A personal account of the funeral of Edmond Amran El Maleh

About a month ago, Megan MacDonald, a Fulbrighter in Morocco focusing on the role that Francophone / Moroccan novels play in Morocco and who is completing her dissertation on comparative literature at the State University of New York at Buffalo, contacted me about the death of Edmond Amran El Maleh and details for his funeral. Megan ended up attending the funeral in Rabat and wrote a beautiful piece (below). She also took some great pictures. I think these pictures speak volumes to complicated relationships in Morocco.

Megan MacDonald
20 December, 2010
mgn.macdonald@gmail.com

I first heard of the passing of Edmond Amran El Maleh at the age of 93, on Monday night via Twitter. Moroccan writer Laila Lalami reflected: “With the passing of Edmond Amran El Maleh, it feels as if a part of the literary, cultural (and yes, Jewish) history of Morocco has passed.” There was to be a tribute to this giant of Moroccan literature the next morning (Tuesday November 16, 2010) at the Jewish cemetery in Rabat, and then he would be brought to Essaouaira, his final resting place.

I wasn’t familiar with a Jewish cemetery in Rabat, so I turned to Google maps. I found two Jewish cemeteries in Rabat--one in between l’Océan and the Medina, and the other in Agdal. I emailed Chris Silver to ask him what he thought, having stumbled upon his blog while searching online for information on Jewish life in Morocco. My first instinct was that the older cemetery, the one near l’Océan and the medina, would be the spot for a tribute. In his email Chris reminded me “things in Morocco are never as they appear.” He also thought the medina would be the correct location. I asked IbnKafka on Twitter which he thought it would be. He was not aware of a Jewish cemetery in Agdal. I decided to ignore both of our first instincts, and head to Agdal. When I emailed Chris later on that day to tell him the cemetery was in Agdal he quipped, “Of course it was--I knew I should have trusted my opposite instinct.”

Exterior of Jewish cemetery in Agdal, Rabat (2010)

My taxi driver knew where the cemetery was, and asked me if I knew the word for cemetery in derija and fusha, which he promptly shared with me: (qbr) is a term in both derija and fusha that he said everyone would know, and (arodha) is specifically derija. He dropped me off at a semi-open gate, which turned out to be the cemetery for “the French”, according to the woman watching the door, with whom I exchanged some awkward derija, and which I later on found out is a Christian/European cemetery. She said that the Jewish cemetery was one door down.

Interior of Jewish cemetery in Agdal, Rabat (2010)

There were around one hundred people there milling about and talking in small groups when I arrived at 10am, with more trickling in over the next half hour. I heard a woman ask her companion in French, “Is the body here?” The crowd was made up of Moroccans and non-Moroccans, Muslims, Jews, Christians, those visually presenting as religious people, and those who were not, men and women, young and old, and several people wearing kaffiyehs with bright Palestinian flags on the borders.

Jewish, Muslim and Christian mourners of El Maleh (2010)

The body was brought out, draped in a Moroccan flag, and everyone gathered around as prayers were sung and tributes made. A cameraman showed up, filming the speakers and the body. In the cement enclosure the emotional words of the speakers were occasionally broken up by shuffling feet, sniffling, and ringing cellphones. One speaker highlighted the Moroccan Jewish community, which he said must continue to live on, as he cited El Maleh’s support of the Palestinian struggle, and his desire that Palestinians and Israelis should live in peace. El Maleh was described as a man rooted in his history, a history of Morocco. A man of conviction who had fought against the French occupation in Morocco. The speakers expressed gratitude for El Maleh’s compassion, his willingness to listen patiently to questions from others--even if they were not ‘good’ questions, or ‘intelligent’ questions. A man of grace who respected others. A man characterized by an incredible dynamism and honesty.

Scholars write about El Maleh as someone who constantly challenged idées reçus and official histories through his fiction and other writing. These remain a testament to the memory of his disappearance, while also serving as texts that bear witness to historical memory, and to a re-writing of official and unofficial Moroccan histories. This work of excavation was also one of re-layering: pointing at pluralisms that have existed in Moroccan society while looking towards a future with one finger on these historical sediments. His literature re-examined forgotten realities of Moroccan history, doing so in a polyphonic manner. Writing in Le Magazine littéraire in March 1999, El Maleh put forth:

« Écrivant en français, je savais que je n’écrivais pas en français. Il y avait cette singulière greffe d’une langue sur l’autre, ma langue maternelle l’arabe, ce feu intérieur. »

El Maleh was man who leaves us with his writing, a body of work that will be there for our children, and for their children. A man whose work speaks to all Moroccans, described by one speaker as Berber, Arab, Jewish, Muslim, francophone, arabophone. He was, according to one speaker, a man who knew how to laugh.

As is the case with premonitions that reveal themselves clearly in hindsight, it is fitting to end with the words of El Maleh’s friend Abdellah Baïda, writing just before his passing in Le Soir: “Ce cher Edmond a encore des cartouches dans sa besace; on entendra certainement reparler de lui.”

For El Maleh’s part, he felt: "Quand je quitte le Maroc, je me déplace sans me déplacer."

References:

--Mary B. Vogl. “It was and it was not so: Edmond Amran El Maleh remembers Morocco” International Journal of Francophone Studies, 6 (2) 2003: 71-85.

--Edmond Amran el-Maleh, Le Magazine littéraire, mars 1999.

--http://www.aufaitmaroc.com/actualites/culture/2010/11/15/lettres-orphelines

--http://www.lesoir-echos.com/2010/11/05/edmond-amran-el-maleh-cette-obsedante-question-de-culture/

NEH Grant to Create Digital Archive of Jewish Moroccan Documents

September 9, 2010

From College of Lewis and Clark (link to article):

Oren Kosansky, assistant professor of anthropology, has earned a $50,000 grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to develop a digital archive of Judaic Moroccan documents from the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. The online archive will open access to researchers with an interest in Jewish culture in Northern Africa and allow them to share ideas and information widely. Of even greater interest to the NEH, the project will offer a new model for intercultural and international collaboration in the creation of technological resources to share historical information.

Making a discovery

Kosansky’s fascination with Judiaism in Morocco dates back to his graduate work in the early 1990s. In 2005, a Fulbright research grant took him to Rabat, the capital of Morocco and former home to a large Jewish community. During his stay, Kosansky worked closely with leaders of Rabat’s major synagogue and community center. It was there that he discovered a genizah—a room or depository found in synagogues, where old religious documents that are no longer in use are kept and periodically buried.

“In Judaic tradition, documents containing references to God are forbidden from being destroyed,” Kosansky explained. “Most obviously books and papers on religious topics such as the Torah are deemed sacred and treated in a ceremonious fashion, but any item with religious or legal references—such as a wedding announcement or business contract—would also be kept.

“In this case, I found literally thousands of books and documents pertaining to virtually all facets of Jewish life in Morocco, especially as it was transformed during the 20^th century. My first thought was, ‘How can I save these materials from burial, so that they can be consulted by community members and scholars.’”

Kosansky noted that the Jewish community in Rabat once numbered in the thousands and had dwindled to fewer than 100, following a broader trend of emigration that brought the majority of Moroccan Jews to Israel, France, and other global destinations. As an anthropologist, he saw great potential for research materials that could serve many in his field.

“Written materials are very important in Judaism,” Kosansky explained. “It is a very textual culture. These documents offer great insight into a culture and a community of people that once thrived here. They offer an opportunity to investigate elements of a society that has not been fully explored by those of us in the academic field. For the Jewish community, it represents something perhaps even more valuable—an opportunity to reflect on how their traditions have been shaped by modern life, colonialism, technological change, and global networks of migration, communication, and commerce.”

With the approval of community leaders, Kosansky sorted through hundreds of sacks containing thousands of documents and determined which documents were appropriate for burial and which represented significant historical texts suitable for preservation. Synagogue leaders gave Kosansky the documents for preservation, and he donated them to the Jewish Museum in Casablanca.

The unparalleled collection contains many unique documents, including handwritten letters, unpublished manuscripts, and community records, as well as published materials in a variety of languages, including Judeo-Arabic, Hebrew, and French. The documents now held by the museum will be the focus of Kosansky’s NEH digitization project.

Building a model to bring disparate parties and countries together

In developing his project, Kosansky has faced many difficult questions and considerations. Despite his excitement about the opportunity to open the door further on North African culture, he wrestled with concerns about how to build such an archive—chief among them, how to build an equitable process that respects the legal, ethical, and social differences across several societies.

“There are so many issues up for consideration,” Kosansky said. “For example, what, if any, are the copyright issues for such old documents? And what are the copyright laws in Morocco? Are there private documents we shouldn’t digitize out of respect for some individuals or the Jewish community? Who should be consulted on such ethical considerations?”

Kosansky will begin the project while he is directing Lewis & Clark’s first overseas program in Morocco next spring. Over the next 18 months, he will be identifying experts both in the U.S. and in Morocco in diverse fields like digital archives, information access, intellectual property law, and Jewish history to address the legal issues, begin the digitization process, and have the website built.

Given the scope of the entire project, Kosansky feels the key to its success will be building a shared vision and understanding across languages and cultural differences.

While the circumstances for any future project will be unique to the people and part of the world it is happening in, NEH will be better prepared to fund and assist comparable projects based on Kosansky’s experience and the lessons he takes away.

“This is about far more than an archive,” Kosansky said. “And it will be more than a list or set of images. It will be organic in its process and in its outcomes. I’m looking forward to the opportunity to learn how to effectively bring a cross-cultural project to fruition and to develop a model for academicians and laypeople to share information and ideas about the documents that they access.”

Back in Rabat

I arrived in Rabat late last night. I was picked up by some old friends, a family who had taken me in on many occasion when I was lat here. We had dinner and caught up. I took a shower and slept in a real bed and it was wonderful. Today I'm headed back to Casa and tomorrow night will take part in Mimouna.

Shabbat in Rabat

It wasn’t too difficult to find Shabbat services in Rabat. I hoped online and found the address of the Talmud Thora synagogue and a picture of it from the outside. At 6.30 I headed to the building. I knew from the picture that I had found it. It is a nondescript white building. At the top of staircase sits a security guard. I asked him if this was a synagogue, if there were services tonight, and what time they started. Yes, yes, and 7.30. Would I have any problem getting in? No, he said. You are Jewish right? Yes, I said. I came back at 7 .30. From the outside I could see there were lights on in the synagogue. Esther Perez, an octogenarian who was entering the building, greeted us with her name and a Shabbat Shalom. A man walked in as the same time as us and showed us the way. The synagogue was nice, clean, and modern. There were approximately 25 men there, including me, ranging from 8 to 80 years old. It was a beautiful service. During Lcha Dodi, the men (and little boy) took turns singing. Everyone sang the chorus. I was familiar with the melody and the whole service put me at ease. I felt comfortable and at home. After the service I wished everyone a Shabbat Shalom. A young man, probably about 20, seemed to be out of place like me. Where you from? I asked. Meknes, he said. How many Jews still live there? 150, no more like 100, he said. He was probably one of the youngest members of the community and I was glad to have met him, Charles/Shalom. He was visiting Rabat with his mom and his sister although I couldn’t figure out why exactly. He asked where we lived and if we were walking home. I told him that unfortunately we had a very long walk ahead of us and we parted ways. The rest of the night we strolled through the old city, which had totally come alive. As I strolled down the small alleyways I hummed to myself Lcha Dodi and felt good.

Back to Rabat

The next morning I woke up sick. Not cold sick but I-should-not-have-eaten-that merguez-sandwich-from-that-shady-restaurant sick. I could barely move. I couldn’t get out of bed. I needed to return to Rabat. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be let back into the cemetery at Azjen, I couldn’t wait 12 more hours for the hilloula. I’m not sure if I made the right decision but at that point I just needed to get home. The Grand Hotel was feeling less and less grand. I finally got out of bed, checked out of the hotel, and decided I was going to give the medina one last go. I was on the hunt for the mellah and at least 4 synagogues. I stumbled out of the hotel and into the medina. Remember, look for the old men. I turned the corner and came upon 4 incredibly old men sitting in an empty store front chatting. PERFECT!

Where’s the mellah?
The mellah?
Yes, the mellah.
So I should go straight up.
Oh, I should turn around and make a right and then go straight and then make a right.
Where?

One took me by the arm and led us to the mellah. Funny, I had already walked down that street. It was totally under construction. Half way up the street was a gate and courtyard. Was this it? What was in the courtyard? I was hesitant to wonder in. I definitely didn’t want to go somewhere where I wasn’t wanted. Is this the mellah? I asked. I was motioned in. I looked around this courtyard for anything. This was the Jewish funduq, I was told. Were the synagogues here? Could I identify a mezuzah? Not that I could tell unfortunately. Or maybe I was just so sick I couldn’t see straight. Some men were inside a hay shed and I asked them what this area was. They said the second story around the courtyard was the Jewish area. Was there a synagogue here? No, they said. It was unclear whether they thought I meant a synagogue that is still in use or one that has fallen into disuse but still remains intact. I couldn’t communicate properly. I thanked them and left. I was told that there was a former Jewish school up the street but I could barely walk. I left barely satisfied but ready to return home. We headed to CTM and waited for our bus to Rabat to fill up so that we could leave.

The apartment

We arrived in Casablanca on August 11, exchanged some money, had a bite to eat, and hoped on the train to Rabat. We were picked up by our host Nourredine who showed us the apartment we would be staying in in Temara, a small city south of Rabat. Temara was farther from Rabat than I had previously thought but it was a place that we agreed would work for at least the first month.

The apartment is big: two bedrooms, a nicely sized living room complete with wall to wall couches, kitchen, and bathroom. In general the apartment has two problems: 1) It is far from Rabat (about an hour by bus) and 2) the toilet is Turkish. Nonetheless it is a refuge from everything outside the apartment. Our neighborhood is friendly. We are already known at virtually every vegetable stand, grocery, and the one restaurant.