a male lesbian?

Much as I love Morocco, it is one of the worst countries for hassle of foreign women, especially blonde ones, and I did have to disentangle myself from one over-enthusiastic male during my time wandering around the medina in Fes.  So when an Italian man (albeit with a Moroccan father), who told me from the start that he was gay, was keen to have someone to talk to, I was happy to oblige.

He asked me if I was happy talking to him, if I liked gay men, and I responded with a laugh, that "of course I like gay men - all women do - we feel safe with you as we know there is no hidden agenda".  It was an interesting conversation as he went on to explain that he was actually a transvestite (or an 'androgynous man' as he called it, but we established that this is 'more or less' another term for transvestite), and was only dressed in male clothing out of respect for the Moroccan culture and to avoid trouble - at home in Milan he would be wearing heels, a dress, make-up, and his feminine hair style would not be hidden under a baseball cap.

We talked for quite a while, and finally he suggested we go to his nearby family holiday apartment for a beer.  Once there he was, as I'd anticipated, keen to change into his more usual clothes, to which I said I had no problem.  To be honest I was being a bit voyeuristic - was curious to see he become she ...

The red lipstick, the earrings and the floppy hair actually looked rather good, but I was disappointed by the satin mini slip dress, with the red bra peeking through, and the long scarf round the neck twirled coquettishly.  No woman I have ever met would dress like that - this was not a woman but rather a caricature of a woman.  Still, he (now she) was happy and so I expressed my appreciation.

We talked for a while and shared a bit of food, but then she wanted to dance - to express herself and her happiness - and put on some schmaltzy music.  She asked me to dance too, so rather reluctantly I did.  But then was surprised to feel her hands not just around my back but trying to make their way up inside my Tshirt!  I put a stop to this very quickly, and we talked some more.  I asked why on earth a gay man would want to put their hands up a woman's Tshirt, and (s)he explained that she was a lesbian...

I made my way back to my hostel to mull this over, but more than a week later I am still trying to get my head around the concept of a male transvestite lesbian.  However, I met someone a couple of days later who deals with a lot of people from the LGBTIQ community in her work, and I asked her opinion about this.  She told me that (male) transvestite lesbians are not uncommon, and that those falling into the trans categories are often quite confused about their sexual orientation.

Confused (and confusing) or not, I must say that my encounter in Morocco was a fascinating one.  I always enjoy getting a window into other cultures and other ways of life, and whilst not what I had anticipatedf rom a three day trip to Morocco, this was no different!

Festival of World Sacred Music



Our annual conference was scheduled to begin the week after the Festival of World Sacred Music in Fes, which I had long wanted to attend, so I was very happy to discover that the cheapest way to get to the UK was on Royal Air Maroc, meaning a change of plane in Casablanca - and that there was no additional cost if I took a few days' stopover there.  Inexplicably, I decided to spend only three days at the festival (why??) - three days that were so good that I will almost certainly have to go back another year to see and hear more, even if I have to pay for my own flight next time.

This festival covers sacred music from all over the world, but I missed contributions from places such as Bolivia and Iran.  Nor did I get to see the late night performances of Moroccan sufi music as my 3am start to get to Morocco, and my 4am start to leave three days later, did restrict me somewhat.  However I attended a concert in the Jnan Sbil gardens by 3Ma (photo above), a trio of musicians from Mali (Ballake Sissoko), Madagascar (Rajery) and Morocco (Driss al Maloumi), each playing a traditional instrument from their country.  This one I knew I would like (I have a CD of theirs in my collection).  I was less certain about Mystical Breaths, a concert in the same gardens taking in Gregorian chants accompanied by harp and Indian flutes, but it was also very enjoyable.

The best of all, however, was a concert entitled "In the Heart of Sufi Africa", encompassing sufi musicians from Egypt, Zanzibar, Morocco and Senegal, that took place in the large walled Bab al Makina.  The music was beautiful, as I'd expected, but the spectacular light show was a big surprise.  Here are three shots of some of the different lighting effects behind the musicians:
















Really breathtaking.

Of course I also had some time to explore the city - somewhere I hadn't been for more than twenty years.  There is rather more hassle of tourists (especially blonde, female tourists) than I would like, but still I really love this city.  It is unlike anywhere else, with the ninth century medina of some 9,000 alleyways (apparently), its only traffic being donkey- or horse-led carts, as well as countless other ancient walls, gates and palaces throughout the city.  A place where you can just wander aimlessly but know you will be rewarded. 

I did though re-visit the famous tanneries,


where leather (from cows, goats and camels) from throughout the country is treated.  Firstly in the limestone pits to the left of the picture, where pigeon droppings are the main ingredient in the solution that removes all flesh and other unwanted elements from the leather, and then secondly in the pits to the right, used for various dyes to give the leather its colour.

Apparently they still do not use any chemical inputs, with all dyes coming from natural ingredients such as poppies (for the red) and safron (for the yellow), although the latter is dabbed on sparingly on rooftops, rather than in the pits given its cost.  All the pits are owned by different families, so the work passes from generation to generation.  Tough work, by the looks of it. 

Of course the pressure to buy something made of leather afterwards is quite strong, but I already knew that I wanted a leather bum bag (following the recent attempted robbery), and was reasonably happy to get it for less than half the price the sellers started at.  Especially as my hostel in the old medina was costing me only 8 euros a night including breakfast!

motorcycle snatch thieves


When I left Senegal in 2013, a new phenomenon had just appeared - motorcycle snatch thieves.  They weren't common, but were being talked about and I did hear indirectly of one victim.  It was disappointing when I returned to be warned about this, as somehow I had hoped that it had just been something short-lived.

I'm still not sure how common it is, but I'd only been in the country two months whe I got first-hand experience of it.  It was the middle of a Sunday afternoon, and I'd gone out to search for a couple of chairs I could buy for my balcony.  I was walking along the main coastal road - not much used on a Sunday so very few people about - when a man who'd obviously run quietly up behind me grabbed my shoulder bag to run back behind me where he obviously hoped to jump on the back of a waiting motorcycle.  However, I had managed to hold on to the shoulder strap so as he ran back along the road I ran (or was dragged) after him, pulling on the strap and screaming for help as loudly as I could.  A couple of older men appeared from behind doorways, and I saw a taxi stopped up ahead, and suddenly my bac was released and the would-be thief and his accomplice had gone.

So I was unharmed, my bag still with me and still in one piece, and I suppose the whole experience had lasted less than ten seconds - but it was a bit of a shock.  I suppose the adrenaline had kicked in (there was NO WAY they were going to get my bag, which had my keys, telephone and enough money in it to buy balcony furniture!), as I could hardly move my shoulders or arms for the next few days as the muscles recovered, even though I'd not felt physical discomfort at the time of the attack.

Colleagues told me that the road I'd been on is particularly vulnerable to such attack on quiet Sundays, and that there is always a spike in crime during the run-up to big festivals that people need money to finance (this was the week before the Korite festival marking the end of Ramadan).

I must say that it was a good experience in a way, awareness-raising without any negative consequences and I shall certainly be more alert in future.

To end on a good note - I found the chairs I was looking for, and here they are on the balcony!