THE GREAT TRIP TO THE GLORIOUS AMERICA

Part 8 - The City of Chicago: Moroccans of the World

by BRAHIM EL GUABLI, staff writer
Ouazazate, Morocco

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We got back to Chicago at noon. It was a very hot day. I could not believe this worldly city called Chicago was so hot, even though it was built on the beautiful breathtaking Lake Michigan. The grand avenues, the skyscrapers and the busy streets were the first glimpses I caught of this cosmopolitan city.

Our driver dropped us at the Indigo Hotel and left. We helped each other take our luggage inside our huge, sky-reaching hotel. We got the keys and everyone took an elevator to their room. I was at the 18th floor -- a long journey to a room so high-up! The first thing I did not like about this hotel was the small size of the rooms which were a bit tiny compared to all the other hotels we had stayed at during our journeying around the US. The second thing is that the rooms were not equipped with kitchens. It was impossible to cook in the room or even heat the food. The hotel was the only one we stayed in that did not offer any food. All the other ones offered breakfast at least.

After dropping our luggage in our rooms, we met at the lobby of the hotel and everyone expressed their surprise and consternation at having discovered the above mentioned facts. We decided to go outside to buy food and stuff our fridges for the week. We all knew that we could not afford life in the center of Chicago.

We travelled along Michigan Avenue loaded with our maps and set out to explore the city. It was funny to see this group of Moroccans holding their maps and trying to figure-out their way in the capital of the American heartland. We must have reminded people of all those old travellers who discovered new places in the world. What joy those explorers must have felt when they reached their destinations and how disappointed they must have beenwhen they couldn’t reach their goals. I thought of all the ships and boats that were wrecked by the turbulent monsoons and the huge waves of rough seas. I also thought of all the people who once endangered their lives to bring the world together. I thought of Ibn Battuta, the great Tangerine who went all over Asia, the Middle East and China. I thought of all the European explorers that kings and queens sent out to discover the New World so that they would find new routes to get to Asia.

A lot of the new lands that were discovered were found by chance. Was not America itself found by chance? Was not the Cape of Good Hope a chance discovery? The beautiful thing about exploration is that it gives people the opportunity to inscribe their names in history. Many of the explorers made a personal choice to do this, but a lot of others were forced to participate. One such person was the Moroccan man Estivaneco who was with the Spanish when they took Florida. Here is what Wikipedia says about him:

“Estevanico (c. 1500 – 1539) (also known as "Mustafa Zemmouri", "Black Stephen", "Esteban", "Esteban the Moor", "Estevan", "Estebanico", "Stephen the Black", "Stephen the Moor", and "Little Stephen") of North African origins, possibly from Azamor Morocco. He is mentioned in various 16th century Southwestern United States expeditionary logs as a slave servant in the Spanish explorer Cabeza de Vaca's party
Estevanico travelled with Dorantes to Hispaniola and Cuba on Pánfilo de Narváez's ill-fated expedition of 1527 to conquer Florida; in doing so Estevanico became the first person born in Africa known to have set foot in what is now the continental United States. He and Dorantes were two of the expedition's four survivors and they had sailed with others on makeshift rafts in an attempt to reach Mexico. The group was shipwrecked on Galveston Island and most of the men either drowned, starved, or were killed by natives. By 1533 only Estevanico, Andrés Dorantes de Carranza, Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca and Alonso del Castillo Maldonado survived. The four spent years enslaved by the Ananarivo of the Louisiana Gulf Islands, but they eventually escaped into the American interior coming into contact with other Native American tribes along the way. The party traversed the continent as far as present-day southeastern Arizona and through the Sonoran Desert to the region of Sinaloa in New Spain (present-day Mexico), where they were reunited with their countrymen.

In 1539, Estevanico was one of the four who would accompany Marcos de Niza as a guide in search of the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola, preceding Coronado. However, the others were struck ill and Estevanico continued alone, opening up what is now New Mexico and Arizona. He was killed at the Zuni village of Hawikuh (in present-day New Mexico); the tribe regarded him with mistrust, partly because his medicine gourd was trimmed with feathers from an owl, a bird that symbolized death to the Zuni.

It is said that Estevanico was a remarkable polyglot and that he was able to learn, in a matter of weeks, the languages of the Native Americans. It is also said that he was accepted as a deity by some Native American tribes because of his knowledge of herbs and medicines. It has been hypothesized that Esteban was not, in fact, killed by the Zunis, but rather kicked out of their village after being imprisoned. He may have then been hidden by the Pimas, who held him in high regard. For most historians, however, the eye-witness accounts of various associates and the lack of references to Estevanico in later accounts is proof enough of the explorer's death.”

A Moroccan was presumably the first African to set foot in the United States, and three centuries later, Morocco was the first country to recognize the independence of the United States of America from British colonization.

It was heart-enchanting for me to be walking on this land while thinking proudly of all the people from my country who went to discover the world and indeed contributed to a lot of major historical events. I also felt humble and hoped to follow their path to pave the way of understanding between people and bring them together at the table of brotherhood.

Everything in Chicago is big. The buildings are very high, the avenues very clean and busy, and the gardens are very green; precisely like most other places that I saw in the United States. We walked approximately three blocks before getting to a crossroad where we could see Lake Michigan and people playing on the beach. We continued our walk among the diverse people heading to the Marina.

The Chicago Marina was a very busy place. I could see people from all over the world coming here to eat, drink and have a beautiful look at this huge lake that looks like a calm sea.

Chicago reflects the spirit of capitalism. People rush everywhere. I could see nurses and medical doctors in their uniforms walking in the streets. You could see bankers and business people and could also see blue collar workers in the busy streets and clean avenues.

The great event that happened to us while in Chicago was meeting Moha. This great Berber Moroccan from the High Atlas has become the General Manager of a huge university campus. He was so happy to meet Moroccans from his region. He was happy to speak the Berber language to Berber people from his home country. The story of Moha is amazing. He went to the US as a foreign exchange student and he came back to Morocco after spending one year in the US. Three years later he returned to the US again for an MBA. Moha was an English language teacher in Morocco before getting his MBA. When I told him that I am a school teacher in Morocco but I hold a Masters degree from Bordeaux3 University with honors, he was surprised and said: “Morocco has changed a lot! In the seventies you would have become a lot more important!”

Yes, there has been a lot of change in my country. A lot of good changes, and a lot of bad ones, too. Charlie was another Moroccan acquaintance in Chicago. He is a Moroccan with Jewish origins. He immigrated to Israel at the age of 14. He speaks perfect Berber and Arabic. He lost nothing of his Moroccan heritage despite the fact that he served many years in the Israeli army and lived for four years in France and for over fifteen years in the US. At the age of 57 Charlie enjoys life, sings at a famous Arab restaurant and runs his business.

Both Charlie and Moha represent a facet of the Moroccan dream. Both of them have gone beyond a lot of hurdles to become who they are. Both of them talked with a lot of nostalgia about Morocco, their country of origins, and both of them expressed their visions for the future of our dear country. Meeting a Moroccan abroad is always different from the interaction with Moroccans at home. I have met a lot of Moroccans in France, Belgium and Spain. The common trait about meeting them is that they are always very convivial and they always do their best to please you. You could meet the same people in different cities in Morocco, but none of them would care about you or who you are. Immigration brings a lot of changes to people’s manners, hearts and minds. It makes them tenderer, more human and more prone to look for their country-people in order to create a sense of belonging. They see their families, their childhood, their past days and all their successes and frustrations in us.

All the Moroccans I met in Chicago have a special trait: they were all highly educated in the best universities in America and France. I thought of all the gains the Moroccan economy would get if these expats decided to come back home someday and if they would be given the guarantee that they would flourish and succeed the same way they are doing in the US. I knew that was a dream. Everyone carries that dream within themselves waiting for the day it comes true.

My trip to Chicago quickly came to an end and so did my program. A tinge of sadness to part with my colleagues was squeezing my heart, but knowing that I was going to Corpus Christi, Texas sent tears rolling down my cheeks.