<--- Arafa and the boys. Arafa is in the back with the solid black hat.I had quite the evening the other night. During one of my guimbri lessons with Arafa, I learned that there was going to be a lila the following day. Arafa's group was scheduled to play for a wedding outside of Tetouan on Saturday night and would be then going on to the lila.
As I have explained in my blogs from 2009, a lila is an all night-long trance and spirit possession ceremony of the Gnawa “brotherhood” of Morocco. The ceremony usually begins around 11 or 11:30 PM and ends around 7 or 8 in the morning. It's difficult to paraphrase but it can be viewed both literally and metaphorically as a spiritual passage of possession, negotiation, and finally release and transformation. Multiple orders of spirits are called down through the music, incense, animal sacrifice and food in order to balance and negotiate the relationship between human beings and the spirit world. There are a series of songs for certain colors and spirits identifying with those colors. I was able to sit in on two full lilas on my last trip and really want to see as many as I can while I'm here again.
I showed up at Arafa's around 8:30 and waited with the guys while the guys slowly gathered one by one. Abdellah, one of the older guys in the group was playing Arafa's amplified guimbri and the rich bass sound was reverberating down the winding paths of the Mellah; oh how I love that sound! An older man showed up, Mohammed Reis (who just goes by Reis), whom I had met on my first trip here. It was great to reconnect with him as he's spent his whole life playing Gnawa music and has known and studied with many of the country's greatest ma'alems. He indeed remembered me as Arafa's student and because we had both attended the same lila in the mountains near Meknes back in 2008. It was during that lila, given by one of the country's most respected ma'alemin, Mustapha Baqbou, that I was overcome by the music and danced my heart out with the locals, which apparently made a bit of an impression. I caught up with Reis and although he spoke to me mostly in Darija, I found him easier to understand than most people.
As the boys arrived, some of them started dancing (the traditional Gnawa steps to the rhythm) to Abdellah's playing and Arafa joined in the dancing as Reis and I were singing. I had one of those moments where I stepped outside of myself and was moved by how incredible it was to be back with these guys learning and playing music. Reis was helping me out with the lyrics since I'm still struggling to understand the words, barely knowing the language, and I was pleased to have his reassurance that my learning is coming along very well. I could have just hung out at Arafa's house all night, the ambiance was so wonderful. There is a kind of sweet comraderie between the guys and me. As we were leaving Arafa's to walk through the medina together and out to find a taxi, Arafa went around spraying perfume on everyone, including me; that was a nice touch.
The 7 of us took a group taxi to the wedding which was at a new fancy hotel/riad between Tetouan and the beach. Most of the time we were there involved just waiting as their performance was brief but I enjoyed just hanging out with them. They are all so thoughtful and gentlemanly, the perfect examples of legendary Moroccan hospitality: always insisting I have the best seat, offering me their jackets if I look cold, constantly asking me if I'm okay and making sure I get the hottest tea, or that I get served first. After the marriage, everyone except Reis who wanted to go home, jumped in a taxi for the lila.
When we arrived at the home where the lila was being held, I could smell the familiar traditional incense from out in the hallway and I was immediately filled with excitement. Because Arafa is a well-known ma'alem in this part of the country, coming with him as his guest already earned me respect and entry into this private world. Upon entering, a song was already in progress but Arafa jumped in on krakeb (metal double-headed castanets) and the women and players insisted that I sit right next to the musicians with a group of women. The chorus responding to the ma'alem was just incredible; with six or seven krakeb players/singers, the sound was incredibly powerful and sitting right next to them, I could feel not only the guimbri but the krakeb and voices vibrating my whole body. Half way through the lila, about 3:30 in the morning, we took a break to eat couscous. At first, the women tried to talk me into it but I wasn't hungry. However, a few minutes later, Arafa motioned for me to come with him and I ended up joining him and the other musicians as well as the moqedma (similar to the priestess of the ceremony) to eat together. Not long after, Arafa left but told me I was welcome to stay and could come back with the rest of the guys. I stayed; I wanted to soak in as much as possible.
Through the series of songs, I took in the music and although I was moved to get up and dance as well, I stayed sitting. The room was crowded; and with people going into full-on trance, sometimes including knives and broken glass, I thought it better to sit out.
One of the slightly funny parts of the evening was that the largest woman at the ceremony (and maybe in the town) decided to come sit next to me, and practically on me. Somehow, this sort of thing always happens to me. I'm not sure why-- maybe I'm too polite or I look like a push-over but I always find myself situated next to large women who ooze into my personal space. Not only was she squishing me against the wall but at several points, she was resting her arm on my legs and patting them to the beat, like she had just taken me over as one of her possessions. Despite this, she was a nice lady and would lean in to sing with me or if she squished me especially hard while readjusting herself, she would turn to apologize. Since she was using my legs as an arm rest, I took some liberty to let my elbows rest in her ribs. The topic of personal space is definitely something that I have to get used to in every African country I've been; it doesn't really exist except with the opposite sex where it's not polite to sit too close. However, with the same sex, you might as well be prepared for someone to sit in your lap, which has happened too.
Despite the fact that I'd tried to rest most of the day earlier, as the night went on, I was exhausted and actually dozed off a few times, despite the loud clanging krakeb and amplified guimbri. I kept forcing myself to stay awake but my eyelids had a mind of their own. We left the lila at about 7:30 AM and dropped by to see Hassan Alawi and Arafa once we got back to Tetouan, I'm not really sure why but the boys asked me to come. All I wanted to do at that point was get in bed as soon as I could but I also wanted to thank Arafa. I wished I had more words to thank him as much as I appreciated his generosity in bringing me as his guest.
I so enjoyed the lila; although the ma'alem was an amateur and it wasn't the tightest musically I had heard (other lilat I attended on my last trip were definitely more powerful), it was still a great experience. Interestingly, Arafa said it was “not the best lila, not the best energy” and he hoped I could stay to see a real Tetouan lila, which I plan to do since he is scheduled to perform one in the coming weeks. At this particular lila, it was a student of his who was the ma'alem on guimbri. Arafa mostly played krabeb and sang but for one set of songs, he had picked up the guimbri. It was a dramatic difference when Arafa played. The power and clarity could be felt in the bones.
By the time I walked home from where the taxi dropped us off near the medina, I finally crawled into bed around 9 AM, shoved in my earplugs, and slept until 2:30 when I got up to have breakfast with the family.
