Rosie was shocked to realise she was invisible here in Morocco.
Rosie had subdued her dress and covered her exposed elbows in order to blend in more and as a sign of respect to this new country she was visiting. In so doing, Rosie had conceded, and, now like every other woman here in this country, Rosie was invisible.
Every woman in the street, and there are not many of them out and about, walks with a purpose, and downcast eyes. They are all ladies Rosie’s age and older, there are no young ladies or teens seemingly anywhere. Rosie walks the streets with her head held high looking at everything and everyone, smiling and saying hello to shopkeepers and stall holders as we pause to look….none of the men, because they are all men, there are no ladies working, acknowledge Rosie, they all acknowledge The Operator instead.
It started at the check in for our hotel, Rosie led the way to the counter as always clutching passports and reservation paperwork, gushing her greetings and how excited we were to be here. The men behind the counter ignored Rosie and welcomed The Operator. All questions were directed at him and The Operator led the way to our room with Rosie tagging along behind….and that is how it was throughout our whole stay in Morocco.
This society is one big boys club! Holy Day is Friday, the shops are shut and men gather at the cafes before prayers. The town and cafes were full and buzzing, the men call to each other and hail chums over, there is a lot of hand shaking, back slapping and networking as they all work the cafes between different groups.
Not a word of a lie, on that day, there were no local woman at all out and about, just hundreds of men, teens and young boys. Men work the shops, man receptions and are visible everywhere. Rosie hardly saw any woman, even out shopping in the markets.
Rosie did notice that late in the evenings families would gather in the squares, kids would play together, while the men huddled over one side together and the woman all sat together on the other side of the square….this was the only time Rosie ever saw woman congregating. There was never, ever a woman present in the mens group or amongst the men anywhere the men congregated.
Unconsciously The Operators demeanor subtly shifted as well. Normally Rosie takes the lead in asking for directions or information, or even initially talking to new people. Now, The Operator stepped up first and got the job done, Rosie was ironically made redundant and relegated, two paces behind.
By the end of our stay, The Operator was consistently walking two steps ahead of Rosie laughing and joking with our hotel man and a random boy who wanted to help with our bags as we were escorted to our taxi out of Fes. Totally excluding Rosie, who walked two paces behind with her eyes downcast.
During her stay here in Morocco Rosie felt like a ghost. Her confidence had eroded and she felt a welling of frustration/anger at her situation of not being heard and ignored. The irony….this was over 5 days, imagine a lifetime of wanting more.
Even more ironic….The Operators not going to know what hit him when we get into that taxi and get out of here!
