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We're driving northeast from Marrakesh on the road to Fez, and the Middle Atlas Mountains. The road is pretty good, the terrain is quite flat, but we've got a long way to go to get there, 450 km. Like everywhere in the country there are lots of very small communities along the road. We stopped at a few of them to have a look around, take a few pictures and to stretch our legs. We could see the mountains straight ahead and to our right, but they're still a fair distance away. It was suggested because of the distance the car was going to travel over the next few weeks, that maybe if we were able to disconnect the speedometer cable we could sharply reduce the mileage cost. When we get to the next larger town we'll stop for gas; get something to eat and buy a pair of vice grips or pliers. The road we're on goes right through a larger town named Beni Mellal. We pull up to the pump for fuel and we got out of the car. There were three or four local men hanging about, and as always they began moving toward us for a curiosity look. One man was checking out Aileen, he was sizing her up like she was fresh meat, he sure liked what he saw, and why wouldn't he, she's a good looking girl. His ogling however was making her nervous so she was sticking pretty close to Mel. The man approached Mel, and from what we could understand we were pretty sure he was trying to strike a deal with him. We believed he wanted to trade a couple pieces of livestock for Aileen. We all had surprised and shocked looks on our faces, the offer was declined. What we heard from others, and what we observed ourselves was that in Islamic society women are considered the property of men, not really much different than that of livestock, and will be dealt with in pretty much in any manner the man chooses. There is no gender equality within Islam. They didn't understand the concept of gender equality. It was our understanding that within their society, but mostly in socially undeveloped regions, that women and young girls in some instances are not much more than a commodity to be bought and sold. We bought some bread, cheese, canned sardines and some bottles of Fanta Orange from a local vendor, sat around for a while and had lunch. Now it was time to see if we could do something about the speedometer. Mel got some guy at the gas station with pliers to try to disconnect the cable. I thought it would have been a much better idea to just buy what we needed and do it ourselves. The guy was trying to tighten it, Mel was trying to get him to loosen it. The guy has now realized what was going on here, as his smile has now turned into a very accusing look. We thought this might be the right time for us to get moving along, and we did, right away, speedometer still intact. As we drove through villages and small communities we saw lots of decorations and various size posters of the king being placed everywhere, they were plastered on almost every building we saw. It really wasn't that unusual to see pictures the king in most places.; that was one of the first things we noticed upon our arrival in Morocco; although this time the posters were all new. The king's royal birthday celebration was about to take place. We stopped in another town, Khenifra, just to stretch our legs. Most of the time whenever we stop in one of these villages, some of the people on the street move toward us, natural curiosity. Some will try to make conversation even though language is a barrier; but through hand gestures and body language it's not too difficult to make yourself understood, plus, because of tourism many people have over time learned many words and phrases of other languages, including English. Mel questioned one of the men about the celebration and whether they liked the king. The man's face grimaced, his teeth tightly clenched as in anger, and said in broken English, "we love our king". Obviously they hated him, but were afraid to be openly critical. Their system of government is a democratic monarchy, but I think the democratic part is in name only. It appeared to be more of a dictatorship. During our time there I don't remember seeing even one single example of democracy in action. Once we left Knenifra, we were heading up into the hills. The elevation was not going to be quite as high as the other ranges. The mountains were high but the road we're traveling won't be taking us over the highest peaks. We saw some beautiful valleys, lots of greenery and quite a few small villages. At some point up in the hills we could see a small convoy of vehicles coming toward us. We wanted to see what it was all about so we pulled over and were just about to get out of the car when an open top jeep pulls up and stops right beside us. There was three or four soldiers in it. One of the solders in the back stands up, he's holding his sub-machine gun with one hand then holds his other hand up indicating for us to stay in the car. Our thought was, this is not a good thing man, what the fuck is going to happen to us now? Just then two big shiny black motorcycles and a very nice Mercedes sedan with blacked out windows drives by, followed by another jeep with three or four soldiers in it. Once the convoy had gone past the first soldier indicates for us to be on our way..... okay, we're in the clear, we can breath again. Must have been the king, that was our guess. ................................................................... We've been on the road for about eight or ten hours, we're really tired. Fez is still about 100 km away. We decided to see if we could get a couple of rooms for the night in the small town we found ourselves in. We tried a couple, way too expensive. We thought, fuck it, we're this close to Fez, we'll just keep on going and find a hotel on the outskirts of the city. Page #14 Page links 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 |
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along the road to Fez. Middle Atlas Mountains in the background.
same road, just further along
tiered garden in the
Middle Atlas foothills 
Middle Atlas,
lush valley 
Middle Atlas village and gardens
one of many hillside villages
road through
Middle Atlas mountains |