with the guys during the chorus-like parts. One guy across the room gave me an approving nod so I clapped a little louder.
After about an hour of the multiple kif pipes being passed around, the vibe got increasingly open and easy-going. More drinks were placed in front of me. Even one of the gruff older men who hadn't acknowledged my presence suddenly handed me a glass of some kind of pineapple coconut juice to die for (so three beverages in front of me by this point). Soon after that, that same old guy got up and started dancing in the traditional Gnawa manner, cheered on by all of us.
It was all just surreal and incredibly beautiful. I felt like I had been allowed into some sort of secret society, hanging out with this tight community of musicians, having the privilege to sit in on their music-making. It was some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard.
When I had to use the restroom in Arafa's house next door, I got to meet his mother and sisters. As I was leaving, his mother sent me home with a plate of these mouth-watering doughy pancake things, the name of which I've forgotten. The generosity and warmth was really touching. “Need to use our restroom? No problem! And here's some delicious food to take with you on your way out!”
Youssef walked me back to one of the main streets and from there, I walked through the medina maze I have come to know and love well- even the aromatic fish market, where at all hours, you can still smell and see the fish parts in the gutters.
The day after, in the medina, as I was looking at traditional Moroccan tea pots, I heard my name being shouted out: it was one of the guys from Friday night (I don't know any of their names yet). We had a bubbly if not limited and broken conversation in Darija and I asked about going to hear more music again to which he enthusiastically welcome me to do.
His friendliness was encouraging; I wasn't sure how I had been received Friday night as the only woman crashing a guys' party and not really being able understand most of what was being said or sung all night, much less contribute to conversation (I just kind of sat there all night, rocking back and forth, clapping and in my own little blissful world). Until the kif had set in, aside from the cute chatty guy and of course Youssef and Arafa, most of the gang seemed to more or less just tolerate my presence. So I was a bit surprised that this guy even knew my name and called out to me.
So yes, it's safe to say that Friday night was the best experience I've had here yet. I don't know if I could ever tire of repeating a night like that. Having found and being somewhat accepted into the Gnawa music community here, I'm certainly wondering if I should postpone Marrakech yet again. I still feel pulled there and the Atlas mountains are calling as well (October is the ideal month to be there, I hear).
I suppose I could always come back to Tetuoan, too... Maalem Arafa will be here...
