Article sent by Arie Van Der Leest
2007

Do you remember I promised you some text for The Galley? Below you find the text of a small story about making a video and in particular shots you miss filming them. Perhaps it may be acceptable for The Galley.

For more than ten years we have made video reports of Clan meetings and gatherings on various locations in Scotland. It started with the momentous meeting in 1993 on Colonsay followed by Aviemore in 1997, Oban in 2001 and last but not least Inverness in 2005. Now we belief it is time to retire from making these reports as any further attempt will most likely end up in the same approach like the ones created in the past. In making video's we often find that we miss the ultimate shots on the most unexpected moments. One such moment I recall during our trip trough Morocco many years ago. Allow me to bore you with this story and start with picturing the events that lead to this unforgettable incident.

We normally just take off, the two of us, not knowing where it would end. However, we always map out a general direction to go and this time it was to be Spain and Portugal with our VW-van towing our caravan. We where away for two month and have seen a lot during our wandering about in these two countries. However, our trip to Spain and Portugal run a bit out of hand when we met a group of Germans on the campsite of Algeciras in Spain, from where you can see the rock of Gibraltar across the bay. By then we had toured along the Algarve in the South of Portugal, visited places like Albufeira and Sagres along the coast. We had fine weather, but the campsites where practically empty. The season was over and we only found a few people on most of the campsites spending the winter there. We where happy finding a site with some people on it. "Here is a free pitch", one German said to Heleen, "tomorrow you will have the whole site to yourself as we are all leaving for Morocco at six in the morning". We came to chat and they showed us the map of Morocco and what they where planning to do. It appeared that Algeciras was the meeting place for their trip. In the end they invited us to come along. We needed some time to think about that of course. We where dealing here with a 3000km trip through unknown territory. However, that applied also to all these Germans. None of them had ever driven in Morocco. Anyway, we where now in the South of Spain meeting them by sheer coincidence and this will never happen again, we thought. Touring Morocco is something we most likely will never do on our own. Further, at the time of our decision-making (7 o'clock in the evening) all the shops where already closed in Algeciras meaning we were unable to purchase those particulars for travelling in a country like Morocco (dessert country). However, the Germans assured us that they would help us out if necessary. It was not so much on the food level of which we had enough "on board" but the water pills for decontaminating purposes. As we had all the time in the world we could easily spent some 19-day’s in Morocco and decided to come along. The Germans where amazed (and pleased at the same time) that we had decided to join them on this tour. The tour-leader (a German private individual who operates tours to Morocco and Israel) had to be paid and he made a quick call with his mobile phone to the boat to book us a ticket.

As you know you will find Morocco at the North-western extremity of the African continent, the Mediterranean in the North, the Atlantic Ocean in the West, Algeria in the East and Mauritania in the South. Europe is practically a stone’s throw away, just across the Strait of Gibraltar. The ferry took us in one and a half-hour to Ceuta or Sebta (as the Arabians call it) to the North African Spanish enclave. In just 15 minutes we drove from the dock to the border with Morocco. This border is a bother. It took us two hours to cross it. A lot of paper work and so called "drinking money" and endless waiting was spent at this busy border crossing. However, in the end we where allowed to enter Morocco. So we travelled 3000km in 19 day’s through Morocco with 15 other German campers and caravans. Of course we had to speak German all the time. However, we managed fine. It was a bit "rusty" at first but got gradually better as you hear the language being used all the time. Even Heleen started to speak some German, which went quite well indeed after a while. At least they understood what she was trying to say. Much to our surprise some of them tried to speak some English and together we had some good laughs about this all. Only a few of them spook quite good English and practised it further with Heleen. One German, a retired teacher, spook fluent French and became soon our interpreter with the French speaking Moroccans as French is their official language together with Arabic. No wonder, as we learned later, he lives near the French/German border in Germany. We learned from them that they had come from all over Germany to meet each other for this trip. They had never met each other before, so, they where all new to each other just like us. We made campfires in the dessert and drank wine chatting and looking into the flames. Told each other all kind of stories of our experiences with the Moroccans that day and where ready to plough through the dust again the following day. Germans in general go to bed early. We know that for a fact when we are on camping sites in Germany. Here, of course, it was the same. At eleven, at the very latest, it's all quit and the lights are out. As a result, we where all up and around at the crack of dawn.

It was a trip, which we will not easily forget. A country like Morocco defies any description, and is more than mere words can tell.

We have been driving on good roads on bad roads and on no roads at all in the dessert. Dust all over us in the dessert and dust creeps everywhere even into the fridge in the caravan. We found it unspoiled by tourists surrounded by a beautiful countryside, but pestered by dogs, cats, bagging children and pushy merchants. In general it all was really something else. The Atlas Mountains are so different. Our tour-leader knew all the places which you normally would pass as they where hidden from the road or track. We drove through villages and visited oases and met the locals, like the Berbers and the Tuarecs.

We met very friendly people and we drunk mint tea with them. I detest mint tea, so I always asked for "normal" tea.  The tour took us from Ceuta straight south to Meknes, our first "camp site". It looked nice under the palm trees enclosed by a solid wall. However, the toilet block was atrocious, filthy and stinking. From now on we where depending on our own facilities and that was practically the case from now onwards. Most nights we camped "free" in the dessert or near a town or village, but always enclosed in a walled area. It was like going back to biblical times to see people travelling on donkeys seemingly from somewhere endless to nowhere in particular, disappearing into emptiness. Every morning we gathered at a quarter to eight for travel information from our tour leader. He informed us about the route for that day and then passed out some copies showing the layout of the local roads near to our next "camp site". "Hit them up and move them out" and on we went again. Most the time we drove by ourselves. However, along the route you meet up with your fellow travellers of course. When we stopped along the "road" in the middle of nothing for a coffee break and a bite to eat or a hygienic stop you could be sure that they (people, dogs and or cats) would "come out of the wood works" at any time. Only in the dessert we travelled in convoy well apart from each other due to clouds of dust from our vehicles with a local guide up front.  There are no signposts in the dessert and driving through this emptiness is quite an experience. At night it could become quite cold under a sky full of overwhelmingly bright stars. During daytime the temperature could run up to around 30 degrees centigrade. In general we had extremely good weather. Cloudless skies, a lot of sunshine (of course) and hardly any wind. It was not until the end of the tour that the weather was showing some changes. The route went from Meknes to Azrou, Midelt, Rachidia, all the time driving south to Erfoud straight through the Atlas Mountains. From Erfoud it went further south to Rissani and then into the dessert. We drove past a dead camel lying on the dessert floor in the middle of nowhere on our way to a dessert inn. Here we camped and as always within an enclosed walled area belonging to the dessert Inn. The next day we had only to drive about 17km but it took us more than 3 hours to do it. The dessert track was rough and very dusty.

We stayed the night between some enormous sand dunes together with some camels. The desert inn had no water supply and hardly any lights. However, outside the wall we discovered a small hut where we could have a cold shower. Among those camels where white camels which I had never seen before. Lucky, there was no sandstorm during our stay out there I thought later. The sunset that evening was speechless showing all kinds of colours striking over these enormous sand dunes. From there it went west driving along the Southern slopes of the Atlas Mountains, which we could see in the distance to our right.  Considering the poor roads we encountered at times, our VW-van and caravan performed very well. Yes, it all became very filthy and covered in dust and sand. We could not give it a good wash down until we reached Rabat. What a country this is, called Morocco.

There is always that moment when you don't have the camera ready to shoot. I took shots from little incidents of every day life on a market place, in the Kasbah or some side street. In one incident I lost the group while strolling through a Kasbah. We walked through the very narrow streets when the call for pray came loudly over us from the tower of a nearby mosque. Very good original sound I thought and I got the camera out. As I filmed and recorded the sound track, I was so occupied that I did not see where the rest where going. All of a sudden I was alone. Well alone no not quite. I was almost run over by an old Moroccan with a weather beaten face riding his donkey. Behind me I heard some girls giggling when I jumped aside trying to miss the donkey. Others looked at me with a genuine smile on their faces while I was storing the camera away in my bag. Then everybody in the street moved quietly aside and when I turned around I saw a sort of procession coming towards me. It was a funeral procession as the men where carrying a body (probably of a relative) on a simple stretcher.  One man in a white cloak walked proudly up front and was singing in Arabian. As I stepped aside and stood among the rest of the people in that narrow street I noticed how tall I was compared to the rest. I was sticking out like a sore thumb not only by height but also in my European clothing. I watched the procession walk by and did not even try to film even though it was very tempting for me. Such a scene is priceless of course. Something inside made me to just stand there and together with the rest of the locals in this street I bowed to the dead body on the stretcher. The body was wrapped in a white cloth swaying on that stretcher on the rhythm of the men walking and carrying it. The old men on the donkey whom I just had missed had some problem controlling the donkey further down this alley. There was hardly room for him to manoeuvre his donkey to the side.  Once the procession had past everybody went on with there live, so it seemed. Across the alley was a stall where a man in a dark brown cloak sold his tea. He waved me over and bowed in welcome to me. He offered me a glass of tea. I wanted to pay him for it, but that was out of the question. I had bowed for the dead and that was his way of thanking me for it. At least that is what I understood from his gestures. The glass looked filthy and was filled with flaming hot mint tea. I detest mint tea. However, this time I had to drink it whether I liked it or not. I felt I had to drink this in respect for his respect. I sipped from it and it was as if "the wholes in my socks would close". The man in the stall gave me a broad smile and I could see that he was missing some teeth. He spoke only Arabian and all I could say to him in Arabian was "shogran" which means thank you. It seemed like hours drinking this small glass of mint tea, but I managed it in the end. As I walked away I lit a cigarette in order to get rid of the taste. Making my way trough the narrow alleys was worth filming. Pushing merchants did not pester me anymore. No bagging children and there where lots of them around me. I could walk "freely" in the direction of one of the main gates.

From there I remembered the way back to our "camp site" as I was certain of that. Then I saw one of the official tourist guides walking with four tourists in western clothing. You can easily spot them as they wear a large badge on a chain on a grey cloak. Fortunately he spoke English and I asked him about the German group I had lost. I told him the name of the tour guide from the German group: Mohammed (how could I miss), and he looked at me as if he knew him. I told him that we where to have lunch in some restaurant later that morning and I asked him if he knew where it was. He pointed out the way to me and ordered a small kid to accompany me and on I went back into the narrow alleys of the Kasbah again followed by this small kid. However, this time I had the name of that restaurant in my mind. It took a while but I found it with the help of this small boy and walked in. The boy remained outside, obviously waiting for some money. Inside was a different world. Beautifully fitted out in Moroccan style, red chairs around beautifully carved tables and in the middle a spouting fountain. The restaurant was a former mosque and its thick walls provided a pleasant temperature. Yes, they knew of a German group arriving but I had to wait for half an hour. I walked out in the sunny alley and gave the boy some money. Once inside again a bottle of water was placed before me with a clean glass. After three-quarters of an hour the German group walked in with Mohammed up front. He raised his arms when he saw me and smiled. "How did you find this place", he asked me. I told him briefly my story. The Germans told me later over a superb lunch that the tourist guide Mohammed had missed me soon after leaving that alley and had ordered numerous kids to look for me. They could not miss a tall blond man with a camera. News goes quick in a Kasbah and the kids where running all over looking for me the Germans told me. Now I remember that the small boy had followed me all the time until I spoke to the other tourist guide who showed me the way to the restaurant. I had seen that kid before I now remembered. What a subject I missed in filming this. With the video camera we took some interesting shots during this trip. Walking through streets in villages with the video camera running, the red indicator (recording) taped off with some black tape. In general people in Morocco don’t like to be filmed especially the woman

Diary dates
President's report
Editorial
Secretary's report
Udevalla
false alarm
making a video
Gossip
Capital Games
Burns' Night 2008
2009 Setting
Corncrake article
Rev. J Duffy

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