Royal Happiness: Get Married in Morocco

Of the several thousand Russians currently living in Morocco, 95% are women. There are about 200 Russian-speaking women in the small resort town of Agadir alone. Most of them are the wives of Moroccans who studied at Soviet and Russian universities. To return home with a diploma of higher education, and even with a bright-eyed wife, is considered prestigious here. But the most interesting thing is that women, having moved to Morocco for their husbands, as a rule, easily find their place in a foreign country.

This can be explained in different ways — by their own luck and patience, a fertile climate, mutual understanding with their beloved husbands, and even the liberal views of King Mohammed VI. A few years ago, the 52-year-old king initiated reforms that expanded the rights and freedoms of various groups of the population, including women. And with his own happy monogamous marriage to computer engineer Lalla Salma, Mohammed VI demonstrates a lifestyle that is designed to bring East and West closer together, tradition and modernity. Not everyone succeeds in following his example. But the stories of Amina and Ekaterina, whom I met in Agadir, testify: love and mutual respect greatly facilitate this process of rapprochement.

“I don’t sit through to the end at any Moroccan wedding”

Amina, 46, guide in Agadir

20 years ago, I knew only two things about Morocco — that it is a kingdom and the birthplace of oranges. But for a loved one, she was ready to go to the ends of the world. His name, by the way, is Khabib, which means “beloved”. And in 1995 I ended up in Agadir, in his hometown. My husband is an engineer, he was offered a job in Casablanca, and I really wanted to go there. It’s such a bustling, modern city. But Khabib said that he had been away from his parents for so long, seven years, while he lived in Krivoy Rog — we studied there together, at the same institute, but at different faculties, my husband was in electrical engineering, and I was in mechanical engineering. And now he would like to be close to his parents to the end, because they are already quite old.

I had to reconcile. Agadir at first seemed small and suffocating to me. Kryvyi Rih, although provincial, is a large, spacious city, and here there are mountains around, I wanted to move them away. Or fly over them. But over time, I got used to it, and now there is no better place for me. Here the climate is mild, comfortable — not cold in winter and not hot in summer. Sunshine 300 days a year. There are strong winds and sandstorms, but all this passes quickly. The ocean relieves all stress. If I feel bad, I will take a walk along the embankment, help my feet, and my strength will return.

When my husband proposed to me, he immediately said that he had one condition — I must convert to Islam. It was very important for him, although I have many friends here who were not given such a condition. And right after arrival, we went to a local lawyer, who is called «adul», he confirms the adoption of Islam and formalizes the marriage. In the presence of witnesses, I had to say that God is one and Muhammad is his Prophet — this is one of the pillars of Islam — in Arabic. Later, with the help of my husband, I learned the first sura, Fatiha.

Well, then she gradually began to learn Arabic in order to read the Koran. True, this language turned out to be too difficult for me, unlike French, which I now speak fluently. As a child, I was baptized, but I cannot say that the transition to another faith was difficult for me, on the contrary, with the adoption of Islam, some discomfort disappeared. The postulate of the trinity of God in the New Testament confused me, I could not understand it. And with the adoption of Islam, the contradiction was resolved, because in Islam God is one. At home we live according to Muslim traditions, but my husband never forced me to wear a headscarf. Periodically, he asks me a question when I will mature before that. But he does not take violent action.

My husband’s parents loved me very much, removed me from all household chores. As soon as I undertook to sweep, they immediately ran up: “No, no, put it down, don’t.” They were only allowed to help. In general, this is an amazing, atypical situation: Moroccan daughters-in-law are usually treated differently, more often they are charged with everything at once. And I was lucky. For some reason, my father-in-law and mother-in-law perceived me as an orphan and all the time called on my husband to take care of me. Khabib admitted that his father told him so before his death: “Look, do not offend her, she is an orphan, because she has no one else here.” They are long gone, but they are very dear to me.

Thanks to my husband’s parents, I learned Berber because they didn’t speak any other language. Whether you like it or not, you had to find a way to express yourself. And everything happened as if by itself. We sit with my husband’s nieces, I give them a word in French, they give it to me in Berber. And I made my own dictionary. I didn’t even notice how I learned. And when I start speaking Berber somewhere in the city, I see how the eyes of the locals widen in amazement — because many of those who were born here never learned this language.

Big holidays have become a test for me. My husband has nine siblings, and how many more cousins! In Ukraine, we lived together with my mother in a two-room apartment, and in the house of Khabib’s parents we had to share a 5-room apartment for 10 people. And on major religious holidays, all relatives gathered, including cousins ​​and aunts.

I won’t forget how for the first time I had to meet such a large flow of guests and greet everyone, at some point I felt uneasy, and I said: “That’s it, I can’t do it anymore”, I went to my room, closed it and didn’t go out anymore . Now the visits of close relatives no longer tire me. But from holidays, like weddings, where 200-300 people gather and walk until 6-7 in the morning, I leave earlier. I have never sat through to the end at any Moroccan wedding.

My husband and I love spending time together. At home we speak both Russian and Berber — which word comes to mind first. And our sons know both classical Arabic, and the Moroccan dialect, and French and English. The main thing is that we always have something to talk about. But it was very difficult for me to get used to the fact that the whole house was on my shoulders. At first I was angry, but over time we got used to each other. I stopped making increased demands on my husband, and he stopped resisting some requests.

In principle, helping a wife around the house is not a man’s business. This is how it is accepted here. Although it was my husband who gave me the first lessons in Moroccan cooking, in Krivoy Rog he himself cooked both couscous and tajine. It’s all very tasty. But my favorite dish is probably mishui — lamb roasted whole in the oven. Actually, I don’t really like lamb, but mishui is a special, ritual dish, it is prepared only on major holidays. Although not only for this reason. I love this dish also because I don’t cook it — men traditionally do it.

“In this country, I discover something new every day”

Ekaterina, 37, independent travel agent, Marrakech

My future husband and I met in Ivanovo, where we both studied at the institute, got married, my husband defended his dissertation there and became a candidate of technical sciences, our first child was born. And then we went to the homeland of Abderrahim, to Morocco. It was in 2001. I had no idea what was waiting for me. In Morocco, religious traditions and customs are not fanatically, but are observed on a daily basis, so the first thing I did when I arrived was to read the Koran in order to understand what I had to deal with.

But I converted to Islam only five years later, and then only in order to obtain citizenship. My husband is very calm about it. After all, he lived in Russia for more than 9 years. And therefore, even here it tends to Russian traditions. And I rather adhere to local rules, so as not to stand out. At first it was very difficult for me. I did not know French at all, I had to learn the language and deal with a small child at the same time. But I immediately set out to live here with my little son and beloved husband, and I understood that my task was to adapt, and not to resist a way of life that was completely different from ours. After some time, I learned colloquial Arabic and French. And it helped to rebuild.

The main meal in Morocco is lunch. And you had to get used to it. Breakfast is light — coffee or traditional green tea with mint and a bun. In the morning, be sure to find time to buy groceries and prepare food for lunch. It is not customary to eat a sandwich here. Lunch for a Moroccan is a full meal of two or three courses, with salad and a hot meat dish. Everyone returns home during the day, even schools work with a lunch break — children and adults gather around the table at about one in the afternoon, and at 2.30 everyone returns to school and work. And on Fridays for lunch, a traditional dish is prepared — couscous.

Since I work, my family moved couscous to Saturday, but once a week I cook it for sure, because my children and husband love this dish very much. It also took me a long time to get used to the fact that Moroccans are never in a hurry, so they are often late. At one time I tried to deal with this, because punctuality is very important in working with tourists. But all to no avail. Now I have changed my attitude, and it has become much easier to live: if I need to go somewhere by 9 o’clock, I make an appointment for 8.30, and the Moroccan will arrive just at 9 o’clock.

Morocco is striking in that no city here is like another. My husband is from Casablanca and we first came there in 2001. Of course, I was delighted: “Oh, Casablanca!” I was looking forward to all this oriental romance, known from a Hollywood movie. And it turned out to be almost in our Moscow — in a noisy, European city. Casablanca is the main economic city of Morocco. And the administrative capital is the city of Rabat, it is 60 km to the north, such a quiet, green city. Casablanca and Rabat are like Moscow and St. Petersburg for me.

Morocco is a land of amazing geographic diversity and stunning contrasts. No city here is like another, each with its own zest. You will drive only 170 km north of Agadir and end up in Essaouira — there is also an ocean, a resort, but the colors in the city are completely different — not sand, but snow-white-blue, its own architecture, unique souvenirs made of wood.

Fez is not at all like them — the ancient capital of Morocco, the center of spiritual life. The first religious university was built in Fes, there are many madrasahs — spiritual educational institutions, the largest medina (old city), which has 8 thousand narrow streets — you will get lost there without a guide. And they also make famous leather goods there, sew grandmothers (the famous Moroccan slippers). Fes is somewhat reminiscent of Jerusalem — even pilgrims come there. Morocco is a very peaceful country, open to all religions and nationalities. There are Arab Jews, there are Berber Jews, there are synagogues and holy places for Jews. Families of Jews, Christians, Muslims often live side by side, on the same spot, communicate, help each other.

You will not see polygamy here, at least among the middle and younger generations. During the 15 years that I have been living here, I have made many Moroccan girlfriends, and I see how confident and calm they feel, study at institutes, work, and put on a headscarf only when they themselves want to. There is no such thing that the girl turned 14 years old — and that’s it, social life is over.

As you know, according to the Koran, Muslims are allowed to have four wives. But King Mohammed VI made a real revolution in Moroccan society: in 2003, he made many changes to the family code, which largely equalized the rights of men and women in the family. And if the husband decided to marry a second time, the first wife must give her written official consent. This is not the case anywhere else in Muslim countries. They are proud of foreign wives here, such a mixed marriage is even considered prestigious. Although, of course, there are families where there are conflicts and problems. I know families (but there are very few of them) who insist that Russian wives not work and wear a hijab. But there are many more good stories.

I have many acquaintances both among the Arabs and among the Berbers. Berbers are the descendants of the indigenous people of the country. They have their own language (but different dialects), their own traditions. Arabs and Berbers are slightly different from each other. Arabs are considered lazier, while Berbers are more patient and economical. In general, all Moroccans are very friendly, they like to communicate and invite guests to visit them.

If a Berber family invites me, I know that everything on the table will be very tasty, good, but minimal. And in an Arab house they will surely arrange a feast with a mountain. The Berbers, who converted to Islam a long time ago, observe all the canons of Islam. And in no document you will see who it is, a Berber or an Arab. But still, the Berbers are very protective of their culture. They live apart, speak their own language at home, marry Berber women. They are seeking to have their language legally recognized as the official language in Morocco. And I notice that even road signs are increasingly written in three languages ​​- Arabic, French and Berber. And in some regions of the country, the Berber language is taught in schools.

I do not get tired of Morocco, on the contrary, every day I learn something new, I never cease to be surprised by this country. But I do not lose touch with my homeland. I was born in Rybinsk, on the banks of the Volga, and I am very proud of my roots. We speak Russian at home. My husband loves Russian music and culture very much. Dad and mom come to me, and I myself go to Russia once a year for a tourism exhibition. I breathe in the damp Moscow air, the smell of birches.

By the way, I don’t have enough birches in Morocco. But I found a way out — not far from Fez there is the city of Ifrane, this is a mountain resort. There is snow in winter, and in summer you can walk through the forest, and the houses are somewhat similar to Russian ones — with chimneys, tiled roofs. And when some kind of nostalgia or sadness comes over me, I go there, take a walk among the snow-covered poplars and houses, and the melancholy passes — as if I had been at home. And you can again enjoy life and show oriental hospitality.