The sheep and the lions

Landing in Conakry at 2:30 in the morning, after a 4 hour flight, felt like landing into many of the airports of the cities of Argentina, where many years ago I used to Tour with a band. We got off the plane through a staircase. Me and a lady a few seats on the back , where the only westerners on the filght. The rest where all africans. Some where dressed in what appeared to be traditional Islamic clothers. Other's wore elegant western suits, some had casual wear and most of the women, wore some very colourfull traditional dressses. We got off the plane throuigh a staircase and headed inside the bus. I was very nervous. For what I heard, Guinea's custom's and immigration are hectic and foreginers are given a very hard time. I was traveling with a lot of recording equipment, many bottles of chinese anti malarial medicine, my laptop, and a lot of small gadgets that where necessary for my journey. Hassle was obvious. My contatct Tom, advised me to allow him to arrange someone, that could pass me through customs. I immediately agreed. Many months before, Tom and I had a meeting, where he described the many aspects of the daily life in Conakry. Overall, he told me that it is almost indispensible to have one or more Africans by your side to get you through things, without being taken advantage of. Someone would be meeting me before the immigration gate with a printed photo of me. The airport was very poorly lit. The interior seemed like a worn out warehouse, with signs that had the letters painted off, and hanging on a single crooked thread. The floor was filthty and everything was lit by a horrible and insufficient fluorescent light.We went through the first gate towards the inside, and some offciers (I guess that's what they where, since they had no uniforms whatsoever) handed out the typical boarding card where you write down all your information incuding reason for travel, place where you would stay, etc...I had 2 very heavy backpacks and my little guitar and was exhausted beyond belief. I kept following the line of people, trying to show an indifferent face, and looking around for my contact. I was so scared. My heart was racing, pumping gallons and galons of blood to my brain that created the most ridicuolous stories I would have to make out to get out of this one.... I headed to a high table and rested my bags and started to complete the paperwork. I looked arounf. Suddenly out of nowhere a big hand grabbed my arm, and said : "This way ... you come here...." A very tall african man, was showing me the way. I didn't know who the heck it was, and at first I thought it was some kind of secret police guy working for the government. Guinea was a dictatorship. The latest head of state, took power in a cou, after lansana Conte, who in turn took power 25 years ago in a cue, passed away.I preteneded I didn't hear him, took his arm away, and ketp filling in the card. I didn't know exactly what to commplete, since I forgot the name of the neighbourhood I was staying. Then, out of nowhere a guy apporaches me and says "JACK !!! how are you " (???????? !!!!! ))I snapped at him in cave man french "me don't know you ! go away !!!". He answered "Jack, you my friend !!! I help you here !! come this way ... " He grabbed my arm, and showed me the way, totally convinced that I was supposed to follow his lead in order to survive. For a mooment, I hesitated, and wondered if Tom, had forgotten to print my picture for my contact. I shily asked "Are you with tom ?" ...he answered "...this way !! this way !!!" Then, the big guy that kept next to me all the time, got into an argument with this other one in a language I didn't understand. It all took a very high tone. We were on the big room before you get into immigration. To even think about a scene like this in any of the western airports would be a very heavy acid surreal nightmare !!!I walked aside, trying to stay out of it, looking all around for my contact that wasn't showing up. I started to follow the line heading towards the immigration officer's booth. Then, I guy salutes me "Alex, I'm your firend." He shows me the picture I sent tom on the email. He smiled to me. He was of a very thin completion and was missing all of his front teeth. I felt relieved. I showed him my docuemtns and told me everything was ok, to follow immigration, that he would meet me in customs. But this relief was short ended. The 2 other guys that where fighting over my flesh, got into an argument with my contact. It gotinto a really high tone, but he kept telling me "just go I'll handle this, just give me US$10 so I can get these 2 idiost off my back !!" . For a moment I though and remembered that Tom told me that everything was paid for. I hesitated but he insisted. I was so scared, and knew he was taking advantage of me, but just gave in and handed him a 20. I had no change. I went through immigration,got my stamp, then handed my yellow fever vaccination record and finally headed to the chamber preceding customs.This was chaos multiplied by ten. I had to pick my bagagge and a dozen other bandits approached me, trying to take my passport and my baggage check tags, so they could do me the "favor" of getting my bags. I saw Tom, and shook his hand. He told me to get my bags quickly that we would still have to go throught customs. I grabbed my bags, ripped off the protective Nylon wrap and mounted them on a cart. Suddenly, the 2 first idiots come near with a soldier, and took away our contact ! I look at Tom with a desperate gaze. He told me with a sign that everything was going to be alright. I saw our contact argue with the officers, then give them a sympathetic pat on the back and slide a few bills in one of their shirt's pockets.He gave us a sign. Tom told me to move quickly next to the custom's table so as to bypass them. A woman dressed in a military uniform was violently placing luggage on some makeshift tables, and opening them for inspection. A bunch of people where all aroung mounting up to a lot of chaos. The whole place was lit by a phantasmagoric fluorescent light hanging hig above. This must be for sure one of the many versions of hell. We swiftly go by, while our contact slides some more bills into another officer's pocket. Yet another one stops us, he looks at the previous one in demand, and he says it's ok. We keep going, and yet another officer standing in the ramp., that takes to the parking lot, sees the size of my luggage and the colour of my skin, and stops us like saying "no no no....now wait a moment....."...Not surprisingly the intital 2 idiots, the tall and the short one, appear out of nowhere like being in cahoots with the officer. Our contact gets into another argument. The officer gets mad, makes a gesture as to put a punch in his face, but get's stopped by te tall idiot. He threatens all mad, with a pointing finger. Our toothless friend, smiles at him, puts his arms around him, slides the magic bills in his pocket and then says something to the 2 idiots.We finally make it to the parking lot where a battered white chevrolet van awaits us. We load my stuff. Our Contqct says "Give me some more money. I need to pay all of these guys that made me go through the doors..." Out of literally nowhere, 8 guys show up including the 2 idiots. Tom hands him a bunch of cash. Toothless, disburses it between all hands, and they all say goodbye.
I was shaking and couldn't believe the mess I got myself into !!!We drove through bumpy , unpaved and dirty roads, covered in garbage. Tom was on the back seat with me explaining all the hassle he had to go through to arrange this. His African Friend was driving. We arrived to a gate, drove through, and entered a candle lit room. Tom told me "This is Djulde's place. He is my friend. He is ok. You will spend the night with him for now." and he left.I arranged all of my stuff in the very small room. I asked about the washroom, he pointed to a door, closed by a curtain. Inside, the was a bowl without a lid, and two buckets with water, no faucet. I washed my face and hands powring water from bucketinto a little cointainer and then my hands.Djulde asked me in rudimentary english If I needed anything, and I said ... "I just want to sleep, thank you very much...." He sais "OK no problem. I am going close door !!!"I layed on a queen size mattress on the floor. Djulde, took one side, I took the other. I felt a little uncomfortable, but then thought "what the heck !!!" As I tried to enter the domain of Morpheus, I felt purple and faint gushes of weirdly formed shapes appear in the background of my very tired eyes. This is going to be strong beyonf belief, I thought....and eventually fainted into wild dreams....

An Argentinean Jew crosses the gates of Islam

Atlanta gave me her blessings and confessed that she never thought we would get to build so much in our relation. She kissed , and hugged me like pouring all of her protection , preparing me for the journey ahead. After years of wishing, planning, working, traveling, sweating, bleeding, crying, stressing and staying sleepless I was finally about to cross the chek in gate to the what I believe will be the most important journey of my life. I took a big breath, and walked towards the gate, trying not to miss a single detail of her face, of that beautifull silloutte shrouded in coats and scarfs that was waving goodbye to me. That amazing being that destiny crossed in front of my road and that I so much learned to love and embrace.
After going through all the hassles of JFK, boarding the plane, setting all of my stuff (I have 3 bags plus 2 I dispatched !!!!) in the compartment and crashing into the seat, I passed out into a wild sleep. In the morning, I thought, I would be in Africa.

7 in the morning Morocco time, we where arriving to Casablanca. I observed the coast outline while it kept getting closer, and started to feel the excitement of Africa getting within my Grasp. I would stay in Casablanca for an entire day, and then at night catch the plane that would take me to Conakry, Guinea, my final destination. I had a guide waiting for me that would show me around the city for the day. It was one of our friend's uncle, that worked as a taxi driver in the city.Rachid was waiting for me at the airport, with a sign that said "Alex Babouche". Babouche is a Moroccan Restaurant in Brooklyn where my girlfirend and I usually get dinner. We got to know the owner and some of the waiters, and they provided Rachid's contact. As soon as I saw him, I offered him my respect with the universal "Salam aleikum" , a handshake and a smile. "Aleikum salam" he offered in return. I learned about this salutation by word of mouth, from friends, that traveled to predominant muslim countries , and by my experiences working as a awaiter in New York, where in a same shift of a fancy French Bistro you can get a Catholic Mexican Buss Boy, a Muslim Ivory Coast Chef, a Muslim Bengali Food Runner, an Orthodox Christian Romanian Waiter and an Argentinean Jewish Waiter. So Ironic that this universal way of saying hello in the muslim world transaltes as something like "Peace be with you", "Peace with peace"... One of the communites most battered by the media, western governments and ignorance, where Muslim people are portrayed as relentless war mongerers with no regard to human life, as blind followers of a scripture that searches war for the infidels, has the word "Peace", as the first thing that comes out of one's mouth before initiating a conversation. How much ignorance and how much those in power are trying to divide us, so as to pursue their special interests. My stay in Morocco, would confirm once again how much damage to global society these views and agendas are doing. I always tell my girlfirend "If I had a few billion dollars, I would grab a bunch of ignorant westerners who support these anti muslim views, and make them travel to these amazing places. We would open so many minds, and so much bloodshed and misery could be avoided".
I told Rachid I would do my best to communicate with my Neanderthal French. He smiled and said ok. The road was perfectly paved, and all along you could see German and French cars, like Mercedes, BMW, Renault, Peugeot, and some of the Japaneese. The wather was pretty mild. It started to Rain and Rachid told me it would go away immediately. Apparently, this time of the year, you get ocational rains in and out. The airport is about half an our from the city. On our way we talked about football (soccer, but football from now on) Argentina, the US, his nepheu Tarek from the restaurant and other things. Entering the suburbs, we saw huge mantions, surrounded by hi walls. Rachid told me that this was where rich people lived. The houses where meant to hold entite families with many many rooms. Something I found very curious was solar panels everywhere and later on while drivign into the citty I saw hardware stores advertising it's technology. I though about Obama's "Green Plan". A few miles past the mantions, we saw the classic "slums" or Shanty towns. I guess even the "Kingdom of Morocco" has them. When we arrived to the city, it somehow felt pretty familiar. You could see allot of the european style in the architecture, but with the unmistakable touch of Islam, on the overall Aesthetic. Middle Easterner faces, that reminded me of relatives from my mother's side of the family (they are sepharadic Jews), where walking immersed in their everyday business. Some were cladded in long gawns with a peculiar pointy hood. Most of the women walked with their heads covered in a handkiertchief and wearing a long dress of pastel colors, with long sleeves. You could see all usuall ammenities of a modern metropolis : The barber shop, the supermarket, the mechanic, the policeofficer, the driver bitching at the police officer, a shoe polisher and in the distance the Crane's on top of constructions, a wittness to nation's progress engine. I asked Rachid about Government. Morocco is a Kingdom. As such, it has it's King, which is the head of state. Rachid told me he was very satisfied with "Le Roi", because he kept constructing and investing in the country. "I am in a kingdom..." I thought, and suddenly entered in a state of day dreaming, where immages of Tolkien's Fantastic Stories appeared. I was exhausted.
Rachid told me we could stop at his house to have some breakfast if I wished, and then he could show me the rest of the city. We entered his neighborhood. It appeared to be a lower middle class. The streets where narrow and winding, allot of kids humbily dressed where playing around. You could see all sorts of faces, from very darked skin, to middle eastern appearances. Shops around, had worn out signs in french and in Arabic. In the close by heights, ropes from one side of the street to the other, where displaying the day's fresh laundry . We stopped at a "Boulangerie " (Bakery). Rachid found a friend, saluted him with a handshake, a smile and a kiss on each cheek . Rachid told me to pick some pastries. I humbily picked a familiar one that we call "Palmera" back home. It's shapped like a heart and is very crusty and sweet. Rachid asked "that's all ?" I nodded. He picked a few more and a pair of bagguettes. He paid the clerk with a few Dirams and said something in Arabic that I guess meant "Thank you, see you later. " Rachid told me that in Morocco the following languages where spoken :French, Arabic and 3 forms of Ber Ber.We headed to Rachid's place, went through the door and up a few flights through the staircase. On each floor, there was the same setup: What appeared to be a living room, with a bunch of mushy velvety pillows, set in a square pattern surrounding a table. As if the place was meant for big and comfy family meetings. I didn't quite understand why each one of the floors displayed this pattern, but it seemed to be because of several families living in the same building. We got to Rachid's floor. His wife was waiting for us. She had hot tea ready for us. Rachid invited me to take a seat in one of the mooshy pillows. Tea is served in a beautifully ornamented metalic an elongated tea pot. It is powered from high above into short glasses (sort of like shot glasses). Too cool it down and even build up a small foam, it is passed from glass to glass several times, so that more of the liquid gets in contact with the air. The tea tasted sweet, minty, herbal and with a muddy aftertaste. I loved it ! They told me that this is a big thing for moroccans and for what I understood, they could spend the whole day drinking it. I explained him how this is very similar to Argentinian's and their Mate, and also how I related to the beverage's social function. We had the pastries and some baguette with pre packaged cheese. Before I laid my hands on the bakery stuff, Rachid demanded "aren't you washing your hands ?" I thought this was a big deal, so immediately headed to the lavatory and washed them. later, Tea, Tea and more Tea !! by the time I finished breakfast I was all pumped in Caffeine and sugar and ready to take on the world !Our first stop would be "Hassan the II", the new mosque, Africa's biggest one. We traversed a more modern area of the city with even more modern constructions. The mosque was in sort of plateau by the ocean. You could see its tall tower in the distance. When we approcached the building, and started to walk through the galeria and the arches, approaching the tower, I was amazed at the attention to detail. You could see tiny tiny patterns made with tiny stonesof a greenish, bluish colour, composing big ornaments everywhere. Rachid told me the mosque took a few years to build. I couldn't believe that such a marvelous and elaborate building could be built in such a small amount of time. The tower was magnificent. Tall, and full of detail. On the side, two inmense broze doors marked the entrance. Rachid happened to know one of the guards and arranged for me to be able to see the place where people woul dwash themselves before prayer. The guard was shrouded in a traditional garment and smoking a very strong cigarrette. I can't get over how much these people smoke ! We entered a chamber in the lower level, that had an endless amount of fountains, made out of the best marmol. The fountains had a mushroom shape. I was dazzled over and over again. Even though I consider myself a non-believer of anything, I felt so much emotion and respect to this homage to the almighty and the faith of it's people ! We moved to the upper level, and I took some pictures of the space. I would not be permited here, since I was not muslim but was allowed a few pictures of the inside and the gorgeous and huge inner chandeliers that hanged high above. I thought about this mosque for days and days. We later on went for lunch. A regular restaurant where they serveed sea food. "Arent' you going to wash your hands ?" Rachid repeated. He took me to the washrooms, where both men and women where washing their hands. Food was a mixture of several whole and filetted fried fish, fried squid rings and fried shrimp. Two mixed salads wit lettuce, egg, carrot and tomatoe where served on the side, next to bread and 3 plates of different spicy sauces. My feeling was that the food was simple. great tasting and abundant. The rest of the day we spent having tea, smoking Chicha (the big water pipe with tobacco and fruity essences) and visiting some amazing local artisan markets where you could see the classical moroccan lamps, dresses, pointy shoes, the gawns I saw on the street, Ouds (moroccan Guitar) moroccan ceramic "Bongoes" Big frame drums with huge cymbal like shingles, ceramic "Babouches" (which are clay pots where the traditional cous cous is cooked) and a pletora of tourist souvernirs. My journey ahead called for a strict restrain of adding any weight to my hefty baggage, except the "Argan Oil" that my girlfriend so much insisted on me getting.In the afternoon, we headed back to the airport, on a different road, (this one was pretty rough), passing by an incredilbly stincky landfill, where some insane goat herders had their stock feeding out of God know's what and listening to some traditional Moroccan music. I asked Rachid about the meaning of the osng and it had to deal with simpathy towards the palestinian refigees. I really liked the tune and the rythm. A nice 6/8 melody, that became hipnotic, with the counterpoint of the Oud and the lead singer with the Choir answering all phrases. I asked Rachid iif I could copy it. He gave it to me as a gift.I said goodbye to Rachid and his wife with a kiss on each cheek. He told me that now I was like part of the family and that anything I would need, I woiuld just have to call him. We agreed on an amount of money for his full day service and expenses, and said goodbye, reminding them how thankfull I was for their treatment and guidance.
My plan is to return to Morocco around July, where I will meet with my girlfirend after so many months, and spend a few weeks together, discovering all the wonders this rich culture has to offer.
Deep in the moroccan night, I was boarding the plane, that would take me to Conakry. I had to fight to stay awake, till I once again crashed in the seat. Now I was on the real beggining of my journey. "Le roi Marroquein" left a good impression on this humble traveler....

The start...

a field covered in wild and tall weeds awaits. My apartment is littered in boxes, jars, drums, electronics, dirt.....
This will be a short post, for now.
I haven't slept right in days, and feel panic crawling up my spine like killer ants.

I am about to embark on what I feel is the most important journey of my life.
I will be heading to Guinea, West Africa to live and experience the music of that region. Delve deep into every interaction that makes the air, move. Find out, and nail into my soul, the reasons that create the music I love so much.
well...that's all for now. gotta keep on packing.