The Festival

Spring break in Morocco has come and gone, and we’ve survived the first annual spring festival in Lalla Takerkouste. The days leading up to it and especially the seven days during it were exhausting to say the least, but it was well worth our efforts. This festival has given me a unique opportunity to really see how Moroccan women operate and work together under stress. I saw some true colors.

It started the eve of the festival. Batoul and I had ordered a set of glass display cases nearly two weeks prior with the village welder, but each time we went to check up on it, we received new excuses as to why they weren’t ready. The down payment was made and there was no chance of a refund. We had about 10 platters heaped with freshly made sweets and nothing to display them in. Naima, who barely stands at 5 feet, marched over to the welder’s on her lunch break and let him hear it. She told him, “Take off that mustache of yours and put on some lipstick, because you are not a man!”. By that night, somehow, he delivered three gleaming and beautiful display cases that became the envy of the festival participants. The next day, we piled all our platters, equipment, and a few young women on the back of a villager’s pick-up truck and slowly paraded our delicate cargo on the rocky dirt road to the festival grounds in the town center.

We started selling sweets (or Helwa in Moroccan) practically the minute we arrived. It took us a while to get relatively organized. The first few hours involved one girl accidentally knocking an entire plate of cookies on the ground while another one wearing ridiculously pointy cowboy boots with heels tripped on the gas burner and crashed against the side of the tent, nearly bringing the whole operation down. Then, just as we’d managed to set everything up nicely, a hail storm came out of nowhere, pelting bullet-sized hailstones all over our display cases. But, through all that, we kept on selling. Each evening, the women brought a large vat of Harira (Traditional Moroccan soup) and we made Moroccan crepes (L’Msmen) on the newly purchased L’Msmen grill. The commune set up a stage and had a DJ and live music groups animate into the night. A couple of the girls and I were logging 12 hour days working at the stand while the older women worked all day at the Association making more Helwa to replenish our quickly disappearing stock. During the evening rush hour, as I played cashier and had 6 women yelling out orders in French, Arabic, Berber, Ryals and Dirhams, and shoving bills at me, I got flashbacks of my 80 hour workweeks in busy South Beach restaurants. I don’t know if I would have made it through this week without that experience under my belt.

During the day, the Commune organized activities for the kids. A local artist did drawing and painting workshops and I helped out one day with a waste management education session. About 75 kids showed up and I thankfully had a translator help me out. It was chaotic but I think I got the basic message across about trash and hygiene. A group of three boys who attended the session stuck by my side every day, helping to pick up trash and bringing me an endless stream of paintings and drawings.

By the end of day seven, we were all weary and ready for rest. I crawled home and slept for 12 hours. I think I’m still recovering. After crunching some numbers, it looks like the Association will be able to pay rent for a few months with their festival profits. The members are happy and looking for another festival in the region to participate in.