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>[syndicate] masticating on text   Spam 


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>Auriea <syndi at entropy8.com>   Mon, Feb 27, 2006 at 4:48 AM
>Reply-To: syndicate at anart.no
>To: syndicate <syndicate at anart.no>
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>
>February 27, 2006
>Marrakesh Journal
>Keeping a Moroccan Tradition Alive, One Tale at a Time



the wild panther ate a pop.tart imbecil + disappeared into the forest
the real people awaited her each day yet it vowed nvr 2 return.

unesco stepped in with money stolen from the pop.tart imbeciles stolen from
the wild + simply.superior
+ vowed left + right and through all official orifices to bestow such
favors as a FREE OPEN zoo +
REAL artificial forest financed by gov.grants.

coverage was wild + modern expectations screamed ... of a new interactive
FUCKING continuum.

the panther returned surreptitiously @ 242 days intervals ... to eat a
pop.tart MOTHERFUCKER






> By MARLISE SIMONS
>MARRAKESH, Morocco - It's time for work and Mohammad Jabiri heads for
>Jemaa el Fna, the main square of Marrakesh, often called the cultural
>crossroads for all of Morocco.
> Stooping a little, he weaves through the crowds, past the snake
>charmers and their flutes, the racket of drummers and cymbalists, the
>cheers for the acrobats and the shouting of the kebab vendors, until
>he stakes out a quiet spot for himself.
> Mr. Jabiri is a storyteller, a profession he has practiced for more
>than 40 years. Every day, he conjures up a real or imagined past that
>is filled with ancient battles and populated with sinners and
>prophets, wise sultans and tricky thieves.
> For this he needs few props: he puts down a small stool and some
>colored illustrations. The rest is performance. His eyes can grow
>large and magnetic and his voice booms or whispers, depending on the
>intrigue.
> Mr. Jabiri, 71, is one of eight bards still performing publicly in
>the Marrakesh region of southern Morocco. But most, like him, fear
>that their generation may be the last in a line that is as old as
>this medieval city.
> These men descend from the era - long before radio and television,
>movie theaters and telephones - when itinerant narrators brought news
>and entertainment to country fairs and village squares.
> Yet somehow, Mr. Jabiri still manages to defy the formidable
>electronic competition.
> "Some people feel that television is very far away from them," he
>explained to a visitor. "They prefer making contact, they prefer
>hearing live stories."
> And so they did on a recent afternoon, as Mr. Jabiri called out a
>blessing, raised his right hand and began the tale of the young woman
>who fell in love with a saintly hermit. But the hermit rejected her
>as an envoy of the devil, so she decided to lie down with a shepherd
>who crossed her path, became pregnant and said it was the hermit's
>child.
> As the story unfolded over the next hour, it took on several
>subplots with unexpected twists and turns. The audience was made up
>of men only, some sitting on the ground, some leaning on their
>bicycles. Women are not supposed to stop and listen to wild or bawdy
>tales.
> "Young people like stories from '1,001 Nights' because there is
>less religion," Mr. Jabiri said later that day as he listed his
>considerable repertoire.
> "Older people like stories about the life of the Prophet and his
>companions," he said. "They like war stories, battles between the
>Muslims and the Persians or between the Muslims and the Christians.
>People also like miracles, like Jesus Christ healing the blind."
> Students of local customs say the stories are a great melting pot
>of religious and folk tales from the region's Berber, Gnawi and Arab
>traditions.
> Mohammad el-Haouzi, a biologist who grew up near the square, said
>he loved the ever changing spectacle of jugglers, healers, musicians
>and storytellers. "I may stop by at night when I need some
>distraction," he said. "You can eat, laugh, have your teeth fixed or
>your body painted."
> Mr. Haouzi has heard uncounted tales here, and even when he knows
>them, they rarely sound the same. The magic is in the telling, he
>said, and the mood may change with the narrator's antics, or the
>shouting or taunting from the audience. The tales may be moralizing
>or burlesque or may spoof the powerful.
> "One man often parodied the bombast of television journalists," Mr.
>Haouzi said. "He had the crowds howling with laughter."
> Juan Goytisolo is a rare European expatriate who speaks Morocco's
>Arabic dialect and understands the storytellers. A prominent Spanish
>writer who has lived here since the 1970's, he is devoted to Jemaa el
>Fna and its artists. They inspired his novel "Makbara," he said.
> In a cafe overlooking the square, he spoke admiringly about the
>"old masters" he has known, their improvisations and pranks, and the
>tricks they use to capture and hold their audience. Some may start a
>fake fight to attract listeners. He recalled that "Sarouh, a very
>strong man who is dead now, would lift a donkey up into the air. As
>it started braying, people would come running. 'You fools,' he would
>yell at the crowd. 'When I speak about the Koran nobody listens, but
>all of you rush to listen to a donkey.' "
> Another narrator, seeing the crowd thin, would shout, "All those
>cursed by their parents must leave," Mr. Goytisolo said with a
>chuckle. "So of course everybody would stay, and pay."
> Mr. Goytisolo has been the driving force behind a movement to
>protect the square, which he calls a "great and rich cultural space,
>that is in danger of being drowned by commerce, by the pressure to
>develop." The group has in recent years managed to block projects
>like a tall glass tower and an underground garage. Cars have now been
>banned altogether.
> He also obtained help from Unesco, which in 2001 designated the
>square part of the "Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity."
> Over the past few years, students have used video recorders to
>document the sights and sounds of the square, and some of the
>storytellers have visited schools, Mr. Goytisolo said, "so that
>children know there is more than the canned stuff they see on
>television." But he worries, he said, that the old masters are dying
>and not being replaced.
> Mr. Jabiri said that in his youth it was easier for a storyteller
>to make a living. Although he could barely read and write, he learned
>his trade by listening to older bards and imitating them. Finally, he
>wanted to see the world and, he recalled with pride, told his stories
>as far away as Casablanca, Fez and Meknes.
> But now, foreign tourism has brought inflation and, earning two or
>three dollars per day, he can no longer afford the bus fare to travel
>or pay for a bed. He sees change all around him. Some of his
>colleagues are sick and have stopped coming. Two young apprentices
>working in Marrakesh have a long way to go.
> As dusk falls on the square, Mr. Jabiri is still telling his tale
>and it has reached a critical moment. The pregnant young woman, the
>hermit and the shepherd have all been summoned to be judged by the
>king. The king tells the hermit he will be beheaded, but he can make
>one last wish.
> At this point, Mr. Jabiri abruptly stops and suggests that his
>enraptured audience make a payment so he can continue. He collects
>his coins, intones a blessing and, his voice rising and his eyes
>large and wide, he completes his tale, in which the baby speaks and
>saves the hermit, who falls in love with the young woman. At least
>this story has a happy ending.