Tuning Out by Katrina Blowers

Author:Katrina Blowers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2016-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

The next morning, I leave Tom behind in our room and venture out alone to buy some water. This will be one of the only times I’ll dare leave his side for our entire Moroccan stay. That’s because the moment I hit the grimy, hustling street I become a beacon for unwanted male attention

‘Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle! ’ the men shout at me from their stores. Others leap from chairs where they’ve been snoozing to run alongside me calling out, ‘Bonjour, bonjour.’ Then, when I pretend I don’t understand them, ‘Hello miss, hello.’

My face burning, I put my head down, only to almost walk straight into a teenager riding a bicycle. He makes loud kissing noises and tries to touch my hair. I swat his hand away. Under a dusty awning is a small shop with bottles of water on the counter and I hurry over. There are a number of older men sitting on the path outside and I can feel their eyes on me as I make my purchase. I look at them and give a shy smile and a nod. They narrow their eyes, staring at me with contempt. I wonder what I have done wrong. I am wearing long pants and a long-sleeved loose top—certainly nothing that I thought would cause offence.

Wandering around the gardens, souks (markets) and backstreets of Marrakesh over the next few days, I find that no matter where I go, exuberant male attention follows me. I take to covering my hair with a scarf, but still I am harassed and stared at, especially by the older men. Later I read that it’s frowned upon for young men and women to socialise together before marriage, but Moroccan men see western women as an exception to this rule. They pester us relentlessly. And, indeed, if Tom leaves me alone for one second, every man in town seems to swoop, wanting to talk to me and touch me. It’s pretty confronting.

But my discomfort soon turns to indignation. I see families on outings, the women in burkas walking a few paces behind their husbands. I watch one woman wearing a chuddar, so heavily cloaked there is not an inch of her flesh showing to the outside world. The slit for her eyes in her veil is covered in mesh and, as she picks up her child, I see she is also wearing gloves to cover her hands. This modesty is in stark contrast to the behaviour of the men. They unzip their trousers, relieving themselves wherever they stand. Men seem to have carte blanche to do as they please, and they enjoy themselves smoking and drinking tea at the male-only cafés and restaurants. I realise how much I take my liberty for granted.

As the days go on though, I start to see that, in small ways, the social norms are changing. The current king, Mohammed VI, is seen to be a champion for women’s rights and in 2004 he passed the Mudawana, a new family code that bans

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