A Big Shout Out to the Adwal Cooperative Representing Ahermoumou

Adwal Coop @ Fes Expo

Last July a couple of amazing ladies from the Adwal Cooperative traveled from Ahermoumou, Morocco, (a.k.a Ribat l-Kheir) to Santa Fe, New Mexico, to participate in the 2012 Santa Fe International Folk Art Market (SFIFAM).  Because I was Spain at the time, I was unable to attend the market, to greet both Fatima and Hind, or to buy any of their products, but I sent a lot of baraka (blessings/luck) their way.  Given SFIFAM's success in raising awareness about their mission, I am confident the cooperative did well in terms of sales and I am certain that both ladies learned a great deal from the business training workshops that the market provides.

Amina Yabis @ Fes Expo

Three years ago I remember helping Mrs. Amina Yabis, the Cherry Buttons Cooperative's president, apply for one of the coveted spots for the 2010 market.  I was a bit nervous translating and writing it out because I knew that a lot was at stake.  A trip to the market would mean that the cooperative would be able to sell their product at a venue that would value their hard work and masterful artistry.  Higher profits would translate to much-needed capital, which is tough to come by in Morocco, and that capital would most likely turn into further investments into the cooperative.  In the case of the Cherry Buttons Coop, that was exactly the case.  Thanks to SFIFAM's ability to bring buyers in direct contact with the coop, the profits from the sale of their great products led to the purchase of more equipment and raw materials and to the construction of their own workshop.

As you can imagine, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the coop was admitted, and I rejoiced with them when they were finally able to leave the cramped confines of their old leased-out workshop for their new and more spacious home.  SFIFAM's impact can be truly life-changing for the artisans and the community that supports them.  You can read more stories about the SFIFAM impact on their website.    

Getting back to Fatima, Hind, and the Adwal Cooperative, I met both ladies back when I started my Peace Corps tour in 2008 and visited the cooperative on occasion.  Ahermoumou, as the locals call it, was about an hour ride on a small transit van going straight east from Sefrou.  The town itself is pretty ordinary with your typical ville-nouvelle box-like apartment buildings with cafes, bakeries, and hanuts, but the scenery surrounding the small town is absolutely breathtaking.  The town sits on the edge of a plateau where to the north you can see all sorts of farms and sheep grazing on a flat plain extending as far as the eye could see and to the south you drop into a huge valley  lined with rows upon rows of olive trees and farms extending to the edge of a towering Middle Atlas mountain ridge.

Ahermoumou Zlul Valley before the winter rains

Ahermoumou Zlul Valley after the rains

Every time I visited I'd walk over to visit the coop whose building was resting right on the edge of the plateau.  After visiting the coop, I'd spend several minutes staring out into that huge valley trying to capture everything.  I could talk about the valley forever, but this entry is about the Adwal Coop who I'm sure draws inspiration from the scenery that surrounds them, the history of the Amazigh tradition, and the people that make up the community.

Fatima, Hind, and the rest of the cooperative were extremely eager and hungry for opportunities.  Luckily, they got an exceptional volunteer named Lynn Dines, who did everything she could to get the word out about the fabulous handmade textile products they were making and to improve the quality of their products.  Even after Peace Corps service, Lynn continued to collaborate with the coop.

Fatima, Lynn, and me @ 2011 Smithsonian Folklike Festival

Last summer, Fatima took a trip to the U.S. to participate in the 2011 Smithsonian Folklife Festival.  Fatima was part of a group of different artisans from different countries where the Peace Corps has a variety of development projects.  I was fortunate to run into her and Lynn during their visit to DC, and I even got to eat, backstage, some of the homemade couscous Fatima had made as part of her cooking demonstration--that's right, in some circles I get VIP treatment.

So upon hearing that the Adwal Coop would be headed to SFIFAM, I was extremely happy to hear the news.  My hope is that with the gains and contacts they've made that they'll be able to continue to expand their business and in turn help more women acquire a trade that will hopefully help them generate more income for themselves and for the home.

Not only will the town benefit economically, but the sale of their products promotes the preservation of their rich cultural Amazigh heritage.  Recognition and exposure are what a lot of the artisans need.  I am happy that the Adwal Coop was able to get some of that through SFIFAM and through Lynn's efforts.  I applaud all of them for their great work.  Keep it up and I'll continue to send more baraka all yall's ways!!!

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Just recently I saw a post on SCORE OC about Fatima and Hind's visit to that great small business resource center.  Here's a link to that story if you'd like to learn more about the coop and their post-market travels: http://scoreoc.org/2012/08/03/weaving-success/

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----This is a side note deviating from the shout out, but I do have to mention another memory that I have of the town.  Ahermoumou has perhaps one of the biggest souqs (open air produce and flee market) in the region.  People come from the valley, down from the mountains, and the nearby plains to buy and sell all sorts of goods.  Everyone is yelling prices, sheep and goats are bleating, roosters are crowing, chabbi music is blaring, and produce trucks are honking at all times trying to clear a path from the mass of people congregated there.  It's hectic to say the least.

The souq itself is pretty impressive, but out of all the commotion, one character stood out.  This guy had a piece of plywood sitting on some cinder blocks with a huge pile of peanuts spread out over his makeshift table.  What was peculiar was that along with the makeshift table he also had tied a loudspeaker to the top of a wooden pole and had extended the microphone cable to a makeshift headset that he would then use to announce that he had the best peanuts around.

He would broadcast the prices constantly like an auctioneer, every time he made a sale even if it was just a couple of dirham he would announce it, he'd have conversations with his customers on the speaker as well, he would haggle passersby and make wise-cracks publicly, and this went on from early morning until noon nonstop.  It was comical to hear the darija word for peanuts repeatedly, kau-kau.  He'd be yelling out prices in ryals too: rb3in(40) ryal kau kau, miyat (100) ryal kau kau, kau kau ashreen (20), etc.  Basically, every phrase would either start or end with kau kau.  The dude was a character.  If I happen to visit Ahermoumou again, I will try to see if the peanut vendor is there just so I can be part of his routine once again.

Presenting Moroccan Bastilla

When I travel, it's not always about climbing the highest mountain or taking a photo by the iconic landmarks.  For me, traveling is about indulging every single one of my five senses in the culture, the environment, and most importantly, the food.  To me, the food is a reflection of a culture's creativity, resourcefulness, history, and tradition.  Great recipes sometimes develop by accident, but sometimes they're created as a result of a fortuitous meeting between different peoples with different traditions.  Sometimes out of the clash something absolutely magical emerges.  While the kings, revolutionaries, military generals, and other leaders argue about who gets what territory, the townsfolk are chowing down on a new hybrid concoction of ingredients that restores sanity in the moment of strife.  I truly believe food is that powerful.

Now, just recently, I had the  fortune of eating an absolutely marvelous Moroccan dish called bastilla.  Before I was to set foot in Morocco, I had written down a list of must-eat Moroccan dishes and bastilla was in my top 5--yes, I had well over 10 things that I had to devour before leaving.  I arrived in Meknes after a short stay in Chefchaouen and on December 31st before the end of 2011, I saw, met, and most definitely enjoyed a moment of transcendence as I slowly crunched and gave every bite of the long-awaited bastilla the 40 thorough chews that it deserved.  It's a perfect combination of sweet and salty, moist and well-seasoned chicken with sweet and crunchy almonds, with other complementary spices giving it even more flavor, and finally wrapped in a thin crispy exterior.

Moroccan Bastilla

Another foodie Christine Benlafquih in About.com, goes on to describe it as such: "A light, crispy warqa pastry shell conceals savory saffron chicken, spicy omelet stuffing, and crunchy topping of fried almonds sweetened and flavored with orange flower water. A garnish of powdered sugar and cinnamon adds to the fabulous blend of flavors."  You may ask what the heck is warqa? CliffordAWright.com explains:

The pie is surrounded by a very thin pastry leaf called warqa (which means "leaf"[also paper]), the top of which is sprinkled with powdered sugar and a lattice-work of ground cinnamon. Warqa pastry begins as a spongy dough that is tapped or slapped against a hot convex sheet of pounded metal, a kind of pan called a tubsil set over a hot charcoal brazier, in a series of overlapping concentric circles to form a large film of pastry. This collection of leaves, now forming a whole thin sheet, is carefully but quickly peeled off the metal and set side.

So how did this amazing dish come about?  According to CliffordAWright, the etymology of the dish's name may have several different origins.  When I first heard bastilla on a trip in Morocco's shamal (north), I thought it was referring to the Spanish word pasteles or pastries.  It could very well be that the dish, like many words that are part of the Spanish language and Moroccan Arabic dialect, is a product of a blend of several cultures, which co-existed together sharing their culinary know-how.   There's also a possibility that a similar sounding word was in use in Berber dialects for their chicken with saffron combos.

The history books tell us that the dish or some derivative of it was eaten by both the rulers of the Berber dynasties and even Spain's King Phillip II.   The dish somehow disappeared from the Spanish diet perhaps due to the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from the Iberian Peninsula, but the Hispano-Jew and Hispano-Muslims who crossed over the strait or went further into the Mediterranean took the recipes with them and adapted the dish to the available ingredients in their new homes.  Since historically it was a dish for royalty, even in contemporary Morocco the dish has kept its luster as it is generally served only during special occasions.  The dish emerged in some shape or form in other parts of the Mediterranean even as far as Turkey as noted by another culinary anthropologist Claudia Roden who munched on pasteles made by some Turkish Jews.

I like to think that as empires, dynasties, and nations quarreled about the politics, taxes, and territorial boundaries, Berber Muslims, Jews, and Christians were probably enjoying a nice plate of bastilla.   CliffordAWright goes on to say, "Contemporary Moroccan cuisine is essentially an Arab and Hispano-Muslim cuisine set upon the foundation of an older and simpler Berber sustenance diet, with outside influences from sub-Saharan West Africa and colonial-era France." Seems like the best tasting things in life come about when people meet and share recipes.

As such, if you're reading this blog, it's just as if we had stumbled upon one another.  I've been fortunate to have had Moroccan bastilla in the region where it was born, but there's no reason, wherever you may be, why you can't munch on this delicious cultural mélange and its wholesome goodness.  Good luck, safe travels, and enjoy!

Moroccan Holiday 2011 in the Shamal: Chefchaouen, Meknes, and Sefrou

With teaching responsibilities done for the 2011 trimester, I took advantage of my two-week break to head down to the Land of the Far West, Morocco.  Because my incoming and outgoing flights were both out of Tangiers, I chilled out in Morocco's shamal (north) for the entire trip.  As I've shared before in previous blogs (Shamal Series), Northern Morocco certainly does not fit into the stereotypical desert oasis image of Morocco with its rolling hills of sprouting winter wheat and grass, lush coastal plains, snow-crowned mountain peaks, and temperatures that chill you to the bone.  The shamal offers plenty of beautiful scenery along with the always delicious Moroccan cuisine and famous hospitality.

On this latest trip, I got to spend more time in Chefchaouen hiking the mountain horns on which the city rests, got to sightsee around Meknes visiting the mausoleums, ancient prisons, granaries, plazas, and their majestic and enormous gates to its medieval city.  I also got to reminisce with friends in my old hometown of Sefrou sipping some nus-nus (half expresso & half milk) coffee or the famous sweet & bitter green tea at the mostly all-male cafes, and towards the end got to walk around the Tanger medina. All in all, it was a great trip aside from the usual gastric disturbances.  Below are a few pics from the trip.  Enjoy and safe travels!

Al-Maghrib mrra tenia

In Jordan: "Special Price for You"

It was interesting to see different prices for different people posted for all to see throughout Jordan. All of the national parks I visited had prices for both foreigners and for locals. For instance, for Petra, foreigners were asked to pay 50 Jordanian Dinars (JD) for a one-day visit or 90JD if one's visit would be the only visit in Jordan without an overnight stay in Wadi Musa--I was told that the 90JD rate was set up to discourage Israelis or other Western tourists from crossing the border for just a day's visit.  As far as Jordanians go, they were asked to pay only 1JD every time they entered Petra.

At the Dead Sea tourist beach that I went to and wrote about, they charged me nearly three times more, 15JD, while my Jordanian counterparts were asked to pay 4JD. Even all the way south in Aqaba, the beach parking asked that foreigners pay 4JD while the locals paid a single JD.

Some of the travelers that I ran into along the way did not agree with this price difference and thought it was discriminating to pay more for the same product or service.  They would often say that a policy of that sort would never fly in a Western country; everyone pays the same price no matter who you are or where you come from.  Actually, when I thought about it, even Morocco didn't have different price schemes for foreigners (at least not posted officially).

I had mixed feelings about the issue. On the one hand, I can see why a government would seek to exploit something that is so unique and so in demand to generate revenue for the government. The question then is do the people benefit from the extra revenue or is it eaten up in government bureaucracy? A number of Jordanians would argue that it is probably the latter.

Also, a higher sticker price can stem the flow of tourists thereby reducing the environmental impact of tourist traffic and keeping the country's fragile historical treasures intact.  That does not seems not to be the case though for Petra.  In fact, just last year a Jordan Times article reported a 42% increase in tourist traffic at Petra National Park during the first six months of 2010 in comparison to the same time period in 2009.  The Art Newspaper worries that too much traffic may endanger some of the most remarkable sites in Petra like, for instance, the recently restored and conserved one-of-a-kind Dionysiac wall painting found in the Siq of Little Petra.

Dionysiac painting in Little Petra

Another Jordan Times article goes on to say that the Petra Development and Tourism Region Authority (PDTRA) plans to use some of the funds to rehabilitate sites and upgrade services to enrich visitor experience, and that the new price scheme was setup with those needs in mind as well as the needs of the kingdom.  In essence, there seems to be little effort to cap numbers, and when things are going this well, I can't see the authorities doing much to contain the flow even if it's for environmental concerns.

Regarding the locals, I think it's wise that the Jordanian government mandate a reduced price for its citizens because the current foreigner price would put many sites out of reach for many.  Reducing the price also encourages domestic consumption of tourism-related services thereby boosting the local economy.  Not only is it good for the economy, I think it's wise that a country's citizenry be well traveled and know their country and their countrymen and women.

For the meantime though, if you're a foreigner traveling in this foreign land, get ready to pay up. But take it from me, floating on the Dead Sea is an experience like no other and walking through the Red-Rose City is once again something for which there is no equal.  Did it hurt to pay? Yes! Was it worth it? Totally!

Chowing Down Some Jordanian Maqlouba

Sometimes when you travel, you set goals for yourself as to what you'd like to accomplish that day. Let's say for example you're in Paris. In Paris, you must, of course, visit the Tour Eiffel, Sacré Couer, Moulin Rouge, and perhaps other landmarks. Some people get a kick out of going to these historical, architectural wonders. I too enjoy taking in the scenery, but other times I like to indulge other senses. So when I woke up in Kerak, already on my third day of what was supposed to be a one-day visit, I got up with only one goal in mind— EATING MAQLOUBA!

The Peace Corps volunteer (PCV), Peace Corps trainee, and I had a very light breakfast so as not to spoil our hunger. Last time when I was treated to mansef, I was not as hungry as I could have been. I didn't want to make that mistake again. Jordanian families like Moroccans don't just suggest that you eat more; they order you to eat and I was planning to comply.

We walked to the Christian part of the town and arrived at the home of a Christian family that had befriended the PCV.  Upon entering, we were engulfed by an assortment of aromas indicating that something good was in the works. Our empty stomachs were ready. The father took us directly to the dining room, seated us, and then called his grand-kids and son to the table. The mother was still rummaging around the kitchen setting the table and giving a large pot its final stir.



Maqlouba

Then came the moment we were all waiting for: the unveiling of maqlouba. The mother brought over a the large pot and a serving tray, placed the serving tray on the pot, and flipped the contents of the pot onto the serving tray in one swoop. In front of us was a mix of Jordanian basmati rice, fried cauliflower and eggplant, and what looked like pan-fried chicken. It looked messy, but it smelled delicious.

Jordanian Maqlouba

The mother and father went about filling our plates. I savored every bite trying to take in all the flavors and spices. I ate and ate until I could eat no more. Everything in that dish was so juicy. The cauliflower and eggplant were cooked just right. The chicken had been seared, but it was still tender. It was a wonderful combination of ingredients that produced another Jordanian masterpiece.

Shortly after filling our stomachs to the brim, the mother brought over some pitch black Turkish-style coffee. A sip of that and any desire to lay down quickly dissipates, and perhaps it was given to us for a reason. Any normal person would simply collapse after that meal. We still had to walk a few kilometres back to the PCV's house.

Jordanian Red Bull - Turkish style coffee

The father told us that he had private classes starting in a few minutes. That was our cue to go, but not before exchanging hugs with both the father, mother, high-fives with the two young boys, and thanking everyone profusely for the marvelous hospitality they bestowed upon us.

Our gracious host

Once again, I thanked my lucky stars and the cosmic forces of the universe for what had just transpired. I didn't see any tall buildings or historical landmarks, but I was fortunate to have been the recipient of some amazing Jordanian hospitality. Muslim or Christian, they have given me the best that they could offer and did it out of the kindness of their heart. We shared stories, ate together, and sipped a little coffee or sweet tea to cap our encounter. I'll forever remember maqlouba and the folks that made that day a day to remember.

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Click here for maqlouba recipe Jordanian style.