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Sylvia Kennedy // See ouarzazate...
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See ouarzazate and die
'You, Sylvia, must always remember one thing here in Morocco. You have seen nothing, heard nothing, know nothing and agree with everything anyone
in uniform has to say'
Modern Morocco is no place for the unwary. It is a strange and seething mixture of vast empty marble palaces and overcrowded hovels, of massive poverty and colossal wealth, of sexual double standards, of violent riots and racial unrestcontrolled by an omnipotent government and a king whose immunity' from assassination is reputedly assured by the fragment of the Koran sewn into his arm.
The account of three trips to Morocco, See Ouarzazate and Die reveals the country in all its glamour, squalor and crazy contradictions. Within the twelfth-century walls of Rabat Sylvia Kennedy watched infertile women courting conception by feeding hard-boiled eggs to eels, managed to avoid the cholera epidemic but not Colonel Gaddafi (she bumped into him in the street). In Fez she saw five-year-olds at work in tanneries, for little reward apart from large doses of eczema, cirrhosis and lung disease. She visited the ruined 'Versailles' of Morocco in Meknes and its modern replacement - which the king hasn't visited since being pelted by a tomato twenty years ago. And in the international melting-pot of Tangier her guide was arrested — for no reason save that of proving that the police are above the law. But craziest of all, as the author points out,is the promotion of the town of Ouarzazate as the tourist destination in Morocco. 'The dullest place on God's large earth', it is a poor and pointless rival to the cultural and historical attractions - so abundant vet so neglected - which punctuated every other part of Sylvia Kennedy's travels.
