Morocco Article

I recently wrote this little article for the Archer Fellows Alumni newsletter. Thought I'd share it here, too:

Speaking Darija with Ambassadors and Policemen

When I first recognized the power of Moroccan Arabic (also known as Darija), I was still incapable of saying more than 5 words of it. I was working as an intern for the House Committee on International Relations on the Subcommittee on Terrorism and Nonproliferation. I had just finished a semester studying in Morocco and was only a week into my Archer Fellowship, in the fall of 2006. I had bumbled my way through language classes and a friendly homestay in Rabat, but in reality my knowledge of the language and culture of Morocco was still very nascent.

And then, a week after arriving in DC, I was summoned to meet a coalition from the office of the Moroccan Ambassador to the US. From my tiny office of three, way out in the neglected Ford Building, we heard that the chairman of our little subcommittee was about to have an impromptu meeting with the leaders of a Moroccan political wing dealing with the Western Sahara. Somehow, with my extremely limited knowledge of the country and its dynamic political atmosphere, I was pegged as the resident expert on this sensitive and complicated issue. I was asked to attend the private meeting and to receive the Ambassador and his colleagues.

When I greeted the bevy of thirteen in their native tongue, they were more than delighted to hear the familiar tones of their dialect ringing through Rayburn's cool halls. Although I could say little more than "How are you" and "Welcome to the office", the change in their sentiments was palpable. I realized that simply using Darija instead of English of French made them take my welcome to heart. No major strides were made during the meeting, but I felt like everyone was put at ease and, at the very least, the Moroccan representatives came out feeling amused and intrigued by the surprising phrases coming from the new intern. What if I had known more Darija and could have really conversed with these people?

Now, after a year living in Rabat as a Fulbright Fellow, that day on the Hill seems anecdotal and far away. I'm conversant in Darija and Moroccan issues to a degree I couldn't imagine back in 2006. But that brief event helped to shape my motivation in a way I couldn't pinpoint at the time. It made clear to me just how influential my time abroad could be later in my career.

My Archer experiences inspired me to pursue a little-known and narrowly used language that is very dear to my hear. Moroccan Darija is unlike any other form of Arabic. Moroccans can understand people from all over the Middle East and North Africa, but the rest of the Arab world rarely understands Moroccans unless they speak in the formal manifestation (classical Arabic, called Fus'ha). Particularly as a foreigner, it makes an enormous impact that I speak the local language instead of French or Fus'ha. Within the strict hierarchy of languages in Morocco, it is almost inconceivable that a native English-speaker would take the time and effort to learn the "dirty" language of the streets instead of operating in French. But everyone loves that I speak Darija.

One of my interactions that exemplifies this phenomenon was with Said the policeman. I was in a rental car with some visitors from Dallas, and we didn't exactly know our route. We made a couple wrong turns and were looking for signs when a very stern looking police officer flagged us down, blowing his whistle adamently, and instructed us to pull over. He approached the window and I greeted him before he started his tirade in French. I responded in French, politely explaining that the driver couldn't understand, and I asked him if he wouldn't mind conversing with me instead. He agreed, and continued on his rant about our double infraction and the large sums of money would have to forfeit. At this point, I turned to the irate man in uniform and I asked him in Darija if he wouldn't mind speaking with me in Arabic, claiming not to understand French very well. The tone and color of his eyes changed immediately and he warmed to me completely, in a single instant. We chatted about where I was from, how I learned Darija, and in the end Said told us that we were always welcome in his city. He advised us on the best route to our destination and even leapt over a median to stop traffic and assist us in making an illegal u-turn to continue on our way.

I can't help but wonder what kind of exceptions and u-turns we can make in other international interactions just by showing that we've made the effort to connect with the other person's culture. I think back to that day in Rayburn and wonder: if my two phrases of Darija at the time could set that coalition at ease, how would they have responded if I could have had a full conversation with them? More importantly, I'm inspired to posit that peace and stability, at the most elementary level, stem not from grandiose theories and convoluted formulas but from the individual efforts made to understand and connect with other people. Very basic yet symbolic endeavors- like choosing to speak the language of the people rather than the language of the powerful- can make a major difference on the world stage.