Essaouira 11th Annual Gnaoua And World Music Festival

Well, the festival is over. This post is a recap of our festival experience. Ths festival started on Thursday, June 26 and ends Sunday, June 29. Almost everything is free.

Thursday night (June 26) we went to see some music at the stage by the port. It was mostly percussion and dancing. Not exactly melodic. There was a Korean group, Samulnori Molgae which did drumming and dancing with streamers accompanied by a sort of horn instrument. There was also a group called Baalil from Marrakech which was similar--percussion and dance. We watched as a man set up a little candy stand with a couple of cardboard boxes. As soon as he set up, we has swarmed by children buying candy bars subdivided into the squares that most candy bars are divided into. I guess it was 1 dh per square. Mothers were buying for their kids as well. A few minutes after him, a guy came with a basket with 6 types of nuts and a bunch of squares of newspaper. For 1 dh, you can get nuts in a paper tube. I got some peanuts from him. He did a pretty good business, too. Probably 2/3 of the people were Moroccan. Most of the women were in head scarfs. Some of the younger ones were in Western dress. It was nice to see all ages of locals out to see the festivities. Even some older people were out. The police were out in force--making sure nothing got out of hand. We were hoping to see the Eric Legnini Trio, but our energy levels faded and we headed home.

Here is the stage by the port--Moulay Hassan.



On Friday, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to watch a documentary about a Malian singer named ALi Farka Touré. It was in French so I didn't understand much. At least his songs were subtitled so I cold read the lyrics. Anyway, he is a popular Malian singer and the camera crew followed him around as he toured around and visited places and talked about his life. The lyrics to his songs were interesting. Almost like propaganda. Things like "fishermen should fish, farmers shoud farm, shepherds should lead their flocks, because that's their job, and work makes you happy" and "some people reject our way and that's why the rains stopped coming" and stuff like that. The small theater started to get hot, so I was happy when it ended.

A while later, we headed to the Pepsi stage on the beach to see what they had going on. They were trying to do sort of MTV Spring Break type stuff, but less sexy. Some Senegalese dancers were trying to teach a bunch of white tourists their dance for several minutes and finally they led them in their dance. Then the two dancers did their own dance by themselves. Then thw oddest display came on. A bunch of Moroccan male children came on stage. Two men lead them in essentially calistenics with their arms--arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, repeat. Two other men, claiming to be the greatest Moroccan dancers did a bunch of stuff with their arms. One was pretty good. The arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, thing went on for 20 or 30 minutes. It got pretty boring. It was more fun watching the crowd. With the festival we start to see women wearing less and less. I guess the girls from some of the European countries don't read up on what's apprpopriate to wear in Morocco. Anyway, we left because it didn't seem to be very interesting.

That night, we went to the stage by the port to see the Wayne Shorter Quartet. Unfortunately, we got there way too early and by the time he came on, we were pretty tired. While we were waiting we sat on a low concrete edge of a grassy area. A guy with a whistle was responsible for keeping people off the grass and Elena and I amused ourselves watching him try to do his job. A bunch of mothers with their small children were in our area. One tried to speak to me in French. Elena figured out he was asking "Comment t'appelle?" I told him "je m'appelle Mark". Eventually most of the kids left and then Wayne Shorter came on, so Elena and I moved closer. His music was good, but there were so many people moving around that I couldn't really enjoy it. It seems like the kind of music that you want to listen to in a club with a glass of wine or beer and close your eyes while listening to parts, but it wasn't possible to enjoy it that way in the current atmosphere. After a few songs, we headed home through the crowds.

Once home, we could still hear the music until the wee hours of the morning. The music probably wound up at 4 or 5am.

Saturday was the day I figured would be the big day. On our walk on the beach, we saw lots of people sleeping on the beach. There was only one tent and we guessed why when we saw a couple of police or soldiers hassling the tent residents.

Again, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to see a documentary called Made in Jamaica. They started showing the ALi Farka Touré film. Everyone was looking backwards to see if they were going to change it, then finally someone showed them the program and that were showing the wrong movie. Then they started the right movie, but it didn't seem to be from the beginning. In fact, it was from almost the end and they got through the ending credits before the people showing the film noticed. Finally they got it right and showed it from the beginning. Fortunately, it was in English with French subtitles. Which ws good because it is Jamaican English and subtitles would be necessary anyway. It was a raw, violent, and raunchy documentary about the music of the Kingston ghetto.

Elena wanted to go back at 5pm to see an Arbre à Palabres or something. It was an interview session hosted by RFI, a French radio network, that interviewed the musicians. So Elena watched that while I went off to the wine store (which was apparently closed).

At night we went to see Kimany Marley, the son of Bob Marley, at the largest stage by the Bab Marrakech. I told Elena that I didn'want to go too early so that I'd have the energy to watch the artist I wanted to see. But she dragged me out at 10pm to watch a full hour of Maâlem Hamid El Kasri. They seemed to be a crowd favorite. The people knew all their songs and cheered as each new 10 minute long song started. Young girls were dancing with each other and young boys were strutting around dancing sort of like chickens walking around a chicken coop for the most accurate description of their style.

Marley was supposed to come on at 11, but came on more like 11:45. Oh well. He was pretty good. But it was late so we listened to about 4 or 5 songs and headed home. It was after midnight and the streets were as crowded as ever. All the food vendors were selling food, people were packing every store. This festival must be like Christmas in America as far as the merchants are concerned. It must be their biggest weekend. For once, most of the smells are good--meat cooking over coals. Yummy.

Again, we listened to the music in the distance from our apartment until as late as it goes. Almost sunrise.

So that was the festival. Lot's of Westerners were in Morocco for it. A lot of white people with dreadlocks. How they got through customs and immigration, I don't know. I watched as a guy tried to sell a knitted hat in Jamaican colors with knitted dreadlocks to a uy with real dreadlocks. It was only 10 dh, so I was almost tempted to buy one, but who wants to go through customs in the US and have a Jamaican hat with fake dreadlocks?

Elena went to see a film at the Alliance Franco-Marocaine called Retour à Gorée. She said I should have seen it too. She said after seeing that, she's glad she decided to skip Senegal. Yikes!

At about 5, we headed over to the Bab Marrakech to catch the music for the closing ceremony. But when we got there, they were already disassembling the stage. We went to see if the wine store was open (it was closed all weekend) and it wasn't and to see if they moved the closing ceremony to the Bab Doukkala. That stage was in the process of disassembly as well. So we headed over to the Moulay Hassan stage and voilá, there it was. We listened to the penultimate group. Then they ended. One group left. So far I hadn't been super impressed. I can't say the music was my kind of music. I enjoyed the spectacle more than the music. I enjoyed watching the Electrical office panic because of the blackout and plant generators all over the city which would up not being used because they solved the root problem. I enjoyed watching the girls who wore clothes that offend Moroccan sensibilities but conform well to American/European sensibilities. I enjoyed watching a city expand to double, triple or quadruple its size over a weekend and seeing how that changes the city. From today, the pace will return to a more normal pace. Elena and I are still here for another week before we go to Marrakech. We've been putting some stuff off until after the festival and its crowds.

But back to the final act. We waited for the set change and waited through a guy thanking everyone first in Arabic, then in French. Here we are waiting.





How about my cool scarf?



Then the music started. The National orchestre de barbés. They were excellent! The only band whose CD I want to buy. Elena and I were there dancing and moving to their wonderful music. The crowd was into them as well. The kitchen staff on the second floor of the tapas place on the plaza was into them as well--hopefully the tapas eating customers were too since they probably didn't get their food fast. Everyone was having a good time except a few kids who got knocked around by the police which was out in force. It was nice to go out on a high note. I hope I can find a National orchestre de barbès CD. If you ever see them on tour, go see them. If you Wayne Shorter in a jazz club, check him out, too. Now I just have to see if I can get a cheap T-shirt.