I went to another one private Gnawa "soiree" for some paying tourists last night. It was in a giant traditional Berber tent on the beach a ways away from the small village of Sidi Kaouki. Another friend of Hassan's, Omar, had taken some French tourists on a one-day, one-night quad and horseback excursion and to finish off the night, he hired Hassan and two of his players come do a live Gnawa soiree. I was drawn to go by the idea of it being in a tent away from the village with a bonfire.
Hassan invited Aihmed and his nephew, Forad, to play castanet (qraqeb) and the four of us left town together. I enjoyed walking on the beach by myself while the guys talked. When it was time for the music to start, I ate with the Omar and some of the other staff. The tourists weren't very active or animated and poor Aihmed had a hard time getting them to dance or clap. The small amp that we had brought wasn't working great and gave the guimbri a distorted crackle much like an electric guitar with distortion. I could see Hassan struggling to keep the momentum going, having to adjust the cords every few minutes.
From an academic and ethnomusicology standpoint, it is interesting to visit these "tourist" situations to see how Gnawa music is presented and consumed in this context. Often, the tourists know little to nothing about the music or the tradition and since I've been fortunate enough to witness the music in its traditional, spiritual form, it's also quite interesting to see it presented as entertainment. I'm often disappointed by the way the music is received by the tourists, which is not surprising I suppose. I'm just struck by how un-curious they usually are.
I feel badly for the guys. There's a strange kind of dynamic going on and although it's not really my business, it's an unpleasant sensation for me: the French really wreacked havoc on Morocco and its traditions, with reverberating effects to this day. Fast forward to 2010 and you have struggling Gnawa musicians entertaining French tourists as they lounge in a traditional Berber tent, drinking their Rosé wine, and yawning.
After awhile, I needed to get away from that dynamic so I stepped out of the tent and found a solo place by the big bonfire, looking up at the starry sky, hearing the rumbling of the ocean and the Gnawa music in the background. Now *that* is a heavenly combination!
