La fête du mouton

The Aïd el kebir a is popularly known as la fête du mouton (literally: celebration of the sheep) here in Morocco. Ironically, no sheep is celebrating, however they are the highlight of the day.

Mutton, mutton everywhere

They’re on motorbike, on big taxi trunks (the white Mercedes taxis), pulled by the horn at Bus terminal, offered by insurance and money lending companies, etc.

Most of our Moroccan neighbours bought muttons few days before the day of sacrifiction, mind you, I live at the tenth floor of a ten floored apartment, so few days before the Aïd celebration, we were surrounded by the baa baa bands (in surround sound).

neighboring rooftop D-1

La fëte de mouton, photo by Vincent Bransiecq, CC-Some Rights Reserved

No elevator = Cardio exercise = not a fan

On D-1, the elevator went bust, exhausted from transporting sheeps and goats to the 10th floor which then to be dragged up to the roof, the temporary barn. The worst day for the 10th floor natives.

Our concierge is taking a long holiday, so for the time being we’re having a new concierge Mr. Stare-a-lot, who multitasks cleaning and prepping the building, sorting out the building’s garbage (the poor guy also deals with animal manure and hay mess on the rooftop), and being day and nightwatchman.

Seasonal businesses

For this occasion, some people set up  tiny cabane de paille in some corners of the busiest streets near Le Marché Badr, selling hays for mutton’s feed. A few meters away from the mosque, a herder selling muttons and billy goats.    Ah…the convenience, ah…. the smells (beurk!).

I love going to the market. I think our nearby wet market is the only original and interesting place to go in the neighbourhood. The market is a lovely extention to the lovely quartier semi-populaire where we live.

There’s Monsieur Legumes, the owner of the veggie stalls (slash his mini-home where he sleeps at night even during winter..) in front of the market, who always call me soeur or sister in French (not so sweet, considering that he’s probably close to 50 year-old, wait does this means that I look old? :’( ).. There’s Thayyeb the go to guy for fresh salade and des herbes fines, Moustapha the meat guy who look more like a surgent or doctor in his white  (occassionally with blood stains) working outfit and glasses, and the gentil Monsieur Boucher with moustache whose popularity on the rise, especially ahead of la grande et petite fête (until now I still don’t understand why Aîd el Fitr is the petite fête – the small party).

D-1, the market was overflooded by nervous customers. Many of them left the market with their hands full, the market empty, and the vendors “nervous”.

I asked Monsieur Boucher moustache why he looked upset, he told me that that before the holiday, everybody wants everything, right now, but no, he’s not upset (though it was obvious by the look that his entourage were trying to keep their distance). Cleaver and anger better stay apart.

Rooftop frenzy

D-day, I tried my best to ignore the noise outside, unfortunately sunny weather made people even happier and excited to be on the rooftop and do what they have to do with the temporary domesticated flock. From the 10th floor the sights are around us. Too gory for me, so I try to keep my mind occupied by other things. It was one of the most moving experience since we arrived in Casablanca. Close to the afternoon the baa baa sound became fader and fader and all gone before sunset.

Bye baa baa, bye. No more sheep on the rooftop for now, just their skins left to dry by some neighbours.

Monsieur legumes told me at D-1 “pour les marocains, la fête c’est la fête.” I thought he meant to say that Moroccans know how to celebrate things in big way, but actually it was his way to warn me. Unfortunately, my tiny expat brain couldn’t understand it until it’s too late.

The aftermath

D+1 going on day+2. Rupture des stocks at the market. The price slightly increase and most stalls didn’t open.

On D+2, Monsieur legumes repeat what his said last Friday, plus apologizing that he had to increase the price of 1,5 kg of veggies by 3 dirhams.

Moustapha told me that he only had some mutton meat for tagine in his storage fridge and nothing else.

No delivery until the delivery truck feels like going back to normal schedule. :’((((((((

Well at least the elevator is fixed. I’m beat from unwanted cardio exercise. The belies will be fed with Telur Balado and dairy rich pasta for the time being.

Now..who put dead camel on my lunch?

No news is worse than bad news. It has been few days that I found myself clueless of what to write, what to translate. I guess it’s a good opportunity for me to write more about Casablanca where I currently reside.

Casablanca is young, and it’s still growing. It’s averagely clean (read: cleaner than Jakarta), has that European big city feel, which translates into high-level of stress and high cost of living (this website indicates that it’s costlier to live in Casablanca than in Chicago, US).

In short: It is painfully hard to love the city in long term.

Habbous is perhaps the most interesting neighborhood in Casablanca. It has a lovely souk, known for its week end carpet auction and marché des olives (Olive market).  It’s also known as La Nouvelle Medina (the new city)

The souk is the lair of Moroccan artisans: carpet, babouche (local leather slippers– they came in amazing colors!), wrought iron, even the best (read:tourists’ favorite) Moroccan patissier Beni is there..

various colors and facades of Habbous

I’m a foodie, gastronomy is my achilles heel. I even abide to the rule “if it looks tasty, eat it”.

There’s a group of cafetarias not so far from the souk. This open air cafetarias would make any carnivore belly super pleased..

The cafes are annexed to meat shop, so you choose your own meat and have it cooked the way you want it.

Any parts of cow, chicken, duck, turkey, mutton known to gastronomy lexicon plus more. Check this: they served donkey and camel as well..

I’m not kidding.

Now, I can chuckle on my experience seeing heads (yep, heads..) of camels hung outside of several meat shops with parsley stuffed on their mouths.. but then and there, the sight were enough to make me scream like a teenage girl who finding a huge pimple on her nose at prom morning.

Screamed out and tad hyperventelating, my man and I decided to have veggie tagine on a small snack cafe in one of Habous’ small streets. Our lunch were “less than average”, the cafe was humble (read: under average  Maroccan’s standard of hygiene– yep, we’re all about adventure, baby!).

For that meal for two, the cafe owner dropped the bomb on us and charged us the “special” price of 120 dirhams (about 12 Euro), which is a lot. Just an illustration, a meaty tagine for two in a cafe located in Maarif (Casablanca’s champs elysee)  cost about 70-90 dhs.

Apparently he noted our “touristness”– I look too Asian, Vincent’s too French plus his accent and all.  In many occasions, our appearances seem to cause us being ripped off.

By the end of our lunch, a guy called Nabil (or Nabeel, I’m not sure how to spell his name)– a seemingly MBA (Moroccan Born American), judging from his clear American English, who were seated next to our table, asked Vince if he wants to taste some camel burger. Vince, with gleam in his eyes said “yeeeaaaa”.

Well it looked tasty. Long story short, I took a bite.

If only there’s a competition called “the world’s most jaded look”, I’d walk out of the cafe as the winner.

Tip to all of you who would love to visit Morocco, anywhere in Morocco. Remember to bargain first. This practice is valid whenever you need some items or service. Don’t worry about offending, (most ) Moroccan merchants are happy to know that you’re in the “spirit” of shopping.

Cas(e)ablanca

It was 4 days before the Eid, the day we landed in Casablanca Mohammed V.

We had a long immigration queue, a windy late afternoon outside the airport, and stares of curiousity. Apparently, my Asian feature is a sort of novelty in Casablanca. Staying-over tourists are scarce, Asians moreover..

A friend had someone picked us up at the airport. The guy looked jittery and he speaks perfect french, with slight arabic intonation, or the “français chantant”, as I prefer to call it. “Suivez-moi!”, he told us soon after he verified that we are indeed the people he has been waiting for. We spend no blank moment to keep up with his schedule. He hurried up to the parking lot and attended us with our luggages.

Along the highway, we chatted a bit about Casablanca, how it is now becoming more polluted, more nerve wrecking thanks to the amount of vehicles found in the streets. Well, to my surprise, Casablanca looks a lot less than the descriptions. It looked emptier, the air is a lot more breatheable and cars weren’t seen in abundance.  A lot more demure, in terms of loudness and hecticness, compared to Jakarta.

Later on we learned from Malik, our host during our first month in Casablanca, that activities are reduced during the month of Ramadhan, that also means less “nervous” honking and casual swearing by the motorists during the day until the Maghrib (fourth call of prayer, normally recited at sunset which signify the end of the daily Muslim obligatory fasting during the Ramadhan).

Being a Christian born and raised in Indonesia, I’m accustomed to observe the religious practices around me. I remembered, as a child sitting quietly next to my nanny who were doing prayer before breaking her fast, the scent of tea and instant noodle she made for Suhoor (meal consumed before the dawn by Muslims during fasting month), and people gather at the mosques for Taraweeh or the “rest prayer”, a special evening prayers conducted with long portions of the Qur’an recital.

During Ramadhan, residents of Casablanca and Morocco in general (so, I’ve heard) tone down their activities during the day and alocate their energy until late night, in short.. a great opportunity for nocturnals to do (close to) midnight shopping and socializing!