Bodies, Boundaries and Spirit Possession: Maroccan Women and the Revision of Tradition [1. Aufl.] 9783839400463

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Margaret Rausch Bodies, Boundaries and Spirit Possession

Margaret Rausch

Bodies, Boundaries and Spirit Possession Moroccan Women and the Revision of Tradition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Die Deutsche Bibliothek – CIP-Einheitsaufnahme Rausch, Margaret: Bodies, boundaries and spirit possession : Moroccan women and the revision of tradition / Margaret Rausch – Bielefeld : transcript Verl., 2000 Zugl.: Berlin, Freie Univ., Diss. 1997 ISBN 3-933127-46-7 © 2000 transcript Verlag, Bielefeld Typeset by: digitron GmbH, Bielefeld Printed by: Majuskel Medienproduktion GmbH, Wetzlar ISBN 3-933127-46-7

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Contents Preface

7

Chapter 1 Introduction

13

Chapter 2 Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

41

Chapter 3 Shuwwâfât as Innovators: From Seers to Self-Made Businesswomen

79

Chapter 4 Marginalizing Women: Spirit Possession, Mother-Daughter Relationships and Independence

113

Chapter 5 Self-Proclaimed Religious Experts and Their Clientele

143

Chapter 6 The Lîla: Women and Communal Religious Ritual

167

Chapter 7 Conclusion

199

Notes

205

Bibliography

243

Arabic Transliteration

267

Glossary of Arabic and Berber Terms

269

5

Preface

Preface This book is the revised version of my dissertation which was submitted and accepted in the Faculty of Philosophy and Social Sciences at the Free University of Berlin, Germany in November, 1997. My choice of topic for my dissertation was the result of a process which began in Cairo where I spent a year in the Center for Arabic Studies Abroad Program at the American University following the completion of my master’s degree. There I developed the habit of joining friends on Thursday evenings to attend the dhikr,1 or weekly remembrance ritual, of the Shadhiliyya popular mystical order, in the al-Hussayn mosque across from al-’Azhar. After the novelty of it all had wore off, it became both frustrating and disappointing. Like the Egyptian women in attendance, I had to sit on the ground behind the shelves at the entrance where the male participants had placed their shoes before entering. Only by stretching our necks to see over the top of the shelves were we able to observe the ceremony from an angle. This usually did not even permit us to see the shaykh, or head of the order, who was leading the ceremony. Besides the dhikr, I also became acquainted with the zar cult2 ceremony during my year in Cairo. Although I had read about the cult, it was not until I traveled to a Sudanese village in the semester break in January that I had a chance to experience it personally, or the Sudanese rural version of it. I never took the time to attend a zar ceremony in Cairo most likely because my Egyptian friends warned me against it. They strongly criticized it in general on the basis that it was the product of un-Islamic superstitions and a lack of education. The Cairene ceremonies in particular were not to be recommended, as they were an unauthentic form of a folk tradition corrupted in an attempt to create a tourist attraction, according to these friends. A month after completion of my Arabic language training program in Cairo, I left for Istambul for a three-month language training course at Bosphorus University. Soon after my arrival, I began spending my Thursday evenings participating, this time with Turkish women, in the weekly zikir of the Halveti-Cerrahi order in Fatih, a district of Istanbul. The women were required to participate in a darkened adjoining room separated from the main room where the ceremony took place by a translucent curtain. The archway separating two rooms was wide

7

Preface

and the curtain thin enough that we could see the male participants and the shaykh without them seeing us. Almost two years later, I left for Morocco for the first time for a one-month preliminary research stay in March, after having spent nine months in Berlin learning German and one year beginning my doctoral program. I had still only a very general idea about what I wanted to do my doctoral research on. I wanted to explore women’s active participation in religious activities or rituals. Upon my arrival in Casablanca, I bought Fatima Mernissi’s book Le Maroc raconté par ses femmes. After reading the interview with a shuwwâfa,3 I made my decision. I took a train to Meknes to visit Sîdî ^Alî and look for the grotto to Lâlla ^Â’isha4 described by the shuwwâfa in Mernissi’s book. Two Moroccan women friends generously escorted me to every historical site there was to see in and around Meknes, including Sîdî ^Alî 5 and the grotto, where I met and briefly talked to a shuwwâfa. They accompanied me to a hadra, or spirit possession ceremony, held by the ^Isâwa popular mystical order. We spent the last two days visiting shuwwâfât in the neighborhood. After a week in Meknes, I returned to Casablanca to join a Belgian friend for a two-week tour of Morocco by car. We visited villages and towns throughout south and central Morocco gazing at breath-taking mountainous and desert landscapes along the way. After we had returned to Casablanca, I settled down to work again. My Belgian friend soon put me in contact with Nawal, a Moroccan student of his at the teachers’ training college where he taught. She agreed to assist me with the first brief segment of my fieldwork. The following day Nawal and I met and headed off to visit Malika, a friend of hers in the medina who had finished her teachers’ training program the year before. Malika’s sister had coincidentally just recuperated from a severe attack of spirit possession.6 Malika, quite conveniently, was planning to pay a second visit to a shuwwâfa to have a sacrifice performed at a nearby siyyid, or walî,7 that afternoon. This was a precautionary measure suggested by her mother and aunt. Malika did not believe in ‘such practices’, but thought it best to go through with it anyway. She was to be married soon and wanted all to go well. Nawal decided to take advantage of the situation and consult with the shuwwâfa concerning her own difficulties. I observed the consul-

8

Preface

tation session and spoke with the shuwwâfa about her experience with her own spirit possession which culminated in her entry into the vocation. We also accompanied Malika and the shuwwâfa to a siyyid on the coast near Casablanca to have a sacrifice performed. I spent the final days of my stay visiting shuwwâfât in the medina accompanied by Malika’s mother who was personally acquainted with quite a few of them. These experiences served as an introduction. A year and a half later I returned to Morocco for ten months to carry out the main portion of my fieldwork. Between 1994 and 1999, I went back to Morocco for five additional fieldwork periods of three to five weeks each to gather more material. My reflections on fieldwork methodology were influenced by the critical and self-reflective discussions about research in the field, the process of ‘othering’, the process of interaction and communication between the self, or observer, and the other, or observed of the preceding two decades. Paul Rabinow, like Pierre Bourdieu (1977), has asserted that anthropological ‘facts’ are a hybrid of the encounter between the observer and the observed and not to be confused with the lived experience of the latter, as the observed or informant is forced through questioning to objectify his own life-world (1977: 152-53). He deemed the process of communication occurring during such an encounter as halting and imperfect. Other scholars have pointed out that this encounter is too often isolated from the world-historical conditions that shape it (Dwyer 1982: 270), that there is a lack of mutuality in it (Crapanzano 1980) and that it often takes place in a social void (Dwyer 1982). My fieldwork experience, especially the second and most important phase in 1986-87, was in many respects a learning process, during which I constantly grappled with barriers and hindrances that might blur my perspective and impede my interactions in the field. Even experienced scholars, I soon realized, are given to make changes in their forms of interaction with informants (Abu-Lughod 1985a: 638-39), in the topic or focus of the research (Fabian 1990) as well as in their approach or methodology in the field. In fact, it is most often the case, that if no alterations are made between the original conception thought out before entering the field and that which is eventually carried out once there, the researcher has probably failed to adequately

9

Preface

respond to the realities in the field.8 I too learned as I went along making some necessary changes in response to feedback from the field and its actors. Although I arrived in the field with set ideas in mind about the course my fieldwork was to take, the goals I intended to achieve and the methods required for reaching them, I knew in advance that some amount of adjustment would most likely be necessary. I had originally intended to begin in Casablanca and then move on to Meknes and other cities. My goal was, first, to gain a general understanding of these women and their practices on a national level and, then, to choose one urban center in which I could more intensively study the everyday life existence of a smaller number of shuwwâfât. In the initial stages of my stay in Casablanca, I visited shuwwâfât in various parts of the city and observed some of their consultation sessions and liyâlî.9 It soon became clear that my focus was too broad. At that point, I decided to focus the remainder of my research exclusively on the shuwwâfât living in and around the residential area where I lived. This residential area and the surrounding neighborhoods constitute one segment of an administrative district of Casablanca which will be referred to in this study as Sîdî Ma^rûf10 in honor of the siyyid located there. With time, I not only readjusted my focus and methodology, at an early stage, but I also altered my method for approaching and gaining the confidence and trust of the shuwwâfât in accordance with their reactions to me. Developing a rapport with them, much more so than their clientele, presented the most difficult challenge. In the initial stages of my fieldwork, before I had settled in Sîdî Ma^rûf, I had decided to be honest and began by openly explaining the purpose of my visit to them. Being the subject of a research project posed no problem for some shuwwâfât, but others rejected the idea, at least initially. I was sometimes even turned down by shuwwâfât I contacted through a male informant who, as a traditional singer performing at weddings and other occasions, including spirit possession rituals, was personally acquainted with them. Many of the shuwwâfât I met throughout my fieldwork were afraid that I was a government agent or an informant sent by the police and that their cooperation would put their livelihoods or even their lives in jeopardy. Early on, I stopped mentioning my research and began accompanying other women who were visiting shuwwâfât for the purpose of seeking their as-

10

Preface

sistance. The same held true for my attendance of the lîla. I simply integrated any questioning of shuwwâfât about their past lives and present life circumstances into normal conversation until I got to know them better. With time, some shuwwâfât, especially those living in Sîdî Ma^rûf, accepted me as a researcher, client and friend. I would like to thank my family, friends, colleagues and mentors, especially my advisors, Prof. Baber Johansen and Prof. Georg Elwert, whose generous assistance and support made this study possible. I am also grateful for the generous support I received from the Stiftung Luftbrückendank, NachwuchsFörderungsGesetz (NaFöG) and the Senatsverwaltung für Frauen und Arbeit. My warmest thanks go out to all those Moroccans who supported and guided me with their kindness, enthusiasm and knowledge. I would like to express my deepest appreciation to Otmane Lihiya, his family and friends without whose assistance the entire research project and book would not have been possible. For their friendship, openness, patience and generosity which facilitated my fieldwork, I am deeply grateful to the people of Sîdî Ma^rûf. In particular, I am indebted to the late Muhammad Bengoua, his sisters, Khadija and Touria, their daughters, Najat and Suad, and their friends and relatives for their warmth, sense of humor and boundless hospitality and support, a debt which I will never be able to repay.

11

Introduction

Chapter 1 Introduction Sitting on a mat on the floor of her tiny one-room abode on the roof of a house in the old medina of Casablanca, a small, slender old woman, completely covered, except for her head, hands and feet, with a loose black garment adds more bkhûr, or incense, to the mjmâr, or earthenware pot, on the floor in front of her. Surrounded by earthenware plates and bowls and plastic bags filled with different kinds of bkhûr and various substances with healing powers and ingredients for magical potions, the shuwwâfa blows on the coals to get the bkhûr to burn. Her face, made visible by the only source of light, the afternoon sun shining in through the half-opened door opposite her, is wrinkled from age and there is a deep blue tatoo on her chin. Taking another mat from the corner of the room she unrolls it on the floor across from her. She welcomes us, myself, Najat and Saadiyya, two Moroccan women friends, and bids us to enter and sit down. She pulls the ample black headscarf which is draped around her shoulders up over her head and leans over the mjmâr. Allowing the smoke of the burning bkhûr to engulf her and permeate her clothing, she summons her spirit medium. Then she makes a long burping sound, a sign that the spirit is present. She places the mjmâr to one side and takes a set of tarot cards from an inner pocket. She hands them to Najat who has come to consult her. She holds them over her heart and returns them to the shuwwâfa with the ftûh, the payment for the consultation.11 The woman places them on a black cloth she has spread out on the straw mat on the floor in front of her, divides them into three piles and requests Najat to touch each of them one after the other. She divides them a second and third time and Najat touches each pile again. Then the woman lays the cards out in rows in front her, examines them and addresses the client. Shuwwâfa: “Does your arm sometimes become limp, immovable?12 (The client moves both arms.) Not now.” Najat: “Sometimes. My arm was injured once.” S: “Exactly. That’s what I said, it causes you discomfort. Pray to the Prophet of Allah.13 The thing which is possessing you will be present until we have

13

Chapter 1 finished with the consultation session. You would like to work for the government. Do you work?” N: “No, I’m studying at the moment, but when I finish I want to work for the government.” S: “So you want to work for the government and earn some money, if Allah wills it. May Allah assist you in fulfilling your wish. May Allah always assist us all in the fulfillment of our wishes. (Pointing to one of the cards she continues:) Look at the big one, the new face, the white one without shoulders, the red one, the large woman, who is she? Your mother always thinks about the stars at night. Do you cry at night?” N: “Yes.” S: “Do you cry about your fate?” N: “Yes.” S: “You are having bad luck. Good fortune has turned away from you. It has turned upside down. Does your mother keep you from having sex. Are a woman or a girl (virgin)?” N: “A girl (virgin).” S: “Someone has cast a spell on you, yes, someone has cast a spell on you. (She blows into the mjmâr on the floor next to her.) Pray to the Prophet of Allah. Sometimes you feel bad and sometimes good and happy until it goes away. And sometimes you feel like you are in prison. Sometimes you curse this world and its fruits (humans). Dissatisfaction. Sometimes you feel like the world is boring and you say: ‘I’d rather be dead than live in this awful world. Is this true or not?’” N: “Yes.” S: “A spell has been cast on you. You were happy once, but now there’s a spell on you. Who is the fat woman? She’s the one who has cast the spell on you. Is there something hanging in front of your door at home?” N: “No.” S: “I tell you three months, three years … I’ll find out … . (She picks up the cards and lays them out again.) You used to be happy. You had so much happiness, it could break stones. For three years, three months, three weeks you’ve been in a state of ignorance? Answer me. If what I say doesn’t exist, say it doesn’t exist.” N: “Yes.” S: “Two women, a mother and a daughter? Who is the slender one with the boney, bloodless face?”

14

Introduction N: “I don’t know.” S: “Think about it really hard. The white man, is he married?” N: “No.” S: “Did he say he would invite you to meet his parents and that he would marry you?” N: “Before.” S: “What do you mean by before?” N: “He said it a while ago.” S: “And now you’re on bad terms, you’re not speaking to each other. Is that right?” N: “Yes, that’s right.” S: “The reason for your troubles is the spell. I’m going to give you something to put in the coffee the next time you prepare it for him. Try to get something belonging to him, a piece of clothing or some strands of hair, and bring them to me.14 You must return here in the afternoon and bring something yellow15 to wear. We will go visit a siyyid in order to prepare you to come to the lîla here next Thursday. You are possessed by Mîra.”16

This shuwwâfa, like a large number of other shuwwâfât, begins her consultation session by posing questions about people in the client’s daily life. This phase of trial and error questioning continues until she has determined the nature of the client’s difficulties. In this case, the phase was particularly long and tedious because Najat was extremely timid and somewhat hesitant. It was her very first visit to a shuwwâfa. The shuwwâfa persisted until she has discovered the cause of her difficulties. Not uncommon is the final prognosis that her unhappiness is related to a man and was caused by a spell which has been cast on the client usually by his relatives for which the shuwwâfa first prescribes a simple remedy, until further steps can be taken. These require obtaining personal belongings of the young man. Neither is it uncommon that this shuwwâfa, like many others, diagnoses spirit possession and prescribes a visit to a siyyid and attendance of the lîla. Shuwwâfât, of which this woman is but one example, can be found throughout Morocco particularly in urban centers, large and small. Some succeed in establishing themselves as specialists operating out of their own homes where their clientele seek them out for consultation. Others position themselves in public places, in stalls at marketplaces or

15

Chapter 1

around the entrances of sanctuaries, waiting to attract clients among the shoppers and those who have come in search of remedies for their illnesses and problems. At the jamâ^ il-fanâ’, the well-known daily open-air entertainment festival in Marrakesh, they circulate in large numbers, carrying the necessary props and paraphelia in their pockets and under their arms, in search of those in need of their services. Although they are generally scourned and stigmatized because of their lifestyle and vocation, they, like other female self-made specialists, can be seen both as the products and producers of certain aspects of the ongoing socioeconomic and religiocultural transformation of Casablanca and other urban centers of Morocco since the early decades of the 20th century. Healers, Seers and Spirits in Islam Shuwwâfât perform two different functions. They serve as spirit mediums or seers with access to al-ghayb,17 or those aspects of their clients’ everyday realities which are imperceptible to the human senses, and as healers who cast and break spells, concoct potions, prepare amulets and organize ceremonies and sacrifices to protect against or treat spirit possession. These services place them among specialists belonging to more than one category of varying significance, acceptability and status throughout Islamic history. Sihr,18 as it was used in early Islam, referred to that which entrances the eye and acts on the psyche making one believe that that which is unreal is real. Its status has always been controversary. It was connected to the practices of the kuhhhân, the term used for soothsayers and seers, the singular of which is kâhin, at the time of the Prophet. Sihr is acknowledged in the Qur’ân and Hadîth where it is denounced and its practice is condemned as a form of deception. Early on, it was connected to shaytân and the two fallen angels of Babil, Harut and Marut. Somewhat later sources distinguish between licit or ‘white’ magic which they trace back to Sulayman who was the first to enslave the spirits and ‘black’ magic which derives from demonic inspiration. Later religious scholars defined ‘white’ magic as an imaginary phenomenon produced by natural means having nothing to do with religion. They condemned only the practice of magic for evil purposes. They asserted that knowledge of magic was necessary for anyone who

16

Introduction

had to distinguish between magic and the miracles of the prophets and ’awliyâ’ (Fahd 1974: 567-71). At the time of the Prophet Muhammad and before, kuhhhân were not uncommon. Mention is made of them in pre-Islamic poetry and Hadîth. Their knowledge of the future and events unknown to ordinary human beings was thought to derive from ecstatic inspiration of demonic origin and to bear connections both to the tradition of the shâ^ir, poet or bard (literally knower), and to that of the prophets. Their utterances were rhymed and often ambiguous. They were interrogated on all important tribal occasions. In fact, the tribes of the area often had an official kâhin. They had the role of judge in settling disputes as well as interpreting dreams, finding lost camels, clearing up crimes, especially theft and murder, etc. With the rise of Islam the tradition began to gradually disappear. Some of Muhammad’s functions in the community and rhymed judgements in times of dispute resembled those of the kâhin. To discredit and separate himself from them, he declared their knowledge to have been stolen from heaven, since he himself, like the members of his community, did not doubt its supernatural origin and nature (Fahd 1974: 420-22). The only sources on kuhhhân, or soothsayers, elsewhere or at later periods, are references to and stories about al-Kahina, the famous Berber queen of the Auras. She is renowned to have been the guiding spirit of Berber resistance to Arab invasions in North Africa in the fifth century. One of her divinatory techniques involved reading the future in gravel through the mediation of jinn, or spirits. This makes her more like the later seers found throughout North Africa including shuwwâfât than the soothsayers of the Prophet’s time. She owed her political power to a great extent to her prophetic gifts. The sources differ with regard to most of the details and events of her public and private life including her real name. Furthermore, they are completely lacking in information on the existence or extent of the divinatory or prophetic tradition to which she might have belonged (Talbi 1974: 422-23). Jinn constitute the most common source of supernatural mediation for divinatory practices in Muslim countries today. According to the Qur’ân, three other types of spirits also inhabit the earth and heavens: ^ifrît, ghûl and shaytân. Jinn are airy or fiery beings (Qur’ân LXXII, 1) created from smokeless flame (Qur’ân IV, 15), whereas humans and

17

Chapter 1

angels were made from clay and light. Jinn are intelligent beings, like humans and angels, and imperceptible to the human senses. They are capable of salvation and Muhammad was sent to them as well as to human beings (Macdonald 1905: 1091). Like Muslims in other countries, many Moroccans accept these general facts about the origin of jinn, which in Moroccan dialectal Arabic indicates the singular, the plural of which is jnûn19. Jnûn are commonly believed to be capable of taking possession of humans. As is the case in other Muslim countries, an additional body of knowledge exists in Morocco about jnûn, including ways of referring to them and methods for avoiding, protecting oneself against or even summoning them. In addition, some jnûn are known to have names, personalities and preferred colors, places, rhythms, chants and types of bkhûr as well as spirit possession symptoms specific to them. Furthermore, Moroccans, like Muslims elsewhere, believe that jnûn live underground, but often visit the surface of the earth. They are known to be fond of water and blood and therefore often lurk near rivers, streams, fountains, toilets, baths, sewers and drains as well as slaughterhouses. Before entering one of these places, it is advisable to say the words bismillâh ar-rahmân ar-rahîm, in the name of Allah, the Merciful and Compassionate, or simply bismillâh, a shorter version of the same, to cause the jnûn to leave. Many Moroccans sprinkle salt around toilets and drains to keep jnûn away. Besides salt, jnûn are known to have an aversion to steel, iron, tar, silver, and some kinds of bkhûr. Moroccans prefer not to use the actual word jnûn to refer to them for fear of disturbing, angering or simply summoning them. Instead, they are referred to by a number of other names or euphemisms, such as rjâl il-blâd (the men of the country) and il-jawâd (the good ones) both of which are also used to refer to ’awliyâ’, il-mlûk (the kings), il-muslimîn (the Muslims), il-’aryâh (the winds), il-mu’minîn (the believers) and hâdhak in-nâs (those people). There are certain times of day when jnûn are believed to be more active than others and life stages or emotional states which make humans more vulnerable to them than others. After the maghrib, or afternoon prayer, jnûn are said to be very active. When someone is afraid, angry or in a crisis situation, he or she is more likely to be the target of jnûn. Pregnant women and newborn babies are also particu-

18

Introduction

larly vulnerable. During the month of Ramadân, jnûn are thought to be totally inactive. There are several different symptoms or signs which indicate that a person is possessed. Paralysis of all or part of the body, speaking in tongues, speaking or acting incoherently, sudden loss of consciousness and feeling a slap on the cheek are all examples of rather severe symptoms of possession. Less severe indications of possession, which are most often the case for the clientele of the shuwwâfât observed for this study, include sudden outbursts of laughter or crying, mild to severe depression, apathy and emotional unrest. Possession, however severe or mild the initial symptoms are, is essentially a life-long condition. The goal of treatment is to alleviate the symptoms by summoning, communicating with and subsequently placating the jinn. Then efforts are made to develop a manageable relationship with it by discovering its expectations and conditions for this relationship. As long as these expectations and conditions are fulfilled, it remains appeased and the symptoms do not return. While those jnûn with names and personalities change over time, in some countries relatively rapidly usually in connection with historical developments being processed by the participants through the cult ceremony,20 the named jnûn in Morocco, though they vary somewhat from region to region, seem to remain relatively constant over long periods of time. The only indications that the influences of historical developments have been integrated into the personalities of Moroccan jnûn are the demands or preferences of two named female jnûn. ^Â’isha Qandîsha, for example, is known to reject Western styles of dress and to require her followers to wear traditional Moroccan clothing and Lâlla Malika is said to only speak French and to prefer Western or European styles of clothing. The best known and most active in terms of taking possession of human beings, according to the informants interviewed for this study, are Lâlla Mîra and ^Â’isha Qandîsha. Lâlla Mîra is known to both make humans laugh and to attack them. She is particularly fond of water and symbolizes autumn. She requires her followers to wear yellow and to burn yellow jâwî, or benzoin. She was the most common medium among the shuwwâfât in Sîdî Ma^rûf. In spite of this popularity she is far less developed in the common body of orally trans-

19

Chapter 1

mitted stories and information about jnûn than ^Â’isha Qandîsha. According to Crapanzano, she is unmarried and believed to originate from a Berber tribe called Bani Mtir. Thus she is sometimes referred to as Lâlla Mîra il-Mtîriyya. She lives in houses and goes out after the afternoon prayer (Crapanzano 1981: 179). ^Â’isha Qandîsha is also referred to as Lâlla ^Â’isha, Lâlla being a title of respect also used for humans and equivalent to Ms. or Mrs., or simply ^Â’isha followed by various adjectives, such as is-sûdâniyya (feminine nisba adjective meaning Sudanese), il-gnâwiyya (feminine nisba adjective meaning Guinean,21 or belonging to the popular mystical order known as Gnâwa), il-bahriyya (the one from the sea) or il-hamdûshiyya (of or belonging to the Hamadsha popular mystical order).22 The name used for her varies from region to region as do some aspects of her personality and her preferences for colors and types of bkhûr. In Casablanca, ^Â’isha Qandîsha is known to be quicktempered and prone to fits of anger. She is said to attack those who insult or disobey her by scratching or slapping them. She is fond of blood and the victims of her possession can placate her by sacrificing a red or black chicken. Her favorite colors are red and black and her favorite bkhûr is black jâwî, or benzoin. She appears in the form of a beautiful woman with the legs of a camel which she hides under her caftan when she wishes to seduce men, which she often does. Otherwise, she appears as a goat with hanging breasts and the legs of a woman. There are grottos, fountains and springs sacred to her throughout Morocco. Another commonly known and popular named jinn is Lâlla Malika. She is said to be very beautiful, charming, bourgeois and a symbol of springtime. She likes to dress very elegantly and admire herself in the mirror. She only speaks French and prefers European styles of attire. Her favorite colors are pink, purple, green and yellow. She requires those she possesses to dress elegantly in purple, wear perfume and burn sandalwood. She is good-natured and likes to flirt. She likes to tickle humans and make them laugh. She never hurts them in any way. Among the named jnûn known to take possession of humans males are less common than females. The most common male jinn among my informants in Casablanca is Sîdî Hammû. He is known to be extremely fond of blood, to lurk around slaughterhouses and to drink blood. He is nicknamed the butcher. Although he is known to be a playboy

20

Introduction

and to flirt, he usually takes possession of children who he requires to wear the color red and to burn red jâwî, or benzoin. Three other male jnûn well-known among my informants in Casablanca to take possession of humans are somewhat less common and their personalities are less developed. The first is Sîdî Mîmûn who is also referred to as il-Gnâwî (the Guinean or follower or member of the popular mystical order Gnâwa) and is-sûdânî (the Sudanese). He is fond of the color black. The second, Shaykh Bûdarbala, is fond of all colors. The third, il-Mqaddim, is fond of the color green. Jnûn are also known to act not as individuals but as groups or tribes of which two are well-known among my informants in Casablanca. ’Ulâd il-Khalîfa (children of the caliph) are said to like transparent and shiny things and to be fond of children. ’Ulâd Bi-l-’Ahmâr (children of the son of the red one) or simply Bi-l-’Ahmâr (son of the red one) are said to be extremely dangerous. In some cases there is also some overlapping between the status of jinn and that of walî. Not only is the distinction between them unclear, but there are also a number of males and females considered to be jnûn-’awliyâ’. Most of them are believed to have once lived. Legends have usually been passed down about their lives.23 It is unclear how and why they merit the status of jnûn-’awliyâ’ instead of human’awliyâ’ or simply jnûn. One example of these jnûn-’awliyâ’ is Lâlla Mîmûna. According to legend, she was from a Berber tribe in the region of Guerouan to the south of Meknes. She knew no Arabic and even had difficulty memorizing the daily prayers. She was supposedly the wife of Mûlay Bu ^Azza,24 a follower of Mûlay Bu Sh^ayb25 from Azzemur, and is also honored at his sanctuary. Her favorite color is blue and her favorite bkhûr is hasalbân. She takes possession of both men and women (Crapanzano 1981: 179). Other female examples are Lâlla Jmîla (Westermarck 1926: i, 364) and Lâlla Rqiyya (Westermarck 1926: i, 332). Male examples include Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh26 and Sîdî Mûsâ.27 The belief in the existence of jnûn and their inclination to disturb, influence the behavior of, cause physical, emotional and mental infirmities in and even take possession of humans is still fairly widespread in Morocco. This occurs when precautionary measures to avoid, appease and thus maintain harmony with them are not undertaken. It can also happen when they are insulted, disturbed or injured. A common

21

Chapter 1

way to disturb or injure them is by pouring out boiling water on a spot where they might be lurking without warning them first by saying the bismillâh. ’Awliyâ’, some more so than others, are believed to have the ability to cure spirit possession as well as other illnesses and physical, emotional and mental disorders. They can also distribute baraka to prevent and protect against disorders, illnesses and misfortune and to assure success in future endeavors. The cures and baraka are acquired through visitation of their sanctuaries. Fuqahâ’ 28 are believed to have special healing powers and can thus be called upon to intercede on the part of humans to re-establish harmony with the supernatural or to influence the outcome of future endeavors. Popular mystical orders hold weekly rituals which involve summoning jnûn and encouraging them to take possession of those present for curative and therapeutic purposes. In spite of these numerous possibilities, however, shuwwâfât are considered by many Moroccans, especially women, to be the most adept specialists in the treatment of spirit possession and other emotional and physical infirmities. Approaches to Spirit Mediumship and Spirit Possession Cults29 Physical or mental abnormality and socioeconomic marginality have been found to be the determining factors for entry into the vocations of diviners, witches, fortune-tellers, spirit mediums and spirit possession cult leaders in a wide variety of Islamic and other cultural settings in the ethnographic literature since the beginning of the 20th century. These individuals whose practices involve contact with supernatural beings and forces have been perceived as “crazed in their wits” (Frazer 1913: I, 3), as “persons subject to psychological disturbances” (Firth 1967: 329), as “marginal men, through physiological abnormality, psychological aberrance, or social-structural inferiority or outsiderhood” (Turner 1967: 23-24) or “of inferior, marginal, ambiguous and problematic status” (Crapanzano / Garrison 1977: 29). In each case, taking up their vocations is perceived as providing a means of escaping from, compensating for or even making use of their abnormality or marginality. This generalized image is called into question by Beattie and Middleton (1969). They point out that the spirit mediums they have studied are instead “shrewd, intelligent and accepted members of their

22

Introduction

communities” (Beattie and Middleton 1969: XXIV). Entry into such a vocation has also been found to result from a conscious decision based on intended status improvement and to be rebellious in nature (Berger 1976: 157). Similar assertions have been made with regard to the marginality of shuwwâfât and the potential improvement in socioeconomic standing resulting from entry into this vocation. Ten relatively recent sources of information on shuwwâfât and their calling in its present form exist to date. Of these ten sources only one, the doctoral thesis by Khadija Amiti,30 systematically analyzes this vocation. She incorporates shuwwâfât into the context of other specialists and their practices which are also based on the belief in spirits, magic and the supernatural and stresses the relationship between these women and the “cult of saints”. Amiti points out that the stigma attached to their vocation is based on the Qur’ânic condemnation of sorceresses (Amiti 1983: 8691). Furthermore, she points out that the marginality of shuwwâfât generally exists before their contact with their vocation and is related to their social, economic, psychological and cultural situation (Amiti 1983: 76). She explains that most of the shuwwâfât she studied originally migrated, alone between the ages of ten and fifteen, from the surrounding rural areas to the bidonvilles and old medina of the urban centers. In the new environment they were forced, by circumstances of their personal lives, to live under extremely poor and psychologically trying conditions, to struggle to survive and eventually to support their children and frequently even an unemployed spouse without the emotional and financial support of their families they left behind in the countryside (Amiti 1983: 77-81). She portrays them as psychologically, morally and intellectually disturbed as a result of the violence and aggression which they experienced in childhood, of the noise and lack of peace of mind caused by over-crowded conditions in the old medina and bidonvilles and of the instability caused by a weakening of traditions and contact with a “different culture” prevailing in the urban environment. According to Amiti, it is their unhealthy mental state together with their struggle to survive financially and to overcome their marginality deriving from their unstable financial and marital situation which leads these women take up their vocation (Amiti 1983: 76).

23

Chapter 1

Amiti’s research focuses on one relatively homogenous group of shuwwâfât, namely independent first generation female migrants for whom the vocation becomes a means of survival. Shuwwâfât constitute one of numerous topics in other recent sources or, in the case of two sources, are dealt with in a less systematic manner as the main subject matter. In a collection of interviews with Moroccan women from a variety of backgrounds and walks of life, Fatima Mernissi included an interview with a shuwwâfa (Mernissi 1984: 153-74). Emphasizing, like Amiti, financial necessity as the impetus behind taking up her vocation, Mernissi concludes the brief introduction to this interview with the statement that the woman has found in her vocation a new niche in society for herself personally and a means for solving the problem of providing both for herself and her handicapped husband financially (Mernissi 1984: 153). Susan Schaefer Davis (1978) mentions shuwwâfât in two very different studies. One of them is an article on women and work in a Moroccan town in which she includes the vocation of shuwwâfa among the possibilities available to women for earning money. In this article, she discusses the effect of working on a woman’s status and reputation and evaluates the types of employment in a table from least to most detrimental. She places shuwwâfât as second to the last next to prostitutes explaining that low wages and contact with strangers constitute the primary factors causing this negative reputation (Schaefer Davis 1978: 419). In her book on the lives of women in a Moroccan town, she mentions shuwwâfât in a section on female specialists which includes women who work as musical performers at weddings and midwives explaining that the vocation of shuwwâfa is acquired through inheritance from the woman’s mother or grandmother (Schaefer Davis 1983: 79). In her study on the practices and remedies of ‘traditional’ healers who specialize in herbs and other organic or natural substances for their cures and who can be found and consulted in their shops at the marketplace, Nadia Bilhaj also includes a shuwwâfa among the case studies. She provides a brief biographical sketch, a description of a lîla and an explanation of the circumstances under which it is held (Bilhaj 1986: 150-54). Shuwwâfât and specific aspects of their calling provide the subject matter of a number of articles appearing in the mid 1980’s in both

24

Introduction

French and Arabic-language Moroccan newspapers. A five-day series of articles in 1984 deals primarily with the financial side of practicing as a shuwwâfa. It ridicules not only the shuwwâfât and their practices but also the women who consult them and pay, in extreme cases, exorbitant prices for these consultations (Mekki 1984). Two articles appearing in 1986 and 1987 take a more defensive stance toward shuwwâfât explaining that their practices should be considered in the context of other forms of telepathy or telepathic activities which have concerned and fascinated laymen and scientists alike throughout human history, although their authenticity cannot be proven (alBa’mrani et al. 1987; As-Saba’i 1987). All of these articles provide interesting bits and pieces of information about individual shuwwâfât, including the vast sums of money, real-estate and private cars a few of the very successful ones manage to accumulate. They make generalizations about them based on commonly articulated stereotypes, but do not undertake a systematic examination. In contrast to the above sources which concentrate more on the economic aspects of the vocation and the consultation sessions, Frank Welte’s (1990) study of the Gnâwa order focuses primarily on their role in spirit possession ceremonies. In contrast with the findings of the present study, he characterizes shuwwâfât as being the most important members of the Gnâwa, along with the musicians, and not as cult leaders in their own right, although most of the ceremonies he describes were organized and led by shuwwâfât and attended primarily by women. Welte explains that 95 percent of the clientele of the Gnâwa order are women. It is unclear whether the Gnâwa order is really dominated by shuwwâfât and their female clientele or whether his view of it was influenced by the fact that most of his informants were shuwwâfât. He emphasizes their ‘unacceptable’ behavior, which, according to him, includes extramarital sexual relations and alcohol consumption, as the primary explanation for their marginality. Like Welte (1990), Fenneke Reysoo (1991), in her book on mwâsim31 in Morocco, stresses the centrality of the membership and participation of shuwwâfât, or mqaddimât as she refers to them, in the hadrât of popular mystical orders at mwâsim. For these mqaddimât, as well as ordinary women members, participation and membership are an important aspect of their daily lives as individuals as they create a sense of community among friends, neighbors and co-members. Rey-

25

Chapter 1

soo also describes the consultation process of a woman suffering from a personal dilemma in preparation for a lîla and the lîla itself which was held for her. Although she refers to the specialist being consulted as mqaddima, her description fits those practices and procedures carried out by shuwwâfât. Reysoo, like Welte, portrays the mqaddima as being a member and a specialist but not as the master of ceremonies of the spirit possession ceremony, as is the case for the mqaddim, her male counterpart. In his study of the Hamâdsha order, Vincent Crapanzano (1981) mentions shuwwâfât only indirectly. He describes the role of the tallâ^, the masculine singular form of the active participle meaning one who removes, which he translates as seer-exorcist, in diagnosing the possessed and referring them to one of the popular mystical orders for treatment. In this description, Crapanzano (1981: 195) points out that many of these seer-exorcists are women, but does not elaborate further. These seer-exorcists, he explains further using the masculine plural, were formerly only directly involved with and in the Gnâwa and Jilâla orders, which Frank Welte’s (1990) findings also support. They have only recently become connected with the Hamâdsha.32 He fails to specify whether the male seers are transvestites, which Welte, who also worked primarily in Meknes, observed and my informants in Casablanca also asserted about the Meknes area. According to Crapanzano, although the term shuwwâf is also used by some for these seer-exorcists, the titles refer to two distinct vocations, which he fails to elaborate on. His description of the procedures used by the tallâ^ in the consultation session as well as the diagnosis are very similar to those in my findings for shuwwâfât. In their search for the impetus behind participation in and the general explanation for the existence of similar spirit possession cults among women in other cultural contexts, scholars have discovered a number of functions which these cults serve for their participants. Grace Harris’ study of spirit possession among the Taiti of Kenya (1957) and Jean Rouch’s analysis of the Songhay cult of holey spirits (1960) similarly conclude that spirit possession is used by women and individuals of subordinate groups to exert pressure on their superiors in circumstances of deprivation, neglect and frustration when few other sanctions are available to them. Cynthia Nelson, examining the zar cult among Cairene women, explains that spirit possession is used

26

Introduction

as a tool of manipulation by women, who, as she points out, are in a weak subordinate position. It is also a forum for “airing grievances obliquely and gaining some personal satisfaction in an otherwise insecure marital relationship” (1971: 204-5). Janice Boddy (1989) proposes that Sudanese women in Hofriyat, the village she studied, suffer from an “overdetermined selfhood”. The zar cult in this context provides a socialization process which helps them to come to terms with their new status and roles as married women. Other scholars have suggested that possession cults provide participants with the possibility of letting off steam (Beattie and Middleton 1969: xxvii), of expressing repressed sexual and aggressive drives and a bid for attention by those of inferior, marginal, ambiguous and problematic status (Crapanzano / Garrison 1977: 27-9). They also enable participants to overstep societal bounds, call attention to themselves and their personal problems and bring about minor changes in their personal situations (Nabhan 1994: 255; Strasser 1995: 226). In all of these explanations, one notices that it is the limitations placed on individuals by societal status or role, particularly female gender roles, and the ‘accepted’ forms of conduct attached to these roles, that leads these individuals to seek relief or compensation in spirit possession. For the contemporary Moroccan rural context, Vanessa Maher (1984) provides three examples of the mediating role of spirit possession ceremonies for women in confronting or coming to terms with the overdetermining and restrictive limitations placed on their bodies, emotions and behavior. Here the lîla, or spirit possession ritual, is held exclusively for women in three different contexts. In the first example, the lîla takes place in conjunction with, but completely separate and distinct from, one held by and for men (Maher 1984: 168). Maher points out that non-conformity and the refusal to comply with social expectations of the male-dominated village community are glorified in this ceremony (1984: 169). In the second case, the lîla occurs in conjunction with a circumcision rite as a means on the part of the female participants to react to or to accommodate for the glorification of male sexuality which characterizes this rite (Maher 1984: 170-73). In the third instance, the lîla is held to console a mother whose son died several weeks after birth and to help her to regain control of her emotions the loss of which was not

27

Chapter 1

in keeping with the ‘acceptable’ behavior in such a situation (Maher 1984: 174-76). In these three examples, ritual mediates paradoxes and conflicts within a relatively closed community. Other scholars have focused on historical developments which have led to the revival or transformation of spirit possession cults. They have pointed out that participation in spirit possession cults serves to facilitate adjustment to these developments. Sophie Ferchiou, in her study of a spirit possession cult in Tunisia, which bears considerable resemblance to the cult under study here, views the cult ritual as fulfilling the women’s needs to escape from their everyday life realities and to find a form of resistance, deviance, transgression and self-expression. These needs result from the situation of permanent conflict of values characterizing the present historical context in which they live (1991: 199). Pamela Constantinides (1978) asserts that the emergence of the zar cult in Northern Sudan, a cult which already existed elsewhere in the Sudan, coincides with the growth and development of towns and cities in the area, which, in turn, resulted from the construction of the railway system there. A large percentage of the population in these new urban centers comes from the rural areas surrounding them. She reports further that the newly-arrived rural women are drawn to those cult centers in which the cult leader and participants are from the same ethnic group or tribe. Through participation, they seek to replace the support network left behind in their former rural environment and to gain support from co-members of the cult in their struggle to adapt to the new urban environment. She concludes that the cult plays an important part in facilitating the adaptation of these women to the new conditions of urban life. In her study of spirit possession among the Tonga in Zambia, Elizabeth Colson (1969) also focuses on societal transformation in her search for the impetus for participation in and function of a newly emerging cult. She explains that a new form of an old cult emerged as a mechanism through which women could acquire certain Western commodities being gradually imported into the area and to which, at first, only men had access. Ute Luig (1993b), whose research also focuses on spirit possession in Zambia, has stressed the effects of historical transformations on the function of spirit possession cults as well as the role of the cult in helping its participants to come to terms with these

28

Introduction

transformations. These are only four of numerous examples of cults and rituals which are revived or transformed to meet new needs emerging in times of societal transformation. In fact, spirit possession cults are often historically relatively short-lived and appear, or develop from earlier versions of similar cults, in times of societal transformations as a mechanism to facilitate the adjustment of subordinate groups to such transformations (van Binsbergen 1981; Luig 1992: 112-13). It is unlikely that members of a marginal or subordinate group suddenly, or even gradually, perceive themselves as deprived, neglected or overdetermined (Boddy 1989) and in need of a compensation mechanism without a change in other factors in their lives. It is more likely that changes in the society result in new everyday life circumstances which, in turn, make the longexisting status or role of these individuals no longer suitable or bearable. The function of the spirit possession cult is to provide a means, direct or indirect, of adjusting to these new circumstances. Historical Transformation, Social Practice and Ritual Mediation This study explores one manifestation of the challenge confronting individuals today in Morocco and elsewhere in the Third World, particularly women. It is the challenge of coming to term with and even actively participating in the adjustment process which was set in motion by the multi-level societal transformations occurring in Morocco since the beginning of the twentieth century. In a broad sense, therefore, it is situated at the interface between anthropology and history. It rejects paradigms which foster a static image of social systems and practices, focusing instead on societal transformation and its effects on these systems and practices. It proposes that the vast and rapid transformation of Moroccan society during the first half of the twentieth century is one of the key factors behind the development and expansion of the spirit possession cult under study here. It was the extent and rapidity of the transformations and the actions of both men and women to perpetuate or even intensify the application of ‘traditional’ gender roles which have led to their inappropriateness in today’s urban setting. The spirit possession cult has emerged to implement and facilitate the adjustment and renegotiation of these roles. Further, this study aligns with more recent analyses of transnational

29

Chapter 1

culture flows rejecting the assumptions of essentialist approaches to historical transformation such as the ‘modernization’ and ‘dependency’ theories which view the relationship between the West and Third World as unidirectional. Instead, it perceives the two systems as engaged in a process characterized by symbiosis and struggle. Furthermore, it sees the colonial encounter, in general, and the Moroccan encounter with the French in the first half of the 20th century, in particular, by no means as the wiping out of indigenous structures and their replacement by the new social, economic and ideological structures introduced by the foreign power. Instead, Moroccan interaction with the French at that time as well as with influences from the West since independence constitutes a dialectical process involving an interplay between the dominant and the subordinate and between human action and structural constraint. Likewise, on an individual or group level, as this study proposes to illustrate, Moroccans not only accept and reproduce the structures, values and perceptions, whether local, national or global in origin, which they encounter in their everyday lives, but they also reject and seek to alter them. Furthermore, ritual, which serves generally to mediate paradoxes, uncertainties, conflicts, incongruences and development steps in everyday life, has come to facilitate the adjustment to global influences and to the societal transformations brought about by them in Morocco as elsewhere and thus to assist in the readjustment and alteration of existing structures, values and perceptions. This study thus examines the relationship between historical transformation, social practice and ritual mediation. At issue here is the nature of social practice itself, its relationship to ‘ideology’, or the ideas, values and beliefs informing it, the connection between social practice and context, consciousness and intentionality and finally the transformative potential of human action. Furthermore, it attempts to rethink the relationship between ‘ideology’ as explicit discourse and as lived experience and the relationship between two dimensions of ‘ideology’, namely ‘theory’ and practical consciousness. Finally, it explores the mediative role of ritual in coping with paradoxes and ‘ideological’ contradictions and in adjusting to contrasting ‘ideological’ realities. To begin with, this study views the relationship between the human body and the social collectivity as an important dimension of con-

30

Introduction

sciousness in all societies (Comaroff 1985: 6).33 It perceives the body physical as mediating all human action (ibid.: 6), as constituting both the self and the sum of all social and natural relations in which it is incorporated and as providing the primary ‘raw material’ or pre-social ‘base’ which, through the socialization process of early childhood (ibid.: 7), is invested with ‘sociocultural constructions’. These sociocultural constructions include those perceptions, values and beliefs which inform an individual’s understanding of the world on a local and global, natural and social and physical and spiritual level and structure his or her social practices. The body physical and body social “exist in a mutually constitutive relationship” (ibid.: 8). While physical facts impose constraints on the perception and cultural construction of the human body, the ‘natural’ constitution of the human bodily form, its biological life-span and its transformative bodily processes give it considerable potential for symbolic representation, particularly with regard to time and space and their interconnection (ibid.). The coexistence of physical stability with physical transience, health with disease and degeneration, provides metaphors for the representation of sociocultural realities. Thus sociocultural conflicts are often apprehended as physical disease (ibid.) and metaphors of social contradictions are often rooted in the notion of the body in a state of disharmony with itself (ibid.: 9). Likewise, the alleviation of social disorder often involves treating and ‘healing’ the physical body (ibid.: 8). Further, it is by acting upon their external world that human beings construct themselves as social beings. This process of construction involves the reciprocal interaction of subjects and their objective context. It is neither completely conscious or unconscious. Instead, it is motivated by dynamic tensions inherent in a particular historical constitution of the world and shaped by a particular sociocultural order. These dynamic tensions force themselves upon human experience and require reconciliation making social practice more than simply habitual repetition. Thus the dialectics of subject and object generate both reinforcement and tension, reproduction and transformation. Human action can thus be viewed both as conforming to ideas, values and beliefs internalized through the primary socialization during early childhood and, simultaneously, as the product of both conscious and unconscious reaction to and eventually the transformation of so-

31

Chapter 1

cial practices based on them or even, over time, the alteration of the values, ideas and beliefs themselves. In other words, human action functions to both perpetuate and reproduce as well as reject or behave contrary to and thus gradually transform the sociocultural order (ibid.: 6). Thus, the interplay between sociocultural constructions and human action involves both the force of these ideas, values and beliefs upon historical processes and the transformative potential of human action. Furthermore, human action constitutes a communicative process, in which the pragmatic and semantic dimension are fused (ibid.: 5). While practically-oriented and invested with meaning for the attainment of the practical goal in the immediate situation, human action also conveys another message. Through their actions, human actors also articulate their recognition of the prevailing sociocultural order or dominant ‘ideology’ or their resistance to it. In all societies, multiple ‘ideologies’ exist simultaneously, with one dominating the determination of power relations. Those groups, usually based on age, sex, status or religious belief, whose members share interests which differ from those recognized and taken into account by the dominant ‘ideology’, while publicly acquiescing the structures of the dominant ‘ideology’, find outlets, private or public, for the expression of their ‘ideologies’. This expression may attain the level of explicit discourse and even take the form of open resistance. Likewise, it may be articulated non-verbally, through social action or particular forms of behavior, and only partially subject to reflection. Even when this expression remains below the level of explicit discourse and finds its articulation in social action, its communicative force is nonetheless felt. The existence of a multiplicity of ‘ideologies’ becomes of particular interest in the case of more complex cultural contexts, like urban Morocco today. Here the sociocultural order, which prevails in the private sphere, stands in contrast with the ‘ideology’ which dominates the public sphere and which is characterized by commodification, commercialization and professionalization. The result is a world in which social and cultural continuities appear to be ruptured and individuals, abruptly dislodged from their natural, social and spiritual contexts, are no longer able to recognize or realize themselves (ibid.: 3). The social field is the product of the continuous and changing relationship between the local realities and the ‘external’ world or global realities. In the face of increasing alienation brought on by the side-by-side

32

Introduction

existence of two or more contrasting ‘ideologies’, individuals are confronted with the challenge to reestablish the coherence of their lived-in world and to render controllable the processes of reproduction. The sociocultural constructions ingrained in them in the intimate family sphere during childhood no longer mesh with the values and structures governing the world outside the home in which they must function as adults. This system of sociocultural constructions acquired during the childhood socialization process acts as a lens through which individuals view the realities of their world. The perception of these realities is shaped by this lens. Though ever present and in tact, the lens can be adjusted considerably throughout one’s lifetime through personal experience and development. When it remains in its initial position, the perception of these realities, molded by the lens, appears distorted and the realities can be either rejected as incomprehensible or assigned new meanings and incorporated into one’s world of lived experience in a recognizable and acceptable form. Likewise, through adjustment of the lens a clearer and more complete perception of these realities and their incorporation in a form more closely resembling the original one can be achieved. In both cases, differing ‘ideologies’ have been consolidated and the individuals involved have broadened their repertoire of available options for acting or evaluating social action. Each individual’s repertoire of options for social action includes options with contrasting ‘ideological’ bases. The application of a particular option or form of social action is situationally determined and practical consciousness usually prevails, minimizing ‘ideological’ reflection. Thus, the daily life of an individual might by characterized by periodic or even frequent shifting back and forth between social action based in one ‘ideology’ and that based in the other. Nonetheless, the decision-making process is not always void of the inner conflict arising from ‘ideological’ contradictions. Thus the dynamic tensions caused by incongruences, contradictions and normal developmental changes or transformations, which naturally exist in all societies, are intensified by this additional dimension. Responding to this increase in tension can lead to further adjustment of the lens in one direction, namely withdrawing to milieus where the local sociocultural order continues to reign and thus rejecting those everyday realities structured by the imported market-oriented ‘ideology’, or in the other, namely guiding one’s personal development so as to be able to integrate oneself even

33

Chapter 1

further into these new and contrasting realities. This is precisely where ritual fits in. Ritual serves to mediate these uncertainties, incongruences, conflicts and development steps or changes in status. It takes the human actors out of their social context, placing them in a different context and temporarily assigning new meanings to individuals, objects and relationships through symbols. It thus allows individuals to come to terms with and process, on a physical level, the tension caused by these uncertainties, incongruences, conflicts and changes and facilitates any necessary adjustments or simply reestablishes social cohesion. Such rituals are necessary for mediating uncertainties, such as soothing the fear resulting from human powerlessness in the face of natural forces or implementing techniques to influence them as well as processing the stages of individual development, such as the entry into adulthood or married life34 or providing outlets for grievances by those in subordinate positions.35 Today, even more so than in the past, a global perspective is essential for the analysis of human action in all contexts. The options available to the individual for structuring their everyday lives, lifestyles and life directions have greatly increased through global influences, mass media and international travel possibilities.36 Entry into new settings or the introduction of new circumstances into established sociocultural contexts often lead to the development of new rituals or alterations in existing rituals, as many scholars have recently begun to observe (Constantinides 1978; Comaroff 1985; Luig 1993a). These new or altered rituals become instrumental in mediating the new paradoxes and conflicts that arise and the new adjustments or paths of personal development made necessary by the fluctuating circumstances of everyday life. In general, religious rituals still play an important part in the daily lives of most Moroccans. These rituals have their origins either in mainstream Islam, in Islamic mysticism, in West African spirit possession cults, in Berber traditions, or a combination thereof. Mainstream Islam, which provides the fundamental guidelines for everyday life behavior and patterns of interpersonal interaction for most Moroccans, also constitutes the background ideology and unifying element for all of these rituals regardless of origin and despite some inherent theoretical and practical contradictions. While some Moroccan religious rituals are strictly in keeping with mainstream Islamic doctrine and thus con-

34

Introduction

tribute to its perpetuation, other rituals, to be referred to here as folkreligious, while seeking their grounding in the main premises of the mainstream Islamic doctrine, become mechanisms of compensation for certain inadequacies and restriction in the dominant one and thus also ensure its perpetuation.37 The fact that rituals which support the dominant discourse in a cultural setting can be seen as a means for legitimating, maintaining and working out hierarchical structures and constructions of power relations is not new. Neither is the awareness that spirit possession cults serve to compensate for subordinate status and powerlessness. Studies supporting these two facts are numerous. Furthermore, both confirms Foucault’s analysis of power as a dialectic relationship embedded in a set of open strategies rather than an absolute possessed by one individual or group (Foucault 1983). What has often been neglected is the examination of what makes spirit possession appropriate as a mechanism for the compensation of powerlessness and how spirit possession cults and cult rituals interact with and fit into framework of the dominant sociocultural ideologies and religious discourses in the given context. Here again Foucault’s analysis of the functioning of power relations is useful. He points out that the body constitutes the battlefield for disputes about power and that it functions according to the division and use of space (ibid.). It is not coincidental that spirit possession and spirit possession cults, in which the human body is central medium, become mechanisms for compensating for powerlessness. Furthermore, it is not insignificant that it is the body that becomes afflicted when the individual reaches the limits of his or her ability to abide by the restrictions placed on him or her by the sociocultural environment. Spirit possession thus becomes the mechanism for exceeding these limits. This study explores those central elements of the dominant Moroccan religious discourse directly and indirectly pertaining to perceptions of the human body and their incorporation and application in both mainstream Islamic and popular Islamic rituals as well as the effects of their reformulation or alteration in folk-religious practices and rituals especially with regard to the women’s spirit possession cult which provides its main focus.

35

Chapter 1

Methodological Considerations In the course of the last two decades, scholars have taken a critical look at approaches to the process of ‘othering’ both in the field and at their desks, the process of encountering, interacting with, defining, describing and writing about the ‘Other’ (Clifford/Markus 1986). Criticism has been voiced in particular against positivist paradigms, against the use of the term ‘culture’ in a general or holistic sense and against the tendency to generalize about an entire community on the basis of interaction with and observations of various individuals within that community. Such generalizations as have dominated the literature on ‘cultural otherness’ are not only dangerous because they flatten out differences and homogenize the members of a specific community or society creating a distorted picture of it, but they also have an ‘objectivizing’ effect which contributes to the establishment of a power relation between the subject, or observer, and the object, or observed, deforming the image of the community or society under study in yet another way.38 Furthermore, this flattening out and homogenizing often leads to a neglect of historical processes and transformation as well. Reactions to this critical or self-reflective discussion have resulted in efforts to let the voice of the ‘Other’ be heard. With this goal in mind, some scholars have begun eliciting informants’ explanations of their lived-in worlds and directly quoting them, sometimes quite extensively. One extreme example of this is a work in which a series of interviews between an anthropologist and a Moroccan villager provide both the form and content (Dwyer 1982). Other scholars have chosen to collect biographies or interviews (Mernissi 1984) sometimes preserving the actual words of the informant telling his or her life story. Still others have concentrated entire works on one or a small number of individuals and their everyday lives (Colby / Colby 1981) sometimes even studying the development of the interpersonal relationship between the observer and the observed (Rabinow 1977; Crapanzano 1980). In each case, the intention is to have the informants themselves provide information about the cultural contexts articulated either verbally or through their everyday social actions and life directions. Another genre that somewhat spontaneously developed consists of those works written by the ‘untrained’ anthropologists including traveler, journalists, ex-patriots, members of the colonial administration

36

Introduction

and spouses of anthropologists in the field. As they are directed to slightly different audiences, they follow different conventions. They are more open about their position with regard to the observed, less assertive of their scientific authority and more focused on particular individuals and families. Thus, generalizations tend to be minimal. This genre has been instrumental in inspiring one of three recent tendencies or corrective measures aimed at providing alternatives to positivistic paradigms and broad generalizations of past works, that of focusing on the particular. By focusing on particular individuals or groups of them and their daily life circumstances, these works are able to focus on and more accurately deal with differences between individuals and among groups as well as alterations over time (Abu-Lughod 1991). A second tendency is to focus on historical processes and transformations and the forces behind them. In this way, the role of social action in the integration and reinforcement as well as transformation of a particular sociocultural order can be explored. Finally, as global influences have a direct or indirect effect on the daily lives of every individual today, some scholars feel that neglecting to analyze these influences results in an incomplete picture of an individual, group or community and thus some even choose to focus directly on these influences (Appadurai 1991). The present study attempts to combine and explore the relationship between the general and the particular, the local and the global, the past and the present and the reinforcing and the transformative. It shows how the sociocultural constructions and the social practices and structures informed by them so integrally meshed with the external circumstances at the beginning of the twentieth century and how an altered form of these constructions and practices are still acquired and perpetuated through the childhood socialization process which includes religious and everyday life practices and rituals. It illustrates how they have been altered to fit with some of the social and economic realities prevailing in the urban setting today, realities radically transformed by global structures and ‘ideologies’ introduced initially by the French during the protectorate period. While the adjustments and adaptations made in these constructions and practices to insure their continued applicability affects the general population, women in particular and especially specific groups of women have been under even more pressure to meet new demands, to

37

Chapter 1

fulfill new expectations and thus to undertake measures to alter their personal lives. These measures are directed towards establishing new female gender roles and gender power relations. A spirit possession cult,39 deriving from the combination of an already-existing spirit mediumship cult, beliefs and rituals involving spirit possession and other folk-religious healing procedures and rituals and shaped by the personal initiative of the shuwwâfât or cult leaders, has developed to assist its participants in coming to terms with the inadequacies of their present roles. It serves to mediate the paradoxes and the inner and interpersonal conflicts that arise in this regard and to facilitate their personal development in preparation for facing new responsibilities, expectations and demands placed upon them by the changing circumstances of their everyday lives. The study begins with a description of the neighborhoods in a subdistrict of Casablanca called Sîdî Ma^rûf where the fieldwork was carried out and their inhabitants (Chapter Two). It places them in the context of the historical transformations which brought these neighborhoods into existence and caused the revision of the socioeconomic and reliogicultural structures, practices and rituals in the everyday lives of their inhabitants. It concentrates primarily on the French protectorate40 and its aftermath, the period during which the ongoing processes of historical change which led to the development and growth of the spirit possession cult being studied here gained momentum. It also explores the advancements for women brought about by the developments of the protectorate period in the areas of political participation, education and employment and their new and increasing presence in the public sphere. It examines the processes by which the socioeconomic and religiocultural structures, practices and rituals of various groups and milieus have been adapted and molded to allow them to adjust to the new daily life realities resulting from the revision of perceptions of bodies and boundaries accompanying these advancements. It focuses on the adaptation of ‘traditional’ forms of interpersonal interaction and gender roles as well as conceptions of the division of space and labor and public and private in response to these new conditions. It discusses the growing inapplicability of certain socioeconomic and religiocultural structures, practices and rituals to meet the demands of the larger urban setting, the inadequacy of institutional

38

Introduction

structures in providing assistance and support for their necessary readjustment and the strategies which have been developed to compensate for these incongruencies. The spirit possession cult which was created through the innovation and creativity of the shuwwâfât constitutes one significant strategy (Chapter Three). In the context of a growing trend towards commercialization, commodification and professionalization of women’s roles and activities, these women combined and tranformed a number of former healing and divinatory practices and rituals to develop a source of income and eventually a vocation for themselves which meets the needs of urban women of various milieus. Various features of the former traditions were adapted to the socioeconomic conditions of the new urban environment and to the broader complex of Moroccan religious expression. While the beliefs, practices and rituals central to this new vocation and cult find their legitimation in mainstream Islam, they are situated within three subcategories of folk-religious expression. As is the case for other forms of folkreligious expression, the conceptions of the body, division of labor and space and gender roles and power relations inherent in the beliefs and practices involved in it are contradictory and complementary to those inherent in mainstream Islam. On some levels, participation in them therefore serves as a means of compensation for inadequacies of the latter. The attitudes of the shuwwâfât vary with regard to some features of their still-evolving vocation. On the basis of this variation and the focus of their practices on specific types of clientele, shuwwâfât can be broadly categorized as ‘old-fashioned’ fortune-tellers, traditional sorceresses, ‘modern’, business-oriented healers and the spirit possession specialists. The life histories of the shuwwâfât under study here show that spirit possession functions to legitimate their entry into their vocation which often constitutes a rejection or abandonment of the more typical female social role of wife and mother for a financially, socially and ‘professionally’ independent one (Chapter Four). These histories reveal that rejection or neglect by their mothers at an early age is a common cause of the first incidence of spirit possession in these women’s lives. Similarities among shuwwâfât in their experiences with possession and their calling such as the childhood roots of their spirit possession, the circumstances of their entry into the vocation and their atti-

39

Chapter 1

tudes toward the inevitability of their entry and the authenticity of their powers and techniques also become evident. Shuwwâfa are stigmatized by a negative reputation and outsider status. This reputation and status stem both from an abstract fear of shuwwâfât or any women who live and work independently of male supervision and the potential threat they pose to society as well as a real fear that these women, through the example of their social, financial and ‘professional’ independence and the assistance they offer to other women, could contribute, over time, to a change in gender roles and power relations. Taking a closer look at the consultation session reveals that the success of the session and the reputation of the shuwwâfa depends on the rapport she is able to develop with her client (Chapter Five). This involves establishing her authority and credibility as a religious specialist and gaining the trust of the client. The ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, levels of education and marital status of those women prone to have recourse to the cult vary considerably. The common denominator unifying this widely divergent group is the fact that all of these women are suffering from the lack of appropriate female roles to meet the challenges of today’s urban environment. Furthermore, the types of problems plaguing these women in general and which problems most often confront unmarried and married women of various socioeconomic backgrounds follow specific tendencies. The life stages and socioeconomic and educational backgrounds of the women tend to coincide with the types of dilemmas they find themselves in as well as their preferences for a particular type of shuwwâfa and a specific type of treatment or course of action for resolving these dilemmas. Spirit possession of the clientele provides the legitimation for temporary abnormal state and behavior on the part of the possessed and for a re-examination of their social worlds. It also legitimates their articulation of their everyday life problems and conflicts and for their participation in the cult ritual (Chapter Six). This participation offers the possibility of coming to terms with their everyday problems and conflicts as well as access to the process of individualization and multilevel re-socialization implemented by the cult ritual. Throughout the ritual, emphasis is on the body which becomes the medium for revising their everyday life situations and their place in them.

40

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

Chapter 2 Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries Sîdî Ma^rûf constitutes about one-third of a district of Casablanca known as Darb il-Fuqarâ’, quarter of the poor, and is located to the northeast of the center of the city. It is separated from the rest of the district by three main arteries. It is further divided into three large sections or neighborhoods which are separated from each other by smaller arteries. It is heterogeneous in terms of the architecture and street patterns, location of commercial activity and socioeconomic and ‘ethnic’ background of its inhabitants. All of these factors have an effect on the amount of interaction which takes place among the individuals and families living there. Interaction varies from participation in each others family celebrations to occasionally borrowing household items in times of need to simply greeting each other in passing. In the neighborhood in which I lived during the second part of my fieldwork, to be referred to here as Section One, the atmosphere is the most relaxed and conducive to interaction of the three sections. The housing consists of small three to four-story buildings with one apartment per floor. The upstairs apartments in each building are reached by way of a narrow stairway leading up from a small street entrance often without a door. The facade of the upper two or three floors protrudes out slightly over the ground floor portions by about one or two feet creating a space along the front of the edifice where there is a three to four-foot-wide slightly raised sidewalk. About half of the sidewalk is thus sheltered from the sun or rain. This protrusion together with the sidewalk under it create a space conducive to lingering and socializing. The protrusion contains two small windows per floor with wooden shutters which can be closed at night. Beneath the windows are two wooden rods on either side between which lines are stretched for hanging laundry. Each of the upstairs apartments has three rooms, one in front with the two windows in it, one in the middle into which the apartment door opens and one in the back with two small ventilation openings near the ceiling. To the left of the the apartment door is a small Turkish-style toilet. On the wall above the toilet is a faucet which is

41

Chapter 2

the only source of water in the apartment. Clothes and dishes are washed in plastic tubs by taking water from this faucet. Next to the toilet is an airshaft which reaches from the ground floor to the roof with windows opening out from it in each of the back rooms. This shaft further facilitates the circulation of air and also permits the inhabitants to hear much of what is going on in the apartments on the other floors. The roof is used communally for large laundry items such as blankets and lihâf, or Moroccan-style couch, coverings. The ground floor apartment has no windows. The apartment door is set back about three feet beyond the building entrance which provides cross ventilation and reduces the size of the front room which has one small ventilation opening near the ceiling. The focus of more intimate daily life activities is towards the interior with an emphasis on privacy vis-à-vis the space outside the apartment. A large amount of socializing does, however, take place in the space just outside. These housing structures are situated side-by-side attached to each other along quiet, narrow side streets which are numbered instead of named and are located off the smaller connecting arteries of the district. Off these narrow streets are small rectangular cul-de-sac-like spaces with cement or small-brick surfaces. On three side of these spaces there are eight to ten entrances to housing structures of the same kind. These cul-de-sac-like spaces create communal areas where children play and youth and adults congregate in small groups and socialize briefly between errands and household tasks or on their way to and from work or school. Cars very rarely enter these spaces. In fact, traffic is generally minimal in the neighborhood. Cars and small delivery vans and trucks only enter the neighborhood for deliveries and other necessary errands. When the inhabitants arrive by taxi, they usually get out in one of the main arteries and walk into the neighborhood. In three cases, the inhabitants all chipped in and planted small trees and shrubs in these cul-de-sac-like spaces. In one case, the inhabitants painted colorful pictures of flowers on the walls to aesthetically improve this space of communal activity. A large amount of commercial activity takes place along the narrow side streets which connect these cul-de-sac-like spaces. They are often full of life drawing people out of their homes and encouraging interaction. The ground floor of many of the buildings along the side streets house tiny one-room businesses including hairdressers, tailors, dress

42

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

shops, repair shops, bakeries, butchers, a hammâm, or public steam bath, and most commonly small general stores, or hawânit. Here milk products, cleaning products of all kinds, bread etc. can be purchased from the person behind the counter which also constitutes the front of the store. Two women of Section One have established small businesses for themselves as combined naqqâsha,41 or henna artists, and wedding costume specialists. Neither of them has a shop. Both operate instead out of their apartments and advertise their services by way of colorful signs fixed above the entrances of the buildings where they live. Two intersections along one of the side streets and the area in between are transformed into marketplaces during most of the day and early evening. Here fresh fruits and vegetables are sold by men from the neighborhood from small wooden carts. A few women from the neighborhood also sell fruits and vegetables from coverings spread out on the adjacent sidewalks where they sit. There are also four small elementary schools and three small mosques in the small side streets of Section One. Most of the women don a jallâba42 and headscarf and circulate freely in the streets immediately adjacent to their homes to go to the side street market, shops, public bath and the homes of friends in the immediate neighborhood. When they are busy with household tasks, they send their children out on nearby errands, if possible. They rarely have occasion to venture out further to the larger general stores and kiosks in the smaller and larger arteries of the area, where small appliance and cassette shops, banks, teleboutiques and other small businesses line the streets and the atmosphere is less familiar and relaxed than in the tiny streets immediately adjacent to their homes. Younger women and especially adolescents very often circulate in a much wider radius. Their attire varies from a jallâba with, but often without a headscarf, to slacks or jeans and long or even short-sleeved top, T-shirt or pullover depending on where they are going. Their destinations include school, occupational training programs within (hairdresser and seamstress) or outside the neighborhood, a nearby teleboutique, shop or hammâm or a girlfriend’s or relative’s apartment. Some head out to offices or shops elsewhere in the city or even one of the disco-recreation centers or sport clubs for young people in the downtown area. The other two-thirds of Sîdî Ma^rûf are located across the smaller

43

Chapter 2

arteries from the Section One. One of them, to be referred to as Section Two, has a few ground floor businesses and a street market similar to those found in Section One. There is also a hammâm, a small mosque and two small elementary schools. The architecture of the housing is similar in terms of the attachment of the buildings, the common single entrance and the number of floors. The front surfaces of the edifices are whitewashed, smooth and flat. The protrusion of the upper floors, the laundry lines, the sidewalks and the cul-de-sac-like spaces are lacking. Traffic is somewhat more prevalent and the general atmosphere is less communal and relaxed. The outside space is much less conducive to lingering and socializing. In Section Three, there are no ground floor businesses, nor is there a street market. The inhabitants must go to the small arteries separating the sections or the larger arteries to purchase foodstuffs and other household necessities. There is a hammâm, a small mosque and two small elmentary schools, but the architecture of the homes is different from that in the other two sections. The buildings are somewhat larger and sometimes one or two floors higher. There is more than one apartment on each floor so that one entrance serves a larger number of families. Again the front surfaces of the edifices are whitewashed, smooth and flat and the protrusion of the upper floors, the laundry lines, the sidewalks and the cul-de-sac-like spaces are lacking. The number of cars cutting through this section is much greater than in the first and second and the atmosphere, though friendly, is less familiar than in the other two. The outside space is even less conducive to lingering and socializing. Across one of the main arteries from Sîdî Ma^rûf there is a large market one-third of which is open-air with permanent stalls where fresh fruits and vegetables are sold. The other two-thirds is contained in a roofed structure containing tiny shops selling cloth, shoes and other daily need articles and larger shops selling furniture and bathroom fixtures and tiles. Behind this market is a large mosque. On the edge of Sîdî Ma^rûf on another main artery is the siyyid of Sîdî Ma^rûf in front of which is the last stop of a bus which begins downtown not far from the main train station. Other buses stop along the other arteries which make up the boundaries of Sîdî Ma^rûf. The majority of the adult inhabitants of Sîdî Ma^rûf are first or second43 generation immigrants comprising a wide variety Berber and

44

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

Arab tribes of origin. Many of them spend most of their everyday lives within Sîdî Ma^rûf where they live and work. Some do, however, work in other parts of Darb il-Fuqarâ’ or neighboring districts. And some few even work in other parts of the city in rare cases outside of Casablanca or Morocco. While many still orient themselves and their lives primarily around their neighborhoods and district, a growing number of inhabitants, especially the youth and young adults of the third generation, are extending their mobility and broadening their horizons by taking advantage of educational, employment and other opportunities throughout the city. This also includes patronizing the various branches of the expanding mass media in Morocco, especially music cassette and video production, cinema and television. The First Immigrants and Their Sociocultural Heritage The first immigrants experienced the initial and most radical stage in the transformation of the perceptions of spatial and social units, the bonds connecting them and the boundaries separating them which has been going on in Morocco since the beginning of the twentieth century. This transformation process was set into motion by the French in a number of ways during the protectorate period from 1912 to 1956.44 Central to this process has been the revision of ideas, values and perceptions with regard to bodies and boundaries. The mechanisms for coming to terms with it, especially in the urban setting, often derive from individual and group initiative and innovation which combine the former and the more recent, the ‘traditional’ and the ‘modern’, the ‘local’ and the ‘global’ in a number of ways. The tasks involved differ from milieu to milieu and generation to generation as well as between men and women as a result of differences in societal roles. This initiative and innovation can be most clearly observed at the individual level, but first an overview of this initial stage which provided the impetus for the revisions still going on today will provide an appropriate backdrop for understanding the struggles of the first generation.

45

Chapter 2

Interiors, Exteriors, Boundaries and Connections at the Turn of the Century In 1912, the population of Morocco was overwhelmingly rural (Stewart 1967: 16). Berbers,45 belonging to three major groups or confederations, distinguishable in terms of the three different dialects of the Berber language they spoke, tariffît, tashilhît and tamazight as well as the regions, the Rif, the Western High and Anti-Atlas and the Sus Valley and Middle, Central High and Eastern High Atlas respectively, they inhabited, made up 80-90 percent of the entire Moroccan population. 40-45 percent of them were Berber-speaking and 40-45 percent arabicized Berbers. These three confederations were the primary inhabitants of Morocco at the time of its conquest by Arabs from the Middle East and other parts of North Africa. In 1912, the Arab population46 consisted primarily of descendants of those who arrived primarily in two main waves of conquests in the eighth and eleventh centuries. They were for the most part sedentary and inhabited the western plains, those areas adjacent to the urban centers, and the urban centers themselves (Stewart 1967: 10). Nomadic Arab tribes could, however, still be found in small numbers to the south of the Atlas Mountains and in the Sus in 1912 (Hart 1976: 156). The human body and its shape, external parts, internal organs and processes were and are central to the organization and conceptualization of the everyday life practices, life stages, health and illness, purity and impurity and the various personality traits, physical and psychological attributes and dispositions (Chebel 1984).47 The form of the human body, consisting of an interior space enclosed and hidden from exterior space by loose clothing constitutes a mode for perceiving interiors, exteriors and their separation which was symbolically repeated both in the architecture of houses and in the structure of the village or encampment. The customary clothing of Moroccans of this period was long and loose and covered all but the feet, hands and head, thus both hiding most of the body from the view of others and protecting it from the sun and wind. The inside or vital, vulnerable and intimate is enclosed and protected from the space outside by a covering. Exposure of the body could prove both detrimental to the health as well as mean a loss of honor and honorability. This separation of interior and exte-

46

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

rior space as a means of protection against physical and social vulnerability had its parallels at other levels within the tribal structure.48 Similarly, dwellings, in both the urban and rural environments, were often characterized by outer walls which separated the interior from the outside world and which contained only small windows and an inner courtyard onto which the rooms of the dwelling opened out (Ubach / Rackow 1923: 5). The exterior walls, which were quite thick in most tribal regions (Montagne 1931: 36; Hart 1976: 33) and made only of woven wool among the nomads, created a protective shell sheltering the private and intimate life of the family from the natural elements and the view of non-family members. These walls created an enclosed interior space thus providing an intimate and protected environment for women and children. They enclosed the center or focal point of many of their daily activities, which could only be viewed by those who were permitted access to it (Hart 1976: 34; 128; Ubach / Rackow 1923: 5). In contrast, what happened outside the space of the home was exposed to public view. A distinction was made between what was to be kept private and what can be exposed to the general public view. Keeping the intimate private constitutes a defensive stance toward to non-members of the extended family, a defense of the honor and reputation of the extended family. In a broader sense, this division or distinction between interior and exterior also applies to the inner space of the village, the living space of the lineage, and the space outside its limits. The space within constituted the center of village life, the daily activities of the inhabitants, a familiar space as opposed to the space outside, an unfamiliar space inhabited by strangers as well as spirits. Permanent settlements were sometimes even surrounded by walls (Ubach / Rackow 1923: 2). The walls provided a clear delineation between outside and inside, paralleling the outer garments of the individual and the exterior walls of the house, and facilitated the defense of the village inhabitants against noninhabitants, thieves and wild animals (ibid.: 3). As this space was often inhabited by only one lineage and separated from the space outside which was inhabited by those not of the lineage and could be frequented by strangers, women in the rural environment therefore enjoyed some freedom of mobility within this space. A gate, which was often guarded, especially at night (ibid.: 3), constituted a mechanism of

47

Chapter 2

control over who was admitted. Thus, the daily life activities of a lineage were separated and protected from non-lineage members. Taken yet one step further, to the fractional, clan and tribal level, a similar mode existed for perceiving the separation between the lands inhabited by a particular fraction, clan or tribe as an interior space separated from those lands beyond which were viewed with a defensive stance as they were inhabited by another fraction, clan or tribe, although there was no wall or other form of physical barrier. In fact, each tribe had its own name, territory and boundaries (Hart 1976: 8). These names and boundaries were often used by the central government for administrative purposes (Montagne 1931: 20). They appear in official records especially those concerning taxation (Tawfiq 1978). Although the boundaries of the interior space were not physically demarcated, they existed nonetheless vividly in the minds of those bearing this mode of perception, as the limits of the space where comembers lived, where their dialect or language was spoken, in the case of the tribal boundaries, and where they originated.49 Similar boundary lines and divisions into interior and exterior space could be found in the urban center of this period. The medina was divided up into quarters by occupation (Bernard 1931: 188) which were closed off at night separating them from one another by doors or gates (ibid.: 179). These quarters usually functioned simultaneously as residential and occupational districts. The social units which were based on occupation often corresponded to or at least resembled the lineage of the rural setting in terms of solidarity, social interaction and communal atmosphere (Stambouli / Zghal 1972: 198). The exterior wall enclosing the medina clearly separated and protected the interior space occupied by the numerous clans from the outside. This wall also contained a number of gates which were closed at night. The dwellings inhabited by extended families were also structured similarly to those in the rural areas with small covered windows and the focus on the intimate interior space (Bernard 1931: 179). Thus, this mode of perception for the organization of physical space, whichdistinguishedbetween interiorandexterior space and which viewed the inner or enclosed space as private and to be protected was found at six different levels: the individual, the home, the village or encampment, the lands belonging to the clan and the tribal lands. The social organization, i. e. the units of the extended family, line-

48

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

age, fraction, clan and tribe into which social beings were divided, both constituted the social units and basis for the above described divisions of physical space. It also provided the connections between the enclosed interior spaces. A village or settlement was inhabited by a lineage, each extended families of which inhabited a separate dwelling. On the other hand, the individuals of an extended family like the extended families of a lineage, because of a common interest in the survival of both the extended family and the lineage, worked together mutually supporting one another emotionally, materially and through joint participation in various chores and tasks thus forming bonds between the social units across the physical boundaries.50 The nuclear or extended family was headed by the eldest male who was either the father or grandfather of the members and constituted the ultimate authority in decisions concerning the whole and the individuals. He commanded the respect and subordination of all other members. He represented the interests of the extended family in matters concerning other extended families or the entire lineage (Montagne 1931: 21). The other adult males were ranked hierarchically according to age below the family head and commanded the respect of those of lower rank. While a female was respected by her children in her role as mother, she assumed a position of subordination. Children were expected to show respect for both parents in general, but in particular for the father or grandfather who headed the extended family. Land, animals and other possessions, except for clothing and other personal items, were either jointly owned or divided among the adult males. A strong sense of common interest and solidarity usually prevailed within the extended family and mutual support and assistance was provided among the members in times of need (ibid.: 21). At the lineage level, the types of interaction or connections between and among extended families, though similar in some ways, were less often subject to a system of ranking.51 While provisions of mutual support and assistance in the form of material goods and manpower among extended families bound families of equal or differing status temporarily (Hart 1976: 53), marriage between the members of two different extended families constituted a significant and long-term bond or connection between them (ibid.: 221-23). Bonds of reciprocity in the form of exchanges of hospitality and gifts also provided another form of long-term links among extended families within a lineage. At

49

Chapter 2

the level of the lineage itself, the gathering of family heads for the discussion of communal matters, the communal participation in the celebration of religious rites or feasts and a common interest in the survival of the lineage all bound the extended families as a community (Ubach / Rackow 1923: 15). Interaction and bonding occurred at higher levels as well. Like those within a lineage, some bonds or pacts between higher tribal subunits assumed equal status of the parties involved. Others took the form of patron-client relationships52 implying the higher status or advantageous position of one party. Occurring at a number of levels they provided assistance or advantages for both parties. Two or more lineages of a given fraction often joined to form a bond on a temporary or long-term basis usually for the purpose of defense. Although some sense of community existed at the level of the clan, interaction occurred more often at the fractional and lineage level. While several clans of one tribe occasionally joined for the purpose of defending the entire tribe and its lands against other tribes, two or more clans of one tribe sometimes joined together against one or more clans of the same tribe. Bonding or arrangements made at these levels were usually aimed at establishing some level of regional security, which was not always automatic, and thus ensuring the safety and survival of the tribe (Montagne 1931: 26-27). This bonding was also reported to have taken place at the intertribal level and its official renewal and reinforcement occurred in the form of multi-tribal friendship celebrations (ibid.: 21). In the urban environment, membership in occupational guilds or corporations provided the connecting force in a neighborhood community. Sometimes the corporational divisions corresponded to lineage divisions as well. At the neighborhood level, membership in the same mosque and religious order community provided another source of connection. The only source of connection on the urban community level was communal attendance of the Friday prayers at a central urban mosque (Stambouli / Zghal 1972: 206-7). Three forms of interpersonal relationship or bonding have been commonly found to occur in rural settings in Morocco: kinship bonds, or permanent and unbreakable bonds based on common ancestry through which kinsmen were responsible for mutually supporting one another in times of need (Rosen 1984: 43-44; Combs-Schilling 1985: 660); dyadic bonds, consisting of shifting constellations of personally

50

Sîdî Ma^rûf and Perceptions of Bodies and Boundaries

constructed and cultivated ties (Rosen 1984: 69); and patron-client bonds which constituted a temporary or long-term bond or relationship between two persons of unequal status both of whom benefited in some way (H. Geertz 1979). These three categories were not mutually exclusive but instead overlapped.53 The interpersonal provision of support in the form of food, labor, money and goods was also implemented through a network of short or long-term support-dependence-exchange relationships (ibid.: 335). These are most often referred to in the scholarly literature as patronclient relationships. 54 This relationship was instrumental both in ensuring the survival of the client and in improving his situation or status.55 Status, which was, and still is, taken into consideration in most forms of social interaction could be based on a number of personal attributes depending on the importance of a given aspect to a particular situation. These include level of education, age, position in the family, religiosity, financial standing and occupation or command of a body of knowledge. It determined the assignment of the temporary or long-term roles of client and patron, which, in turn, had specific attributes and patterns of behavior attached to them (ibid.: 338-41). Status was, however, dependent not only on the above personal attributes, but also on the appropriate or honorable behavior of the individual. Improper or unacceptable behavior could diminish any degree of status that was otherwise attained. A relatively strict division of labor between men and women56 existed which resulted in a division of space by gender as well. The men were responsible for the material well-being or subsistence of the family and for the tasks and activities involved in providing for it. As a result they spent most of their time outside the home or habitation both within the village and outside of it. The women, while having some tasks to perform outside the home, but within the village or encampment, were primarily responsible for the physiological and social well-being of the family and the functioning of the family life within the home. Males and females are generally regarded not only as physiological opposites, but, in fact, fundamentally different types of human beings with complementary abilities, dispositions and characteristics (Wikan 1982: 43). Furthermore, human beings are believed to be composed of three vital essences: ^aql, nafs and rûh. It is commonly held that

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Chapter 2

women and men differ in the amounts of nafs: animal life force, including lusts, emotions and desires, and ^aql: reason, rationality and the ability to control one’s emotions and behave in socially appropriate ways, that each sex is capable of realizing.57 Men are thought to develop considerable ^aql as they mature. Women, on the other hand, are unable to develop as much as men. Women are thought to have greater sexual desires and to tend to succumb to their emotions. They, therefore, need their fathers and spouses to supervise, protect and control them (Rosen 1984: 31-32). Besides performing household chores, women also had tasks and activities that involved artistic and cultural expression. They spun the wool and wove the cloth and rugs used to construct and furnish the tent, in the case of nomadic tribes, and to cover the floors of their homes (Höll 1979: 54). The intricate patterns and brilliant colors of the rugs, cloth and pottery together with the songs, poetry and folk tales were all forms of artistic expression for Berbers (Ayache 1959: 22). The women’s handicraft products were not only used in the households of the extended family or lineage itself, but were also traded or sold at nearby markets. These forms of production provided women with outlets for self-expression as well as a means for proving their economic value for the extended family (Mernissi 1985: 65-66). In addition, weaving, through the symbolic meaning they attached to the materials and techniques used in it, provided for the expression of a specifically female view of gender power relations (Messick 1987: 221). This division of labor and the nature of women’s tasks and activities meant that women spent much of their time together with other women (Bernard 1931: 173). This resulted in the formation of a female community. The hierarchy of the women within this community, their relationships and interpersonal interaction, which was characterized by ongoing power struggles, mutual assistance and emotional support, constituted one of the primary focuses of their lives.58 They also took great interest in the arrangement of the marriages of their children.59 Such arrangements constituted one area in which they could exert considerable influence and which had repercussions outside the domestic sphere. These arrangements were of particular concern to women because the relationships that resulted from them greatly affected the composition of their personal domestic realm and sphere of social con-

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tact and thus the atmosphere and conditions of their daily lives (Rosen 1984: 36). Islamic devotional rituals and practices both provided the basis for and contributed to the maintenance of the perceptions of bodies, boundaries and connections described above.60 Their focus and application in daily life derived from the manner by which they were proliferated in Morocco. Islamic mystical masters and their disciples took responsibility for this proliferation particularly from the 15th century onward.61 They were renowned for their strict Sunnism, their insistence on respect for the Sharî^a and their social discretion. These elements generally corresponded to the already-existing social and religiocultural structures enabling them to easily integrate themselves into the social order of the countryside (Lory 1998: 247). The resulting rituals and practices consisted of a combination of popular magical elements, Sunnite Islamic ritual obligations and mystical devotional practices. They provided forms of individual as well as communal religious expression which contributed to maintenance of the existing social structures. While the practices like communal prayers, fasting during the month of Ramadân and the dhikr ceremony enhanced social cohesion among families and clans, the rituals of veneration of the holy figures, whose sanctuaries had become common sight in the rural areas provided an element of solidarity among tribes. As these sanctuaries and the area around them came to be perceived as neutral ground, the ziyâra, or sanctuary visitation ritual, performed more often by women, and in particular mûsim, or annual pilgrimage celebration honoring the patron of the sanctuary,62 allowed even warring tribes to come together on peaceful terms for a short period of time. City and country were economically complementary. The city provided outlets for fruits, vegetables and grain as well as animal products from the countryside, while the rural population provided customers for the city’s handicrafts and imports from Europe and other parts of Africa, which entered Morocco by way of its cities. Most of these imports entered the country in the north, east and south and were brought by caravans to urban centers, as the western ports were, due to silting and heavy storms, naturally unsuited as harbors (Stewart 1967: 28). As a result, the ports of Tangier, Larache, Mehdia, Rabat-

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Salé, Casablanca, Al-Jadida, Safi and Essaouira, now major urban centers, were no more than small settlements living from fishing and a very light volume of foreign trade (ibid.: 28). The principle imports were cloth, sugar, tea, glassware and hardware. In 1912, Morocco exported grain, wool, hides and eggs to Europe as well as hâka and jalâlîb (over-garments), shoes and silk goods to the rest of North Africa and Senegal. In general, however, the Moroccan economy was relatively closed (ibid. 1967: 13). Founded originally centuries before as political centers, the major urban centers in 1912,63 Fez, Marrakesh and Meknes, had gradually grown in economic importance (ibid.: 27). Besides those employed in the court, administrative and religious functions, the inhabitants of these centers were divided into four general categories: wholesale merchants, retail merchants, master artisans and journeymen and unskilled laborers. All artisans and other workers belonged to guilds or corporations, according to the type of activity they performed. Membership was compulsory. Each corporation was headed by an ’amîn, or official leader, and assumed collective responsibility for fraud, bad workmanship and injuries suffered on the job (ibid.: 31). Despite an elaborate system of land tenure64 and taxation65 as well as extensive diplomatic and trade relations66 with the outside world, throughout its early history, the territory comprising Morocco today saw many power struggles and changes in the ruling dynasty, due in part to the limitations of the internal network of transportation and communication67 necessary for the maintenance of its authority. Under Sîdî Muhammad IV (1859-73) and Mûlay Hassan I (1873-94), who introduced numerous administrative and military reforms, the situation finally began to stabilize. These reforms included the reorganization of the customs and tax system, the institutionalization of the administration of finances under quwwâd, or governors at the local level, an increase in the number of lower ranking quwwâd, the creation of an infantry and navy, the abolishment of the tribal military system and the introduction of European military instruction. The sultan maintained his position as absolute ruler in charge of all political and religious matters concerning the entire country and the ministers retained their limited amount of power. These efforts, which focused primarily on the consolidation of the influence of the central government and the strengthening of the military can be seen as laying the foundation for

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the later nationalist movement (Hassani 1991). They were inspired primarily by the threat posed by various European powers, especially France and Spain. In spite of these efforts, Morocco’s ability to defend itself against European invasion was waning. The consolidation of power was incomplete and the sultan’s influence was still insufficient to effectively impose itself and enforce the collection of taxes in the distant rural areas, as had been the case throughout Moroccan history (Brignon et al. 1967: 314-18). The epidemics, droughts and famines which plagued Morocco throughout this period and the preceding century, together with the high debts to Spain accrued through military defeat, weakened the position of the central government in relation to the Moroccan population and to the Europeans powers looming at its borders. After the death of Mûlay Hassan I, Mûlay Abdelazîz came to power at the age of 14. Due to his weak image, power intrigues developed and Mûlay Hâfid was appointed sultan in 1908. In 1912, Mûlay Hâfid was forced by the circumstances and the resulting weakening of Morocco’s bargaining position to sign the Treaty of Fez thus founding the protectorate (ibid.: 322-32). The French Protectorate and the Revision of Boundaries Under the protectorate, the sultan, Mûlay Hâfid, lost all his political power, but retained his status as religious figure head in whose name the daily prayers were publicly said. The French résident général was in charge of the military, the administration, the legal and court system and the promulgation of official decrees, which had to be signed, however, by the sultan. At the local level, the administration remained in the hands of the Moroccan officials, but French civil and military personnel were assigned to supervise and oversee its functioning and to appoint new quwwâd, when necessary (ibid.: 342). In the initial years of the protectorate, the French were preoccupied with pacification campaigns and, to facilitate and encourage them, with the construction of a network of transportation and communication68. The year 1914 saw the pacification of most of the western plains. The Sûs Valley was subdued in 1919, the Middle Atlas in 1931, the Tafilalet in 1932, the Jbil Saghro in 1933 and the Anti-Atlas and the far south in 1934 (Stewart 1967: 54-56). After 1934, dissidence took a different

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form in political protest. After centuries of tribal loyalties, a national conscience and a desire for self-determination as a nation arose. Peace was, in some regions, maintained only by force (ibid.: 58). In addition, the French became quite adept at playing interest groups and institutions against one another in order to keep their power and influence in check. They banned the celebration of mwâsim in some regions, while permitting them in others. They encouraged the celebration of mwâsim in general, when the mainstream Islamic reformist and later nationalist movements became too influential. They issued a decree recognizing Berber customary law and releasing Berber tribes from submission to Islamic law and judges otherwise responsible for legal matters at the local level. As a result, they maintained their power and control which facilitated the implementation of measures to acquire land69 and other resources for the development of agriculture70 and mining71 in their own interest. The years after the establishment of the protectorate saw the development of a modern industrial complex, which, though relatively small and restricted to light industry,72 was a far from negligible force in the Moroccan economy. Due to the fact that taxes73 were low, the rate of interest was high, standard of living, including education,74 and public facilities75 were adequate and the police and army were French, the rush of capital to Morocco after the establishment of the protectorate was considerable. As the formation of enterprises was considered to be indispensable to economic development, the government encouraged investment by granting subsidies, extending government credits at low cost and guaranteeing private loans (ibid.: 116-17). As the involvement of Morocco in foreign trade was expanded by the French, the currency question became acute. The Banque de l’Etat du Maroc was set up in 1907 to deal with this and other issues. The establishment of a large number of savings and loan institutions followed.76 These institutions provided the financing for the growing number of development programs in agriculture and industry (ibid.: 107-11). While the development of mining had little effect on the Moroccan way of life, the rise of light industry and the decline of the handicrafts led to a significant transformation in Morocco, i. e. the creation of a new economic and social order in the cities. Urban concentration shifted from the inland areas to the coast. Large numbers of rural inhabi-

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tants migrated to coastal cities creating an urban labor pool of vast dimensions. Light industry was forced to assume a large share of the responsibility for providing employment for these new immigrants (ibid.: 138-39). The Moroccan artisans became victims of a fundamental change in tastes, both in Morocco and abroad. Besides, by the 1930’s Japan was able to produce traditional items more cheaply and took over the traditional overseas markets of Egypt and the Far East. The government deliberately planned and financed the new forms of industrial organization, but largely ignored the problems of the handicraft trades. The decline of the handicraft trades meant the breakdown of the corporations which, in turn, led to a disintegration of the social structure in the Moroccan cities (ibid.: 135-37). Reaction to the presence of the French took the form of sporadic armed resistance of individual rural tribes against French soldiers from 1907 to 1934 primarily in response to the pacification efforts of the French and the eventual introduction of reforms. Other forms began to appear shortly after World War I. One exception, however, was the opposition to Spanish protectorate instigated by Abd al-Krim which had a significant impact on the French zone as well. Born, raised and educated in the Rif, Abd al-Krim later went to Fez to further his education at the Qarawiyin mosque, an important center of Islamic education, where he came into contact with the Salafiyya ideology77, the influence of which had spread throughout the Middle East and North Africa (Hart 1976: 373). Serving as Arabic secretary at the Central Office of Native Affairs under the Spanish in Melilla beginning in 1907 and after 1914 as chief qâdî of the Eastern Rif, he came to resent the protectorate system and decided to take action against it (ibid.: 374). His activities began in 1921 with the battle of Dahar Ubaran and culminated in his proclamation of the Rifian Republican State, which, once established, allowed him to introduce numerous political and religious reforms. They ended with military defeat against the French, who had eventually joined the campaign to curb his later military advances into the French zone, and his deportation to Réunion Island in 1926 (ibid.: 374-401). His activities provided impetus to the nationalist movement gaining momentum elsewhere. In the urban centers, in particular in Fez, reactions to the French took a number of different forms. Estranged by the French practices

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of administrative, judicial, economic and cultural assimilation and the social and psychological dislocations caused by it and influenced by the Salafiyya,78 the educated elite began to take action (Halstead 1967: 47). Headed primarily by Allâl al-Fâsî,79 the Moroccan Salafiyyists founded free schools inclined toward the Salafiyya ideal and designed to counteract the denigration of Moroccan history in the French schools. They also organized secret societies involved in various social and political activities between 1921 and 1930 (ibid.: 161-64). In 1930, the French issued the Berber dhahîr which released Berbers from the jurisdiction of Islamic law and gave official legal status to customary Berber law. Perceiving this dhahîr as the ultimate application of French assimilation policies, the Salafiyyist reacted by instigating the recitation of the latîf, which is customarily reserved for occasions of public calamity, such as earthquakes, droughts and the like. It consisted, in this case, of the performance of a communal prayer which was terminated with the supplication: Yâ Latîf, O Savior, protect us from ill treatment by fate and allow nothing to divide us from our brothers, the Berbers’ (ibid.: 178-81). The Berber dhahîr represented a turning point in the indigenous reaction to the French and provided impetus for the foundation of the nationalist movement. Between 1931 and 1934, the movement was organized and its purpose and goals solidified (ibid.: 191-230). From 1935 to 1937, the movement concentrated primarily on the recruitment and mobilization of the masses, urban and rural (ibid.: 230-53). Until 1944, it advanced a policy of cooperation with the French and implementation of reforms (ibid.: 253-55). After 1944, it focused on terminating the protectorate and gaining independence (ibid.: 261-62).80 The political emphasis of the protectorate was on the exploitation of Moroccan resources and the prosperity of the French population in Morocco. Little concern was shown for the immediate adjustments required of the Moroccan population and little preparation was made for the post-protectorate period. On March 2, 1956, after a long period of growing discontent, the Moroccans won their independence. Their legacy was a high-cost, poorly-structured and vulnerable economy heavily dependent on France for money, markets and skilled manpower (Stewart 1967: 160-61). After independence, the exodus of foreigners left vacancies in employment which could not immediately be filled by Moroccans due to

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their lack of training. The ‘Moroccanization’ of the administration, education, commerce and industry could only proceed gradually, as the number of qualified Moroccans to take over the vacated positions, especially in the middle echelon, was very low. In the initial stages of transition new government employees, especially teachers, magistrates, agricultural technicians and civil and mining engineers had to be brought in from Europe to replace those who had chosen to leave immediately. The organizational effectiveness suffered from this rapid large-scale substitution and the unfamiliarity of the newcomers with the country. The exodus of Europeans also meant the liquidation of enterprises and the unemployment of large numbers of Moroccans. The exorbitant rates of population growth, the principal legacy of the protectorate, intensified the unemployment problem as well (ibid.: 166-67). The necessary restructuring in numerous areas of Moroccan society was costly and time-consuming. Recuperation from short-sighted, profit-oriented development measures undertaken by the protectorate was to be a long, slow process (ibid.: 162). Casablanca: From Seaside Settlement to Major Urban Center Casablanca, even more so than other urban areas, underwent a radical transformation during the French protectorate. Casablanca’s geographic location, being equidistant from Fez and Marrakesh as well as the center point of three fertile plains, made it ideal as a major port. And as a major port, it became an ideal focal point for industrial development. Thus, the small fishing settlement with a population of 20,000 in 1907 was consciously chosen81 and gradually transformed into a large urban center, growing in area from 47 hectares in 1907 to 2,451 in 1921 to 9,435 in 1936 to 11,330 in 1963 (Adam 1968: 19). Being the primary location for the newly developing industry it became the destination for the rural exodus that characterized the protectorate period. A growing urban center also provides opportunities for commercial endeavors, which attracted even more rural inhabitants. The number of Moroccan inhabitants grew from 20,000 in 1907 to 184,000 in 1936 to 547,000 in 1952 to 850,000 in 1960 to 2,500,000 in 1983. It is, therefore, accurate to say that the population of Casablanca consists primarily of first and second generation immigrants. The constant influx of newcomers from the rural environment meant

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that, while the everyday life conditions of the city were rapidly transformed, the change in personal attitudes, beliefs and patterns of behavior and relationships to match this transformation process lagged behind. Changes took place on the surface only, in many cases (ibid.: 398). The extent of the alteration of everyday life conditions which took place in Casablanca were comparable to that which Europeans lived through over a period of two hundred years. So that even for those Moroccans already living in the small seaside settlement of Casablanca in 1912, the necessary adaptations were challenging to say the least (ibid.: 733). The initial reaction of those individuals, primarily men on their own, coming from the rural environment, where the extended family and lineage community, and by extension the fraction and clan, constituted the basis for everyday life and the identity of the individual, was to seek a replacement for the communal atmosphere and sense of belonging left behind in the countryside. While a small number of early immigrants chose to come in groups, they rarely succeeded in settling together as a lineage or even large extended family within the city limits due to a lack of housing. Those parts of Casablanca which still bear the names of the lineages or clans that once resided in them as spatial units give evidence to communal existence previous to this period or derive from encampments set up on what then constituted the outskirts of Casablanca. Instead, the rural exodus was usually characterized by the sporadic influx of individual members of a given lineage or clan making the establishment of spatial units or communities based on lineage co-membership impossible (ibid.: 641). Thus, the sense of community was forced to take on other dimensions. In fact, most immigrants initially sought and found temporary lodging with clan or tribal co-members until they could live on their own, in other words, until they could afford to pay for a lodging, to get married and to bring their spouses from the rural area. These clan or tribal co-members were often able to provide employment opportunities or connections which led to them (ibid.: 641). Those who had already found employment often used their contact with their French employers to help others to get work in the same company. Some employers welcomed this service because of the communal and cooperative atmosphere at the work place that resulted (ibid.: 427). Networks of dependency or patron-client relationships among members

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of the same clan or tribe were often sought, even if the actual lineage or clan of origin was a different one. The common Berber dialect among members helped to preserve the feeling of belonging and a connection to the place of birth. This provided many newcomers with a psychological support mechanism in initial stages of their struggle to adapt to the radically new circumstances of life (ibid.: 425-26). One result of this kind of bonding, however, was a tribal specialization for one type of activity or employment. This tendency towards specialization, though it helped to create a communal atmosphere, sometimes got in the way of assimilation among tribes as well (ibid.: 425). Commerce became an area of specialization which not only allowed one to make a living in Casablanca, but also to maintain the traditional lifestyle within the Moroccan community of the medina. While new products were introduced and new forms of commerce, such as smallscale venders on foot, developed, the traditional type of small shop continued to exist in the medina, in contrast to the larger self-service shops being introduced in the French quarters (ibid.: 358). Eventually, however, many immigrants, regardless of specialization, were confronted with the necessity of making contact with Moroccans from other tribes and Frenchmen and even developing bonds of reciprocity and patron-client relationships with them. To newcomers, it seemed only natural that those acquaintances of higher status could be expected to provide various kinds of services. Some assumed, for example, that their new employer should take responsibility for his employees in other areas, such as finding them lodging (ibid.: 642). It became common practice, when all else failed, to arrange a protégé relationship with a Frenchman who then became instrumental in the search for employment or lodging. In spite of this new willingness to form bonds of mutual assistance and reciprocity and patron-client relationships82 with members of other tribes, strangers and even foreigners, the lineage, clan and tribe of origin continued to represent a significant factor in the self-definition and psychological and financial survival of some individuals in the urban setting (ibid.: 647). For those who took employment in industry, the new kinds of tasks, like other kinds of employment which came into existence as a result of various developments under the protectorate, also meant considerable adaptation on the part of the Moroccan population. Being unskilled, uneducated and often even illiterate, they remained together

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with other clan or tribal co-members in the lower echelons. Nonetheless, they were employed in a French company and had, even when limited, contact with French employees. They either chose or were forced to wear European-style clothing because it enabled them more freedom of movement than the traditional jallâba. They were usually psychologically and educationally unprepared, however, to leave their supportive network for higher positions within the company (ibid.: 448-51). Educational and vocational training opportunities had, however, already begun to open up in Casablanca in the 1920’s. The immediate necessity to make money often took priority, however, over getting an education or learning a skill. The number of Moroccans starting a vocational training program well exceeded the number who successfully completed one. Besides a lack of financial means, health, perseverance and the lack of an aptitude for technical knowledge in a country so recently industrialized were also factors contributing to the lack of success. This situation began to improve, however, with time (ibid.: 43450). Not only the gradual and sporadic nature of the immigration of a particular lineage or even clan to Casablanca and crowded accommodations, but also the types for housing available hindered the maintenance of the lineage or even extended family as a spatial unit. Initially, three types of housing were available to the newcomers: the medina, or old Moroccan quarters, the new French quarters and the everexpanding bidonvilles on the outskirts of the medina. It was only after the problem of over-crowding in the medina and bidonvilles reached extreme levels that housing construction became a priority. Nevertheless, only a limited amount of housing took the form preferred by Moroccans and appropriate to the cherished intimacy of family life, i. e. with a central courtyard which provided light and fresh air to the rooms surrounding and opening onto it. Most housing was of the type designed by the French. These were large blocks of small apartments with large windows to let in light and fresh air from the outside and with the intention of accommodating as many nuclear families as possible, as cheaply as possible. This complicated all attempts to settle as an extended family or lineage as well as to preserve the cherished intimacy even more. The family was thus reduced spatially to the nuclear family or limited extended family (ibid.: 648).83

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Nonetheless, the distant lineage and clan of origin retained, at least initially, some significance in the life of the individual. Despite the spatial separation from the lineage and tribal homelands, great emphasis was placed on maintaining ties between members and branches of the same tribe within the same and other urban areas as well as with those left behind in the countryside. Many immigrants gave up their rights of ownership of land and animals in the countryside only after many years of residency in the urban area. Visits to the village of origin were undertaken as frequently as possible and the flow of financial support was maintained in both directions (ibid.: 647). While the nuclear family became the bastion of traditional values cherished and protected against the psychological and sociological novelties of the urban environment, the support network of the lineage and clan in which it was embedded was also preserved as long and intensively as possible, even at a distance (ibid.: 648). With time, however, the inhabitants in the place of origin began to lose some of their significance. The ties and relationships formed with those speaking the same Berber dialect and later those attending the same mosque, working for the same company or participating in the same popular mystical order, but not necessarily having direct tribal ties, took priority. Support, in the form of employment and money, became primarily the responsibility of the members of the nuclear or extended family (ibid.: 648). The absence of the immediate lineage community and thus the communal lifestyle of the rural setting also affected the behavior of males in yet another way. Without the immediate lineage community, the group pressure and the system of checks on the behavior of family members which it had provided were lacking in the urban setting. As ties with the lineage and clan of origin became weaker, some men felt a new sense of power and allowed themselves more freedom in their behavior. Some even felt free to leave their wives and children more readily than in the past. Divorce rates rose considerably in the urban environment and the situation of women became increasingly weak and insecure. While the nuclear family as an institution retained its significance, it was characterized by ever-growing instability. While other values, attitudes and social practices were gradually being altered, those concerning and involving women, their behavior and their roles, which at the same time reflected and affected the honor

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of the family, were among the last to change, if at all. It was still widely believed that women should remain in the home to prevent contact with strangers, especially males, and to provide a proper upbringing for the children. It became a bourgeois ideal or status symbol for a man to be able to earn enough so that it was not financially necessary for his wife to work at all much less outside the home (ibid.: 447). Believing that women born and raised in Casablanca had been morally corrupted by the living conditions in the city, many immigrants chose wives from the countryside and brought them to Casablanca. This custom both ensured the preservation of former values within their home and nuclear family in the urban setting and simultaneously maintained bonds with their clan of origin (ibid.: 648). It also meant that a large percentage of women in Casablanca throughout the protectorate period and afterwards were first generation immigrants. In the initial stages women were usually very restricted in their mobility. Besides housework and child-raising, many were also occupied with the production of foodstuffs and handicrafts for sale. They spun wool, wove rugs and embroidered, often in small groups. Considering the extent of their daily activities in the rural setting, their initial adjustments to the new conditions in the urban setting and the limitations placed on them were considerable. With time some women found points of entry into the public sphere in Casablanca to supplement their husbands’ salaries, support unemployed husbands or fend for themselves. Some did housework in the homes of the French or wealthier Moroccans, while others sought work in factories. Gradually these women developed other forms of informal employment. They became venders of various items at markets and offered their assistances in domestic tasks in the homes of those who needed them and could afford to pay. As the need arose, some of these women eventually became the first shuwwâfât to practice in Casablanca. In response to the needs of many women for support in times of personal dilemma as well as for a communal religious ritual experience beyond the common practice of periodically visiting nearby urban sanctuaries, shuwwâfât developed a new vocation. This vocation responded to both types of needs and enabled them to provide for their own subsistence or supplement their husbands’ income.

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The Second Generation and Its Adjustment Process The effects of gradual structural alterations and the accompanying changes in definitions of public and private and in perceptions of women, their roles, their behavior and their bodies in Morocco and elsewhere, beginning in the 19th but intensifying in the early 20th century, were beginning to be felt by second generation immigrants. The possibilities available to the children of the first immigrants, the men and women of the second generation, had greatly increased as a result of a number of significant events and their effects. Completely new areas of participation in the public sphere also became accessible to women. These include formal and informal political institutions, public education and formal employment in the public and private sector. Women played a significant role in the nationalist movement. The sisters, wives and other female family members of the men involved in the struggle for independence carried weapons concealed inside ordinary objects, like loaves of bread and fish in their shopping baskets. They delivered messages and documents and distributed leaflets and money. Women from all different milieus, urban and rural, were recruited to help. Some even lost their lives when French soldiers fired on the demonstrations they were participating in. Tourilla Chauoi, the first Moroccan woman pilot, who distributed leaflets throughout Casablanca by dropping them from her small private plane, was eventually found dead and was believed to have been murdered by French soldiers (Daoud 1993: 251). Malika al-Fâsî, a relative of Allâl al-Fâsî, whose articles calling for women’s rights to education and work appeared regularly in Majallat al-Maghreb beginning in 1935, was also active in the women’s organization of the Independence Party. Hers was the only woman’s name to appear on the Declaration of Independence presented to the French by the Independence Party in 1941 (ibid.: 243). These are only a few of many examples. Moroccan women’s participation in the struggle for independence has not yet been fully researched (ibid.: 234). Although these activities marked the beginning of political participation of Moroccan women, the phase immediately following independence, in which women were excluded from the political scene, was experienced as a great disappointment by many of the activists (ibid.: 254). The centrality of perceptions of women, their roles, their behavior

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and their bodies in Islamic attitudes toward morality, purity, order and control as well as authenticity, which is often measured in terms of these perceptions and attitudes, becomes clear when one follows the various discourses on modernization produced in Muslim countries since the middle of the 19th century. Some early discourses connected veiling and the lack of educational opportunities for women to the backwardness of Muslim societies in relation to European countries. Others were concerned with the future of the family and gender roles. It was argued that education for women was necessary both to reduce the expanding gap in levels of education and general awareness between men and women and to render women more competent for their role as educators of future generations and could thus indirectly insure the progress of the society (Amin 1989). For some Muslims, particularly the elite, veiling became a symbol for ignorance and backwardness and western styles of dress for women were equated with progress and knowledge. On the occasion of the speech held by Mohammed V in Tangiers in 1947, Lâlla ^Â’isha, his daughter, appeared unveiled with only a white scarf covering her head and addressed the masses. She asserted that it was crucial for the progress of Morocco and for the success of the programs of reform that Moroccan women persevere in their pursuit of an education (Zryouil 1992: 97). In fact, morality and the control of the female body, in spite of its new outer appearance, have remained a crucial focus even today. The role of women as mothers and thus the educators of future generations of Muslims has not lost its centrality in modernization discourses. Evidence for this can be found in the broad influence of the Islamist movement in Morocco and elsewhere in the Muslim world today, for which modernization and education for both men and women are central goals. The ‘new veiling’,84 the movement’s central symbol, has come to represent virtue, integrity, authenticity but not backwardness. In spite of this, marriage and motherhood constitute the ultimate goal of Muslim women after the completion of their education.85 Women’s roles and rights continue to be the central focus of discussions on modernization and progress in a wide variety of circles all over the Muslim World (Abdelwahab 1990; al-Bazari 1991; Urabi 1990). While the first constitutional proposals written in the first decades of this century in the pre-protectorate period made no mention of political rights for women, the Constitution of 1956 granted women the

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right to vote and run for office (Al-Musaddiq 1990: 24). Some women began to exercise this right immediately by both voting and running for office in the first elections that followed. In fact, of the 17,174 candidates for political positions at the local level in 1962, 14 were women. However, none of them were elected. The candidacy of women in the national level elections in 1963 was negligible. In the 1970 and 1971 elections, the candidacy of women was again minimal. In 1976, 76 of the 42,638 candidates who ran for local offices were women. Again, none of them were elected. In the national level elections in 1977, 8 of the 908 candidates were women. Again, none of them succeeded (Al-Musaddiq 1990: 36). 43 of the 307 women who ran for office at the local level in 1983 won. In 1984, however, none of the 1366 national level women candidates were elected (Moulay Rchid 1987: 36). Although the number of women candidates has been steadily increasing and their rates of success are on the rise, the results are still generally disappointing. In spite of this growing interest on the part of women to become actively involved, women’s issues did not become a permanent part of most party platforms until the 1983 and 1984 elections, at which time they also became part of the television advertising for most parties (Al-Musaddiq 1990: 30-33, 34). Women’s membership in political parties began much earlier, though it usually only took the form of separate women’s sections often headed by a man. In the 1980’s women were admitted to the main party apparatus and even to positions in the executive committees of some parties (ibid.: 55). Many Moroccan women prefer voluntary work in women’s social welfare, professional and independent political organizations to direct involvement in the political system as a way to improve the lot of women and other disadvantaged segments of the population. The first of such voluntary women’s organizations was founded shortly after independence in 1956. By 1984, there were 11 such organizations in all. They included The Benevolent Society (1956), The Red Crescent Society (1957), The Progressive Union of Moroccan Women (1962), The Royal Society for the Blind (1967), The National Union of Moroccan Women (1969), The Family Planning Association of Morocco (1972), Women of the Liberal Professions Club (1976), The Society for Family Cooperation (1977), Women’s Renaissance (1979), The Union of Women Functionaries (1981) and The Moroccan League for the Pro-

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tection of the Child (1981). They focused on various women’s and other issues as their names indicate (Howard-Merriam 1984: 15). Many of the women active in these organizations feel that seeking to change the system is too high a goal and that, if each individual woman strives to improve her own situation and to help those around her to do the same, more can be achieved in the long run (Howard-Merriam 1984: 20). Besides casting their votes in local and national elections, the majority of Moroccan women have a very limited involvement in political life. Women’s political participation, in whatever form, still involves only a small elite and, as the election results documented above imply, is still seen with great skepticism by most men and some groups of women. The political arena is probably the last realm in the public sphere that women will be able to conquer because of the deep-rooted prejudice against women’s active political participation (Mernissi 1987b). Besides, the political awareness of the majority of Moroccan women is relatively limited in general, due for the most part to their level of education. In fact, despite state efforts in the form of literacy programs and expansion of the education system, about 70 percent of the entire female population in Morocco today, rural and urban, is still illiterate. This is due in part to the fact that education for women is still relatively new. The public school system in Morocco began to develop only after the turn of the century. Prior to this, some small private endeavors to provide instruction for both boys and girls were undertaken by the Jewish and French communities, two girls’ primary schools in Tetuan founded in 1864 and 1916, respectively, being the first. Although Moroccan Muslim women of wealthier families were educated through private instruction as early as 12th century, some of whom even became famous for their mastery of certain areas of knowledge, they constitute extreme exceptions to the rule (Moulay Rchid 1985: 82-83). The constitutional proposal of 1908, one of three consecutive proposals which never went into effect, had already called for equal rights for all to an education and for making primary school education compulsory for both sexes (Al-Musaddiq 1990: 18; Zryouil 1992: 58). Nevertheless, the first public primary schools were founded by the French Protectorate government, one for boys in Salé in 1931 and one

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for girls in Fez in 1936. By 1934, public secondary schools for boys had begun to appear and, in 1937, the first university for boys was opened (Daoud 1993: 243). Education was declared compulsory for boys and girls in 1934 and, by 1938, there were eight public primary schools for girls in Morocco. In 1945, 12 Moroccan girls entered secondary school, in 1946, 193 and in 1947, 7,000. Between 1945 and 1955, only eight girls successfully completed secondary school (ibid.: 246). In reaction to the French schools, which had been established exclusively for the children of notables and which had French as their only language of instruction as well as a purely French curriculum, the Nationalist Movement began to found its own schools for both girls and boys in the 1940’s (Zryouil 1992: 60). The language of instruction in these Nationalist schools was Arabic and the curriculum included classes in Islam and the history of Morocco and the Muslim world. In fact, education for women remained an important goal of the Nationalist Movement and later the Independence Party (Zryouil 1992: 59). Since the 1940’s, the education system in Morocco has been steadily expanding in both rural and urban areas with a continuous increase in rates of female enrollment. In 1982, 40 percent of all seven-year-old girls, urban and rural, were enrolled in primary school. By 1990, it was 47.7 percent, 82.4 percent in urban areas (CERED 1992a: 88). At the secondary school level, 36.8 percent of all girls of suitable age, 44.8 percent in urban areas, were enrolled in 1980, 38.1 percent in 1985, 46.4 percent in urban areas, and 39.2 percent in 1990, 46.2 percent in urban areas (ibid.: 89). Furthermore, young Moroccan women made up 16 percent of all students enrolled in institutions of higher education in 1972, 21 percent in 1980 and 36.3 percent in 1990 (ibid.: 95). In 1986, 26,075 young Moroccan women were enrolled in the humanities at Moroccan universities, increasing to 32,967 in 1990, 8,076 in the social sciences and management, increasing to 15,201 in 1990, 1,650 in medicine, increasing to 2,096 in 1990, 91 in education, dropping to 45 in 1990, 1,494 in Islamic studies, increasing to 2,415 in 1990, and 425 in dentistry, dropping to 424 in 1990 (ibid.: 96). In spite of these steady improvements at most levels of education, the illiteracy rate for women living in urban settings was still 74 percent in 1971 and 57 percent in 1982 and nine out of ten women living in rural settings were still illiterate in 1982 (ibid.: 86).

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The employment situation for Moroccan women has also continuously improved over the past three to four decades, not only in terms of the numbers of women employed and the areas and levels of their employment, but also with regard to the conditions under which they work. The Moroccan Constitution guarantees all citizens, male and female, equality of employment, including positions in the civil service (Al-Ma’âdî 1992: 20), of salary, of competition for positions, of promotion (ibid.: 21) and of leave of absence, including leave of absence for pregnancy, birth and post-natal care with compensation (ibid.: 22). Laws concerning breaks for nursing infants and daycare facilities have recently been enacted as well. Women are, however, excluded from certain types of employment deemed unsuitable or damaging to their health. Nonetheless, employment for women can be regarded in general as legally protected, supported and encouraged. In spite of this protection, support and encouragement, women are still illegally exploited and disadvantaged in certain areas and types of employment, particularly in rural areas (Mernissi 1988a). Their labor is not valued nor are their abilities evaluated in the same way as those of their male counterparts. Furthermore, being employed usually means carrying the double burden of work and of household and family responsibilities which reduces their capacity to perform efficiently in either of these two realms (Zryouil 1992: 72; Belarbi 1988: 80 and 1991b). Thus, although women’s employment is considered to be crucial for affecting changes in gender power relations, it often becomes a primary element for undermining the reduction of male supremacy (Zryouil 1992: 63). Nevertheless, the number of working women has been on the rise and the conditions of their employment have steadily improved in the last three decades. In 1960, women made up 6.9 percent of the entire Moroccan work force, 8 percent in 1971 and 11.5 percent in 1982 (CERED 1992a: 135). In the urban setting, 16 percent of the entire female population and 47.5 percent of the entire male population was employed in 1988 (ibid.: 136). In the service branch, women represented 40 percent of all employees in 1986, 87.8 percent in the area of domestic services and only 5.9 percent in the area of public services. 78.6 percent of the women employed in this branch were illiterate (ibid.: 148). In industry, women made up 44 percent of all employees in 1986 and 63.6 percent in the textile industry, a branch where the

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exploitation of female employees is extreme (ibid.: 150). 27 percent of all Moroccans employed in administrative and office positions were women in 1986 and 45 percent of those holding certificates of qualification for office work or administrative tasks were women (ibid.: 152). Only 3.3 percent of all Moroccan employers or self-employed were women in 1986, but 18 percent of urban employers in liberal arts and scientific fields such as doctors, lawyers, dentists and architects were women (ibid.: 155). About 30 percent of all Moroccan university professors were women in 1986 (ibid.: 156). Thus, an ever increasing number of Moroccan women today are finding work, in general, and many are even acquiring positions in the fields for which they have received training. The effects of these initial changes in the attitudes of women with regard to their ability to influence the events and relationships in their everyday lives were broad. Although a large number of Sîdî Ma^rûf women of the second generation are excluded from these new education and employment opportunities, in particular higher education, occupational training, civil service and other types of positions in the formal sector, these advancements for women have had an effect on these women’s perspectives and outlooks in several areas. A new sense of self and a growing need for autonomy of the individual and the married couple vis-à-vis the extended family has driven some of these women reconsider their options. While for some of these women this has meant investing their income, time and energy into ensuring that their children have access to educational opportunities and succeed in improving their lot, other women have striven to make changes within their own lives. Forced by familial and marital circumstances, some of them have sought employment in family or neighborhood businesses on a part-time or short-term basis until marriage or their financial situations improve for other reasons. Others created sources of income by offering their services within and outside their immediate communities which they sustain as long and intensively as possible and necessary. Performing various kinds of domestic tasks which formally employed women are not able or willing to do, they have contributed to the creation of a number of freelance vocations in the informal sector for women. While many of these women initially perceived these vocations primarily as a temporary or long-term source of income, some began to realize the

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other benefits they have provided. They have constituted modes of self-expression and self-realization and a means for achieving some degree of financial independence and a sense of personal power. In fact, a number of freelance vocations for women have emerged over the past few decades in the urban setting in Morocco. They have been inspired and driven by the processes of commodification, commercialization and professionalization afoot since the early decades of the 20th century. The gradual redefinition of private and public, revision of perceptions of bodies and boundaries, reconceptualization of time and its use and re-evaluation of interpersonal relationships and responsibilities within the extended family have all contributed to the emergence of these processes. All of these adjustments are intimately connected to the growing need for individual autonomy. It was the individual women’s own initiative and creativity in response to new needs in the urban environment which resulted in the transformation of a wide range of roles, activities and tasks into sources of income. Many of these tasks were formerly exchanged among relatives, neighbors and friends without monetary recompense. A trend toward allowing more distant members of the community or perfect strangers to be hired to enter the home to perform these tasks has developed. Celebrations which once constituted intimate familial or limited communal events have become oocasions for flaunting one’s wealth and revealing what used to be considered private. Brides today not only show their faces at the wedding, they are displayed in various outfits throughout the evening arranged by one of these new types of women freelance specialists. Female musical performers are hired for the occasion and women to assist with the preparation and service of foods and drinks. To top it all off, a video camera along with someone, usually young and male, to do the filming are hired to record, preserve and display again and again at will in the months and years that follow has also become popular. The application of henna to the bride-to-be’s hands and feet on the evening preceding the wedding has also been transformed from an intimate celebration among female relatives to a large party again with hired female culinary and musical freelance specialists. The main freelance specialist in this case is the naqqâsha, the woman who applies henna to the bride’s body.86 Like every other type of family celebration today, this event is also preserved for future exhibition on video.

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Beginning as impromptu and sporadic opportunities for earning a small amount of money or receiving daily life necessities like foodstuffs in exchange for their assistance, they eventually developed into full-fledged vocations with a specialist status. Many of these vocations have official titles which even appear on the practitioners national identity cards. Many have undergone some degree of systematization. They are often connected with a fixed set of expectations as to the tasks involved and the way in which they are to be executed. They include cooks, housekeepers, live-in governesses, henna specialists, wedding costume advisors and traditional singers. Buying into this tendency to hire specialists and professionals to lighten the load, smooth out corners of one’s everyday life existence as well as expose that which was formerly kept private, shuwwâfât have molded old practices into a vocation which addresses the current needs, demands and expectations of their urban clientele and which provides them with a means of subsistence. While the first generation of immigrants was forced to find or create mechanisms to assist them in their adjustment to the radically different urban environment, the second generation took on the greatest responsibility, that of actively implementing changes in the perceptions of bodies and boundaries on a practical level. The need for a forum for contemplating such actions developed as a result. It is in this context that the number of shuwwâfât, responding to this need and seeking their own form of informal freelance employment and financial independence, began to multiply. The Third Generation and the Variety of Options Further options have opened up for young men and women of the third generation. Taking advantage of these options is still dependent on the upbringing and socioeconomic background and usually leads to inner and interpersonal struggle and conflict. The increase in educational and employment opportunities has had an effect on interpersonal relationships. The ideas and values of the young are changing and the generation gap is growing wider. The goals of autonomy of the individual and the couple from the control and interference of the family regarding personal issues, achieved primarily through employment, has become a widespread goal of young people

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even in Sîdî Ma^rûf. While laws and institutions have begun to accommodate new needs and demands, attitude changes are still lagging behind in many cases. While the Constitution guarantees women equal rights in the areas of political participation, education and employment, practical application varies. While most other areas of law have been adapted from Western legal models, the Personal Status Laws, which constitute a direct codification of those portions of the Sharî^a, or Islamic law, regulating affairs in the private sphere, stipulates women’s subordination and submission to the will of their husbands, a division of labor within the family and minor status for women particularly after marriage (Al-Ma’âdî 1992: 19). Minor alterations, such as the increase in the legal minimum age for marriage to 15 years for women and 18 years for men (Moulay Rchid 1985 : 269) and the requirement of the women’s consent for marriage (ibid.: 281-83), have, however, been introduced.87 In fact, the age difference between spouses sank from nine to five years between 1960 and 1980, and the number of children decreased from 7 to 4.3 in urban areas and from 7 to 6.6 in rural areas. Marital instability is, however, still on the rise. One out of every four marriages ends in divorce (Zryouil 1990b: 41). Seeking the assistance of a professional specialist such as a marriage counselor or psychologist is outside the realm of experience of most Moroccan women. In fact, no form of formal marriage counseling exists in Morocco and the number of practicing psychologists in Morocco is quite limited.88 In the major urban centers of Morocco, there were in all only seven psychologists practicing privately and eight publicly in 1982, seven and eight respectively in 1983, eight and twelve in 1984, eight and four in 1985, eight and four in 1986, seven and eight in 1987, seven and nine in 1988, eight and sixteen in 1989 and five and seventeen in 1990 (CERED 1982-90). The system of social institutions, which could potentially provide assistance for those seeking solutions to personal problems, are often mistrusted or limited in their availability or efficiency. Even when they are sufficiently developed, equipped and staffed, these institutions often fall short of attaining their goals, as the attitudes of both those employed in these institutions and those potentially seeking assistance from them are still strongly influenced by former models of interpersonal relationships and sources and modes of obtaining support. Em-

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ployment or placement offices, for example, are rejected by many Moroccans as a source of assistance in times of unemployment. In 1990, for example, only 0.7 percent of the urban unemployed in Morocco had recourse to their services (CERED 1992a: 90). Many Moroccans believe that placement officers usually distribute available positions to friends and family or to those offering the highest bribe. Besides, the number of skilled and unskilled laborers is much higher than the number of available positions and thus competition is great. Those Moroccans, without the necessary connections or sufficient funds for such bribes, therefore, still rely on kinship ties and newly established bonds of friendship, when still intact, as well as newspaper advertisements and direct contact with employers to find work. In 1990, for example, 51.0 percent of the urban unemployed sought employment by directly addressing employers, 28.3 percent by responding to newspaper advertisements and 15.6 percent by consulting relatives and friends (ibid.: 90). Daycare centers are scarce in Morocco. Between 1983 and 1990, an average of 6,500 children between the ages of six months and five years were cared for in daycare centers in Casablanca annually (CERED 1983-90). Most Moroccan women perceive daycare centers as unaffordable or inefficient (Daoud 1976: 7) and prefer to hire private assistance or a relative.89 In general, however, most Moroccan women are against being away from their children when they are of pre-school age. Those working women who can afford maids usually limit the maid’s activities to household tasks and avoid giving them any responsibility for the children who are, therefore, either in school or elsewhere during the woman’s working hours (Belarbi 1991b: 46). The images of men and women in print and on television are contradictory. Books used in public schools and adult education programs contribute to the perpetuation of former gender roles. Adult education books provided by the Ministry of Traditional Crafts and Social Affairs for literacy programs, for example, include illustrations showing women doing exclusively housework, while men are represented as employees, participants in the Green March or national athletes (Ben Khouya 1990: 76). Women are also portrayed in school books exclusively as wives with children performing typical household tasks (Belarbi 1987: 50-60). This is not the case with images of women on Moroccan television which presents a wide variety of contrasting

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gender roles. On the one hand, Moroccan and foreign women newsbroadcasters, program and film directors, film-makers, managers, doctors, lawyers, performers etc. can be seen in some programs. On the other hand, they are shown as diligent, submissive housewives doing housework and caring for children in other programs (Ben Khouya 1990: 80-83). Women are also presented as sex objects or objects of desire (ibid.: 82). Commercials show women both as model housewives and career women (ibid.: 82). A survey studying attitudes toward the choice of marriage partners, the marital relationship as well as pre-marital relationships showed that attitudes of young Moroccans having completed either secondary school or higher education programs are beginning to change. Both sexes emphasized level of education, love, mutual understanding and respect as the most important criteria for choosing a spouse (ar-Razi 1990: 88). The women defined their future spouses’ respect for them in terms of their right to personal financial independence, while the men measured their future wives’ respect for their husbands in terms of the women’s attitudes toward and relationships with members of the husbands’ families as well as their recognition of and adherence to standards of Islamic morality (ibid.: 89). The men also mentioned beauty as an important criterion in the choice of a spouse, while women stressed the financial situation of the future spouse (ibid.: 88). With regard to pre-marital relationships, the women asserted that they had no objections to them, if the eventual goal was marriage, while the men were totally against them for religious reasons (ibid.: 92). According to the women, men should be the breadwinner in the marital relationship (ibid.: 95). The men also regarded their own employment outside the home as more important than that of their wives (ibid.: 101). Both sexes responded positively to the idea of sharing household tasks, although they reported that they had only observed limited examples of this taking place in practice (ibid.: 96). Most of those interviewed of both sexes agreed that achieving independence and self-realization through employment was necessary for and would result in the achievement of independence and self-realization in the marital relationship (ibid.: 105). The percentage of women directly affected by the alterations in perceptions of the female body, divisions of labor and space and gender roles may be small, but their influence in the public sphere and

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through the media is broadly felt and its effects are increasingly widespread. The expansion of mobility and opportunities for women was accompanied by changes in dress codes toward more and more revealing western styles. Together, these changes resulted in the corresponding alteration of the public behavior of young women from the attitude and physical posture known as hashshûmî, or lowering of the gaze and voice and refusal to talk to male strangers, to matlûq, or an outgoing, confrontational stance which nevertheless remains within the bounds of the acceptable in terms of morality (Kapchan 1996), though some of these women do have premarital sexual contact and relationships (Naamane-Ghessous 1990). Even members of Islamist movements and other women who have chosen to don the new form of veil are using their membership and newly acquired advantages to seek further recognition and influence. Many Islamist women have become vocal and influential within and outside of the movement they belong to. Some view the imitation and integration of some aspects of ‘western’ culture as the sole source of liberation. Others have found a mode and channel for self-expression and a source of self-realization and freedom from the bonds of ‘tradition’ in their demonstrative private and public, oral and written, symbolic and pragmatic, denunciation of ‘western cultural imperialism’ which they perceive as a disease which is threatening their cultural authenticity and self-respect and reducing them to sex objects and second class citizens in a global sense (Kazim 1982). This new sense of power of various groups of Muslim women and the general tendency of Moroccan women to take responsibility for their bodies, daily lives, life paths and a growing number of aspects in their familial and marital situations today has been intensified by the growing sense of powerlessness of men of various milieus in the face of high inflation rates and unemployment. The youths and young women of the third generation of Sîdî Ma^rûf have reaped the benefits of the efforts of their mothers and grandmothers. While a few still marry without pursuing occupational goals or seek employment in the informal sector, many are enrolled in or have successfully completed training programs as hairdressers and seamstresses which are common within the neighborhood itself. Some have even ventured out of Sîdî Ma^rûf to obtain more demanding kinds of occupational training as bank employees and a few have even

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gone on to university. While many have been encouraged in the pursuit of these goals by their parents and have sought support within the community of friends, neighbors, fellow-pupils and colleagues, some have followed in their mothers’ footsteps and relied on the assistance of shuwwâfât in times of struggle and uncertainty. Decisions about male partners is one area where disagreement with parents is more common and this assistance is necessary. Conclusion All three generations of women of Sîdî Ma^rûf have been confronted with the effects of this ongoing re-evaluation of attitudes towards the division of labor and space, gender roles and relations. The main goal of women of the first and second generation has been to achieve marital and familial harmony. For the second generation this also includes ensuring their children’s success in their educational and occupational endeavors. Most women of the third generation are primarily concerned with improving their employment options through education and occupational training. Many of them have become active in pursuing these goals. As institutional assistance is not an option and the belief that the maintenance and re-establishment of harmony with the supernatural provides a safeguard against and relief from misfortune, physical and emotional unrest and illness and failure in various types of undertakings is widespread (Rachik 1989: 29-30; Bellakhdar 1984: 9; Cheddadi 1989: 12), consulting a shuwwâfa has become a common strategy.90 Shuwwâfât, like the growing number of other professionals and specialists, cater to the new needs, demands and expectations of women in the urban environment deriving from the changes in interpersonal relationships, definitions of private and public and the growing professionalization, commercialization and commodification of various services. In general, the assistance of shuwwâfât is more commonly sought by women residing in Sections Two and Three of Sîdî Ma^rûf where, in fact, all but one of the 11 shuwwâfât practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf live. The general atmosphere of Section One seems to provide the necessary communal support necessary for facing dilemmas, coping with conflicts and implementing changes which is otherwise obtained through consultations with shuwwâfât and participation in the lîla.

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Chapter 3 Shuwwâfât as Innovators: From Seers to Self-Made Businesswomen A large and boisterous woman in her mid-forties dressed all in black91 is seated on the lihâf or Moroccan style polstered bench with cushions along the wall stretching the length of the small narrow room on one side. Next to her is a small table and next to it is a mjmâr with hot coals in it. The client enters and takes a seat on the cushion on the floor opposite the shuwwâfa. The shuwwâfa adds more bkhûr to the mjmâr and directs the smoke towards herself by waving her hand over it. She burps several times long and loud. This is a sign that her spirit medium, ^Â’isha Qandîsha, has taken possession of her. She takes her tsbîh92 from the table and hands it to the client. The client holds it over her heart and then returns it to the shuwwâfa together with the ftûh,93 or payment for the consultation session. The shuwwâfa places the money into the drawer of the table, looks at the beads of her tsbîh and begins questioning her in a direct manner. Consultation 1: Shuwwâfa: “ashnû ^andik a bintî?” What’s the matter, my daughter? Client: “wahid ir-râjil kân ma^âya u bghâ yitzawwij bî. u kull marra kaygûllî ghâd nijî nikhtabik fi dârkum wa makayjîsh. u dabba mashûftûsh shhâl hâdî.” I had a boyfriend and he wanted to marry me. He always tells me he is going to come and arrange the engagement at our house, but he never comes. I haven’t seen him in a really long time now. S: “wash dirtî dâk ish-shî lîh illî gult lik tidrî.” Did you do to him what I told you to do? (This session is a follow-up visit. The substance to be mixed into the boyfriend’s food that the shuwwâfa gave to the client the previous time does not seem to be having a significant effect.) C: “’iyyah. dirtû lîh. u lâkin kayjî marra u min ba^d makinshûfû ^alâ shhâl. kaygûl nijî u makayjîsh.”94 Yes. I did it to him. He comes sometimes but afterwards I don’t see him again for a long time. He says he’ll come, but he doesn’t. S: “khassik dîma tibqay tidîrî lîh dâk shî yawmiyan u tghayirî lîh bizzâf. hattâ

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Chapter 3 huwwa illî yijî yiqallib ^alayk. u dabba gulî a smîtû u a smît ummû u a smît ummik u a smîtik.” You must continue to do it to him every day and get angry with him often until he himself comes looking for you. Now tell me, what’s his name, his mother’s name, your mother’s name and your name?95 C: “smîtû muhammad u smît ummû khadîja u smît ummî najât u smîtî samîra.” His name is Muhammad, his mother’s name is Khadija, my mother’s name is Najat and my name is Samira. (The shuwwâfa examines the beads of her tsbîh and then she continues.) S: “huwwa kayibghîk bizzâf u lâkin huwwa ’anânî. kayibghîk intî illî tijî tiqallbî ^alayh.” He really wants you, but he’s conceited. He wants you to be the one who comes looking for him. C: “wash bi-s-sahh kayibghînî?” Is it true that he wants me? S: “iyyah, bi-s-sahh kayibghîk bizzâf.” Yes, he really wants you a lot. C: “wash ma^a¯h hattâ shî bint ukhrâ?” Is he interested in someone else? S: “la, kayn ghayr intî lîh kayibghîk dabba. khassik tishrî ish-sham^a u tisha^lhâ yawmiyan u matibqaysh intî timshî ^andû hattâ huwwa illî yiwallî yiqallib ^alayk. bi-llâhî naddî tiqdî ghrâdik. u min ba^d gulî liya ashnû kayn, wash ghâd yijî walla lâ.” No, you’re the only one he wants now. You must buy a candle and light it every day and continue not to go to him until he himself decides to look for you.96 By Allah get up and fulfill your obligation. And afterwards tell me what’s up, whether he comes or not.

Consultation 2: The first client leaves and the next client enters and takes a seat on the cushion on the floor opposite the shuwwâfa.97 The shuwwâfa again drops bkhûr into the mjmâr and waves the smoke into her face. She burps and hands the tsbîh to the client. When it has been returned with the ftûh which the shuwwâfa puts it into the drawer, she looks at her tsbîh and begins in a direct manner. Shuwwâfa: “mâlik a bintî?” What’s the matter, my daughter? C: “bghît nitzawwij u hattâ wâhid mâjâ yikhtabnî.”

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Shuwwâfât as Innovators I want to get married and there’s even a man who came to get engaged to me. S: “^amrik mamashîtîsh ^and shî shuwwâfa ukhrâ?” Have you ever gone to another shuwwâfa? C: “la, u lâkin galt liya wâhida-l-mrâ sîrî tidîrî id-dabîha u lâkin mamashîtîsh lihâ. No, but a woman told me to go and have a sacrifice performed, but I didn’t go to her. S: “^amrik madirtîsh ildûn?” You’ve never had lead pouring98 done for you? C: “iyyah, fâtlî dirtû.” Yes, I have. S: “gûlî a smîtik u a smît ummik?” Tell me, what’s your name and what’s your mother’s name? C: “smîtî fâtima bint zayna.” My name is Fatima daughter of Zayna. (The shuwwâfa looks closely at one of the beads of her tsbîh and continues.) S: “intî mkhatiya shûr diyâl shî hâd. dâk shî bâsh ^andik barûda fi is-sa^d u dabba ghâda tirja^î ^andı¯ fi-l-^âshiyya bâsh ni^tik wâhid il-hijâb tiwallî dîma tihizzîh ma^ak fî hizâmik walla fî sûtiyamât.” Someone has cast a spell on you. This thing has made you unhappy. Now you’re going to return in the evening so that I give you an amulet to carry with you constantly in your belt or in your bra.99

Consultation 3: The client gets up and leaves and another client enters. The initial procedure described above is repeated. Shuwwâfa: “ashnû ^andik a lâlla?” What’s the matter, madame? Client: “^andî wâhid il-mushkîla. bintî ^âshiyya fi-l-khârij ma^a râjilhâ u dabba shahrayn mabqâsh yijî ^andhâ li-d-dâr. u yimkin tzawwaj bishî il-mrâ ukhrâ.” I have a problem. My daughter lives abroad with her husband.100 Two months ago he stopped coming home. Maybe he has married another woman. S: “gûlî lî ash smîtû u smît ummû u smît bintik u smîtik intî.” Tell me, what is his name, his mother’s name, your daughter’s name and your name. (The shuwwâfa looks down at her tsbîh for a few minutes and then she begins again.) S: “kin^araf shkûn illî sahar bâsh mabaqâsh yimshî^and bintik.” I know who had a spell cast on him so that he won’t return home.

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Chapter 3 C: “shkûn?” Who? S: “ummû hiyya illî dart lîh bâsh mabaqâsh ma^a hâdî mrâtû. bghâtû yitalaqhâ bâsh tizawwijû bi-wihda ukhrâ.” His mother is the one who did it, so that he won’t remain with his wife. She wants him to divorce her so that she can have him married to another woman. C: “ash ghâda ndîr dabba?” What am I to do now? S: “shûfî, ghâda tjîbî liya tsawîrtû u tishrî sitta sham^ât. wihda ghâda tisha^lî fî nass nihâr il-uwul u il-ukhrâ fî nass in-nihâr it-tânî. u min ba^d millî tikimlî ish-sham^ât kullhum ghâda tirja^î ^andî nidîr lih shî hâja ukhrâ. yâllâh sîrî hattâ is-simâna ukhrâ.” Look, you’re going to bring a picture of him and buy six candles. Light the first at noon today, the second at noon tomorrow. And afterwards when you’ve burned all of them you’re going to come back here so that I can prepare something else for him. Go now. Until next week.

Consultation 4: The previous client leaves and the next one enters. The shuwwâfa repeats the same initial procedure as before. Shuwwâfa: “ashnû ^andik a lâlla?” What’s the matter, madame? Client: “râjlî kayikhdam bizzâf u kaysâfir fi-l-khârij u anâ bghît nsâfir ma^âh u millî nigûlû lîh huwwa kaygûl lâ.” My husband works a lot and travels abroad and I want to travel with him. When I tell him he says no. S: “wash huwwa kayn dabba fi-d-dâr.” Is he at home at the moment? C: “la u lâkin ghâd yjî ba^d simâna.” No, but he’s coming back in a week. S: “khassik tishrî saba^ sham^ât tisha^lî wihda yawmiyan fi-l-^ashiyya u millî yirja^ gûlî lîh illî fî qalbik. bi-llâhi naddî tqidî ghrâdik. u min ba^d gûlî lîya ashnû kayn.” You must buy seven candles and light one every evening. When he returns tell him what’s in your heart. By Allah get up and fulfill your obligation. And afterwards tell me what’s up.

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Consultation 5: The previous client leaves and the next one enters. The shuwwâfa repeats the same initial procedure as before. Shuwwâfa: “ashnû ^andik a bintî?” What’s the matter, my daughter? Client: “anâ bghît niqallib ^alâ khidma u lâkin bbâ mabghâsh huwwa bghâ yjawwiznî u anâ mabghîtsh.” I want to look for a job, but my father is against it. He wants me to get married and I don’t want to. S: “khassik tishrî saba^ sham^ât u tisha^lhâ yawmiyan wihda u tgûlî sirrik li-ummik. u dabba sîrî u ghâd tirja^î ^andî fi-l-^âshiyya bash ni^tîk wâhid ilhijâb tiwallî dîma tihizzîh ma^ak fi hizâmik walla fi sûtiyamât. bi-llâhi naddî tqidî ghrâdik. u min ba^d gûlî lîya.” You must buy seven candle and light one a day. Now go and return in the evening so that I give you an amulet to carry with you constantly in your belt or in your bra. By Allah get up and fulfill your obligation. Afterwards come and tell me what happens.

One of the main topics on the agenda in the consultation sessions of this and other shuwwâfât is finding a male partner, getting engaged and then married to him as well as keeping him after marriage. Another is coping with differences of opinion between marriage partners and fathers and daughters. Whether or not they are directly addressed, symptoms of spirit possession, mild or severe, or the possibility that it could occur due to the vulnerability of the client in the stressful situation, provide the ultimate impetus for a consultation session with a shuwwâfa. Shuwwâfât have become renowned as important facilitators in these processes and in the treatment of spirit possession. The third consultation session is only one example of how the influence of shuwwâfât has begun to extend beyond the immediate local environment, beyond national boundaries. Unlike other shuwwâfât who begin by posing a series of questions or revealing their knowledge, gained through the mediation of the spirit possessing her, about people in the client’s everyday lives, this shuwwâfa gets right to the point by directly requesting the reason for the visit. Her diagnoses consist of revealing spells cast on the client by others. These are at the root of the client’s distress. They are treated with amulets and the burning of candles. These two strategies also

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serve to protect the client against spirit possession. This shuwwâfa, however, shows less concern for the possible spirit possession of the client compared with others. Rarely does she include visiting a siyyid, having an animal sacrificed or participating in a lîla among the remedies she prescribe as do other shuwwâfât. Her contact with the popular mystical order, to which she, in fact, belongs is limited compared to other shuwwâfât, although she is known and respected among its members at least in part because of her generosity made possible by her financial stability. When she does hold liyâlî, it is often in the home of the client or elsewhere. She represents one of those who have ‘modernized’ the vocation and emphasizes her ‘modern’ image of which she is proud. She is interested in attracting high paying customers and her prices are set accordingly. Many of her clients come from outside Sîdî Ma^rûf and the immediate area. Referred to as diyâl ish-sham^ât, or the one with the candles, by many of her regular clients due to the prevalence of candles in her prescribed remedies, she is known and patronized by women from all over Casablanca and beyond. She has a telephone and not only arranges consultation appointments for those clients with tight schedules, but she has also received calls from Moroccan women who live in Europe. These and others living in Europe consult her regularly when they visit Morocco.101 She has also had calling cards printed up and has advertised her services in Moroccan women’s magazines. Needless to say, she is quite successful, wealthy and even owns property.102 The variety with regard to these and other aspects of the practices of shuwwâfât exemplify the allowance for individual input, interpretation and innovation of the practitioners characterizing this and other similar healing vocations in Morocco. The entrepreneurial nature of many of today’s shuwwâfât themselves also plays an important role in an ongoing transformation process characterizing the vocation. Creating A Niche A vast array of female specialists were practicing in rural and urban settings throughout Morocco and North Africa at the turn of the century (Gaudry 1929; Goichon 1927, 1929 and 1931; Legey 1926;

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Mauchamps 1908; Westermarck 1926). While some systematization probably existed at the local or regional level, no broader organizational structures bound these various traditions. According to two earlier and one more recent source, conventional apprenticeship traditions and initiation ceremonies did exist in some settings (Mauchamps 1908; Welte 1990; Westermarck 1926). The interconnections between individual specialists of the same sort seemed to be limited, as they are today. Among the shuwwâfât observed for this study, there is no explicit set of procedures or ceremony by which these women enter the vocation and transfer their know-how to future practitioners. Learning the trade is more likely to result from observation during the treatment process of the initial spirit possession of the woman herself.103 Thus, both today and in the past, while the ground rules for procedures and rituals were and are known and transmitted pragmatically by the practitioners among themselves, there was and is allowance for the development of personal style and for some amount of innovation. The sources on former types Berber and Arab female healers, sorceresses, diviners and spirit possession specialists in various parts of North Africa describe a wide variety of practices. They use a number of different Berber, Arabic or translated terms to refer to these female practitioners. The terms for specialists of the same category sometimes vary from region to region. Although very few of the sources actually document the use of the term shuwwâfa when referring to specialists performing divinatory rituals, the practices described in them often resemble those which do.104 While they bear certain similarities in their form and function, the practices of these diviners display individual and regional differences. These women were consulted to find out unknown information about the present and future (Westermarck 1926: i, 356; Legey 1926: 208-9). Whether or not spirit possession is involved is not always specified. Some of the diviners, but more often specialists with other designations, treated spirit possession by requiring their clients to sacrifice animals or attend a lîla or hadra. Other specialists designated by the term sahhâra, translated as sorceresses (Goichon 1927, 1929, 1931) or witches (Westermarck 1926: i, 571-77), specialized in the preparation of potions or the performance of various rituals to cast and counter magic spells. Most of today’s shuwwâfât have combined rituals and procedures from all three of these specialties.105

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They have also incorporated new practices such as the preparation of amulets into their repertoire of practices. This was formerly more common among male specialists because it usually requires literacy. Several of the sources emphasize the connection between these female healers and the Gnâwa106 (Legey 1926: 207; Westermarck 1926: i, 381) popular mystical order and the prevalence of women’s involvement or interest in general in their spirit possession ceremonies.107 This connection has also been observed in more recent research (Reysoo 1991; Welte 1990). Particularly in the descriptions of those specialists involved in spirit possession ceremonies and divinatory practices, reference is made to the fact that they were exclusively black, slaves or former slaves (Goichon 1929: 7). It was a novelty for a white women to join their ranks. There were separate groups of black and white women musicians performed at the ceremonies at different points in time (Westermarck 1926: i, 346-47). On the other hand, descriptions of similar types of divinatory practices, based on observations in other rural and urban contents, refer to exclusively white female Berber or Arab healers (Goichon 1927: 185-218; Westermarck 1926: i, 356). As exemplified in the three descriptions below,108 the consultation sessions observed and documented in the twenties took two distinct forms.109 The first type, similar to the ones observed for this study, consisted of a meeting between the seer and the client, in which a prop is used, often together with the mediumship of a spirit, to answer a question or reveal the information sought by the client, as in the first two descriptions. The second takes place in the context of a lîla or similar ceremonial situation. Only after the seer has fallen into trance are the clientele able to consult her. Other sources also describe consultation sessions which take place within the lîla or hadra after the seer has achieved trance in connection with other designations for specialists (Westermarck 1926). The sessions documented for the present study were similar to the first and second descriptions.110 Consultation did not constitute a part of the liyâlî attended during the research for this study, although its existence today has been recently documented (Welte 1990). “Among the Ulad Bu’aziz111 a person who has been robbed of something goes to a suwaf or suwafa, puts a coin close to his lips, and whispers, ‘I have lost this or that, tell me who has taken it or where it is’. He gives the coin to the

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Shuwwâfât as Innovators suwaf, who moves it with his hand over a coal-fire containing burning incense. The suwaf then snuffs at the coin and tells the man about the thief or the place where he may recover his property. The same is done if information is wanted about something else – for instance, if a father is anxious to know whether his absent son is alive, or if a person wants to ascertain if he will be lucky in some undertaking. At Fez, also, a person who desires to know something about his future consults a suwafa or a suwaf, who tells people’s fortunes by the aid of shells. Among the Ait Wâryâgar112 there are women, called dizuhriyin (sing. dizuhrit), who are likewise able to tell people about secret things and future events owing to the information they derive from jnun.” (Westermarck 1926: i, 356) “For example, in order to have news of someone who is absent, the seer draws a large circle in the palm of her right hand with charcoal which she then spreads out within the circle. She then closes her hand firmly and goes off alone to a very isolated place in a cemetery. When she is able, by way of this silence, isolation and search for the mysterious, to enter a certain state of trance, she opens her hand and stares intently at the pile of charcoal which suddenly becomes shiny like a mirror. She sees the image of the person who is away clearly in this mirror. She sees him happy or sad, well-dressed or dressed in rags like a beggar, alive or covered with a shroud. She then interprets this vision.” (Legey 1926: 208-9) “… the seer is able to see … by prompting an attack of spirit possession. It is the spirit, Lâlla Mîra, who takes control of the seer and allows her to forecast the future. To attract her the women present play113 the taridja114 and burn all of her favorite kinds of incense in an incense burner: salabân (a kind of sap), coriander, white incense, black incense, terebinth gum, aloe wood and sugar. When the scent gets very strong, the spirit arrives. At this moment, the seer lets out a strange cry, pulls out her hair by the handful, bites herself and beats on her chest to show her powerlessness. She is fighting with the spirit which succeeds little by little in taking control of her. Then she lets the rhythm of Lâlla Mîra control her and she dances wildly, gets down on all fours and kisses invisible spirits which are hastening through in large numbers. When the assistants realize that the attack has reached its climax, they put a little charcoal between her lips to prevent bad spirits which are also present from doing her harm. Finally, the seer falls exhausted at the feet of the women who have come to consult her.

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Chapter 3 These women say in unison: ‘Merhaba, welcome.’ Then one of them poses questions. The same pattern is always used. ‘You took a long time to get here. Where were you?’ – ‘In the forest.’ – ‘Which forest?’ – ‘In the forest of Those People115.’ Then sugar is put into the mouth of the seer so that she announces good news. The women take turns asking her questions and, so as to both establish a bond of friendship between them and inspire her, they cover her head with a head scarf and take her left hand. When the seer is tired, she yawns, rubs her eyes, stretches and wakes up. The session ends with a communal prayer to the spirits, recited with outstretched hands, palms down.” (Legey 1926: 209)

Details about the origin and context of their reports and the extent, frequency of and possible variation in the practices they described are missing from the second and third descriptions. The actual questions posed have been omitted from the third description. The first and second are reminiscent of the kinds of consultation sessions held by shuwwâfât practicing today in Casablanca in terms of their general form. The major difference lies in the impetus for the consulation and thus the function being sought, which in turn affect the procedures and ultimate outcome. Today’s sessions, and the procedures, diagnoses and remedies they contain, have their origin in more than one female specialist tradition, namely those of the sorceress and the seer, as they include both divinatory practices and remedies involving magic. Today’s shuwwâfât have adopted features of both traditions and transformed them to fit the situations and concerns of the clientele they serve. The circumstances of the wider urban context has also had an effect on the direction of the transformation of these and other aspects of the vocation of shuwwâfa. Methods and Props for Seeing The props in use in the first half of the 20th century included: mirrors (Legey 1926: 208-9), coins and seashells (Westermarck 1926: i, 356), flour, grain, salt and charcoal (Gaudry 1929: 239-40), palm-reading, dream-interpretation, coffee grounds, leading-pouring or geomancy,

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and trance (Pesle 1946: 254). Today, one also finds some diversity in the kinds of props in use as well as the way in which they are employed. The most common props used by today’s shuwwâfât are tsbîh, tarot cards, eggs and ildûn, or lead-pouring. Shells, coins, trance, dream-interpretation and coffee grounds are also used, though less often. The prop used most often among the shuwwâfât practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf is the tsbîh. By examining each bead individually, the shuwwâfa is able to reveal the details of the clients daily life and determine the problems which are troubling her. The second most common prop is tarot cards. They represent one of the more rigid methods for seeing, as there are generally known interpretations for individual cards and their combination when laid out. Nevertheless, tarot cards also allow for the development of a personal style by the shuwwâfa. The same can be said of the egg, the third most popular prop in Sîdî Ma^rûf. Some shuwwâfât examine exclusively the yolk of the egg, interpreting its shape, texture and coloration. Others interpret aspects of both the yolk and white of the egg. Still others most often discover an object with symbolic meaning, such as an amulet or small padlock, within the egg when it has been broken open. Eggs, like il-dûn, or lead-pouring, a fourth prop commonly found in use in Sîdî Ma^rûf, are sometimes used in addition to another prop to obtain further information. There are also unique props and methods that have been developed by individual shuwwâfât. One example of these is that of a blind shuwwâfa who simply reads the message transmitted to her by the jinn possessing her from a blank sheet of paper. In other words, she holds the blank page in front of her and explains her diagnosis and remedy to the client while running her finger across it as if she were following lines of writing. Regardless of the degree of elaboration or type of method or prop used, the same basic pattern and elements can be observed in all consultation sessions. This pattern consists of the offering of the ftûh, the summoning of the jinn, discovering and addressing the question or problem and finding an answer or remedy. While innovation and creativity on the part of the shuwwâfa play an important part, the variation among sessions today and the differences between the sessions of the past and those of the eighties can also be explained by a change in

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the expectations and needs of the clientele and the commodification, professionalization and commercialization of the vocation of shuwwâfa. The Ftûh Many shuwwâfât in Casablanca today live alone or are the breadwinners of their families and depend on their earnings from seeing for their subsistence. This has resulted in the commercialization of the calling and a change in the form, amount and symbolic meaning of the ftûh, or offering made at the beginning of the session. The Arabic word ftûh comes from the verb fataha meaning ‘to open’. Because of its position and function in the consultation session, it can best be translated here as ‘that which opens or opener’. According to informants, it was originally seen as a kind of enticement to the jinn at the beginning of the session to elicit its cooperation and thus make the session possible. In former times, it was not monetary but rather something to please the jinn, such as a small quantity of the jinn’s favorite bkhûr, dates, olives, etc. When money was offered, it was only a small sum and was to be used for the purchase of bkhûr or other items necessary for the practices and rituals involved in the vocation. It was not to be used for the shuwwâfa’s personal expenses. It was also seen as an ^âr or something offered to establish a relationship of obligation between the client and the jinn or the shuwwâfa or both, like the candles lit inside caves or sanctuaries or the pieces of cloth tied to trees or bushes outside them. These gestures are meant to demonstrate that the person making the request is serious about keeping his or her side of the bargain. This usually entails having an animal sacrificed when the request has been fulfilled. In the case of the shuwwâfa, it could be seen as a pledge of trust and patronage to her services in return for her exerting her most sincere efforts to assist the client. The ftûh was and usually still is, therefore, given to the shuwwâfa by the client at the beginning of the session when returning the prop for seeing which the client has briefly held over her heart. Today, the ftûh, which is not always referred to in this way, is almost exclusively monetary. Unlike in the past, the amount is determined by the shuwwâfa with some allowance made for the financial situation of the client. It varies from one shuwwâfa to another depen-

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ding on her reputation and abilities as well as on the elaborateness of the session. It is regarded as comparable to the fee paid to a doctor or other specialist for services rendered and thus the shuwwâfa’s source of income, although some shuwwâfât would dispute this fact as well as the acceptability of this attitude. The ftûh is not, however, the only expense one might incur during a consultation session today. The client is usually required to pay an additional fee for amulets, sacrifices, ingredients for magic spells or potions or anything else that might be necessary for her treatment as well. Impetus Changes in daily life conditions since the beginning of the 20th century have eliminated those former uncertainties, needs and demands which could be remedied by a shuwwâfa. With the development of the telephone network and postal service, revealing the well-being and whereabouts of those who are away, one of the reasons for consulting a shuwwâfa in the past, constitutes only a minor impetus, if at all. The anonymity of urban life has made it almost impossible to determine the identity of the thief involved in the case of a theft, another former function of shuwwâfât. Thus requesting information about the whereabouts of a lost or stolen item has also disappeared as an impetus. Today’s urban environment has created new reasons for consulting a shuwwâfa. Moroccan men, who have access to institutions and contacts outside the home, have a wider range of options for solving problems and rarely consult fuqahâ’ and shuwwâfât. Some Moroccan women, especially unemployed housewives, are limited in their spheres of contact as well as in their access to and experience with public facilities and institutions. Their share of responsibility for solving personal or familial problems confronting them is nonetheless increasing. As a result of the lack of conventional ways of seeking solutions to them, these problems have become the typical impetus for consulting a shuwwâfa. The most prevalent kinds of problems include marital instability, financial insecurity, dissatisfaction with the behavior of the husband, boredom and isolation, difficulties in the marital relationship, and hindrances to personal development and advancement due to restrictions posed by male relatives.

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Benefits of the Consultation Session The consultation session of today offers a number of different benefits to the client. In response to questioning about why they consult a shuwwâfa, the most common response of the women interviewed for this study was that the shuwwâfa offered them strategies of various kinds for solving their problems, including amulets and magic spells or potions. These strategies helped them to regain hope and a feeling of strength because they could become active and attempt to implement change and because they felt protected from jnûn and thus from further misfortune. Some also asserted that it was one of the only places where they could talk to someone about their personal problems, their dissatisfaction with their husbands’ behavior and other intimate family matters without damaging the reputation of their families. They received emotional support from the shuwwâfa and other clients during the session and no longer felt alone in times of difficulty. Others mentioned that they met other women with the same or similar problems and realized that they are not the only ones in such a predicament. Still others saw the consultation of shuwwâfât as a kind of escape from the isolation and seclusion which characterized their everyday lives or as a diversion from the monotony of their household duties. Most women said that they simply felt better after the session and returned to their everyday life situation with a different perspective on the problems and renewed strength to face them. Shuwwâfât and Shrines Shuwwâfât often practice in their own homes but are also nevertheless a common sight at the shrines dedicated to holy figures located all over Morocco. These shrines constitute a place where they can renew their connections to the supernatural, carry out healing rituals for their clientele, hold consultation sessions on a permanent or sporadic basis or attend regularly held spirit possession ceremonies. For them and their clientele, as for other women and men who visit them, these visits serve as an occasion for ritual purification, the acquisition of baraka, renewal of their personal ties to the holy figure and a moment for reflection on their own individual situation. It therefore constitutes a religious experience providing momentary separation and relief from the

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pressures and responsibilities of their lived-in worlds. On the other hand, it has increasingly become a space for commercial activity especially for female freelance specialists.116 Of those holy figures with shrines situated in and around Casablanca, three are known for their special powers in the treatment spirit possession and are, therefore, of particular significance to shuwwâfât: Sîdî ^Abd ir-Rahmân on the coast just beyond Ain Diab, Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh in the hills outside the city on the road to Mediouna and Sîdî Muhammad in central Casablanca not far from the port. They are the three most commonly visited by the shuwwâfât of Sîdî Ma^rûf. The following describes an example of one such visit: Naima, a Moroccan friend of mine, Rqiyya, the shuwwâfa treating Naima for spirit possession, and I arrived at the shrine to Sîdî ^Abd ir-Rahmân at about five in the afternoon. The entire complex of the shrine is built on a rock island jutting out above the surface of the ocean very near a narrow sandy strip of beach just beyond Ain Diab. To reach the shrine we had to climb up onto an enormous innertube, turned into a raft by a round wooden plank attached to the bottom of it. We sat perched up on opposite sides of the innertube while being pulled out over the in-coming waves to the steps of the shrine by a young man dressed in tattered diving suit to keep warm. After paying him five dirhams each for his services we climbed the old stone stairs lined with small rooms, five or six on either side, which can be rented out by the night. Some of the rooms were permanently occupied by shuwwâfât sitting just inside the doorways waiting to offer their services to visitors. On the ground in front of them were small gas burners with pots for melting lead. They use ildûn, or lead-pouring, in their consultation sessions. Following the short path leading straight ahead from the top of the stairs to the end we reached the entrance to the small chamber of the shrine where the sarcophagus of Sîdî ^Abd irRahmân as well as that of the daughter of the Prophet, Fâtima, lay opposite one another. “It must be the sarcophagus of the daughter of the Prophet, Fâtima, since Sîdî ^Abd ar-Rahmân was never married and had no children,” explained the mqaddim, or caretaker of the shrine. Unfortunately, he was unable to give us any further information about the life of the patron of the shrine. Rqiyya told Naima to purchase three candles from the woman sitting in front of the room to the immediate left of the entrance. She resides in the room

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Chapter 3 with her three children and husband who is the mqaddim of the shrine. After removing our shoes and entering the chamber we took turns lighting the candles and placing them on a table in one corner of the chamber. Rqiyya told us to do as she did. She stroked and then kissed one corner of each sarcophagus and took a seat on the mats on the floor. She softly murmured the words of the fâtiha. Then she addressed herself to Sîdî ^Abd ir-Rahmân. She briefly described Naima’s situation, her personal difficulties and her spirit possession symptoms and requested the siyyid assistance in treating Naima. We sat there in silence for another ten or fifteen minutes. Upon leaving the chamber, we accepted the mqaddim’s wife’s offer of henna. She put a small amount in the center and four corners of our palms. Then we proceeded to the small space behind the shrine which can be reached by way of another path leading to right from the top of the stairs. This path was also lined with rooms to rent. It was also spattered with blood from animals which had recently been sacrificed. Just beyond the end of the path on the edge of the island is a small cave-like hole between the rocks dedicated to ^Â’isha Qandîsha. Beyond this spot directly behind the chamber of the sanctuary are two rooms referred to as the khalwa, or secluded space for religious retreat, by those making use of it and the official sign posted by the government not far from the entrance. One of them is for ritual washing and the other for fumigation with bkhûr. We entered the room for ritual washing first. Rqiyya asked Naima to remove her jallâba and shoes and socks and to sit on the wooden stool in the middle of the room. Rqiyya recited the fâtiha again. She filled a cup with water from a clay pot, said bismillâh and slowly poured the water over Naima’s arms, legs and face. After she had dried them again with a towel, we proceeded to the second room. The caretaker of the khalwa gave Rqiyya a mjmâr and some bkhûr. Rqiyya seated Naima on a small wooden stool and moved the mjmâr along slowly under each of Naima’s arms and legs from one end to the other. When Naima had gotten dressed again, we paid the mqaddim of the khalwa and left Sîdî ^Abd ir-Rahmân.

The following is the description of a visit to Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh on the mountainside outside of Casablanca on the road to Mediouna: Latifa, a shuwwâfa from Sîdî Ma^rûf, her best friend Aisha and I took a collective taxi going to Mediouna and got out on the side of the road where extremely old and rickety horse carts can be hired to go through the fields and up the hill to Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh, or simply Marshîsh as it is commonly referred

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Shuwwâfât as Innovators to. After a slow and bumpy half-hour ride up the rocky hillside we reached the end of the path. We got down and walked up the rocky slope to the grounds of the shrine which had been renovated and modernized since my first visit back in 1986. The L-shaped row of about 15 rooms to rent and the large common room for holding liyâlî at the end of it had been repaired, painted and now have electricity. There is even a small shop where a small number of foodstuffs and fresh bread are sold, though most visitors still bring everything they need with them, as we also had done. Latifa greeted the mqaddim who approached us as soon as he had recognized her. She got a key for a room. We put our bags in the room and began to perform the visitation ritual. Latifa visits Marshîsh periodically throughout the year to reinforce her relationship to Malika, the named jinn who serves as her medium. Every Wednesday evening a spirit possession ceremony is held by the Jilâla order. According to some Moroccans, Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh was a holy figure, a man known for holiness and his miraculous healing abilities during his lifetime. He was known in particular for his powers in the treatment of spirit possession. Although he supposedly once lived a human existence, he is considered to be jinn-walî. There is no tomb, nor an actual shrine to him, but instead a cave in his honor across from the rooms.117 There are two other caves, enclosures and trees dedicated to different named jnûn nearby, including Malika. Latifa bought a package of candles from a woman sitting near the entrance of the first cave which is dedicated to Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh. She slipped off her sandals, murmured bismillâh and entered the cave. Then she lit a candle and placed it next to several others standing on a ledge hollowed out in one of the rock walls. She walked to the back of the cave and lit a second candle and again placed it next to those already standing on a rock. Aisha and I followed her doing the same. Then we returned to the entrance and proceeded to the next cave. A man playing a flute was seated to the right of the entrance. Opposite him to the left of the entrance was a man dressed like a woman with a jallâba and headscarf. The mqaddim of the grounds was seated next to him. Latifa greeted them, murmured bismillâh and entered the second cave which is inhabited by ^Â’isha Qandîsha. “He’s a shuwwâfa too. He’s well-known here and in Casablanca, too. He comes here every week,” she whispered to me once we were far enough inside the cave and out of hearing distance of the entrance, explaining the female attire of the man on the left. Again she lit a couple of candles and placed them around the cave. Several women were sitting on a flat

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Chapter 3 bench-like surface jutting out of one of the rock walls. Latifa greeted them and proceeded to the back of the cave. She crouched down and made her way into a crevice in the back wall carrying a candle for light. At the back of the crevice she climbed into an opening, sat down and slid forward through it. Aisha and I followed her doing the same. As we walked through the small chamber back to the larger chamber where we had entered, Latifa explained the significance of the crevice with the opening: “It’s proof that you have nîya (good intention), that you trust hâdak in-nâs (jnûn) and that they accept you. If they don’t, they tighten up the passage and you can’t get out.” Then we left the second cave. As we walked up the rocky slope towards the last cave inhabited by Sîdî Mîmûn, we passed by an enclosure with an olive tree growing in the center of it. “That’s the Sharî ^ il-Mlûk (the court of the jnûn).” Latifa explained. Then we passed a semi-circle of stone. “That’s the Mjma^it is-Sâlihîn (the assembly of the holy figures).” Aisha explained. When we reached the cave, we entered and lit candles as before. Then we turned and walked toward two trees to which strips of cloth had been tied. “These trees belong to Sîdî Hajjâj and Lâlla Mîra.” Finally, we arrived at the last significant spot and the highlight of the visitation procedure for Latifa, an enclosure made of stones inhabited by Lâlla Malika. Latifa sat down on the ground with her back to the enclosure. She leaned back against the stones, relaxed and closed her eyes. After about five minutes or so, she sighed, opened her eyes again and stood up. Then we slowly walked down the slope and returned to our room. In our room we prepared and ate tajine, drank tea and rested. While we were cleaning up I said that it would have been more convenient to have eaten at home and then come, since the room was without running water. “It’s important to come early and to eat a warm meal. You get more baraka that way,” they explained. Then we drank more tea and waited for the lîla to begin.118 When the lîla ended at about three in the morning, we retired to our room and went to bed. Only those who had come in private cars were able to go home after the ceremony. Latifa knew some of the people with cars, but she preferred to stay the night because it is thought that the longer one stays, the more baraka one absorbs. Besides, she likes to take another quick walk to each of the holy spots, especially to Lâlla Malika’s enclosure, in the morning before leaving. It was about noon when we walked down to the spot where the horse carts wait to take the visitors back down to the main road.

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The following describes an afternoon visit to the shrine of Sîdî Muhammad119 in central Casablanca not far from the port: Saadiyya, her younger sister, Layla, and I headed off to the shrine of Sîdî Muhammad for an afternoon visit. When we arrived at about four there were several shuwwâfât seated on strawmats on the sidewalk along the wall in front of the shrine. With their tarot cards in their hands they hoped to attract customers, women desiring to focus on themselves, to hear supernatural revelations about what they are going through in their present lives and what the outcome of it all will be in the near and distant future. Layla, who rarely comes into contact with shuwwâfât, insisted on hearing what they had to say in her case. With the same curiosity and readiness to fantasize with which some people, especially young girls, turn to the horoscope section of a newspaper or magazine or buy Chinese fortune cookies, she chose one of them and squatted down on the mat in front of her. She listened intently as the shuwwâfa explained: “The boy you are interested in is not good for you. You will meet another one, a policeman, and marry him. You will be well-off and happy. You will have five children.” With a smile of satisfaction, she thanked her and stood up again. As we entered the shrine and walked along the corridor leading into the interior we were addressed by about ten women, one after the other. They were seated on wooden stools or the ground lining the corridor. They are naqqâshât, or freelance henna specialists. One by one, they showed us pictures of geometric and floral designs and offered to sketch them onto our hands and feet with their henna syringes.120 In the first courtyard, there were a few more naqqâshât and two shuwwâfât. One of the shuwwâfât was seated on a strawmat covered with a piece of carpet. In front of her was a mjmâr out of which poured clouds of sweet-smelling smoke of burning bkhûr. Several women were seated in a semi-circle around her listening intently to what she had to say as she stared at her tsbîh which she held over the mjmâr. Saadiyya was quite pleased to see the shuwwâfa. She, like many other women, highly respects and appreciates her ability to assist women in sorting out their daily lives. Although she can also be consulted in her home most of the week, on Sunday and Monday one can usually find her in the shrine. Saadiyya waited her turn and then sat down to consult her. She said, “You are worried about getting married. You should examine each candidate

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Chapter 3 carefully, even the ones your parents choose for you. You should look into your heart. Don’t worry. When the time comes, you will make the right decision. For now, you should dress warmly in the evening and avoid washing the dishes and the laundry after sunset.” Besides performing the usual visitation ritual and consulting the shuwwâfa, Saadiyya also came to find out whether there would be a lîla on the following Saturday, as she was planning to attend. She talked to the mqaddim to find out the details. Then we did something we were not originally intending to do. We had henna put on our hands and feet. By doing this we not only let the surface of our hands and feet be transformed in a very short time into beautiful works of art, but we also partook of the beneficial effects of the henna on our health and its protection against injury and misfortune resulting from it being absorbed into our skin. In this case, it was also imbued with the baraka of Sîdî Muhammad. Afterwards we went to visit one of Saadiyya’s aunts who lives nearby. After showing off our hands and feet, we sat down to a snack of home-made baked goods and some tea. Then Layla and Saadiyya explained to her that they had consulted two different shuwwâfât. They compared their experiences and concluded that the message of the first shuwwâfa was intent on stimulating Layla’s imagination and kindling her fantasies, while the message of the second was aimed at counseling Saadiyya by offering her support and trying to ease her distress. The main goal in both cases was to contribute to the emotional and psychological well-being of each of the young women. We thanked their aunt and headed back to Sîdî Ma^rûf.

Central to all of these practices and rituals is the body, its purification through ritual washing and fumigation, its beautification with henna, its well-being, its role in ensuring the spiritual, psychological and emotional well-being of the person, its contact with holy objects, its ability to absorb baraka and its role in spirit mediumship, spirit possession and trance. While shrines and the practices and rituals performed there are open to both men and women, women are the primary participants today.

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Shuwwâfât, Moroccan Religious Expression121 and Daily Life Rituals The beneficial effects for the clientele of participation in the practices and rituals of shuwwâfât is directly related to the location of these practices and rituals, and the beliefs related to them, within the broader context of Moroccan religious expression. These beliefs, practices and rituals are part and parcel of the larger domain of folk-religious beliefs and practices. These beneficial effects derive from the relationship of this domain to the broader context of religious and nonreligious everyday rituals and practices. A distinction can be made between two general forms of religious expression in Islamic contexts. The first consists of those religious principles, beliefs, rituals and obligations and everyday life practices set down by the Sharî ^a usually defined as the core of Islam and referred to here as mainstream Islam. The second, commonly referred to as folk-Islamic or folk-religious, comprises all other religious activities which have some connection to Islamic beliefs, values and practices or derive from narrower or broader interpretations of official Islamic texts, but which fall outside the limits of mainstream Islam. Two scholars studying folk-religious practices in Morocco have characterized these beliefs and practices as female and of significance to the masses in contrast to male (Welte 1990) mainstream Islam of the state (Lang 1992: 23).122 Besides the problem of defining these folkreligious practices and the relationship between them and mainstream Islam, is the challenge of understanding how individuals in Islamic contexts come to terms with the contradictions involved when both types of practices are incorporated into their everyday lives.123 While all forms of religious practices and rituals observable in Morocco constitute modes of Moroccan Islamic religious expression,124 some distinctions can be made between mainstream Islam and folkreligious practices. One major point of distinction is the way in which the body, power and the division of labor and space are conceived. These two modes of conception are not necessarily defined in precise theoretical terms. Instead, it is the practices and rituals themselves which convey messages about the body, power and the division of labor and space. Furthermore, these two modes of conception complement each other in various ways. Each in turn compensates for the li-

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mitations of the other. By integrating their vocation into the wider complex of folk-religious practices, shuwwâfât legitimate their own practices through which they both provide compensation for the inadequacies and restrictions of mainstream beliefs and rituals and contribute to the ongoing revision of gender roles and power relations. Mainstream Islam, is based on Islamic law, or the Sharî ^a which in turn derives from the word of Allah revealed to the Prophet, Muhammad, by the archangel Gabriel, or the Qur’ân, the words and actions of the Prophet, or Hadîth, and the ancestral tradition, or Sunna. The Sharî^a lays down the obligations to which Muslims are expected to submit. These obligations include not only specifically ‘religious’ observances, such as the five pillars, but also legal practices and everyday life ‘rituals’. The Moroccan state particularly in the person of the king officially encourages the observance of mainstream Islamic rituals and practices through his nationally televised participation in them. This public display of the king’s faith and commitment together with his official titles of sharîf, direct descendent of the Prophet, and ’amîr al-mu’minîn, prince of the believers, serve to underscore the status of Islam as the official religion in Morocco as well as to both legitimate the king’s right to rule and ensure his popularity (Combs-Schilling 1989). The maintenance of the mainstream discourse regarding the body, power and the division of space and labor is also ensured on other levels by making certain types of public behavior which exceeds the bounds established by it, for example, the public breaking of the fast during Ramadân, punishable by law. On the other hand, no official stance has been taken with regard to folk-religious expression. While representatives of the State are present and involved in the celebration of mwâsim, its attitude toward ziyâra is unclear. One scholar suggests that these beliefs practices contribute to the king’s efforts to legitimize his authority as a descendent of the Prophet and to support his wish to be honored, respected and venerated similarly to a walî (Reysoo 1991: 187). One major form of folk-religious expression is that of Islamic mysticism, or at-tasawwuf, whose participants are members of groups or orders. Two general types of mystical orders, meditative and popular, exist in Morocco, differing in terms of the socioeconomic backgrounds and level of education of their members and the nature of their rituals.

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The ritual of the first type, the dhikr, consists of rhythmic repetition of phrases that inspire meditation on Allah accompanied by a swaying movement. The purpose or goal of this ritual is to gain direct knowledge of and union with Allah (Crapanzano 1981: 24-5). By contrast, the ritual of the second type, or hadra, involves possession by jnûn which cause their victims to dance or sway to the rhythm of accompanying drums and sometimes other instruments. Its goal is to reach an ecstatic trance-like state (ibid. : 25). At the point where the ecstatic state is achieved, feats of self-mutilation are also performed. The hadra can also include sacrificing animals to jnûn, especially when it has been specifically organized to cure one or more cases of spirit possession. The major orders of this kind include Jilâla, Gnâwa, ^Îsâwa and Hamâdsha.125 The practices of shuwwâfât are connected in several ways to the popular mystical orders in Morocco. They are based on spirit possession and incorporate the same spirit possession ritual, or hadra, referred to instead as lîla. It is the musicians from the popular mystical orders who are hired by the shuwwâfa to play at the lîla. Furthermore, shuwwâfât often belong to one of these orders and periodically or occasionally attend their hadrât. In addition, shuwwâfât are also believed capable of transmitting baraka within the lîla to those in attendance. A second type of folk-religious expression, the veneration of holy figures to whom a shrines or sanctuaries have been dedicated, has its roots in at-tasawwuf. The veneration of holy figures is also referred to as maraboutism, a term first coined by the French and taken from the Arabic word murâbit meaning posted or stationed and referring to a man connected to a ribât, or fortress or retreat.126 Today, the term marabout designates both a person, also referred to as a walî, sâlih or siyyid, attributed with a special relation to Allah which enables him to serve as an intermediary between Allah and human beings and thus between the supernatural and humanity, and the shrine dedicated to him. This person can be a man or a woman, living or dead, who is able to heal and to distribute baraka. Marabouts, or ’awliyâ’, include descendants of the Prophet, political heroes, scholars known for their religiosity and religious knowledge and holy simpletons as well as the founders and patrons of mystical orders. Their shrines are most often in the form of a qubba, or small white-

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domed, cube-shaped edifice. Sometimes they consist of a more lavish building with a green-tiled roof. The shrine is often, but not always, the actual tomb of the person. Shrines of the small white-domed type are the most common and can be found in villages and towns all over Morocco visually underscoring the importance of the veneration of ’awliyâ’. Practically, the veneration of ’awliyâ’, takes two forms: ziyâra, or shrine visitation, and the mûsim, or yearly celebration of the holy figure. Besides healing, a walî is attributed with the ability to perform miracles. In fact, many of them acquired the title of walî as a result of performing miracles about which legends have been passed down. The rituals of the ziyâra and mwâsim have become important to the beliefs and practices of shuwwâfât today. Sîdî ^Alî, whose shrine is located near Meknes in the north of Morocco, and Mûlay Ibrâhîm, whose shrine is situated in the mountains to the east of Marrakesh in the south of Morocco, and who are the most widely known ’awliyâ’ for their special powers for treatment of spirit possession, are of particular significance. The mwâsim of these two ’awliyâ’, at the end of the months of Muharram and Sha^bân respectively, are celebrated by shuwwâfât either by holding or attending a lîla locally or by traveling to one of their shrines to attend the mûsim festival which takes place there. At these and other mwâsim, shuwwâfât socialize with and participate in the activities, especially hadrât, held by the popular mystical orders. They also spend some time seated on the ground at the entrance of the shrine or in another central location where they are visible and can attract potential clients to whom they can offer their services. Shuwwâfât also integrate shrine visitation into their treatment procedures for clientele afflicted with spirit possession. These treatment procedures can also include the sacrificing of animals to the shrines’ patrons and to jnûn to whom trees and caves on the shrine grounds are dedicated as well as purification rituals. Some shuwwâfât visit local shrines regularly on Friday, to relax and acquire baraka.127 The Body, Purification and Control Conceptions of the body in everyday life focuses on control, purification and well-being. These correspond to and are underscored by practices directly involved in and connected to mainstream Islamic

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rituals and beliefs. Bodily needs and functions, including sexuality, are seen as natural and essential for the physical, emotional and psychological well-being of the individual when they are fulfilled and performed within appropriate limits and otherwise kept under control. The temporary state of impurity which naturally results from the fulfillment of these needs and the performance of these functions constitutes the focus of everyday and ritual cleansing procedures.128 The purification rituals, or wudû^ and ghusl, performed before the salât, or daily prayers, the focus on correct postures and movements during them, the sawm, or abstinence from eating, drinking, smoking, sexuality and negative thoughts and words from sunrise to sunset during the month of Ramadân and various rituals pertaining to the hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca, all underscore and provide practical exercises in the control, purification and maintenance of the well-being of the body in everyday life. Significant here is the reserved and composed emotional and physical attitude of the body in public and the lowering of the gaze in interpersonal contact which applies especially to women.129 Some everyday rituals and practices focusing on the purification and maintenance of the hygiene and physical, emotional and psychological well-being of the body have other functions with some folkreligious significance. Others can be perceived as religious obligations, although they are often coupled with folk-religious and non-religious elements. Circumcision performed on young boys, for example, is seen as both a religious obligation and a hygienic measure. It is not mentioned in the Qur’ân, but highly recommended in a number of Hadîth and two Islamic schools of law recognize it as an official religious obligation. Many less well-off Moroccans have their sons circumcised at the mûsim because there is no charge and the religious and communal aspects of the ritual are heightened. Otherwise, it is performed locally and, like the wedding, includes a procession beforehand and a party with hired musical performers, food and guests afterwards, transforming the event into an elaborate familial celebration. Similarly, some cleansing and beautification practices among women also have folk-religious elements and benefits. The rubbing off of old skin and the removal of pubic, leg and underarm hair and the application of various cleansing and revitalization product, natural and commercial, to hair and skin, like the application of henna to the hair, hands and feet, are seen to serve both to beautify the female body as

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well as ensure the hygiene and overall well-being of the individual. These procedures are carried out on a regular basis but also as part of the purification ritual after child-birth and preceding the wedding as well as some folk-religious ceremonies including dhikr, lîla and other treatment practices for spirit possession and magic spells. Kahl, which is produced from natural ingredients including antimony (the primary ingredient) and date and olive pits in a ritualized fashion130 is applied to underscore the natural beauty of the eye, to cleanse it as well as to protect the wearer against misfortune. As in mainstream Islam, maintaining and regularly re-establishing a state of physical, spiritual and psychological purity and well-being also constitutes the central focus of many Moroccan folk-religious rituals and practices. Nevertheless, the sources of impurity such as magic spells and spirit possession and methods for regaining a state of purity are sometimes different. Moreover, the ritual performances and celebrations sometimes incorporate non-religious and polluting elements or aspects involving the release of control over one’s body and actions which is problematic in relation to the emphasis on control over them in mainstream Islamic doctrine. The ziyâra, or the practice of shrine visitation in veneration of its patron, includes a number of procedures in which the body and its purification and well-being are the central focus. These include: circling the sarcophagus, touching or kissing it or the protective enclosure or fence around it, leaving behind pieces of cloth, locks of hair, combs or other items when making requests, washing oneself with the available water and being fumigated with bkhûr and having henna applied. These as well as one’s physical presence at the shrine result in the acquisition of baraka. Although it is considered to be a form of religious expression, the ziyâra is void of the control and regimentation of mainstream Islamic rituals. Instead, it takes place in a relaxed atmosphere. The second type of practice serving the veneration of ’awliyâ’, the mûsim, or annual five- to seven-day pilgrimage festival in honor of the walî of a particular sanctuary, involves both purifying and worldly or polluting elements. In some cases, this practice occurs at a set time in the Muslim calendar which means that it rotates throughout the Christian calendar. But more often it is attached to a specific season or event like the end of the harvest season and is fixed by permanent dates.

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Pilgrims come in large numbers from the surrounding area or other parts of the country. They bring their own tents and set up household, especially in rural areas, or hire or simply share sleeping space in those tents made available by popular mystical orders, merchants or café owners. Local officials also set up a tent where political speeches or various types of entertainment take place. Besides visiting the shrine itself, pilgrims shop and eat at the numerous stands brought in and set up for the festival or simply stroll around among the tents and stands meeting people and attending hadrât. They can also watch various types of entertainment, especially in the evening and at night, including musicians, singers, story-tellers, magicians or acrobatic feats. Various items, especially food, sold at the mûsim are believed to contain baraka and are thus purchased to take home and consume in the months that follow to extend the effects of the acquired baraka. Although the goal of this religious ritual is also purification through the acquisition of baraka, relaxation and participation in non-religious activities outweigh the religious ones. Ceremonies and rituals involving spirit possession like the consultation session of shuwwâfât and liyâlî or hadrât are particularly significant in this regard. They involve the summoning of jnûn to take possession of the participants and constitute a temporary suspension of the responsibility for and control over one’s actions and posture which prevail in everyday life. Nevertheless, the ultimate goal is the well-being of the participant. In general, folk-religious practices and rituals provide additional possibility for religious purification and maintenance of the well-being of the body without the control and regimentation characteristic of those of mainstream Islamic. They focus on emotional, spiritual and psychological healing and include or are coupled with practices and activities which provide relaxation, pleasure and enjoyment. The Body, Individuality and Power Similar observations can be made with respect to conceptions of power. Submission to the will of Allah, the unique and all-powerful supernatural authority, is symbolically expressed and reiterated five times daily through the physical postures of bowing down to and inclining before Him in the ritual prayers. While all the believers are of

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equal status before Allah and focusing on the personal is de-emphasized, the Moroccan king is vested with a special status of political authority which is legitimated through his official titles. Nevertheless, through his public observance of various religious obligations including ritual prayers broadcast on television he also symbolically expresses his submission to the will of Allah. In fact, in Islam no human is vested with supernatural or lay authority except the prophets the last of whom was Muhammad. A similar kind of submissive stance with regard to figures of authority is however observed in everyday practices. This is symbolically expressed, for example, in the practice of bowing one’s head and kissing the right hand of an older person particularly one’s parents, grandparents and other relatives, male and female. This practice is a show of both respect and affection and is performed most often on special occasions. Obedience and respect for one’s parents and adult males in general especially husbands, fathers and other relatives is an religious obligation specified in the Qur’ân. The walî through his special relationship to Allah is a figure of religious significance and authority worthy of respect and veneration. On the other hand, he is human, making him more tangible. The ziyâra and mûsim rituals, while focused on his veneration, also constitute possibilities for participants to approach him in a personal way. Leaving something behind or having a sacrifice performed constitute ways of establishing ^âr, a special relationship with the walî. These are undertaken when a specific demand is being made to help ensure its fulfillment. In times of personal conflict and crisis and when making specific demands, especially female visitors often stand before the sarcophagus and express their needs, wishes and frustration to the walî aloud. These practices allow the participant to seek his assistance and intervention as an intermediary with supernatural powers. In this way, the participant is able to focus on himself as an individual and to take an active role in improving his personal situation through religious ritual. In the case of both types of mystical orders, meditative and popular, the shaykh, or head of the order, is the object of the absolute respect, obedience and submission of the members. He usually legitimates his leadership through the chain of succession going directly back to the founder. He often traces his direct line of descent back to the Prophet, as well. On the otherhand, he acts as an intermediary

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between Allah and the community of members. He is believed to possess baraka which he can pass on to the members of the order. Despite his supernatural powers, he is nevertheless human and thus serves to bridge the gap between the natural and the supernatural, the real and the abstract, humanity and Allah, adding a more tangible, ‘down-to-earth’ aspect to Islam. In addition, membership in an order not only provides the possibility of a group religious ritual experience, but it makes possible the individual spiritual development of the participant in which his personal relationship to the shaykh usually play a central role. In keeping with this tangible, ‘down-to-earth’ aspect, religious specialists, in particular shuwwâfât and fuqahâ’, act as intermediaries between the supernatural and humanity in assisting their clients. While the ability of the shuwwâfa to assist her clients derives from her ability to see al-ghayb, which is in turn made possible by the mediation of a jinn, the fqîh bases his powers on what he refers to as ^ilm, or knowledge. The title of fqîh is acquired by undergoing training which includes memorization of the Qur’ân and studying the Islamic religious sciences in special schools. Unlike the personal, but distant and abstract, relationship between the believer and Allah in mainstream Islamic practices and rituals, the holy figures and practitioners of folk-religious rituals and practices are human. They all have supernatural powers or direct access to them. Together with the jnûn, they provide channels of connection with the supernatural lacking in mainstream Islam. The individual which becomes the focus of most forms of folk-religious expression and has a high level of import in a personal way can access these channels at will and therefore actively participate in maintaining or re-establishing his or her physical, emotional, psychological spiritual well-being. Bodies and Boundaries Mainstream perceptions of gender roles, division of labor and space and the body carry considerable weight in Moroccan society today. The rigid self-discipline and self-control with regard to the care, posture and movements of the human body, both in ritual and daily life, is intimately connected with Islamic attitudes towards purity, morality, control and order. The female body is subjected not only to the con-

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trol and discipline of the woman herself, but also to external control or male supervision. Women’s dependence on their fathers or husbands inherent in the construction of gender roles means that not only their reputation and social acceptance, but also their very existence is at stake, if they do not acquiesce to the acceptable patterns of behavior. Thus, any deviation from this construction usually results in considerable inner and interpersonal conflicts. The division of space and labor according to sex by which women orient their daily lives around the home and family and men who are the breadwinners spend much of their time outside the home is grounded in the Sharî^a. It is codified in the personal status laws in Morocco today. This division of space and labor is reiterated in various organizational aspects of the observance of religious obligations including the fact that usually only men attend the Friday prayer in the mosque and that all religious, judicial and scholarly functions are reserved exclusively for men. This division of space and labor is also practically and abstractly preserved in other ways in the public sphere today. The willingness on the part of the state to modernize in all areas except those which directly affect the family is characteristic of this separation. Most modernization discourses and policies do not fail to underscore the centrality of the family in everyday life and the role of women as mothers and wives. In Morocco, as in other Muslim countries except Turkey, the legal system has been westernized with the exception of personal status laws. Those women who enter the public sphere to study or work usually find themselves drawn or even coerced into fields and positions which insure the perpetuation of this division of space and tasks and interpersonal interaction characteristic of the familial context. It is therefore not surprising that the posts of those women who have nevertheless succeeded in climbing the ranks to important positions of any responsibility are usually found within enterprises, institutions and ministries concerned with health, educational and social services (Daoud 1993). While women have equal access to and are active participants in mainstream Islamic practices and rituals which are carried out in the private sphere, they have limited or no access to those which take place in the public sphere. In fact, they are strictly excluded from participa-

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tion in some cases. Programs of religious training and religious scholarly activity beyond the level of the Qur’ân school are not available to them. Nor are they eligible for religious positions such as ’imâm, mu’adhdhin and qâdî. This is not the case in the domain of folkreligious expression. The exclusion of women applies only to a limited number of functions. In fact, women’s active participation is seen much more favorably and even exceeds that of men with regard to some rituals and practices. While participation in the mûsim is usually considered a family event, it is not impossible for women in small groups to attend and circulate there on their own. They are also found performing in some entertainment events and serving in the tent cafés there. As for the ziyâra ritual, the unsupervised presence and participation of women prevails. In fact, women are by far the primary participants today. The sanctuary thus constitutes a space where the usual division of space and labor does not exist, though the walî himself is usually, but not always, male. Women visit the sanctuary to acquire baraka and to seek assistance in coping with illnesses and personal problems. Women often speak directly to the walî about their personal concern. They are often soothed and consoled by other women present. Many women remain for a while, relax, meet other women and chat. Remaining for a couple of hours or a night is thought to increase the amount of baraka acquired. Besides, the general atmosphere at the sanctuary is calm and relaxing. It allows temporary escape from the stress of daily life especially in the city. Those shrines located rurally or on the outskirts of cities often have rooms to rent for a minimal charge. Less fortunate families sometimes even take advantage of these cheap accommodations to spend their holidays especially at those sanctuaries located near the coast with nearby beaches. Runaway or repudiated women also take refuge in these shrines. Historically, women were usually excluded from some mystical orders. In Morocco today, the number of popular mystical orders allowing female membership is on the increase. There are, however, some limitations on the nature of their participation. Women are not eligible for the position of shaykh. While the vast majority of the ’awliyâ’ in Morocco are male, the number of female named jnûn known, honored

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and summoned at spirit possession ceremonies exceeds that of male. The number of female participants in these ceremonies is rapidly approaching or has already surpassed that of male. With the exception of the fqîh, freelance folk-religious healing vocations which are void of external supervision and leadership are dominated by women. Furthermore, the number of female participants exceeds by far that of male. In fact, they are, with very few exceptions, the exclusive participants in the rituals and practices of shuwwâfât. In spite of this widened access to certain public spaces and unsupervised positions, as is the case in mainstream Islamic discourse, the human body and its biological categorization into male and female still dominates the division of space and labor in folk-religious discourse. Nevertheless, women’s access to and active involvement, as participants and practitioners, in folk-religious rituals and practices exceeds that of men. The fact that some men who are interested in entering the vocation of seer, not to mention that of traditional singer, or shîkha, don women’s attire is another indication of the openness in the domain of folk-religious practices and rituals to the revision of boundaries. While grounded in the main premises of the mainstream Islam, popular- or folk-religious and healing beliefs, rituals and practices, to which the vocation of shuwwâfa belongs, deviate from mainstream Islam with regard to the perceptions of the body, power and the division of labor and space inherent in them. Most Moroccan folkloric, popular-religious and healing beliefs, rituals and practices, while providing an alternative to and mechanisms of compensation for certain inadequacies131 inherent in their mainstream counterparts, they contribute both to their reinforcement and maintenance and the ongoing multi-level revision of boundaries established by them. Conclusion Shuwwâfât in Casablanca and other urban settings have combined, transformed and consolidated the practices of existing healing and divinatory vocations to respond to new needs, demands and expectations of potential clientele and to create a new source of income for themselves. This new source of income and ‘modernized’ and ‘personalized’ vocation created by the shuwwâfât themselves, like the larger

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complex of folk-religious beliefs and practices, is also tailored to supplement mainstream Islamic beliefs and rituals, to compensate for restrictive everyday life practices deriving from them and to contribute to the revaluation of interpersonal and intergender power relations.

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Chapter 4 Marginalizing Women: Spirit Possession, Mother-Daughter Relationships and Independence

“It was Allah’s will. This thing began to inhabit me when I was nine years old. Whenever they prepared rafîsa132 I ran away. I couldn’t stand to smell it. This was caused by a magic spell. When they took me to a shuwwâf in Talat Sîdî Binnûr (a town in the district of al-Jadîda), he said to them, ‘This little girl, they’ve cast a spell on her. They put it in her intestines and in her clothes just after she was born’. The wife of my mother’s brother couldn’t bear children. Only my mother could. My mother’s brother’s wife raised me. My mother’s brother’s wife was immoral. The day my father died I began carrying around one of his shoes. My mother secretly took it away from me. This caused me to be possessed again. My mother began to take me to visit specialists. The shuwwâfa she took me to said to her, ‘This little girl has been inhabited since she was small. The cause is a magic spell. Then my mother died. She died here. I didn’t see her after they took her to the cemetery. Not one single time. I remained possessed. There wasn’t anything they didn’t try to do for me. I remained in bed possessed for a year and eight months. I was married and my husband wanted to divorce me. My sister’s husband took responsibility. My mother and father had placed the ^âr, or obligation of responsibility for me on my sister’s husband from Sabatta (a district in Casablanca bordering on Sîdî Ma^rûf). They had said to him, ‘The responsibility for Fatuma is yours’. The poor thing he drove me everywhere in his car. They even took me to Rabat. A shuwwâfa said to them: ‘She needs a sacrifice.’ They went and bought a pot and paid for the necessities for the sacrifice. They cooked everything. While we were in the car on the way there, I ate it. I finished the whole chicken. I don’t remember that. I don’t remember any of it. Then I began losing my hair until there was not a single strand left on my head. Then a shuwwâfa said she was going to organize a lîla with Jilâla for me. One of my female friends who drinks and then loses her gold and I collect it for her again (helped me). I’m married and she’s a widow. That’s her home and

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Chapter 4 this is mine. When that illness took over me again, she took it upon herself and went to that woman’s place. She said to her, ‘Excuse me, I have a woman and she’s like a daughter to me and like a sister to me and like a friend to me’. She asked her why (I was ill). She said to her, ‘My daughter, she misses her father. She doesn’t know where his grave is or anything else’. She told her to go and buy an egg, to wash it, pass it over me and bring it back to her. She bought the egg, washed it and passed it over me. Then she took it to her. In the morning the woman came to me. It was the first time by Allah I became calm. She came to my place. She simply dressed me in black and I got better. When that woman held a consultation session for me, when she cracked open the egg, it poured out like water. In other words, it was rotten. She told them to bring me to her during the month of Sha^bân, on the 24th of Sha^bân133. She said, ‘If she becomes inhabited, you’re going to organize a lîla for her. If she doesn’t, there’s nothing I can do’. They took me to her on the 24th and I was inhabited by that thing134 (jnûn), Rjâl il-Ghâba.135 I don’t remember all the places they took me to until I got better. Then I was inhabited by that thing (jnûn) again and they took me somewhere else and I got better again. They told me only Allah could help me. They took me to Mûlay Bûsh^ayb.136 I don’t remember it, but I disappeared. They took my picture to the police station in Ma^ârif and to police stations all over the country. My sister’s husband went to my husband, grabbed him by the collar and said, ‘You killed her and took her somewhere’. During my treatment (the period of disappearance) I learned to see using eggs and tarot cards. When I had learned 20 of the cards, I stopped. I wanted to get rid of the jnûn. I continued to do sacrifices. When I came back home, my husband’s face was scratched like a woman’s (from mourning). When I went up to him, he picked up a knife and wanted to slaughter me. He said to me, ‘You were at your boyfriend’s’. A neighbor rescued me. That night ^Â’isha came to him and said, ‘Don’t talk to our daughter that way. I’m ^Â’isha Qandîsha. She’s inhabited and needs nafûsîkh (a root which, when thrown onto hot coals and burned like bkhûr, gives off a putrid odor, which in turn repels jnûn)’. The day they told me to do a lîla I decided to do one. We prepared the necessary things for doing the lîla. They bought me a lamb. Before we had done the lîla, the lamb was tied up in the wooden storage shack next to the door of the house. And I was in my room. I saw my mother in a dream. She came to me and laughed at me. I asked her why she was laughing at me, whether it was

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Marginalizing Women because I was sick. She said to me, ‘I’m laughing about your baby chick which is going to die’. My husband got up in the morning and before he left for work I said to him, ‘il-Hadawi, take the lamb with you’. He said to me, ‘Bismillâh ir-rahmân ir-rahîm. We’re going to do a lîla with that lamb’. I said, ‘I know, take it out, it’s going to die’. He went into the shack and found the lamb dead. He laid it out facing Mecca and slaughtered it. He came in to me and said, ‘Fatuma, that thing, that your lamb was going to die, who told you? Did you get up during the night?’. I said no. Then I traveled around from place to place. I found a siyyid. They call him is-Sayyih. I took a room there for three years. I began bargaining with the jnûn. I arranged to do a lîla of the Jilâla order. I got better. Then a year passed without my doing anything and I had to get back in bed. I went to the doctor’s and he gave me an injection. Afterwards I was possessed again, this time by Bâshâ Hammû.137 In a dream he came to me and turned me over on my stomach and pulled an injection needle out of my backside. He forbade me from having relations with men. I divorced my husband, the first and the second. Then I was better. I spent 14 years traveling to and from Nador and Tetuan buying and selling contraband. I stopped because I became ill again. That’s when I became a shuwwâfa. I’ve been possessed since my mother died when I was 18. That’s how I began seeing. It all started when my mother died.”

Fatuma begins by stating that her entry into the calling of shuwwâfa was willed by Allah. This statement and the long and detailed narration that follows it was her way of responding to the question kayfâsh walaytî shuwwâfa, or ‘How did you become a shuwwâfa?’. Instead of beginning with the last instance of illness or spirit possesssion which ultimately leads to her taking up the vocation, she chooses to go all the way back to the first instance. She even mentions the initial impetus which she perceives as related to the fact that ‘they’, presumably her aunt, uncle and others, (repeatedly) prepared ir-rafîsa which led to her (repeated) reaction of running away. She seems to view the diagnosis of the first specialist who was called on to treat the problem, which takes the roots of her spirit possession all the way back to her birth, as significant and proof that spirit possession began very early in her life. She stresses the numerous efforts made to cure her and the centrality

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of spirit possession in her life. Most importantly, she seems to imply that it was connected to her adoptive uncle and his wife. She places the responsibility for her spirit possession on the family of her maternal uncle. On the other hand, she connects her spirit possession to her problematic relationship to her mother resulting from a number of incidents which she includes in her narrative.138 It was her mother’s affection for her brother that resulted in Fatuma being given to her uncle and aunt at an early age. This was to compensate for the fact that he and his wife were unable to bear their own children. Her spirit possession recurs when her mother takes away her father’s shoe and again in connection with her mother’s death. She herself emphasizes this connection at the end of her long, detailed story of her experiences with spirit possession and its treatment. Attempts to cure it involved the visitation of a siyyid, consultations with several shuwwâfât, having sacrifices performed and the attendance of liyâlî or spirit possession ceremonies held by shuwwâfât. The length and intensity of her spirit possession and the use of liyâlî in the healing process had a particular effect on the way she later chose to focus her vocation and treatment of her clientele. Although she does prescribe amulets and give advice, her central concern in her consultation sessions is treating the spirit possession of her clients through sacrifices and liyâlî. Fatuma lives in a room on the roof of a five-storey house on the edge of Sîdî Ma^rûf across from the large marketplace. The roof is large and surrounded in by the wall which extends six or eight feet above the surface making a convenient enclosed space for holding her liyâlî. She is a member of the Jilâla order and invites Jilâla musicians when she holds liyâlî which she does on a regular basis roughly once a month. Similarities can be found in the following narrative of a second shuwwâfa living and practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf. “My ability to see is from Allah. The cause, the cause, it’s just something, nothing, just something simple. My maternal uncle wasn’t able to have children. My mother really loved him. She said to him, ‘Take this little girl and keep her until Allah gives you one’. So I moved in with them. You know the wives of maternal uncles aren’t good. They don’t want you. They got me up

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Marginalizing Women during the night to fetch water from the well, to whitewash the walls, to mop the floors, to wash clothes, to work. When they got me up at night, I started hallucinating. When I went to the bathroom, I was afraid. They (jnûn) were at the wells early in the morning. The wells where we go to get water. When I went to get water from the well, I was afraid. After a little while, I started having attacks. Finally, once when the fuqahâ’ were at our place, I was bringing up a plate from downstairs. I was bringing up a plate of couscous, when a man (a jinn) passed me and slapped me on the cheek. I dropped the plate. That thing took possession of me, a girl of 11. It wouldn’t leave me. They took me to Algeria, they took me everywhere. I started bleeding, bleeding, blood was everywhere, from below. After a little while they took me to a shuwwâfa. They took me to the mutâlib.139 There was nowhere that they didn’t take me. I went and they told them, ‘That thing won’t leave her’. They took me to Algeria again. Nothing (happened). The thing didn’t leave me. They brought me back here and took me to a shuwwâfa again, an old woman who died a while ago. She said to them, ‘You must do a sacrifice for her’. So they took the things to her. They started preparing the necessary things. I continued doing it for eight years. I couldn’t see or anything. I just participated in the lîla and hit myself with the knife here and here (pointing to each of her lower arms.140 The day they really took possession of me was when they forbade me to marry. When my father’s sister’s son came from Algeria to take me, my mother said to him, ‘Take her, but she isn’t suitable for you, she’s still young. She won’t suit you because she’s possessed’. He said to her, ‘I want her’. He took me there (Algeria). They did a Gnâwa lîla for me and they did this and that in the home of a shuwwâfa in Wijda (a town in Morocco near the Algerian border) and prepared all the necessary things for me. I stayed there (at the shuwwâfa’s home in Wijda) for two years and got better. Then my husband came and took me back. That’s how it was. The day I didn’t bear him any children, he divorced me and sent me back here. Then I married a Moroccan here, had a daughter and I became a shuwwâfa here. My seeing comes from Allah.”

Like Fatuma, Fatna also sees her entry into the vocation of shuwwâfa ultimately as the will of Allah. Her spirit possession also began in her early childhood. Like Fatuma, she draws a connection between the fact that she was given to her maternal uncle and the initial stage of her spirit possession. Again, it is the behavior of the family of the maternal uncle which causes the first instance of spirit possession. She also em-

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phasizes the number and variety of treatment methods which were undertaken to cure her. The period of time during which she was occupied with seeking a cure was also long. It involved a long phase of intensive contact, a kind of informal learning period, in the home of a shuwwâfa. Her eventual entry into the vocation did not immediately follow, however. Instead, it came after her second marriage and the birth of her daughter. She mentions two instances of questionable behavior on the part of her mother: giving her away out of love for her brother and trying to interfere with her cousin’s marriage proposal, but does not dwell on her mother’s role in causing her spirit possession. She lives alone in a one-room apartment on the roof of a four-story apartment building behind the siyyid in Sîdî Ma^rûf. She belongs to the Gnâwa order and held liyâlî on a weekly basis for a number of years. She was well-known in the neighborhood for being very gifted. She is now over 50 years old and has become less active than she had been previously. Their Lives: Nine Case Studies The following are biographical sketches which were collected in the form of field notes or taped recordings, when permitted, of nine shuwwâfât living and practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf. The sketches briefly describe their first experiences with spirit possession, their lives prior to becoming shuwwâfât, the circumstances of their entry into the vocation and the conditions of their daily lives at the time of the fieldwork. They are based primarily on explanations provided by these women in response to direct questioning about the impetus behind their entry into the vocation. The descriptions of their present situations are based for the most part on observations. The names have been changed to protect the identity of the women who generously agreed to participate in this study. Furthermore, the shuwwâfât can be divided into four general categories on the basis of the main focus and function of their practices. This categorization, undertaken for the purpose of simplification of future references to them, also corresponds to their attitudes toward their calling. There is, however, considerable overlapping among the categories.

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Those shuwwâfât who still function almost exclusively as spirit mediums and are consulted to answer questions about the unknown regarding events in one’s present situation and to find out about the outcome of these events will be referred to as type one.141 Those shuwwâfât who also serve exclusively as spirit mediums and who specialize in the casting and breaking of magic spells, but also prepare amulets, herbal mixtures and other substances to influence the behavior of others will be referred to as type two.142 Type three constitutes shuwwâfât who use their spirit mediumship primarily to assist women in re-evaluating and finding solutions to their personal problems.143 This often involves periodic consultations over a long period of time and the establishment of a supportive and nurturing relationship of mutual trust. Some of them also have occasion to prescribe sacrifices, prepare amulets and hold liyâlî, depending on the needs of their clientele. Many of them have altered their calling by incorporating modern business techniques to attract women from various socioeconomic background and by responding to the needs of a wide range of women. Still other shuwwâfât, to be referred to here as type four, function primarily as spirit possession cult leaders. They make use of their own possession not only to advise their clientele in the solution of personal problems, but also to treat the spirit possession of their clientele through liyâlî which they hold on a regular or semi-regular basis.144 Of the 11 shuwwâfât living and practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf at the time of the fieldwork, one belonged to the first type, two to the second type, three to the third type and five to the fourth type. Saadiyya Saadiyya grew up in a bidonville on the outskirts of Casablanca. Her mother and father both worked. Being the oldest daughter, she began, at a very early age, to do the housework and take care of her younger sisters and brothers. She was unhappy with the circumstances, but always hoped that things would improve. Then her mother became ill and died. As her sisters and brothers were old enough to take care of themselves, her father began looking for a husband for her. When she married, she moved to Sîdî Ma^rûf. Her husband was a taxi driver, an occupation which, according to her, is not very profitable in Morocco. After the birth of her fifth child, her husband became

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deeply depressed and was eventually committed to a mental hospital. Soon after his release, she began to suffer from symptoms of possession. After many months of treatment by several fuqahâ’ and shuwwâfât, she decided to give in to what she saw as her fate and became a shuwwâfa. She is not very successful and lives with her husband and five children in a small two-room apartment. Her attitudes toward her vocation and style of practicing belong to that of the second type of shuwwâfât. Dawia Dawia’s mother died while giving birth to her. Her father remarried and neglected her. She spent her childhood in the homes of numerous relatives never staying long enough to really feel at home. She was also forced to change schools numerous times and lost an interest in learning as a result. Dawia was married to a neighborhood vegetable vender at the nearby market at age of 17 or 18. No children resulted from the marriage. After his sudden illness and death 11 or 12 years later and the death of all of her relatives, Dawia became possessed. Soon afterwards, she began practicing as a shuwwâfa in a stall at the marketplace on the edge of Sîdî Ma^rûf. She lives with a widowed neighbor and has an extremely low standard of living. She is not very successful and functions exclusively as a spirit medium in her consultation sessions. She concentrates primarily on revealing to her clients details of their present situations and predicting future events. She can be categorized among shuwwâfât of the first type. Malika Malika’s parents divorced when she was still rather young. Her mother left to live with relatives in France and her father insisted that Malika remains in Morocco. He remarried but divorced again soon thereafter. Several of Malika’s aunts and uncles offered to take her, but her father decided that marriage was a better solution, although she was still only 16. When she married, she moved to Sîdî Ma^rûf. Malika’s husband was a policeman. She became possessed after the birth of her second

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daughter. Her husband left her and their two daughters when she began practicing in their home. Today, she lives in the same small, but comfortable three-room apartment that she had shared with her husband. She sometimes places advertisements in women’s magazine to attract clientele and recently had calling cards printed with her name and telephone number on them. Her consultation sessions consist of advising her clients on their problems and only occasionally treating their spirit possession which involves arranging a lîla. Malika belongs to the third type of shuwwâfât. Khaduj Khaduj was taken to live in the home of her maternal uncle at the age of six when her own family had become so large that the size of the family’s apartment and the level of her father’s income could no longer accommodate the large family. Besides, her maternal uncle only had sons and her aunt needed help with the housework. Khaduj was very unhappy with this decision because, being the youngest daughter, she had rarely been required to help her mother and sisters with the housework. Suddenly, she was forced to give up her playtime and leave her family, neighborhood and playmates. Although she was able to visit her family regularly, she felt rejected and overworked. She was afflicted with attacks of depression and long violent crying spells. She was taken to various fuqahâ’ and shuwwâfât for treatment until finally a shuwwâfa was able to identify jinn which was in possession of her. Through sacrifices, amulets and attendance of the lîla she succeeded in placating it. Much later, after her marriage and the birth of her three children, she was afflicted again and eventually became a shuwwâfa. Her husband tried in vain to convince her to give up practicing. He eventually divorced her. She lives in a comfortable three-room apartment and has a telephone. She is quite successful, usually requires her clientele to arrange appointment and charges relatively high prices for her consultation sessions. She also holds lîla by request usually in the homes of the clientele requesting them. She belongs to the third type. Rqiyya Interviewer: “Why did you become a shuwwâfa?”

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Chapter 4 Rqiyya: “It was the will of Allah.” I: “How did it come about?” R: “One day my father hit me. I cried and cried. He went to the sea. While he was filling a bottle, a wave came and hit his hand. It was injured. He came to me and said, ‘I’ll never hit you again as long as I live, my daughter’. They say we lived near Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir. My mother brought me to Casablanca, when I was ten years old. She left me here in the home of this woman. She (the woman) raised me. I was very disappointed and sad. I cried and cried. I never again saw our house. I couldn’t stop crying. They took me to all the necessary places. Then it (the jinn) left me for a long time. Many years later when my son stopped attending school I was very upset and troubled. I became ill and possessed by the spirit again.”

Rqiyya’s father was a mechanic in a garage which he owned jointly with a foreign partner. Her mother spun wool at home to make money. She had two sisters and five brothers. When she was ten her mother took her to Casablanca to live with friends where she grew up. Her foster parents had no children of their own. The man had a vegetable stand at the market, as did the man she later married who was a distant relative of his. Her husband came to live with her in the home of her foster parents. She had given birth to four boys and a girl when she began suffering from possession attacks. Her husband left her when she became a shuwwâfa. She lives relatively comfortably in the same three-room apartment. She is rather successful and supports herself through her earning and financial assistance from her children. She never remarried, but has had several short- and long-term relationships with men some of whom moved in with her for short periods of time. She has not commercialized her vocation in any way. She is consulted by a large number of women from the district and from other parts of Casablanca. She focuses on the treatment of spirit possession and often holds liyâlî, but not on a regular basis. She belongs to the fourth type. Naima Naima’s mother died when she was seven years old. Her father remarried soon afterwards. His new wife was quite young and not very fond of housework. She was very demanding of Naima who was having difficulty getting over the loss of her mother and adjusting to her new

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situation. She was required to do many tasks that her own mother had previously done herself. Her father’s new wife even forced her to fetch water from the well. She was petrified of this and began having attacks after each visit to the well. A neighborhood shuwwâfa diagnosed and temporarily cured her possession through sacrifices. The attacks recurred periodically throughout her childhood. Several years after her marriage and the birth of her daughter, possession attacks began to plague her again. She was married to a bank director and lived in a large house which he had built for them on the edge of Sîdî Ma^rûf. Shortly after she had given birth to their only child, a girl, when she was returning from a visit to relatives, she had an attack while crossing a river. A long period of treatment ensued. Two years later, she hesitantly accepted her fate and became a shuwwâfa. Her husband never approved of her vocation and still tries to discourage her from practicing. He took a second wife and eventually became possessed himself. The husband and the second wife live on the first floor of the house, while the shuwwâfa lives and practices on the ground floor. She has become extremely successful and owns and lets two houses. She holds liyâlî on a regular monthly basis and sometimes arranges additional ones when necessary. She can be categorized among shuwwâfât of the fourth type. Latifa Latifa’s father used to bring home a new wife every week (presumably an exaggeration). He constantly divorced and remarried. Latifa’s mother, who was his first wife and the only one never threatened with divorce, went to work as a maid in the home of a wealthier family in another part of town four days a week in order to earn extra money. She had a powerful and secure position among the wives. But they took their revenge while she was gone from the house. They badly mistreated Latifa. When she told her mother about it, she suffered even more the following day. She had violent fits and crying spells which were assumed to be caused by jnûn, but which were never officially diagnosed and treated as such. The situation got better when Latifa began attending school. It was only much later when she was busy with two careers and raising her two small children that she suffered her first severe attack.

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Latifa had married a civil servant working in a ministry and she had had a son and a daughter. She was a physical education instructor and had successfully participated in many national and international gymnastics competitions for which she had received numerous trophies and plaques. She also owned and managed two private dress-making schools, one in Casablanca and the other in Rabat, when her possession became serious and in need of treatment. She eventually gave up both of her occupations and her marriage to become a shuwwâfa. Although she owns two apartment houses and is well off, she lives with her two children and mother in a small apartment where she successfully practices. At the beginning, she held liyâlî weekly, until the neighbors complained to the police. She has an official document from the police permitting her to hold a lîla only twice a year in her home. Upon request, however, she also holds them in the homes of clientele. She specializes in the treatment of spirit possession and belongs to the fourth type of shuwwâfât. Batul Batul became a shuwwâfa after her husband divorced her. It happened after she had begun having difficulties raising her five children alone and earning enough money to survive as a fruit and vegetable vender at the market and had become possessed. She did not mention any childhood experience with spirit possession. Her children are all grown and married. She lives with her boyfriend in a small three-room apartment. She is not very successful, but her husband works as a mechanic. He does not object to her practicing and even comes and escorts her home when she attends liyâlî in shrines or in the homes of clients or other shuwwâfât. He does not approve of her holding liyâlî in their home. She specializes in the casting and breaking of magic spells. She belongs to type two. Zaina One day in her youth Zaina began to guess the outcome of future events. She became so fascinated by it that she did it constantly. After her marriage and the birth of her three children, she began practicing as a shuwwâfa. Her husband has no objections to her new vocation. At the beginning her practices resembled those of type one. Eventually, however, she became skilled at assisting women with their personal

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dilemmas. She has a large number of regular clients. She belongs to the third type. In most cases these women see their entry into their vocation as willed and predetermined by Allah. According to most of them, their experience with possession had its roots in or began during childhood. Nevertheless, most of the women were usually already married and had given birth to at least one child when the symptoms of possession, which led to their becoming a shuwwâfa, recurred. Each woman then underwent an often long-term struggle to placate the jinn possessing her. All of the women were eventually informed by a shuwwâfa or other specialist supervising the treatment or by way of a dream that becoming a shuwwâfa was the only way to come to terms with or satisfy the jinn possessing them. After an initial period of hesitation, each of them finally gave in to and accepted the inevitability of their entering the vocation. Entry usually resulted in major changes in their personal lives and in their being stigmatized by the negative reputation and outsider status attached to it. They all view the goal of their practices as directed towards helping other women in times of difficulty. The Vocation of Shuwwâfa This section examines the process of entry into the vocation of shuwwâfa on various levels based on observations and statements made by these and other shuwwâfât. It discusses the attitudes of shuwwâfât concerning this and other aspects of their calling. It also focuses on the changes that occur in the daily lives of these women as a result of their calling. The Role of Allah The initial response to questioning about the reasons for becoming a shuwwâfa, that it was the will of Allah, not only typifies these women’s explanation for this particular change or development in their lives, but it exemplifies their general attitude towards destiny and their lack of individual freedom and responsibility in shaping certain areas of their lives and determining the direction of their personal development. It also indicates that no conscious decision, with possible ulteri-

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or motives, was involved in taking this step which ultimately leads to radical changes in their lives. Furthermore, this attitude together with their knowledge of the negative reputation and outsider status awaiting them upon entering the vocation demonstrates or even underscores the authenticity of their belief in their own possession and in the inevitability of their becoming a shuwwâfa. Nonetheless, in some cases, a woman’s lack of other alternatives and her prior awareness of the possible social, financial and even psychological advantages available to an ever-increasing number of shuwwâfât does perhaps play a part or even constitute the actual incentive. In such cases, entry into the vocation can, in fact, be seen as the product of an active and conscious decision probably influenced by the hope of financial gains. Nevertheless, most shuwwâfât not only made the connection between their entry into the vocation and Allah’s will, but when questioned more directly about it, they also stressed that they were fulfilling the will of Allah by helping other women in his name through their calling. They considered themselves to be good Muslims and saw no point of conflict or contradiction between being a Muslim and practicing as a shuwwâfa. In fact, most of them consider themselves to be a religious specialist of a sort. When they were confronted with the Qur’ânic verses which assert that only Allah, and those specially chosen by Him, can know al-ghayb, or that which is hidden from human perception, they usually explained that they were only able to see a small part of it and that Allah knew everything. When questioned about the fact that the Qur’ân, while acknowledging the existence of jnûn, does not recognize their ability to take possession of humans, many of them pointed out that there were seers practicing during Muhammad’s lifetime and that he neither rejected them nor considered their practices to be un-Islamic. Not only do these women share the attitude held by others involved in or making use of folk-religious practices, in other words, that there is no contradiction between being a good Muslim and performing or participating in such practices, but they also see themselves as religious, in the broadest sense of the word, specialists or experts and call upon the assistance of ’awliyâ’, the Prophet and Allah Himself in the performance of their practices and rituals.

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Childhood Roots of Possession It is interesting to note that most shuwwâfât, when asked to further elaborate upon the impetus behind their becoming shuwwâfât, begin by relating the circumstances of their first experiences with spirit possession often occurring during childhood as well as the series of events which had led up to or resulted in these circumstances. In each of these cases, there had been a temporary or permanent separation from or absence of the mother during which the young girl felt neglected or rejected by her mother. She was often neglected or even mistreated by others during this absence, in which case the mother did not or could not intervene. Furthermore, a man, usually the shuwwâfa’s father, was often responsible for or had an important role in causing these circumstances. From the way in which the events were told, it appears that these women possibly see the separation itself and the fact that her mother did not come to her defense or rescue as rejection on the part of the mother. Exploring the psychological implications, i. e. the possible connection between these childhood events and the fact that these women eventually take on a role that goes against the acceptable gender roles in the society and directly or indirectly encourages other women to do the same, is beyond the scope of this study.145 One could speculate, however, that these childhood experiences are, directly or indirectly, responsible for the subconscious drive of these women to reject typical female gender roles and to take on an outsider role that allows them independence and self-expression and the opportunity to help other women who feel themselves confronted with the inadequacies of their gender roles. On the other hand, it is also possible that some of these childhood experiences with spirit possession are actually fictitious, only half true or exaggerations of the truth improvised to legitimate or strengthen the legitimation of their entry into the vocation. Like singers or artists who relate an early childhood interest in singing or drawing, which is, in fact, not so out of the ordinary for a child, and thus can underscore their claim to be a natural-born singer or artist or to have a natural talent for their specialty, these shuwwâfât thus reinforce the audience’s belief in their talents and abilities and legitimate the appropriateness of her choice of vocation by situating its origin in their childhood.

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Spirit Possession as Legitimation As has been pointed out with regard to other cultural contexts, spirit possession provides legitimation for various types of behavior which is out of the ordinary and even unacceptable and often include various forms of emotional expression which, under normal conditions, should be suppressed.146 In the Moroccan context, spirit possession, whether it begins during childhood or not until adulthood, is seen as a force which the women try in vain to bring under control through various forms of treatment. Its persistence, despite attempts to curtail it, together with various other signs interpreted by the healers in charge of the treatment, indicate that relief from the symptoms of possession and gaining the upper hand over the jnûn possessing them can only be attained by following their calling. Through their possession shuwwâfât legitimate not only their entry into their vocation, but also their behavior and the performance of tasks required by or connected with it as well as the unconventional conditions which usually characterize their daily lives and lifestyle as a result of it. In fact, illness, in general, and spirit possession, in particular, also provides the afflicted with the legitimation to focus on themselves as individuals, to free themselves from the expectations and restrictions placed on them by their families, to separate or distance themselves from the rest of the community or population and to behave differently. In this case, the shuwwâfât have chosen to use this legitimation to liberate themselves from conventional gender roles and power relations, from the expected subordination to and dependence on male relatives and family and from the normative sources of identity within the family. It also legitimates their dedication of their bodies and usually their lives to their calling. Tricks of the Trade Included among the types of behavior legitimated by possession are, of course, the deceptive acts that are sometimes required of shuwwâfât in the performance of practices connected with their vocation. The practices of shuwwâfât, like those of witches, shamans and fortune-tellers in other cultural contexts, involve a sleight-of-hand, such as breaking open an egg and finding an object inside it. In an attempt to explain

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how an individual comes to terms with manipulative or deceptive behavior required in the performance of certain duties or the fulfillment of various roles, Goffman proposes that “it is a question of believing as we all do in every act we perform in every role we are in” (Goffman 1959: 21). Kroeber explores this question in the context of spirit mediums, in general, and shamans, in particular, and concludes as follows: “Probably most shamans or medicine men, the world over, help along with sleight-of-hand in curing and especially in exhibitions of power. This sleightof-hand is sometimes deliberate, in many cases awareness is perhaps not deeper than the foreconscious … . Field ethnographers seem to be quite generally convinced that even shamans who know that they add fraud nevertheless also believe in their powers, and especially in those of other shamans: they consult them when they themselves or their children are ill.” (Kroeber 1952: 311)

In response to questioning about this aspect of their calling shuwwâfât explained that many Moroccans have false impressions and spread negative rumors about them and their vocation. They denied the use of the slightest amount of deception in their practices. As one shuwwâfa explained her practices, the key to understanding the functioning of such healing practices is believing and those who do not believe cannot be cured. Some Differences of Opinion While the attitude of shuwwâfât toward the acceptability of their practices in Islam and the use of manipulative and deceptive procedures is unanimous, they differ in their attitudes with regard to certain other aspects. The attitudes of the shuwwâfât questioned toward their ‘earnings’ and the commercialization of their vocation vary from one shuwwâfa to another. While some shuwwâfât insist on maintaining certain ideals and restrictions, especially concerning money, which characterized their calling in the past, others have liberated themselves from such limits and have even become business-oriented and competitive. Shuwwâfât of the former group have a more traditional view of

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their vocation. They view the ftûh,147 or the payment they receive for consultation, in the same light as in the past. According to them, it should be of minor importance and the amount should be determined by the client, according to how much she is able to pay. It is primarily a means to acquire necessary materials and to enable them to continue practicing as well as an incentive to the jinn to cooperate making the practices possible. Today, however, regardless of how frugally a shuwwâfa lives, she is forced to spend at least part, but usually all of her earnings on her own subsistence. Most of these shuwwâfât also reject the commercialization of their vocation and the trend toward innovation characterizing it today. They rely almost exclusively on word of mouth to make the availability of their services known to women in need of them. In former times, a green banner was hung above the door of the house where a shuwwâfa lived to make her presence public. This practice has become increasingly rare partly because it is viewed as old-fashioned and partly because many shuwwâfât fear harassment from the police. The more business-oriented shuwwâfât view themselves as specialists who deserve the payment they receive for consultation like other kinds of professionals. They usually determine the fee for consultation themselves setting it as high as their own reputation or the paying power of the particular client allows them to. They actively pursue the broadening of their circle of clients. Some of them have graduated to more modern methods for seeking out or attracting customers. Some place advertisements in newspapers and magazines, while other have calling cards printed up. Still others have begun requiring clients to make appointments. They take full advantage of the flexibility and trend toward innovation and self-expression characterizing their vocation today. Most of these shuwwâfât take pride in their financial independence and wealth, and some of them are quite well-off. Learning the Trade A certain amount of freedom of expression and flexibility characterizes many aspects of the vocation including the process for learning the trade. This flexibility is, in turn, perpetuated by the fact that there is no set procedure for becoming a shuwwâfa. In most cases, the treatment process itself, which can go on for several months or longer,

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becomes the process by which future shuwwâfât acquire knowledge about their vocation, according to the shuwwâfât interviewed for this study. There is no reference to a period of apprenticeship or explicit initiation process in the literature on shuwwâfât. The three most recent sources on shuwwâfât provide only limited information on the process of becoming a shuwwâfa. In her book Patience and Power Schaefer Davis explains that shuwwâfât pass their calling on to their daughters or granddaughters (Schaefer Davis 1983: 116). Inheritance as a means of acquiring the vocation does not exist in Casablanca, according to informants for this study. In her study of shuwwâfât in Rabat, Amiti explains that they learned their vocation by observing during their own treatment period, that a lîla is organized to celebrate the woman’s recognition of her entry and that the ceremony is obligatory for obtaining the tools of the trade (1993: 91). Habiba, the shuwwâfa interviewed by Mernissi, provides the following description of a similar, though somewhat longer and more elaborate, procedure under the guidance of a mqaddim, in response to questioning about her becoming a shuwwâfa (1984: 166-67): “Interviewer: ‘Did you begin practicing immediately upon your return?’148 Habiba: ‘As soon as I returned I began.’ I: ‘How did that happen? Did you wake up one morning and begin practicing?’ H: ‘No. I began after having a sacrifice performed. I bought a cow for 16,000 rials (800 dirhams) not counting the other expenses. I invited a mqaddim who arrived accompanied by fourteen people not including the women.’ I: ‘Where was he from? Sîdî ^Alî?’ H: ‘No. He was from Kenitra. When he saw me, he said, ‘You must prepare yourself. When you are ready, tell me and I will organize a lîla.’ They149 came and stayed with me for seven days. We danced for seven days but I had not had enough. The day they wanted to leave I lay down in front of the door. I did not want them to leave. They began to pray.’ I: ‘They stayed with you for seven days?’ H: ‘Yes. Seven days of drinking and eating, thanks be to Allah. The mqaddim stayed for an entire month. He was satisfied when he left.’ I: ‘Did you begin working when he left?’ H: ‘He left me after the inauguration. His wife came to join him. She is a

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Chapter 4 mqaddima. They hung a banner over my door. The mqaddima presented me with the tbaq.’150 I: ‘I have visited many shuwwâfât without banners. Are the ones who have a banner over their door like you, I mean, have they had a lîla and sacrifice like you?’ H: ‘Evidently. A sacrifice must be performed. You must receive the permission of the mqaddim. And later you are required to have sacrifices performed at certain times … ’”

The following is a translation of part of an interview with a shuwwâfa in Sîdî Ma^rûf recorded during the fieldwork for this study. It was preceded by a long description of her experiences with possession during her childhood and the steps she and her family had taken to treat it and an explanation of the sudden recurrence of her possession years later and of the dreams she had had of events which shortly thereafter actually occurred. The interview continued as follows: Author: “What did the shuwwâfa say?” Miriam: “She told me to go to Sîdî ^Alî.” A: “Did you go?” M: “My sister came with me. She paid for me. My husband was very angry. He said, ‘You’re crazy.’ When I returned the dreams began again.” A: “Did you consult the shuwwâfa again?” M: “Yes. She told me I was to become a shuwwâfa. I was afraid and didn’t know what to do. She said, ‘You must hold a lîla in your home.’ My husband refused to pay and left. My sister bought a sheep. The shuwwâfa came. Many people came with her. We danced and danced for four days. The shuwwâfa gave me a tsbîh and left. I felt very alone, but I was happy because it was Allah’s will that I become a shuwwâfa.” A: “Many shuwwâfât use cards or shells. Why did the shuwwâfa give you a tsbîh?” M: “In my dreams a woman came to me and put a tsbîh in my hands. I dropped it. It was hot and burned my hands. Every night, she came and gave it to me again. One night it wasn’t hot, but I dropped it anyway. I didn’t want to be a shuwwâfa. She picked it up and said, ‘You must take this.’” A: “Did you begin practicing immediately after the shuwwâfa gave it to you?” M: “Yes, from that moment on I was a shuwwâfa.” A: “Did you have to learn how to use the tsbîh and to do other things from the

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All of the shuwwâfât interviewed for this study had had experiences resembling some of those described above. They had visited sanctuaries, consulted a number of different shuwwâfât and other specialists and attended liyâlî held in their own homes or elsewhere in the process of their own treatment for spirit possession. Some, but not all, had also undergone an intensive phase of treatment by one shuwwâfa from whom they had eventually received their props for seeing and, in the case of an older shuwwâfa, a banner to hang above her door. However, none of them had undergone any type of systematic apprenticeship. In each case, they simply relied on the knowledge which they had acquired by observing the methods and procedures of other shuwwâfât during their treatment period. They had thus internalized the basic structures and elements, but felt free to improvise as well. Creativity and Self-Expression It is this improvisation that makes this new niche unique. Although the vocation is informed by or based on certain fundamental beliefs, integral elements and basic structures, there are no rigid rules nor precise guidelines concerning procedures and practices. Like those women who have contributed to the creation of other free-lance vocations in which they presently work, shuwwâfât are not supervised by a male employer or overseer. In fact, like other free-lance specialists, shuwwâfât are self-employed and practice without any form of external supervision. Shuwwâfât are thus free to structure some aspects of their vocation and practices according to their personal whims and desires. Even shuwwâfât of the first and second types who have chosen to limit themselves by strictly adhering to traditional attitudes, elements and structures, whenever possible, have recourse to some amount of improvisation. In this case, the improvisation involves adjusting the interpretation of the props and the forms of treatment to the symptoms and personal needs of the client. Many shuwwâfât of types three and four have invested individual initiative and creativity to expand, alter and thus personalize their vocation. These women have

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created new types of props such as seeing in the dark and reading from a blank piece of paper and incorporated modern business techniques for the organization of consultation sessions and the acquisition of new clients. Degree of innovation and improvisation characterizing this vocation is not surprising when considered in the light of a recent alteration in the approach to studying various kinds of healers and other specialists and performers. This approach calls for a re-focusing of emphasis precisely in this direction. After years of effort spent determining the precise rules and regulations governing the methods, practices, initiation procedures, etc. of such specialists and their rituals, some scholars have recently turned their attention to the individual styles and input and the implicit freedom of expression and improvisation characterizing many vocations and cult practices. As Drewall recently pointed out quoting her main informant, healing practices are personalized to fit the individual being treated and improvisation is, therefore, essential (1992: 28). A Change in Lifestyle Widely held stereotypes about the ‘immoral’ behavior of shuwwâfât have resulted in widespread mistrust and rejection of them. Although some shuwwâfât are happily married, others have been divorced by their husbands as a result of their calling. Of the 11 shuwwâfât described above, five were rejected or divorced by their husbands shortly after they began practicing. After having been divorced for other reasons, three of them were forced or simply chose of their own accord to live alone or in temporary relationships with men. Two of them are married and one is widowed. While some have received support and acceptance from their families regarding their vocation, others reported being rejected by their fathers, other family members and even their friends as a result of their practices. At least initially, becoming a shuwwâfa can have a drastic effect on the everyday lives of these women. The most radical change is often the loss of their husbands which also means a loss of their source of financial support. And, in the case of rejection by or scarcity of financial means of their families, they are left to fend for themselves. The vocation of shuwwâfa was formerly perceived less as an ‘occupation’

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or a means of making a living and more as an inner calling or even a natural aptitude. They were often integrated into an extended family or neighborhood and their subsistence was taken care of by the community. The lack of support of and rejection by the husband and family and the necessity to survive financially in an urban environment plagued by ever-increasing rate of inflation have driven today’s shuwwâfât to transform their vocation into an ‘occupation’ or primary source of income for these women. In order to make a living from their vocation, their practices as shuwwâfât often become a primary focus of their everyday life activities. Their Position in Society The position of shuwwâfât in Moroccan society is unclear in a number of ways. Their vocation, like other folk-religious beliefs, practices and rituals involved in it, are unacceptable in mainstream Islamic terms. The ability of jnûn to take possession of humans, the ability of humans, other than those chosen by Allah, to see al-ghayb, the use of music, and in some cases self-mutilation practices, in religious rituals and the performance of sacrifices in honor of jnûn and sâlihîn all contradict the tenets of mainstream Islam. In spite of these contradictions, the government has never taken any measures to ban any of these practices and rituals nor the vocation of shuwwâfa. Individuals, though aware of this contradictions and the accusations commonly made against shuwwâfât, continue to avail themselves of their services. The government indirectly and directly articulates its tolerance and even recognition of some of these practices and rituals by allowing them to continue and through the appearance of government officials at mwâsim at which such some of these practices and rituals have an important function. Its attitude toward them and thus toward shuwwâfât and their practices must be viewed as ambiguous. This ambiguity on the official level in the case of shuwwâfât is exemplified by the fact that the government not only refrains from addressing this issue, but it has, in fact, been supportive of them at least in three specific cases. One shuwwâfa procurred an official statement from the local police department specifying that she is allowed to hold the lîla in her apartment on two specific occasions. This resulted from her having been harassed on numerous occasions by neighbors who

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were disturbed by the noise and against the idea of a lîla being held in their building. The permit states that she is possessed and that holding the lîla is a medical necessity for her physical and mental well-being. It explains that she has tried in vain to cure herself through the assistance of various specialists and has even been committed to and undergone treatment in a mental hospital for several months. It is interesting to note here that the police went so far as to put into writing their acknowledgment both of the possibility of someone being possessed and of the necessity of the possessed holding a lîla as a necessary treatment. The second case concerns a shuwwâfa who became so popular that the lines of clients outside her home waiting to consult her were disrupting the normal course of everyday life in the neighborhood. The local authorities intervened by posting a policeman to keep order. Thirdly, a shuwwâfa was tried in court not for pursuing her vocation which at no point became an issue in the case, but for practicing prostitution and selling hashish and using the vocation as a guise. It is surprising that, in spite of these three instances the last two of which received media coverage, many shuwwâfât, nevertheless, reported living in constant fear of the police. The attitudes of Moroccan individuals regarding the rituals of veneration of the sâlihîn and spirit possession ceremonies of the popular mystical orders as well as the practices of shuwwâfât are also ambiguous. This ambiguity is exemplified in the following statement made by a young Moroccan woman and recorded by a Moroccan researcher: “It was out of profound desperation with regard to the future that I decided to follow in my mothers footsteps and visit shrines, listen to shuwwâfât and consult fuqahâ’ … You know, my sister, I’m not ashamed. I’m only afraid that one day I’ll stop believing in these practices.” (Chikhaoui 1990: 51)

The young woman expresses her awareness that these practices and the beliefs on which they are based are not universally accepted in Moroccan society. She feels that she could, at a later point in time, be among those who question and eventually cease to believe in them. All folk-religious practices are rejected by some segments of the population as un-Islamic and backward. There is, however, a difference in the way this rejection is manifested with regard to all other

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folk-religious practices and the stigma attached to the calling of shuwwâfa. While rejecting and thus refusing to participate in them, some Moroccans nevertheless view some of these practices as belonging to culturally valuable folk traditions or folklore. In the case of shuwwâfât, the rejection or even resentment involves yet another dimension. In fact, four stereotypes are widely held and articulated about shuwwâfât and even known and verbalized by those Moroccans who have recourse to their assistance. These stereotypes accuse shuwwâfât of being ignorant of Islam, uneducated and backward, charlatans who are out to get their clients’ money and prostitutes. Thus, it is the person, the moral character, the intellectual capacity and personal convictions of these women which are being targeted and called into question. The first two accusations are to be expected, as they are also voiced with regard to other folk-religious practices and practitioners. The third accusation could also be directed at fuqahâ’, as in both cases, one is paying for a service and not a product and thus calculating the value of what is received with relation to the price paid is not so straightforward. Fuqahâ’ are rarely, if at all, the objects of personal moral reproach. The third stereotype or accusation, like the fourth accusation, seems to derive from the fact that shuwwâfât are women, and women are believed, in general, to be deceiving, conniving and unworthy of trust. The fourth accusation results from the contact with strangers required of shuwwâfât for the activities related to their calling and the lack of male supervision in their personal and ‘professional’ lives. This discrepancy and the general resentment felt toward and articulated about shuwwâfât and their marginal status inspired me to more thoroughly examine the status and position of shuwwâfât in society and general attitudes toward them in conversations with the Moroccans, men and women, young and old, I met during the course my fieldwork. Most of the responses to my inquiries about attitudes toward shuwwâfât and their practices often followed the same general pattern. Most of the individuals questioned began by mentioning one or more of the four stereotypical accusations, continued by relating a story about a relative, friend or acquaintance who had nevertheless been successfully treated or helped by a shuwwâfa and ended by questioning me about my belief in the powers of shuwwâfât. The following examples show the degree of ambiguity and contra-

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dictions characterizing the attitudes of many Moroccans toward shuwwâfât: Fatima is a young woman attending a secretarial school who has recently joined a Islamist group. In fact, she began wearing a veil for the first time in her life as a result. In response to my questioning about her attitude toward shuwwâfât, she explained: “What shuwwâfât do is un-Islamic. But a friend of mine once had problems with her husband. He would go out with other women when he was away in another town on business. She consulted a shuwwâfa who put a spell on him and now he is faithful to her. I don’t believe in shuwwâfât, except in this one case.”

Khadija is a friend and fellow student of Fatima’s who rejects the veil and Fatima’s membership in the Islamist group. She visits shuwwâfât quite often to seek advice on problems she is having with her boyfriends. She drives to school as well as to the homes of the shuwwâfât in one of the family cars. She responded to my questioning saying: “Only some shuwwâfât can really see. The others are charlatans and just want to get people’s money. One must be very careful.” Muhammad, a young man attending a training college for civil servants, agreed to act as a client and consult a shuwwâfa for purposes of observation during an early phase of the fieldwork for this study, although he had never had occasion to consult one before. On the way to the shuwwâfa’s home he said: “Shuwwâfât are really just old prostitutes who are no longer attractive enough to get customers. They deceive their clients to get as much money as they can from them.” The shuwwâfa began the consultation by breaking open the egg which Muhammad had been requested to go back out and fetch upon our arrival. Inside the egg, she found a piece of folded paper with illegible writing on it containing a small amount of sand and small stones. She interpreted it as a sign that someone had cast a spell on him. Then she melted some lead in a small pot over the fire of a gas burner and poured it into a bucket of cool water. She removed the solidified lead and examined its shape closely with her fingers. Then she began to explain what she saw and to ask questions to get more details. She concluded that it was Muhammad’s girlfriend’s mother who had cast the spell. She prepared an amulet for him to protect him against the spell

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and instructed him on how to properly dispose of the paper she had found in the egg and its contents upon arriving home. On the way home, Muhammad expressed astonishment at the shuwwâfa’s ability to know so many facts about his personal situation. He flatly rejected my request to keep the paper and its contents. He insisted on destroying them immediately upon reaching home exactly as the shuwwâfa had told him to do. Said, a young male prostitute, knows numerous shuwwâfât personally who he visits and consults periodically as do his male prostitute friends. He considers these women to be self-conscious and sincere specialists in their field. Latifa lives together with her nine-year-old daughter and husband, a policeman, in a small two-room apartment. One evening, her two sisters and their husbands were visiting and discussing, for my benefit, various aspects of the cult, emphasizing that such practices are unIslamic. The following day Latifa addressed the topic again in the absence of the others. Referring to a friend of hers who attends a lîla every week, she said: “She has problems with her husband. He doesn’t give her enough spending money. She likes money. I don’t need to see a shuwwâfa nor to attend the lîla. I get along with my husband. I’m lucky. We talk about everything.” Rabia is a young primary school teacher and engaged to be married. Recently, her younger sister suffered an attack of possession. She was said to have suddenly become delirious and to have spoken and written Hebrew, although she had never had any contact with the language in her life. Rabia then began to undertake precautionary measures to avoid becoming possessed herself. When her brother explained that jnûn exist but cannot really take possession of humans and that shuwwâfât are uneducated women who still believe in outdated traditions, Rabia responded saying: “I know all that but I don’t want to take any chances. These rituals and treatments won’t do me any harm anyway.” Observations of the actions and reactions of many Moroccans and their explanations and statements about their attitudes made it possible to conclude that the negative reputation and marginal status of shuwwâfât derives not from the character of the women themselves nor from the beliefs on which their practices are based but instead from the real and abstract threat these women pose to society and the

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social order, from a real and abstract fear of the power of these women and women in general. The abstract fear stems from widely held beliefs about the nature of women. It is generally accepted in Morocco, as in other Muslim countries, that women must be protected and supervised by male relatives to preserve social order and to prevent chaos from breaking out. Women are said to be unable to control their emotions and sexual desires, i. e. their nafs, for lack of maturity of their reasoning powers, i. e. ^aql. This attitude is connected to the popular belief in women’s ability and inclination to cause fitna. It originally stems from the Prophet who, articulating his frustration with his wives’ inability to reach consensus, is reported to have said that women are the worst source of fitna. The word was used at that time to refer to civil strife and upheaval or simply to the early Muslim community’s temporary inability to reach consensus on certain issues. Furthermore, since early on in Islamic contexts, women have generally been considered to be wise in practical matters and prone to use this ability in manipulative and even dishonest ways (Malti-Douglas 1991). In the Moroccan context they are generally mistrusted for this reason (Rosen 1984). As a result, their supervision on a daily basis is seen as an absolute and unconditional necessity. These popular beliefs result in the conviction, especially among Moroccan men, and other Muslim men in general, that social order and morality of society can be threatened by women who are independent and powerful in any way. In this case, the shuwwâfât are in charge of their vocational practices and ‘professional’ life. They function in their role as specialist in comand of knowledge and supernatural powers without the supervision or authority of men. In addition, they quite often live alone, with their children, or share their living space with other women. This abstract fear deriving from their personal and ‘professional’ independence constitutes one important cause for the negative reputation of the vocation. Two different sources of real fear are also involved. The first source is the example set by the personal and ‘professional’ independence of shuwwâfât which could potentially influence or entice other women to reject their ‘traditional’ gender roles of housewife and mother and to become independent as well. The second source of real fear has to do with the functions which consulting a shuwwâfa and participating

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in other cult practices serve. The consultation session provides a forum for women to air their discontent with their personal situations and with the behavior of their husbands, in particular, and to gain a new perspective on and even influence the conditions of their everyday lives. Participation in the lîla allows them to temporarily escape the limitations on their emotional expression and the restrictions on their behavior. Through it, they seek the support of other women independent of constraints of their families and relatives permitting them to gain some distance on their everyday life situations and reflect on the unpleasant or frustrating aspects of them. In this way, the practices of shuwwâfât potentially pose a real threat to female gender roles and thus to the social order. Furthermore, many shuwwâfât are financially independent and are not under male supervision in their vocation. They are their own bosses and are free to organize and run their professional lives as they choose. Many of them are quite successful and even wealthy, which allows them even more independence and freedom of action. Their wealth can even become a source of influence and power. This freedom and influence in itself and as an example to other women goes against the norm for women and thus poses a threat to the social order. Conclusion Despite the variety in form, focus and function characterizing the practices of shuwwâfât four basic types can be identified. These four categories also correspond to the attitudes of the shuwwâfât toward various aspects of their vocation. The biographical sketches of shuwwâfât illustrate the variety in the backgrounds among shuwwâfât and the relatively normative character of their daily life circumstances of some of them prior to entry into the calling. While similarities can be noted regarding their attitides toward the inevitability of their entry into the vocation, the childhood roots of spirit possession and the lack of contradiction between their self-definition as good Muslims and their role as a religious specialist among all of the shuwwâfât interviewed, their attitudes vary with regard to the amount and use of the fees charged for services and the innovation of their practices. Attitudes toward shuwwâfât in society are ambiguous. The existing stereotypes about the morality, backgrounds and even level of educa-

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tion of these women have more to do with the threat they pose as socially, financially and ‘professionally’ independent women than with actual facts. Their marginality results from, rather than leads to, their entry into the vocation. This chapter has emphasized the role of the shuwwâfât, their personal input and creativity, in the alteration and development of their vocation since the turn of the century. They have created a niche for themselves that allows them a considerable amount of self-expression, self-fulfillment, independence and personal advancement, especially financial, that would not have otherwise been available to them. Legitimating their actions and lifestyles through their spirit possession, they are able to leave behind the restrictive gender roles and limitations on the behavior to take up a vocation, which they themselves have transformed to suit their own needs and to meet the expectations and demands of their potential clientele. Particularly through their self-presentations as religious experts, these women have succeeded, consciously or unconsciously, in confronting the degrading stereotypes about them and readjusting their position in society and their roles as women.

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Chapter 5 Self-Proclaimed Religious Experts and Their Clientele Their negative reputation, outsider status and marginal lifestyle do not disqualify shuwwâfât from being often widely patronized as experts in resolving personal dilemmas and diagnosing and treating spirit possession. This is due to the manner in which each shuwwâfa establishes and maintains her authority and reputation for expertise. This is carried out both discursively and practically by way of their performances especially during the consultation session which is usually the initial moment of contact with their clientele. Their performances are geared toward demonstrating their authority and expertise in order to gain their clientele’s confidence and to ensure their belief in their authenticity, sincerity and ability and their satisfaction and continued patronage. This is achieved through a number of techniques. Establishing the Desired Rapport The following illustrates how the techniques incorporated into the consultation session performance function to attain this goal in the case of one shuwwâfa living and practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf. She is wellknown throughout Casablanca for her expertise and for the fact that she ‘sees’ in the dark. Throughout the day, except during a break period from twelve until three, women gather and wait in the packed sitting room for their turn to crowd into the small dark room where the session is held for ten to fifteen women at a time. The shuwwâfa is seated on a mat in one corner of the room. She is wearing yellow, the favorite color of her spirit medium, Lâlla Mîra. After the women have entered, she sprinkles bkhûr over the hot coals in the mjmâr on the mat beside her and requests that the room be darkened. The only tiny window which is covered with cloth to keep out the sunlight is firmly shut by one of the clients. The shuwwâfa’s voice changes and she begins burping loudly. Both are signs that the Lâlla Mîra, who serves as her medium and enables her to see al-ghayb, has entered her body and taken possession of her. She begins the session as follows:

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Chapter 5 “a^udhu billâhi min ash-shaytân ar-rajîm. I take refuge in Allah for protection against the cursed devil. bismillâh ar-rahmân ar-rahîm. In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate. lâ \ila¯ha ilâ allâh wa muhammad rasûl allâh. There is no god but Allah and Muhammad is the Prophet of Allah. wa mûlay ibrâhîm tayr al-jibâl. And Mûlay Ibrâhîm is the bird of the mountains. wa sîdî shamhârûsh malik al-’aryâh.” And Sîdî Shamharoush is king of the jnûn.

In this opening segment, the shuwwâfa presents herself as a sincere and capable expert to ensure the success of the rest of the session as well as her reputation. She does this in several ways. The lighting of the bkhûr, the alteration of her voice and the burping noises are all signs that the jinn has been summoned and has arrived. From this point on the shuwwâfa is possessed. It is through the mediumship of the Lâlla Mîra, a supernatural being, that she is able to see. This lends credibility to what she says. Her words, diagnosis and advice are no longer her own, but instead are pieces of wisdom from a superhuman source and therefore ‘sacred’ and infallible. Secondly, the shuwwâfa opens the session with five lines in classical Arabic. In the first two she seeks Allah’s protection and claims that what follows will be done in the name of Allah. Then she pronounces the shahâda, or profession of faith. In this way, she not only illustrates her religious knowledge and linguistic capabilities beyond Moroccan dialect151 but also establishes herself as a faithful Muslim. The fourth and fifth lines of the segment, which include the names and descriptions of a jinn and a walî Sîdî Shamharoush and Mûlay Ibrâhîm,152 who are important with regard to Moroccan folk-religious beliefs and practices in general and in particular to those connected with the vocation of shuwwâfa are juxtaposed and parallel to the second half of the shahâda in the third line. All three begin with wa and end with the parallel internal rhyming of the long ’âlif: Allâh, jibâl and ’aryâh. By connecting the shahâda and these holy figures through rhyme, she dismisses the boundary between mainstream Islam and folk-religious practices thus validating the acceptability and credibility of the latter and consequently her own vocation and practices.

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Then the actual round of consultation commences. The shuwwâfa, who is only barely visible in the orange glow of the hot coals, initiates dialogues or individual consultation sessions with the women present, one after another, by posing the question “shkûn yishawwir?”, which can best be translated as: “Who is asking or seeking consultation?”. One by one the women enter into dialogue with her by responding to her statements and queries, making requests or simply listening to her advice concerning their behavior and personal problems. The following is an example of one such dialogue: Consultation 1: Shuwwâfa: “shkûn yishawwir?” Who’s seeking consultation? Client: “anâ.” I am. S: “mjawwja? kayn dakâr?” Are you married? Is a male present? C: “ah, mjawwja.” Yes. I’m married. S: “shkûn illî dayr ^amaliyya?” Who ’s the one undergoing an operation? C: “jawjî. wash ghâd yikûn bikhayr?” My husband. Is he going to get better? S: “huwwa ^andû dwâ di-t-tabîb, mâshî dwâ di-l-fqîh u as-sbûb. wintî dabha mîra?” He is being treated by a doctor and not by a fqîh or with herbs. And you’re performing sacrifices to Lâlla Mîra? C: “ah, dabha mîra.” Yes, I am. S: “wa ^alâsh mâ ^awidtîsh dbahtî u mâqumtîsh bi-l-wâjib? hâda shî mâshî mizyân lîk u li-sahhtik. râjlik gâllik bâsh timshî il-hijj, wintî mâ bghîtîsh.” And why have you stopped sacrificing and carrying out your obligation? That’s not good for you and your health. Your husband told you to go on the hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca) and you didn’t want to. C: “anâ shwiyya khayfa u mâza^mâsh.” I was a little afraid and wasn’t prepared for it. S: “^alayk bi-dabha mîra u tilbisî miskî u ghâda tzûrî maqâm in-nabîsalla allâh

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Chapter 5 ^alayhi wa sallam.” It is your duty to sacrifice to Lalla Mira and to wear yellow and to go visit the tomb of the Prophet (go on the hajj), may Allah bless him and grant him peace. C: “^afik imta nijî bâsh nitdibah? najî ghadda fi-s-sabâh?” Please tell me when I should come to offer a sacrifice? Should I come tomorrow morning? S: “in shâ’ allâh.” If it is Allah’s will.

In this consultation, the shuwwâfa proves her ability to see il-ghayb by the fact that she is aware of several conditions in the woman’s life without being told about them. These include the fact that someone is undergoing an operation, that her husband is being treated by a doctor and not a folk-religious specialist and that her husband suggested that she go on the hajj which she refused to do. Here she is criticizing the fact that the woman’s husband is patronizing a professional medical doctor and not a folk-religious specialist. She shows her preference for the latter. She also underscores the acceptability of combining folkreligious practices with participation in one of the most sacred of main stream Islamic religious obligation. She indicates that she perceives the two as compatible, that they are neither contradictory nor separable from one another. This is done by obliging her client to wear yellow (the favorite color of Lâlla Mîra), to continue performing sacrifices to Lâlla Mîra and to go on the hajj. She closes by acknowledging that all future events are a matter of Allah’s will. The shuwwâfa continues the session by repeating the initial question ‘shkûn yishawwir?’: Consultation 2: Shuwwâfa: “shkûn yishawwir?” Who’s seeking consultation? Client: “anâ.” I am. S: “mjawwja? kayn dakâr?” Are you married? Is a male present? C: “lâ.” No.

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Self-Proclaimed Religious Experts S: “baqa ^azba?” Are you still single (a virgin)? C: “ah.” Yes. S: “khadâma?” Do you work? C: “ah.” Yes. S: “^alâsh jîtî tshawwirî?” Why did you come to consult (me)? C: “^alâ sahhtî wa ^alâ sa^dî.” (To find out) about my health and my fortune (future). S: “intî kitkabirî u kitnifghî wintî t^awdî sirrik li-sâhibtik u lamma ummik thdar ma^ak mâtjâwibhâsh. kayn hâdha shî?” You are putting on airs and acting snobbish (turning down suitors). And you tell your secrets to your girlfriend but when your mother questions you about them, you don’t answer her. Is this true? C: “ah, il-jawâd. nibghî niqûllik kayn wâhid râjil nitmashâ ma^âh.” Yes, the jnûn153 are right. I want to tell you something. There’s a man I’m going with (at the moment). S: “mâ nâwî il-ma^qûl. hâdha ghayr il-harâm. shkûn il-^arûsa?” He’s not intending anything serious. This is forbidden. Who’s the bride? C: “ukhtî. u lâkin ghayr makhtu¯ba mâzâl mâtjawwajâtsh.” My sister. But she’s only engaged, she hasn’t married yet. S: “ghâd yikûn jûj a^râs. ah, jûj ^arûsât fî dâr wâhida.” There are going to be two brides. Yes, two brides in one house. C: “shkûn anâ il-^arûsa il-ukhrâ?” Who me? I’m the other bride? S: “^alayk bi-l-mâ’ diyâl sab^a byâr u bi-l-mâ’ diyâl sab^a mujât u tafusîkhât yuhûdî talâta jum^ât u min-l-ba^d ajî ti ^awdî il-fa’l.” You must obtain water from seven wells and seven waves and some Jewish bkhûr154 on three Fridays. And afterwards come and see your fate again.

In this consultation, the shuwwâfa discloses her knowledge of the woman’s behavior towards others, especially her mother, again without prior mention of it. Moreover, she expresses her disapproval of this behavior. In this way, she reiterates her ability to know il-ghayb and establishes herself as a guardian of proper behavior. The same can

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be said of the subsequent statement about the man the woman is seeing. She reveals that she is aware of him and his intentions and again expresses her disapproval. Then she refers to the fact that a woman in the family is getting married, without previous mention having been made of it. She fortells that there will actually be two brides and prescribes some measures for the woman to follow to ensure that all endeavors in this regard will go well for her. These measures include some symbolically significant elements. Water in general and particularly water from certain wells and the sea is believed to have special powers to purify the body by ridding it of any evil or polluting elements. It is used in purification procedures in the treatment magic spells and spirit possession. The inclusion of water together with the tafusîkhât yuhûdî in the prescription indicate that the client is being treated for spirit possession, or at least its prevention. The numbers seven and three are believed to bear magical powers and are commonly found in the divinatory procedures, prescriptions and charms recorded in some of the written sources on the science of magic.155 They are used by some fuqahâ’. The incorporation of these elements into her prescription demonstrates that she is wellversed in popular magical traditions even beyond those most common among shuwwâfât. It also gives the impression that she ranks among the literate specialists educated in the field of magic. Even if it is not very likely to be true, it nevertheless lends a bit of professional flare to her performance. Consultation 3: Shuwwâfa: “shkûn yishawwir?” Who’s seeking consultation? Client: “anâ.” I am. S: “mjawwja? kayn dakâr? kayn tarîqa?” Are you married? Is a male present? Do you have children? C: “iyyâh. tarîqa, lâ.” Yes. Children, no. S: “shkûn illî marîd?” Who’s sick? C: “bbâ.” My father.

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Self-Proclaimed Religious Experts S: “shkûn illî muqalliq?” Who’s upset? C: rajlî, yikhâsim bizzâf.” My husband, he’s very angry. S: “intî tshkay fîh bizzâf. mâshî mizyân lik. huwwa râjlik mizyân. ^alâsh jîtî?” You’ve been complaining about him a lot. That’s not good for you. He’s a good man, your husband. Why did you come here? C: “jît nshûf ’ala sahhtî wa sa^dî.” I came to see about my health and happiness. S: “intî itsarraqtî walla ghâda titsarraqî.” You’ve been stolen from or you’re going to be stolen from. C: “lâ, matsarraqtish wa mamishât lî hatta hâja.” No, I haven’t been stolen from and not a thing has disappeared. S: “ghâda tita^radî. ’ahsân matimshîsh. hâdha ^arda tsabbab lik il-ghayâr w-intî tihissî bi-diqqa walla râsik tidârik. hâdha shî kayn walla il-jawâd kidhibû ^alayk.” You’re going to be invited somewhere. It’s better not to go. This invitation is causing you trouble and you’re feeling pressured or your head hurts. Is this right or have the jnûn lied to you. C: “lâ, sâhh il-jawâd.” No, the jnûn are right.

In this consultation, the shuwwâfa again proves her prior knowledge of certain circumstances in the client’s life, that she’s not getting along with someone, that her husband’s a good man and that the woman has received an invitation which is troubling her. She also makes a statement that is not true. She does not dwell on this point but moves on the next statement to avoid arousing doubt about her abilities. As in the preceding consultations, she criticizes the client’s behavior, this time for complaining about her husband. She explains that such behavior could be harmful to her. In this consultation, the shuwwâfa ends abruptly after finding the cause of the client’s discontent without prescribing a remedy. She has simply assisted the woman in sorting out her feelings and some of the details of her present situation.

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Consultation 4: Shuwwâfa: “shkûn yishawwir?” Who’s seeking consultation? Client: “anâ.” I am. S: “mjawwja? kayn dakâr?” Are you married? Is a male present? C: “lâ.” No. S: “intî mazâl bint?” Are you still a virgin? C: “iyyâh.” Yes. S: “khadâma?” Are you working? C: “iyyâh.” Yes. S: “^alâsh jîtî?” Why did you come here? C: “jît nshûf ^alâ sa’dî.” I came to see about my happiness. S: “kithissî bi-taqlîqa wa tagûlî sirrik wa twarrî rizqik.” You’re feeling upset and you’re revealing your secret and showing what you have. C: “iyyâh, il-jawâd.” Yes, the jnûn are right. S: “shkûn yisayyib lik il-’awrâq?” Who is preparing papers for you? C: “sâhibtî.” My friend (female). S: “ghâda tsâfirî walla ktimtî sirrik. kayn hâdh ish-shî walla il-jawâd kaykdhabû?” You’re going to travel or you’ve concealed your secret. Is this true or are the jnûn lying? C: “iyyâh, il-jawâd.” Yes, the jnûn are right. S: “li-mîn ^atîtî tsawîrtik?” Who did you give your picture to?

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Self-Proclaimed Religious Experts C: “sahibtî.” My (female) friend. S: “matabqaysh tsabbanî hawayjik bi-l-layl wa ti ^ûmî.” Don’t wash clothes or take a bath at night.

Here again the shuwwâfa makes a statement about aspects of the client’s present situation without previous mention having been made of them. This was the client’s very first consultation with a shuwwâfa and she was quite astonished and dismayed by the fact that she knew so much about her future plans without prior knowledge of them. She also experienced emotional relief, as it is the first time she had spoken with anyone except her mother and her foreign friend who was arranging her visa for her. She was rather troubled and uncertain about this big step in her life. This time the prescription recommends avoiding water at night. Jnûn are known to be more active at night and to lurk near toilets, drain and water sources. The remedy prescribed by the shuwwâfa is directed toward the prevention of spirit possession during this unsettled time in the client’s life of preparing for a journey abroad. Consultation 5: Shuwwâfa: “shkûn yishawwir?” Who’s seeking consultation? Client: “anâ.” I am. S: “mjawwja? kayn dakâr?” Are you married? Is a male present? C: “lâ.” No. S: “intî mazâl bint?” Are you still a virgin? C: “la, mtalqa.” No, divorced. S: “khadâma?” Are you working? C: “iyyâh.” Yes. S: “^alâsh jîtî?”

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Chapter 5 Why did you come here? C: “jît nshûf ^ala sa^dî.” I came to see about my fortune. S: “shkûn illî mkhâsim?” Who’s angry? C: “anâ.” I am. S: “mkhasma ma^a wâhda mrâ fi-l-khidma diyâlik.” You are angry with a woman at work. C: “iyyâh, bghât ti ^awwinnî niqallib ^alâ khidma li-waldî fi fransâ.” She was going to help find work for my son in France. S: “khassik tijî is-simâna ij-jayya ^andî tidîrî dbîha.” You must return here next week for a sacrifice.

Again the shuwwâfa knows something about the client’s present situation. Prescribing a sacrifice shows that the shuwwâfa interprets the woman’s state of emotional unrest as an indication of spirit possession or the need to take preventative measures against it, since vulnerability usually increases during moments of emotional unrest. Besides, performing the sacrifice will bring the woman baraka which could also change the course of events in her favor. The central focus of the consultation is on the establishment of a relationship between the shuwwâfa and her clientele. Only by gaining their acceptance, respect and trust can she put them at ease enough to talk freely about their personal concerns and accept the support and advice she is offering them. Objectively, the clientele is likely to be aware on some level that the shuwwâfa is employing various techniques to convince them of her authority and expertise. A certain level of willingness to believe and to place one’s confidence and trust in a shuwwâfa on the part of the client is a prerequisite for consulting one in the first place. As one shuwwâfa put it: “illî jâ bi-nîytû, yaqdî hâjtû u illî jâ bilâ nîya, yimshî bi-hâlû” which translates: He who comes with nîya, or belief, trust and good intention, his problem will be solved and he who comes without nîya, he will leave in the same state as when he came. Thus, the success of the consultation process and of the shuwwâfa’s predictions, suggestions and prescribed measures depends to a great extent on the

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client’s belief and confidence in her, which in turn derive from the credibility of her performance. The credibility of the performance and the resulting nîya of the client are crucial for achieving the ultimate goal of the consultation session which is re-establishing the physical, psychological and emotional well-being of the client. This requires establishing a rapport between the shuwwâfa and the client which makes possible the development of a relationship which is supportive and nurturing vis-à-vis the client. The rapport between shuwwâfa and the client usually improves over time and the eventual development of a supportive and nurturing relationship results only after repeated consultations. In fact, many women tend to consult the same shuwwâfa periodically on a long-term basis for this reason. Typical Problems Their personal problems provide the ultimate impetus for consulting a shuwwâfa among the women of Sîdî Ma^rûf interviewed for this study. They usually involved males relatives and resulted from dissatisfaction with their behavior or attitudes and restrictions on the behavior of the women themselves which prohibited their articulation of this dissatisfaction. These problems can be divided into two general categories: those involving unmarried and those married women. The problems which the unmarried women of Sîdî Ma^rûf most often faced involved the desire to undertake a course of action or behave in a manner that was deemed ‘unacceptable’ by the women’s families. This action or behavior included both their patterns of socializing with friends and acquaintances, male and female, and their plans for their future lives and lifestyle. The problems usually arose from a discrepancy between the young women’s attitudes toward certain issues and the opposing attitudes of their fathers with regard to them. These issues included their choices of friends, female and, in particular, male, and the conditions of their contact and association with them as well as their wish to further their education or to go to work, before or after marriage or to choose their own spouses. According to the unmarried participants in Sîdî Ma^rûf, many young Moroccans men and women today still feel themselves strongly bound, financially and

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emotionally, to their families to the point that their self-definition is still primarily based on their position in the family and their relationships to family members. Few, especially young women, have reached a point of perceiving themselves as individuals distinct from their families. While they are being confronted with an ever-increasing number of examples of peers who have broken out of the bonds to their families and freed themselves from family pressure on and influence over their personal decision, the threat of alienation from family members remains very strong.156 According to these women, not only are unmarried women dependent on their families’, especially their fathers’, consent with regard to their future husband, but they are also unable to express their wishes with regard to a potential candidate. When they meet a man they would like to marry, they are forced to be patient and hope that he feels the same or find subtle ways to convince him to propose. Again, they find themselves in a position of choosing between respecting the normative restrictions on the behavior, which means waiting for the man to propose to them, or overstepping the bounds of these restrictions and undertaking more active measures to attain the fulfillment of their wishes, such as addressing the topic of marriage themselves.157 The married participants interviewed for this study were most often confronted with difficulties in their relationship to their spouses. All of these women expressed their concern for insuring the harmony in their everyday lives and preserving their marriages. Most of the problems which provided the impetus for consulting a shuwwâfa were, directly or indirectly, financial in nature, and most of them resulted from a dissatisfaction with or disappointment in their spouse’s behavior and from their inability to become active and to undertake measures to change the situation. They included unemployment, alcoholism, gambling or other ‘unnecessary’ expenditures on the part of the spouse and financial problems caused by inflation or the limitation of the spouse’s income. Other problems included fear of losing their husbands, infertility, infidelity of the spouse, conflicts with the spouse’s relatives, especially his mother, and overwork or exhaustion, boredom and seclusion or isolation of the women themselves. Involvement in the marital conflicts of their children was a common impetus among older married women.

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Many of the problems confronting both the unmarried and married women of Sîdî Ma^rûf had only come to burden and thus elicit the urgent and personal attention of these women as a result of the changes in the society in the last few decades. The younger women had only relatively recently started responding to the enticement of new opportunities. The middle-aged women had only just begun feeling overburdened by the effects of immense social and economic problems on their private lives and the limitations placed on them by their social worlds which prevent them from taking action. Societal transformations have made the female, as well as male, gender roles of the past and the patterns of behavior attached to them problematic. These transformations have begun pushing women to reconsider the conditions of their daily lives. Their male relatives and spouses are often no longer able to cope with the responsibilities of heading a household and providing a subsistence or to find suitable solutions to conflicts and hindrances on their own. More and more of these women are becoming aware of their feelings of discontent and realizing their needs to become active both at home and in the public sphere. Inner and Interpersonal Conflicts Regardless of the type of problem troubling these women, it was the tension or emotional stress deriving from both the problem situations themselves and the inability of the women to directly address them or undertake steps to solve them which was the ultimate cause of the spirit possession and provided the impetus for the initial consultation of a shuwwâfa. Addressing these problems or articulating their contrary feelings or opinions on the issues involved was perceived by these women as overstepping the bounds of what is considered ‘proper’ behavior for these women. The force of the traditional sociocultural constructions informing their roles and structuring their behavior was still very strong. Such a step would have resulted in both inner and interpersonal conflicts.158 According to many informants, expressing feelings or voicing opinions contradictory to the attitudes of male relatives, or critical of their behavior, are considered ‘improper’ or ‘unacceptable’ behavior by them and by their relatives and neighbors. It would go against the patterns for behavior ingrained in them from childhood and would

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bring them into conflict with themselves. They take pride in behaving ‘properly’. Women who behave ‘improperly’ are frowned upon, looked down upon, rejected by others and are alienated from their families. They themselves have little respect for women who behave ‘improperly’ and would therefore lose their own self-respect if they did not conform to the sociocultural restrictions on their behavior. These women are thus driven by a fear of the consequences of behaving in an unconventional manner, such as a loss of respect, harm to their reputation and the reputation of their families and alienation. Thus, the first hindrance in addressing and finding solutions to these personal problems is overcoming the fear and resolving the inner conflict.159 They reported that taking action would also result in interpersonal conflict. It would bring them into conflict with those around them. Expressing their dissatisfaction to their husbands or undertaking any indirect course of action to influence his disappointing behavior, in the case of married women, or refusing to cooperate with or acquiesce to the expectations and attitudes of their fathers, in the case of unmarried women, would bring about conflict and confrontation. Such actions would be viewed as an affront to the authority of the spouse or father. Besides being simply uncomfortable, an affront or confrontation of this kind could lead to harsh disciplinary measures and alienation, especially in the case of a daughter, and even the threat of divorce in the case of a wife. Thus, these women found themselves trapped, caught between conforming and suffering sometimes unbearable circumstances or taking the risk of losing the security and disturbing the superficial harmony of their home life. Although more and more of these women were beginning to consider such options as seeking employment for themselves as a possible solution, they were hindered by either the internal or interpersonal conflict that would ensue. Such a step would entail not only convincing themselves and their spouses that it is an acceptable course of action, but also overcoming the fear and uncertainty that such an undertaking conjures up in the women themselves. It was the pressure from the problems themselves and the almost insurmountable barriers hindering their solution together with the lack of forum for airing their grievances that led to spirit possession.

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Types of Participants and Forms of Participation Although a regular pattern in the case of any one group of participants with regard to the type of shuwwâfa they consulted, to the course of action or type of treatment which they required and to the length or intensity of the treatment, was not observed, several general tendencies were noticeable. The problems confronting the participants concerned their everyday life situations which were, in turn, related to their age, marital status and financial situation. It is not surprising, therefore, that the married women of the same general income bracket, for example, were plagued by similar kinds of problems which required similar forms of treatment. The section that follows, therefore, divides the cult participants into unmarried and married, which are then subdivided into three general income brackets. The factors of age, educational background and place of birth, rural vs. urban, proved less significant as criteria in the definition of these categories. Unmarried Women In general, the young women preferred one particular course of action regardless of socioeconomic background, that of periodic or occasional individual consultation session. Those young women with a lower to medium level of education and lower to middle economic status often chose shuwwâfât of the first and second types, in other words, those shuwwâfât who focus primarily on predicting the future outcome of present circumstances, preparing amulets and casting and breaking magic spells. Young women from families which were better off often have a somewhat higher level of education and were more aware of Western lifestyles and ideas and were more attracted by shuwwâfât of the third type who have recently begun to incorporate some Western business techniques into their calling and who address issues of the present by focusing on interpersonal interaction and communication strategies. In both cases, these young women were seeking advice and solutions for similar kinds of problems. They wanted to have more influence over decisions concerning their future lives. Because of their fear of the consequences, they were unable to articulate this wish. While some young women especially those from the lower income bracket,

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were satified with fantasizing about a brighter future or determined to change their situations by force through the use of magic spells, others, especially those of the higher socioeconomic background, preferred strategies and advice as well as amulets to console them, to protect them from the spirits and to give them strength for their confrontations with their fathers or for their efforts to gain the support of their mothers in influencing their fathers’ attitudes. Some young women were so troubled by their dilemma that they suffered more severe symptoms of spirit possession and needed the immediate intensive attention of a shuwwâfa. They were required to attend a lîla either specifically organized for them or one that took place on a regular basis depending on the situation of the shuwwâfa which they had consulted. In this case, regular attendance of liyâlî over a long period of time and the integration into a cult community followed. The following four examples briefly describe the daily life situation and experiences of unmarried women who have had recourse to the assistance of shuwwâfât in solving personal problems: Hakima Hakima is 18 years old and enrolled in a hairdresser training program. She has been seeing the same young man for over a year. He comes to visit her at home sporadically or they go to cafes together with a group of friends. Hakima usually consults shuwwâfât of the first type to see what they will predict for her future. But when her boyfriend suddenly stopped contacting her, she went to see a shuwwâfa of the second type. The shuwwâfa told her that his mother had put a spell on him to make him lose interest in Hakima. Hakima took measures to break the spell and to use magic spells to insure his continued interest in her. Her boyfriend began seeing her again and they are talking about getting engaged. Layla Layla is 16 years old. She lives with her parents, two brothers and two sisters in a small three-room apartment. She recently recovered from spirit possession through regular attendance of the lîla over a period of

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about three months. Her spirit possession began when her father started pushing her to get married after she had completed her schooling. Through contact with other young cult participants who are unmarried and work, her original intention to work for a while before getting married was strengthened. Although the shuwwâfa emphasized the importance of respecting one’s parents, she also suggested strategies for improving the communication between the woman and her mother. Following the advice of the shuwwâfa, she succeeded in convincing her mother that it would be advantageous for the entire family and that only with her help could she possibly obtain her father’s acceptance of her plans. He eventually consented to her going to work. Nadia Nadia is 20 years old. She lives with her parents and three brothers in a relatively large, three-room apartment. She is a clerk in an appliance shop. She would like to further her education and get a better job. Her father has recently begun pressuring her to marry. The emotional distress resulting from the discrepancy between her own future plans and those of her father has driven her to consult several shuwwâfât of the second and third type. Most of these shuwwâfât have prescribed amulets to protect her against spirit possession to which she is vulnerable in her state of discontent. They also suggest strategies for communicating her own wishes to her father and for gaining the support and assistance of her mother in convincing her father of the advantages of her future plans. Khadija Khadija is 17 years old. She lives with her parents and brother in a large, comfortable apartment. She is attending a secretarial school and often has access to the family car for getting there. She has a boyfriend who supports her in her ambition to further her education and to seek a suitable, permanent employment position afterwards. Her father has recently forbidden her to see her boyfriend and begun discussing prospective marriage candidates for Khadija with his brothers. He has begun making arrangements for the candidates to visit the family. Khadija has begun meeting her boyfriend secretly. She is very troubled by this situation and periodically consults with one particular

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shuwwâfa of the third type in Sîdî Ma^rûf about it. Although she lives elsewhere, she has a friend who lives in the area and often spends her afternoons there. She has been consulting her for a while and says that the sessions help her to relax when she gets upset about the situation. The shuwwâfa is against the secret meetings and tries to encourage her to communicate with her parents, especially her mother, about her feelings. Sometimes she prepares an amulet to protect her and to ensure that her attempts to communicate will go well. Khadija sometimes consults shuwwâfât of the first type just for fun to hear their predictions about her future. She says it takes her mind off her situation and gives her hope for the future. Married Women In the case of the married participants, three general tendencies were identified. The problems confronting the married women from roughly the same socioeconomic background were often quite similar as were their attitudes toward and choice of shuwwâfa. Both of these factors influenced the course of action or kind of treatment the women were eventually required to undergo. The three tendencies in the participation of the married participants correspond, to a great extent, to their socioeconomic background. The women have been divided here into three general socioeconomic groups which will be referred to as the less well-off, the middle-income bracket and the wealthier. Less well-off refers to those families with serious financial problems which were barely able to survive financially; middle-income bracket indicates those families whose minimal to comfortable daily existence was at least temporarily stable; and wealthier includes those families who could afford some luxuries items above and beyond the necessities of daily life. The women in the less well-off category often had more say in the household due to the fact that they had often already been involved, in some way or another, in assisting in providing for the subsistence of the family. The position of the spouse in society was weak making him also less powerful in his relationship to his wife. The concerns of these women were almost exclusively financial in nature.160 They usually chose to consult shuwwâfât of the second type except in the case of more serious symptoms of spirit possession in which case they were

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usually obliged to seek out a shuwwâfa of the fourth type and to attend liyâlî. With the exception of those cases where more intensive treatment of spirit possession was required, these women were most likely to visit a neighborhood shuwwâfa to obtain amulets or magical potions to help them, directly or indirectly, to improve their financial situation. The following are short case studies of women from this income bracket: Malika Malika is 35 years old. She was born in a small town near Marrakesh. She attended school for six years, but only sporadically, because she was needed at home to help with household chores. She moved to Casablanca after marriage. She lives with her husband and four children in a small, simply-furnished, but comfortable three-room apartment. Her husband recently lost his job as a factory worker. Malika does housework for a wealthier family and their income is very limited. She consults a shuwwâfa of the second type once or twice a month to obtain amulets and potions to better her husband’s chances in his search for employment opportunities. Samira Samira is 40 years old. She grew up in a poor neighborhood in Casablanca. She was married off quite young by her father to a man 20 years her elder. Shortly after his death five years ago, she remarried. Her second husband has a limited, but stable income, but he often goes out drinking which causes severe financial problems for the family. Samira has three children from her first marriage. She began consulting shuwwâfât161 of the second type during the illness of her first husband. She has recently resumed seeking their assistance in finding ways to cure her husband’s alcoholism and in gathering the courage to confront her husband with the idea of her seeking employment. The participants from the middle-income bracket were the most likely of all three groups to choose a shuwwâfa of the fourth type who holds liyâlî on a regular basis. They generally experienced a wide variety of problems directly or indirectly related to their relationships to their

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husbands usually deriving from boredom with their daily life situation and role as housewife and mother, from dissatisfaction with specific aspects of their husbands’ behavior or from a desire to seek employment to supplement the family income and, somewhat less often, from a fear of divorce. Most solutions to these problems would necessitate a process of personal development and change on the part of the women themselves which could best be brought about by regular long-term participation and integration into the community of participants. Those women who opted for long-term participation were sometimes able to gradually alter their attitudes toward themselves and their lives, in general, and toward their everyday life situations and relationships to their husbands as well as their roles in both of these areas. Through this alteration in their attitudes, they were occasionally able to eventually prepare themselves to take a more active role in their daily lives. The following is a description of the experiences of women from a middle-income background: Latifa Latifa is 30 years old. She was born and grew up in a rural area to the south of Casablanca. Her husband, who comes from the same area, married her and brought her to Casablanca after finding employment and securing his existence there. As she was the youngest of four daughters, she was not needed for household chores and had been able to satisfactorily complete her schooling. She presently lives with her husband and two daughters in a comfortable four-room apartment. Her husband is a civil servant and is able to provide a stable subsistence for his family. Latifa attends the lîla held weekly in the home of a neighborhood shuwwâfa. She is unhappy with her daily life. She is bored and would like to have more spending money. She has many unfulfilled desires and dreams. She sometimes considers looking for employment herself, but never undertakes any steps in this direction. She is unsure about the possibilities available to her. She has no professional training and would not know where and how to begin looking for work. She is also uncertain if it is ‘proper’ for women to work outside the home. She is afraid to discuss her feelings with her husband. She fears his reactions

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and the consequences on her own reputation and the reputation of her family if she were to go to work. Jamila Jamila is 40 years old. She was born and grew up in Casablanca. She married immediately after completing her schooling. She has two sons and a daughter. Her husband has a stable income, but goes out periodically and spends too much money in restaurants and bars, in her opinion. She is lonely and wishes she could work and supplement the family income. Two years ago she began suffering from spirit possession and has been regularly attending a nearby lîla since that time. The wealthier participants were the most likely of all the participants to be plagued by isolation and boredom. They most often consulted shuwwâfât of the third type. The shuwwâfât of this type are business-oriented and can be quite expensive. The tendency observed with regard to cult participation among the women of this category included consulting them periodically for advice and suggestions of tactics for improving communication with their spouses, attaining minor goals and making small alterations in their everyday life situation. The immediate goals of most of these women included convincing their husbands to give them more spending money, to buy them luxury items, to allow them to participate in various activities outside the home, to undertake short journeys or visits, to hire a maid or cleaning woman or even to permit them to take on a limited employment situation outside the home. The solutions offered by the shuwwâfât included practical communication and argumentation strategies. Sometimes they prepared amulets and potions to put in the spouses food or drink. The shuwwâfât also suggested that sacrifices be offered to obtain the baraka of a siyyid or conjure the good will or support of a jinn or that they attend the lîla. The following case studies describe the situations and experiences of wealthier women:

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Fatima Fatima is 37 years old. Her husband is a successful businessman. They have four children. She would like to go out more and travel, but her husband is too busy with his work. She periodically consults shuwwâfât of the third type. Although she lives elsewhere, she often comes to Sîdî Ma^rûf to consult a wealthy and very successful shuwwâfa practicing there whom she has known personally for a long time. Amina Amina is 41 years old. She lives with her husband, three children and her mother-in-law in a spacious and comfortable apartment. Like other women from similar backgrounds, she is frustrated with her everyday life situation. She has wishes and dreams which she is unable to fulfill. She consults a neighborhood shuwwâfa of the third type about once a month. The shuwwâfa is known for her abilities to successfully assist her clientele in finding solutions to their problems and therefore charges relatively high fees for her services. In the consultation sessions, Amina reports to the shuwwâfa about her successes and failures in attaining her goals and getting her wishes fulfilled and discusses new strategies for coping with the same problems or new ones which have arisen in the meantime. Each time, she receives a new amulet or potion and new advice and the strength to apply it. Not every woman’s participation in the cult was in keeping with one of these general tendencies. Nevertheless, by distinguishing five main groups and examining the similarities among the women in each group, it is possible to better compare the groups themselves as well as to determine the common denominator among all of the participants. All of the participants, regardless of their age, level of education, socioeconomic background and marital status, had reached a point where they felt restricted by their female gender roles and the limitations attached to them and were seeking to solve personal and familial problems, the solution of which was necessary for preserving or re-establishing harmony in their lived-in worlds.

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Conclusion Participation in the cult results from everyday problems and the inner conflicts stemming from an inability to solve them. These problems vary in accordance with the marital status and socioeconomic backgrounds of the cult participants. It is the incongruence between needs and desires of these women and the normative roles and ‘acceptable’ types of behavior, together with the lack of sources of support from their family members or institutions and of conventional procedures for addressing these problems that prevent them from actively seeking solutions. They feel pressured to overstep the bounds of their societal roles, but fear the consequences of such actions. They are thus caught between remaining faithful to the female gender roles and the restrictions placed on their behavior by their social worlds ingrained in them from childhood on and exploring new possibilities. Ironically, it is a cult based on traditional folk-religious beliefs and practices that becomes the source of assistance for women striving to meet the changing demands and fulfill the new expectations of transformed socioeconomic realities. By incorporating various practical and discursive elements into her performance, the shuwwâfa, described at the beginning of this chapter, demonstrates her religious and folk-religious expertise and authority, establishes her credibility and sincerity and facilitates the consultation process on three levels. First, the use of classical Arabic, bismillâh and the shahâda establishes herself as a believing and knowledgable Muslim and legitimizes her practices in mainstream Islam. She underscores this connection to mainstream Islam when she assumes the role of critical guardian of and specialist on acceptable behavior which in turn enhances her respectability and credibility. This, in turn, enhances the trust and confidence of the clientele which is vital to the consultation process and the development of a long-term working relationship between the client and the shuwwâfa. Secondly, her spirit possession, which she proves by way of the burping noises, the alteration of her voice and her knowledge of events and information not disclosed by the client, provides legitimation for her diagnoses and advice and prescriptions for the resolutions of the inner and interpersonal conflicts and dilemmas in the everyday lives of her clientele.

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Thirdly, her folk-religious expertise, which she demonstrates through the mention of the holy figures and historically significant healing procedures, establishes her as capable of treating their afflictions. Thus the consultation session becomes an ongoing process in which the shuwwâfa establishes her authority and expertise and thus gains the trust and respect of the clientele which, in turn, enables the shuwwâfa to assist her clientele in sorting out and re-entering their daily life situations.

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Chapter 6 The Lîla: Women and Communal Religious Ritual A broad ear-to-ear smile of satisfaction and inner peace came over Rashida’s face as she listened to the cassette she had fetched the cassette from another room and put it into the cassette recorder when I asked her about her attendance of the lîla one afternoon during a visit. Completely relaxed, she closed her eyes and chanted along. She knew the words well as she had attended the lîla often, years before on a weekly basis. After a while she stopped chanting, opened her eyes and began to explain: “Years ago when my oldest son and daughters were small, my husband only found work sporadically. He was unhappy and often drank at night. He was gone all night, sometimes for a couple of days. I consulted a neighborhood shuwwâfa and she told me to attend the lîla at her place the following week. She told me to bring a red chicken and to go to the hammâm that morning. I was petrified. I borrowed some money from my sister, bought the chicken and went to the hammâm. I thought maybe I would slip on a bar of soap and hurt myself so I wouldn’t have to go. I was very shy then and didn’t know what would happen. I came home, got ready, took the chicken and left with a neighbor who agreed to accompany me. My sister stayed with the children. The courtyard was full of women and the shuwwâfa took me to one side and covered me with pieces of colored cloth. My neighbor sat down near me. The music was playing and a man slaughtered the chicken. The shuwwâfa came towards me carrying the bloody knife. Everyone was staring at me. Some women at the lîla like this. They like being the center of attention. But I was still young and shy. I wanted to hide my face under the cloth. The shuwwâfa smeared blood on my forhead, arms and legs. After a while I was less and less afraid. Everyone was friendly to me. Things got better, but I continued to attend the lîla almost every week for a while. My husband got a steady job and stopped drinking. When the girls got older, I started working selling vegetables at the market. I never stopped attending the lîla, sometimes at the home of the same shuwwâfa and sometimes at the home of another shuwwâfa. My neighbor usually came with me. When there was no lîla, nearby we went out to Marshîsh162 to the Wednesday lîla out there or to the lîla on Saturday night at Sîdî Muhammad.163

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Chapter 6 I don’t attend very often anymore. I’m busy with work and my mother’s sick. I always get invited to liyâlî during Sha^bân and the Mîlûd (the feast commemorating the birth of the Prophet Muhammad on the twelfth of the month of Rabî^ al-’Awwal). That’s enough for me. I made this cassette at a lîla during Sha^bân. I can listen to it whenever I want. At the beginning, I went because I had so many problems, so much stress. When I was in trance swaying violently, I felt like I was fighting with myself, with my problems trying to get control of them. In the end, I felt like I was floating in the air above the earth. When we went home late at night, I felt like as strong as a horse. I thought I could fly like a bird all the way home if only my arms and legs weren’t so tired from the long evening. I was happy and peaceful. Now I go to obtain baraka, listen to the music, go into trance and see the shuwwâfa and other women friends there.”

Rashida lives with her mother, husband and seven children in a large three-room apartment on one of the main arteries of Sîdî Ma^rûf and belongs to the second generation. Her parents immigrated to Casablanca from Dukkala in the forties as did her husband’s. Although she herself had little schooling and no job-training, she was determined to see that her children had more options than she did. Her oldest son works like her husband in a small shoe factory in Darb il-Fuqarâ’ and is saving up to get married. Her oldest daughter quit school at the age of 14 because she was not doing well. She helps around the house and is waiting to be married. She sometimes accompanies her mother to liyâlî. Her second daughter did a training program in clothing production. She has been working for two years now. She has a large circle of friends and a cellphone to keep in touch with them on, since the family has no telephone. She goes out often with girlfriends to the cinema and disco. She has several boyfriends she meets periodically. Rashida’s third daughter is studying law at the university and belongs to an Islamist group. She does not approve of her mother attending liyâlî but she appreciates the chants on her mother’s lîla cassette for their folk-cultural and religious value. Her fourth daughter and two younger sons are all still in school.

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The Ceremony Shuwwâfât hold liyâlî on any of four different occasions: at least once during the month of Sha^bân and sometimes during the Mîlûd, to appease and renew their relationship with the jinn serving as their medium, when a client is in need and sometimes on weekly or monthly basis.164 They can also attend or take their clients to liyâlî held regularly in and near Casablanca165 by choice or when the means for holding one privately are not available. Certain aspects of the ceremony can vary from one occasion to another and from one shuwwâfa to another. The chants vary from one popular mystical order to another to which the musicians belong and sometimes even among musicians belonging to the same order. The following is the description of a lîla which was organized by a shuwwâfa for the initial stage in the treatment procession for three of her clients: It is Thursday morning and the preparation for the lîla begins with a thorough cleaning of the room or, as in this case, the courtyard where it is to be held. After mats and rugs have been spread out for the guests and musicians, the shuwwâfa sprinkles milk and burns bkhûr in the four corners to please and attract the jnûn.166 Having already performed her ritual washing at the hammâm in the early morning, she now dresses in yellow, the favorite color of Mîra, her intermediary, and gets the pieces of colored cloth ready to spread over the clients. Shortly after one o’clock five musicians from the Jilâla order arrive at the home167 of the shuwwâfa with their instruments and a chicken to be sacrificed.168 One of them is also a mqaddim and designated by the order to slaughter the sacrificial animals. Their instruments include two qizbât,169 two banâdîr170 and one set of qarâqib.171 The mqaddim slaughters the chicken172 while the musicians warm the banâdîr over the coals in the qanûn, or earthenware pot, prepared for them. They begin playing and chanting starting with the chants of a number of ’awliyâ’ of particular significance to their order. Some chants mentioning jnûn may be included, but the longer and more significant chants dedicated to them are reserved for later on when they are actually summoned to take possession of the participants.

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Introductory chant:173 “bismillâh fadl allâh In the name of Allah, thanks be to Allah ig-gazzâra ’ulâd bi-l-\ahmar The butchers, ’Ulâd Bi-l-\Ahmar174 sîdî ^alî mûlay marshîsh Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh175 is-sawwâgî tijarî bi-dimm The waterwheel is turned by blood illî bghitûnî nbra’ Those wanting my recovery jîbûlî dbîha hamra Bring me a red sacrifice salabûnî yâ ummwîma They exploited me, o my dear mother salabûnî mâ dirt ^alâsh.” They exploited me, (although) I had done nothing.

In honor of Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir:176 “mûlay ^abd il-qâdir Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir tayr il-khisâm ghiyyât ’ashâbû fî dayyiq il-hâl The bird of controversy, he is the salvation of his followers in times of need ghiyyât il-birr wi-l-bhâr shaykhî mûlay ^abd il-qâdir The salvation of the land and sea is my shaykh, Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir mûlay ^abd il-qâdir, jât ’akhbârû min kulli blâd Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir, news of him has come from everywhere min ish-shâm ma^a baghdâd.” From Damascus as well as Baghdad.

In honor of Mûlay Bû Sîlhâm:177 “mûlay bû silhâm sâkin fi-j-jbâl Mûlay Bû Silhâm, he dwells in the mountains shiyyir ^alayya bi-silhâmû w-il-hadra quddâmû He beckoned me with his coat and the hadra is in front of him shiyyir ^alayya bi-îdû u razqî mânikhammim fîh.” He beckoned me with his hand, my lot, it no longer concerns me.

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In honor of Tayr ^Allâl:178 “bin l-hussayn it-tawwâ^ juhâla Bin al-Hussayn, his followers are ignorant il-qubba kaydawwî bi-z-zayn, arânî fi-l-qubba kani ^ayn The qubba is shimmering with beauty, here I am waiting in the qubba mas^ûda hallî il-bâb, il-farjî shidd al-’arkâb.” Mas^ûda179 open the door, al-Farjî180 has taken to the saddle.

In honor of Bû ^Abîd ish-Sharqî:181 “khawâja182 ya bu ^abîd jîtî b^îd183 A foreigner, o Bû ^Abîd, you’re far away sharqâwa jayyîn ^ala khuyûlhum râkibîn The followers of ish-Sharqî are coming on their horses bi-l-makâhil ^amrîn, darbû qalîl nîya fi-l-hîn.” With loaded guns, they shot those lacking good intention instantly.

In honor of Mûlay ^Abdallâh:184 “wasalnâ ij-jdîda is-sum^a bânt linâ (When) we arrived in al-Jadida, we could see the minaret is-sum^a qibâl-il-bhâr, mûlay ^abdallâh sîdî ja^far The minaret is at the sea, Mûlay ^Abdallâh Sîdî Ja^far is-sum^a sâyira tibkî ^alâ il-^ashrân.” The minaret cries continuously for the friends. The chicken is slaughtered and the playing continues with occasional breaks, while a meal is prepared from the slaughtered animal. When the meal is ready, the musicians eat it together with the shuwwâfa. Then they rest and wait for the guests to arrive. The main segment of the lîla begins with the arrival of the guests between four and five o’clock. They include: the three clients for whom this ceremonial treatment has been specifically arranged, some of their relatives and friends, those friends and other guests invited by the shuwwâfa and some of her regular clients, some of whom are in regular treatment.185 They sit down on the straw mats spread out on the ground on one side of the courtyard. The musicians begin setting themselves up on the skins and rugs laid out for them on the straw mats on the other side of the courtyard opposite the audience. They prepare for the performance by warming their drum skins over the hot coals once again. With the exception of the musicians, all those present are female.

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Chapter 6 The shuwwâfa seats the three clients undergoing treatment on one side of the courtyard to the left of the audience. She covers them with pieces of different colored cloth, placing one piece of each of the favorite colors of the jinn possessing them. The music begins as the last guests are arriving. Milk and dates, which were brought by the three central clients at the request of the shuwwâfa as offerings for the jnûn possessing them, are served to all present during the first 15 or 20 minutes of playing. “bismillâh fâdil allâh In the name of Allah, thanks be to Allah ig-gazzâra ’ulâd bi-l-\ahmar The butchers, ’Ulâd Bi-l-\Ahmar sîdî ^alî mûlay marshîsh Sîdî ^Alî Mûlay Marshîsh is-sawwâgî tijarî bi-dimm The waterwheel is turned by blood illî bghîtûnî nbra’ Those wanting my recovery jîbûlî dbîha hamra Bring me a red sacrifice salabûnî yâ ummwîma They exploited me, o my dear mother salabûnî mâ dirt ^alâsh.” They exploited me, (although) I had done nothing.

In honor of Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir: “mûlay ^abd il-qâdir Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir tayr il-khisâm ghiyyât ’ashâbû fî dîq il-hâl The bird of controversy, he is the salvation of his followers in times of need ghiyyât il-birr wi-l-bhâr shaykhî mûlay ^abd il-qâdir The salvation of the land and sea is my shaykh, Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir mûlay ^abd il-qâdir, jât ’akhbârû min kulli blâd Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir, news of him has come from everywhere min ish-shâm ma^a baghdâd.” From Damascus as well as Baghdad.

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The Lîla At this point the animals, a black sheep and two red chickens, chosen because they are preferred by the jnûn possessing the three clients being treated and meant to appease them, are taken one by one and circulated around the client for whom they will be sacrificed. Then they are held briefly against the client’s chest, brought back to the center of the courtyard and slaughtered by the mqaddim, one after the other.186 Each time the shuwwâfa collects some of the blood in a tin basin and smears some of it on the forehead, back of the hand, wrist, top of the foot and heel of the client for whom it was sacrificed. The slaughtered animals are then removed from the center of the courtyard. Several women from among the guests usually good friends of the shuwwâfa who assists her on a regular basis at such events, begin removing the organs and preparing the meat to be used for couscous which will be cooked for the guests. The right shoulder is saved for a meal prepared for the three central clients of the lîla who will return in the afternoon of the following day. The musicians pause only briefly for each of the sacrifices and then resume their playing and chanting. When the initial segment of chants honoring and calling upon the assistance of the ’awliyâ’ has been completed, the musicians perform chants focusing solely on the jnûn.187 During some of the segments, additional minor rituals events sometimes occur in connection with the jinn being honored by a particular chant. While ^Â’isha Qandîsha is being summoned with a chant, for example, black olives are served to the guests, as she is fond of the color black. During the chant to Lâlla Malika, one of the women serving the shuwwâfa circulates among the guests with a bottle of perfume for the guests to sample, as Lâlla Malika is fond of perfume. These gestures encourage the jnûn to come and take possession of the guests.

In honor of Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir (continued): “hâ huwwa il-^awanî – ya it-tâmi ^ fi-d-dunya la tikûn maghrûr Here he is the intermediary – o you who are greedy for worldly things, you should not be selfish shhâl mâ ^ishnâ lâ budd mâ nimût How ever long we live, we have to die wâkilnî fî ra’smâlî – wi-d-dâmin rabbî And they’ve stolen my material wealth – and my Lord is the guarantor wi rasûl allâh min ^and man yijînî – min il-bilâd il-b^îda bi-khirqa burâqiyya And the Prophet of Allah from wherever he comes to me – from far away countries wearing a shimmering garment188

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Chapter 6 wi gûl wi gûl habîb rabbî – wi fayn yit^arafû ba’d yâ nakrîn il-\ihsa¯ n And say, say the one dear to my Lord – and how will you recognize each other, you who are unappreciative of generosity wi bâb jihannam kitzihir ka-l-firân And the door to hell is burning like an oven wi gûl wi gûl id-dâmin rabbî – wi-t-tâmi ^ fi-d-dunya lâ tikûn maghrûr And say, say my Lord is the guarantor – and o you who are greedy for the worldly things don’t be selfish shhâl mâ ^ishtî fî lâ budd mâ timût How ever long you live, you have to die lâ budd as-salâ ^alâ nabîna – sîdnâ muhammad ish-shafî’ fînâ You must pray to the Prophet – our holy one, Muhammad, is our mediator ta^âla liyya yâ jilâlî bû il-i ^lâm Come to me o jilâlî the advisor wi gûl gûl habîb rabbî – wi gûl gûl ta^âla liyya And say, say the one dear to my Lord – and say, say come to me ^abd il-qâdir il-jilâlî – shûf hâlî ^Abd il-Qâdir il-Jilâlî – see my state wi ta^âla liyya – gûl gûl ta^âla liyya wi hiyya il-ghadâr And come to me – say, say come to me and it is the traitor wi mâ dirtî fiyya – wi-l-jilâlî ta^âla liyya And what you did to me – and il-Jilâlî come to me ^abd il-qâdir – wi rawwatinı¯ wi wald il-khawîra ^Abd il-Qâdir – and you have filled me with awe and (you are) the son of ilkhawîra rânî khadîmik – wi dâba nizûrk Here I am your servant – and now I’m visiting you wi ta^âla liyya wi yâ il-ghadâr – wi mâ dirtî fiyya And come to me, o traitor – and what did you do to me wi fayn il-habâb illî kânû hinâ wi sârû And where are the dear ones who were here and left wi ta^ala liyya wi il-jilâlî il-jilâlî.” And come to me and il-Jilâlî, il-Jilâlî.

In honor of Mûlay Bû Silhâm (repetition of chant above) In honor of Tayr ^Allâl (repetition of chant above)

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In honor of Bû ^Abîd Sharqî (repetition of chant above) In honor of Mûlay ^Abdallâh (repetition of chant above) In honor of Lâlla ^Â’isha il-Bahriyya:189 “mukhalwad il-wâd fi-l-^âshiyya – lâlla ^â’isha il-bahriyya The river isn’t calm in the evening – Lâlla ^Â’isha, the one from the sea muqâbila il-^iyyâsha, hiyya ^ashîrat sîdî mûsâ She encounters her followers190 – she’s the companion of Sîdî Mûsâ191 hâdik lâlla ^â’isha il-bahriyya – w-intî jîtî min baghdâd This is Lâlla ^Â’isha il-Bahriyya – you have come from Baghdad wi kitâbit il-ghurba fî shatt il-wâd – wi jîtî qâsidat il-wudâd And your preordained exile is on the river bank – and you have come to see the loved ones râk sâkina wast il-ghâba – wi ^ashîrk is-sahâba Here you are living in the middle of the woods – your companions are the clouds hâdik lâlla ^â’isha – wi hâdî lâlla il-bahriyya That is Lâlla ^Â’isha – and this is Lâlla il-Bahriyya, the one from the sea w-intî qibâlat sîdî wa^dûd – nuddî dhikrî allâh il-ma^bûd And you are opposite Sîdî Wa^dûd192 – get up and commemorate Allah, the object of our worship wi rabbî ^alâ-l-bahriyya193 – nuddî tikalamî sîdik jâ By God come to the sea – get up and talk, your holy one has come w-intî lâlla ^â’isha – w-intî hâ il-bahriyya You are Lâlla ^Â’isha – and here you are il-Bahriyya ta^âlî ta^âlî ’alâ-l-bahriyya – wi qâti ^at il-wâd bi-r-rîhiyya Come, come to the sea – crossing the river on the wind tilhaq is-sabâh tilhaq ^âshiyya – wi rabbî ’alâ-l-bahriyya You arrive in the morning and in the evening – and by God, come to the sea shagga il-wâd bi-r-rîhiyya – wi tiqtâ^ is-sabâh tilhaq il-^âshiyya She crosses the river on the wind – and she leaves in the morning and arrives in the evening qabl mâ takûn ig-gatra mimliyya – hâdik lâlla ^â’isha il-bahriyya Before dawn (the dew ceases to fall) – this is Lâlla ^Â’isha il-Bahriyya wi nuddî tikalamî sîdik jâ Get up and talk, your holy one has come w-intî mûlat il-^iyâsha – w-intî ^ashîrat sîdî mûsâ

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Chapter 6 And you are the lady of your followers – and you are the companion of Sîdî Mûsâ wi rabbî ^alâ-l-bahriyya – wi ta^âlî ta^âlî ’alâ-l-bahriyya And by God, to the sea – and come, come to the sea wi illâ bakât allâh il-ma^bûd – wi jîtî qibâlat sîdî wa^dûd And if she cries, Allah is the object of our worship – and you came opposite Sîdî Wa^dûd wi rabbî a lâlla il-bahriyya – ta^âlî ta^âlî ^alâ-l-bahriyya.” And my Lord o Lâlla il-Bahriyya – come, come to the sea.

In honor of Gnâwa il-Khal:194 “bwâb ig-gnâwa min ^andû sârût yihall il-bâb The doorkeeper of Gnâwa has the key to open the door ^alâ-l-bwâb ig-gnâwa illâ jîtî khûtik mayidayyiqû bîk If you come to the doorkeeper of the Gnâwa, your syblings won’t constrain you jâw siyâdî jâw They’ve come, my holy one, they’ve come jâw gnâwa jâw, illâ jîtû, yijîkum il-khayr.” They’ve come, the Gnâwa have come, if you come, you’ll be rewarded with goodness.

In honor of Sultân Gnâwa:195 “majdûl min il-harîr kiswa kahla min196 il-wad^ Wearing a belt of silk and a black dress with seashells shâshiyyatû kahla min il-wad^.” His shashia is black with seashells.

In honor of il-Gnâwî Bi-l-\Ahmar: “il-gnâwî bi-l-\ahmar – râh jânî kaytkhantar il-Gnâwî Bi-l-\Ahmar – he has come to me filled with pride warânî ^atı¯tu¯ ^ahid rabbî – tandîr ^amâma hamra And me, I gave him the oath of my Lord – I will put on a red turban yâ widî wi talhîfa kahla – salab dâtî dâba nbra’ O my Lord and a black cloak – he took my body, now I will recover warâh yi ^ajibnî fi-n-nadhra – yâ il-gnâwî yâ bi-l-ahmar And I am pleased at the sight of him – o il-Gnâwî, o Bi-l-\Ahmar wi-l-kiswa hamra bi-l-^amân – hatta il-kilma taht is-sultân

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In honor of Hâjja Mîmûna:197 “hâjja mîmûna hiyya fi-l-jbâl madfûna.” Hâjja Mîmûna, she’s buried in the mountains.

In honor of Bâsha Gazzâr:198 “mûl id-dbîha bi-n-nhâr mûl janâwa il-kbâr.” Lord of the daytime sacrifice, lord of the biggest slaughtering knife.

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In honor of Lâlla Mîra:199 “lâbsa saba^ kisâwî kullû lawnû mîra bint il-kunûz, naddî jîbî flûs.” She’s wearing seven dresses each with its own color, Mîra, daughter of fortune, get up and fetch some money.

In honor of Hâjja Malika:200 “mûlat il-kiswa il-khudrâ tâjhâ min naqrâ Lady of the green dress, her crown is of silver snânhâ kîf il-jawhar, illî shâfhâ, mayithanna.” Her teeth are like jewels, those who see them, will not find peace.

In honor of Lâlla Fâtîm Shilha:201 “bint fqîh sûsî, bint sîdî hamâda mûsâ.” Daughter of a fqîh from the Souss, daughter of Sîdî Hamâd u Mûsâ.

In honor of ^Â’isha ’Awîsha:202 “jayya min il-jbâl u hiyya bint sîdî ^allâl She comes from the mountains, she’s the daughter of Sîdî ^Allâl mûlat is-sbû^ w-il-mîlûd ihnâ jînâ majmû^în.” Lady of the naming feast and the birthday of the Prophet, we have come together.

In honor of it-Tâlib il-Fqîh:203 “jâ bîn-ij-jbâl ziyârtû tifâjî il-’ahwâl He is between the mountains, visiting him relieves one’s troubles habîb it-talba minhum il-^urba The dear ones among the learned are those who reside elsewhere shadd kitâbû fi-îdû, sîdî qalîl illî yihâfdhû.” Holding his book in his hand,204 few are those who have memorized it.

In honor of Rijâl il-Ghâba:205 “is-sâyyih bûdarbala,206 sayyih shwiya u ta^âlâ il-guffa darbala The simple wanderer Bûdarbala wander a little and come back when the basket is empty il-guffa fîhâ tamîra u sharîha, hazz ig-guffa diyâl il-^awîn In the basket there are dates and dried figs, he carries the basket of assistance yisaddiq yigûl hâdha minîn hâdha khayr il-wâlidayn.” He who begs says from where is this, this is the goodness of parents.

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In honor of il-Bûhâlî Sîdî ’Ahmad:207 “jânî min blâd jbâla ig-guffa u darbala mâ^andî minâsh il-khâf shâlha ^alâ ilkitâf.” He came to me from the mountainous countries, dressed as a simple wanderer carrying the basket on his shoulders, I have no reason to be afraid.

In honor of ’Ulâd Khalîfa:208 “’ulâd khalîfa mâlîn il-jâj ’ulâd khalîfa id-dumân ’Ulâd Khalîfa, the lords of glass, ’Ulâd Khalîfa, the guarantors ’ulâd khalîfa mâlîn il-hamâm, rijâl allâh id-dumân.” ’Ulâd Khalîfa, the lords of doves, men of Allah, the guarantors. From time to time guests come forward and offer the musicians small amounts of money to show their appreciation for the performance.209 The musicians thank them, praising them for their generosity and imploring Allah to bless them or increase their baraka. After each donation the fâtiha, or initial verse of the Qur’ân, is recited by the musicians in unison before the playing and chanting resumes. When one or more of the guests have fallen into trance, they need constant and intensive musical and vocal accompaniment in order to reach climax. The atmosphere of the ceremony becomes tense. Afterwards, the musician incorporate a zayzûn, or segment of only music and no chanting. This encourages relaxation after the intensity preceding it. The musicians occasionally take short breaks at less intense moments periodically throughout the ceremony. The jnûn are addressed one after another according to the order in which they appear in the chant segments above. The possessed, including the three clients for whom the lîla was organized and the long term regular clients of the shuwwâfa, become possessed and rise, one after another or simultaneously, when the chant being played is addressed to the jinn inhabiting them. The jinn causes them to move the upper part of their bodies in time to the rhythm being played. This usually entails forcefully moving their heads forward down toward their chests and then jerking it back over one shoulder, then down to their chests again and back over the other shoulder. Friends, relatives or other guests usually come to their assistance by taking a firm hold of their arms, one person on each arm. When the movement becomes very rapid and violent, especially when the tempo of the playing increases, their headscarves often slip down onto their shoulders and their hair becomes loose and whips through the air following the movement of their heads. Those attending to them usually

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Benefits of the Lîla The lîla constitutes one of the only opportunities for these Moroccan women to participate in a communal religious ritual. As a communal religious ritual it is composed of four significant elements: contact with the supernatural, a stepping-out or separation from the everyday life, a sense of community and a musical experience. These elements, separately and in combination, offer a number of benefits to those present. The clients who are in the initial stages of spirit possession attend in order to be treated which means establishing a functional relationship with the jinn with the help of the shuwwâfa during the course of the ritual. For those attending as regular clients, accompanying family members, friends and guests or spectators, it provides the possibility of temporarily leaving the responsibilities of their everyday life situations behind and of making new social contacts as well as obtaining their baraka. Most of the women who attend it view it as a religious experience, but emphasize the enjoyment of the communal and musical aspects. Many also explain that they experience the lîla as an outlet for emotional tension or an opportunity of belonging to or at least temporarily feeling themselves to be a part of a female community. Obtaining Baraka Within the context of the lîla, it is possible to obtain baraka.More than one opinion exists as to the means of its transmission. Although baraka originates from Allah, it is transmitted by the heads of popular mystical orders and ’awliyâ’ who can be one and the same. Some be-

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lieve that jnûn, as supernatural being, also have access to it and are able to transmit it. The shuwwâfa, whether through the jinn possessing her or as a religious specialist in contact with the supernatural, can act as a medium through which it is able to flow. Others claim that it is through one’s mere presence at the religious ritual of the lîla that one obtains baraka. Regardless of the actual path of transmission, a central condition for the acquisition of baraka in this as in other settings is an act of exchange. One must do or give something to obtain it, as Crapanzano has pointed out with regard to the hadra of the popular mystical order Hamadsha (1981: 149-57). In the context of the lîla, this exchange takes place in the form of gifts of food and drink offered by the central clients, and sometimes by others in attendance, and donations of money or the purchase of items such as candles during the ritual. Through this exchange the participants renew their personal state of being protected against misfortune and of being on good terms or in a harmonious relationship with the supernatural. Ritualized Emotional Expression and Music in the Lîla One of the more important, though somewhat less obvious, benefis of attendance of the lîla is the free expression of certain emotions. This freedom of expression is made possible by the atmosphere of the ritual setting which is characterized by a suspension of the restrictions on conduct which apply in everyday life, in other words, the state of liminality which reigns in the ritual situation. In Moroccan society, some types of emotional expression are primarily restricted to a ritualized form, some are limited to certain times and places and others are suppressed altogether.211 Sadness or mourning and joy, for example, are expressed communally, openly and publicly, though only at given moments in the appropriate place and in a specific manner. Mourning is expressed by weeping openly and loudly and beating one’s chest or other body parts. A mourning ceremony or ritual is organized after a death. Women, family members of the deceased, when possible, are hired to weep communally and in public. Joy is shown by shrieking and vibrating the tongue simultaneously. It is done loudly and publicly, especially at weddings and other times of celebration.

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Public display of affection only occurs between two members of the same sex or between a child and an adult. Younger men and women, especially singles greet other members of the same sex by shaking hands and kissing each other on the cheek. Holding hands when walking through the street, maintaining close physical contact and displaying their friendship and affection physically is also common. Members of the opposite sex do not usually show affection publicly, not even when married. Children as well as adults show their affection and respect for their parents and elders by kissing them on the back of the hand. Smaller children receive more physical contact and open displays of affection from adults and older children. The distinction between public and private behavior is precisely defined and strictly respected. Beginning at about puberty, the exact age of which varies from one family, social group and region to another, but particularly applicable after marriage and especially to women, adult behavior is expected on the street and in public places. This behavior can be characterized by body language which expresses pride, dignity and emotional control and an interaction with others which is informed by politeness, friendliness and generosity. Like the accompanying dress code which consists of clothing completely covering the arms and legs, even in hot weather, and particularly in the case of women loosely fitting and which provides a protective covering hiding most of the body from strangers, the facial expression and posture of dignity and emotional control hide the private feelings and personal problems. Family problems are usually kept private even from relatives. Lack of emotional control is a sign of weakness and vulnerability and is, therefore, undesirable.212 Emotional control which is equated with order, rationality and strength is not only praiseworthy but also a necessary measure to safeguard against chaos and vulnerability. It is believed that women are by nature prone to give in to or lose control of their emotions and sexual desires and therefore must be kept away from contact with strangers, protected and maintained under male supervision in order to insure the preservation of the honor and reputation of their families. They are considered capable of creating a state of chaos through their emotionality and sexuality. To insure that order is preserved, power and authority must be kept in the hands of those considered better able to control their emotions and behave rationally, namely men, and away from those less able to,

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namely women. In their submissive position women are expected to suppress many of their personal wishes and desires, to refrain from resisting and contradicting the male authority, to be patient and hope that things go the way they want them to. As many scholars have pointed out, women do have considerable influence over certain decisions, especially those concerning daily household situations and marriages, which were, in the past, and are, to some extent in rural areas today, of great political significance. They are, however, unable to participate in the making of most decisions concerning their personal lives nor directly express their dissatisfaction with the behavior of the men close to them. Criticizing their husband or father in front of relatives, friends or neighbors would mean a breach of trust and could weaken the family’s defensive stance toward the outside world and damage the honor and reputation of the family. Thus women are left with no other alternative but to suppress their discontent, disappointment and concern. The lîla, like the consultation session and several other spaces and situations in Moroccan women’s lives, provide the women attending with the possibility of stepping outside of their everyday social world with its restrictions on their behavior and limitations on their emotional expression. The lîla and consultation session, or the place in which it is held, serve as a space in which the familial hierarchical structure and relationships and the forms of conduct connected to them213 which are expected of women, especially with regard to and in the presence of men, do not apply thus allowing for the temporary reduction or suspension of the obligatory submission and attitude of deference expected of them and the awakening of a feeling of freedom, strength and power. In his work on prisons and mental hospitals, Goffman describes a similar stepping-out effect, namely the custom among prisoners and patients of escaping from the hierarchical structure of these institutions by spending time in certain spaces within the respective institutions where this structure does not apply (1962: 85). Besides the consultation session and the lîla, there are three other places, spaces or situations in which women are able to escape from the restrictions of their everyday lives, namely the hammâm, or public steam bath, the siyyid, or sanctuary and the female community of the extended family or lineage, especially during family celebrations. The hammâm, according to one Moroccan scholar, constituted, in

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the past, the only public place where urban women could go to. Going to the hammâm provided, as it still does for some women today, the possibility of escaping from the monotony of everyday life and giving expression to feelings and emotions that are otherwise suppressed. It is a place where the normative restrictions on their behavior no longer apply and where they can chat, gossip, laugh, joke and generally behave in ways that are not otherwise possible, because they are far from watchful eyes of their male relative. It is also a place of ritual or even rite of passage in one sense, as it is where ritual bathing for several important occasion takes place. It is in the hammâm that the bride, the woman who has recently given birth, the widow and women at the end of their menstruation and after sexual intercourse do their ritual bathing (Naamane-Guessous 1992: 213-15). While the women visiting the same hammâm are often friends, relatives and neighbors and the topics of conversation sometimes chosen with the reputation of the family in mind, the atmosphere at the sanctuaries of ’awliyâ’, is more anonymous which adds yet another distancing effect. In an article exploring the functions of visits to sanctuaries of ’awliyâ’, for women, Fatima Mernissi explains that sanctuaries are spaces where the hierarchical structure of the society does not apply and where women are free to talk about their intimate problems and to get the emotional support of other women present (1977: 105). Another Moroccan scholar points out that visiting such sanctuaries is a way, especially for younger women, to find relief from the constant supervision of other family members, to experience a realm outside their own social worlds and to come into contact with strangers (Naamane-Guessous 1992: 37). According to a third Moroccan scholar, the sanctuary constitutes a space where women can experience temporary freedom, exchange information, express their emotions, let off steam and regain their equilibrium disrupted by the seclusion and thus visits to them have a definite therapeutic function for women (Chikhaoui 1990: 53). In all of these places, spaces or situations, the normative restrictions on behavior are temporarily suspended. Most women allow themselves to behave more freely than usual. Some of them even smoke and use expressions that they would not dare to use elsewhere. The atmosphere is relaxed allowing for the discussion of topics otherwise suppressed. During their stay, women gain distance on their everyday life

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situation and strength for confronting it anew. In the case of the consultation session, lîla and the shrine, spaces often void of family and relatives, women also get a sense of themselves as individuals. The lîla contains an additional element: music and chanting. Music is enjoyed in a very emotional and physical way. Allowing their bodies to feel, unite with and respond to the rhythm enhances the overall liberating effect of the ceremony on the participants. Raising their voices to chant along with the musicians in unison both provides a sense of community and release of pent up energy. Letting their voices be heard creates a sense of emotional release that is usually only possible at familial celebrations, situations where music, enjoyment and emotional release are central. For the possessed, this experience of temporary suspension of restrictions on conduct and freedom of emotional expression is even more intensive, as they respond to the music and permit the jinn to enter and take the reins. The jinn moves her body as it likes, swaying or dancing wildly and sometimes shrieking or acting undignified, arrogant, scornful or timid, depending on the personality of the jinn and its moods, in ways that are unfamiliar, inappropriate and unacceptable in her normal everyday life situation. Female Culture and a New Female Community In a society where bonds of emotional support and closeness are established primarily among members of the same sex and where affection is displayed or expressed, physically and verbally, primarily within this same group, being confined to a nuclear family household can be restrictive and lonely for women. The female community of the cult provides women with the opportunity to come into contact with other women and even to develop bonds of friendship. Coming together with other women takes place within the extended family or lineage and communal activities of female neighborhood networks provides women with the opportunity to form relationships of mutual emotional support, to give expression to otherwise suppressed emotions, to exchange information and ideas, to compare their situations and to display affection. Cult gatherings thus provide the ideal circumstances, i. e. a neutral space where male relatives are absent and the limitations on behavior are temporarily suspended, for releasing pressure caused

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by suppressed emotions, expressing feelings of frustration and dissatisfaction and seeking bonds of closeness. Like the female communities of the past, the cult community of women also becomes a realm for the production and reproduction of female culture. The term ‘female culture’214 refers here to the ways in which women behave and express themselves and to their sense of themselves as independent through their temporary release from family responsibilities and in possession of new strength derived from this freedom. This is articulated through their actions when they come together as a group, in this case during and in connection with the cult ritual. The cult ritual itself is a product of women for women which focuses on and is dedicated to women, their feelings, their emotional expression, their independence, their everyday life existence with its struggles, conflicts and problems and their own view of themselves. Not only can the women behave more freely and be themselves, but this freedom together with other aspects of the circumstances of the cult gatherings symbolically give expression to and perpetuate an exclusively female perspective of the world. While acquiescing and reproducing the male-oriented ‘hegemonic’ view of women, their nature, position and societal roles through their behavior and actions in their everyday lives, these women also have a female-oriented ‘counterhegemonic’ view of themselves. This view, which also constitutes the non-verbal message of the cult gathering, in general, and the ceremony, in particular, is that women can become active in the resolution of their personal problems, that they can give expression to their disappointment, discontent, anger and fears and that they can form bonds of closeness and support outside and independent of their families and relatives. Their integration into this female community and their participation in this female culture assists these women in temporarily, and eventually in a more permanent way, reconsidering their situations and gender roles and eventually seeking a new niche in today’s urban environment. Spirit Possession as Legitimation Spirit possession, or ‘illness’ caused by jnûn, provides the victim or afflicted with the legitimation to focus on herself and her position in her social world and to re-examine her daily life, personal and familial

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problems and social relationships and her role in them which were taken for granted up to this point. This occurs during the initial consultation process with a shuwwâfa. Further, it legitimates undertaking the necessary healing procedure through attendance of the lîla. At the onset, the victim begins to focus her attention on the symptoms and on her physical, emotional and psychological being in search of a cause. For women who have the nurturing role in their marriages and families, this constitutes a noticeable change. Wives and mothers, whose role it is to take the responsibility of caring for the other family members, are relegated to a background role and are rarely the center of attention and concern. While in some cases it is unclear from the start that the symptoms are caused by spirit possession the victim may begin to consider other, even organic, causes trying home remedies or consulting specialists trained in Western medical methods. Most often, however, it is obvious from the nature of the symptoms that spirit possession is involved and the victim seeks the assistance of a shuwwâfa. Spirit possession legitimates the consultation of a shuwwâfa and, in turn, the articulation of personal problems conflicts and rethinking of her everyday life circumstances that it entails. The shuwwâfa diagnoses the spirit possession and determines the identity of the jinn causing it. In this way, the responsibility for these problems falls on the jinn and not on the victim herself. The victim is thus released from the stigma attached to addressing her personal problems and articulating her dissatisfaction with her daily life circumstances and with members of her social world. Spirit possession therefore legitimates a re-examination of daily life circumstances, problems, conflicts and social relationships of the victim and the participant’s role in them. In addition, it legitimates participation in the cult ritual which constitutes an organized and culturally ‘accepted’ forum or setting permitting the victim to concentrate on herself as physical and psychological entity temporarily dislodged from her social roles and relationships and to process her everyday life problems and conflicts. Thus, it becomes, in turn, the legitimation for the individualization and socialization processes which is implemented through the ritual.

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Ritual Mediation Ritual, in general, has long been seen as having a mediating function, as it allows for the articulation of the tensions inherent in human society through symbolic representation. Upon entering the ritual and ritual setting, the participants leave behind their everyday life realities and lived-in worlds in order to come to terms with and ponder anew the incongruences, uncertainties and discrepancies prevailing in them by assigning new meaning and new roles to the actors, objects, relationships and structures found in them. These actors, objects, relationships and structures are incorporated into its procedures and provide the focus of its performances. Whether its intent is to influence the forces of nature, to come to terms with the powerlessness of humanity in the face of them, to facilitate individual transitions from one role or status to another or to process inequalities of wealth and power, the ultimate function ritual serves, according to most scholars, is to insure the maintenance of structural and social cohesion of the community performing it. According to Gluckman and others, even rituals of rebellion, which are performed by the oppressed for the purpose of giving public expression to social incongruences, serve to provide a ‘cathartic purging’ and thus to maintain the existing social structure (1963: 136). In the case of individual-centered healing rituals, a transformative dimension is also involved. Although they serve as a safety valve, a means letting off steam, when the sociocultural constructions and the everyday realities no longer mesh, they are also meant to bring about minor changes. In spite of the standardization of techniques and procedures inherent in all rituals, healing rituals, because of their nature and purpose, also elicit an individualized ‘performance’ and ‘experience’ in which the personality of the afflicted as well as that of the healer find expression (Turner 1992: 17). Healing rituals do not simply serve to mediate social tensions and to preserve social and structural order and stability in the social worlds of its participants. They also contribute to the implementation of change by providing for the symbolic articulation of a discourse about roles and power that is contrary to the dominant discourse of the given society. Their participants, who, as women, belong to a subordinate group, become the dominant, central actors capable of taking the reins and

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solving their personal conflicts. Likewise, through its inherent ‘subordinate discourse’, the present spirit possession ritual, which also involves an alteration of power relations, both mediates the incongruences surrounding the everyday life circumstances of its participants and implements gradual or subtle changes and developments in the participants and their social worlds. These changes and developments result from the individualization and re-socialization process made possible by the ritual. Individualization Process The significance of the individuality and the self-image of the participants, in general, and the possessed, in particular, articulated by various aspects of the ritual itself and the ritual context results in an individualization process. In the ritual setting, the social hierarchy, gender roles and codes of behavior which prevail in the social worlds of the participants and which are particularly restrictive in the case of women no longer apply. The participants come together in a context removed and partially isolated from their lived-in worlds and thus interact as individuals temporarily released from the responsibilities and expectations placed on them and the roles informing their self-definition and structuring their behavior. Here, unlike in their social worlds, the participants, in general, and the victim, in particular, temporarily have the control over themselves, their behavior and their bodies. In contrast to the overdetermination and objectification of self characterizing their roles and position in society, a subjectification of the self and the individual prevails in the ritual. The victims as individuals and their bodies and their inner selves in union with the jnûn possessing them, which, in fact, constitute the symbolic embodiment or representation of the victim’s personal problems and conflicts which the jnûn themselves are believed to have caused, become the central focus of the ritual. Human beings differ from one another in their physical make-up and their personality. Illness, and in particular spirit possession, and its cure involve both the body and the personality, in terms of the way in which the illness or spirit possession is experienced and dealt with, and thus take an individual, personalized course. Likewise, despite a given

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standardized repertoire of symptoms and behavior characteristic of spirit possession and the performance of the possessed in the ritual, individual styles, combinations and variations are to be expected. When the chant dedicated to the jinn possessing the victim is performed, she rises and begins to sway in time to the rhythm. At this point, a symbolic separation takes place, a separation of the victim from human society. The inner self becomes passive and the body becomes a receptacle which is entered and temporarily inhabited by the jinn and its personality. The victim is thus united or fused with the jinn and is symbolically isolated from human society. The jinn takes over and controls the movements of the victim’s body and her general behavior, while the victim’s inner self passively experiences and observes this new identity. An inversion of position, focus and values takes place on several levels as a result. The victim objectified through the restrictive role definition and behavior code of her daily life becomes the subject or central focus of the ritual. The personal problems and conflicts of the victim which are suppressed in everyday life are allowed to surface and take control symbolically by way of the jinn. The jinn, its personality, behavior and other attributes of its being animates the victim’s body temporarily giving her a new identity. Jnûn are generally powerful, assertive, demanding, mischievous, destructive, unpredictable, otherworldly, moody and disrespectful. They are thought to cause the misfortune and illness of others. These traits are quite the opposite of what is expected of the victim in her social world. This inversion permits the victim herself and the other participants to view the social role of the victim, her conflicts and problems and her self in a different light. The body of the victim inhabited and controlled by the jinn sways or dances wildly until the jinn is satisfied. At this point, the victim collapses exhausted to the ground and the jinn leaves her body. The physical state of the victim caused by the intensity of physical activity and the exhaustion that follows it is characterized by a release of negative energy, a cathartic purging, and the regeneration of positive energy. It is a state which makes the individual open to new external input or stimulation and change (Crapanzano 1981: 258-59). The curative process is not yet fully completed. The victim must continue to attend the lîla repeating the performance and observing

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the performance of others. While the initial performance provides the major impetus for change in the victim’s view of herself, her situation and her social world, repetition and observation permits the continuation and completion of this process. The ritual performance, while providing for the personal development of the victim, also has an effect on the other participants. By attending the ritual and observing the performance, which is on some levels a celebration of the individual, the individualization process of the victim, the other participants are inspired to reflect on their own situations as well. Participation in the cult, in general, at whatever level, involves temporarily stepping out of social roles and relationships of daily life and seeking assistance and support of other women as an individual outside the context and network of the extended family and its members. It involves coming together with the other participants in an atmosphere where conventional social practices and patterns of behavior are temporarily suspended. The participants interact with the shuwwâfa and each other as individuals independent of the social roles and extended families. Although the participants were conscious that a difference existed between this form of interaction and the form common in their daily lives, they could not always explain what the difference was and what it meant. Most noticeable was the feeling of being free from the burden of the social roles, relationships and responsibilities of their lived-in worlds. Re-Socialization Process The re-socialization process of the cult ritual takes place on three different levels. As other scholars have also pointed out for other cultural contexts, the possessed goes through a period of isolation or separation during the spirit possession ritual, a period which she is no longer in a normative state of being. The jinn is present in her and in control of her actions. The first type of re-socialization process begins at the climax of the trance during the ritual. At this point the jinn withdraws from the body of the possessed and she begins to recover. She is resocialized or re-enters human society. The second level of re-socialization involves a re-entry as well. It

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consists in her re-socialization into the cult community and into her daily life and social world. She re-enters with a new sense of herself gained through the individualization process she has undergone. Her sense of herself and her perception of her relationships to others and of her position among them have been altered as a result of her spirit possession and her ritual experience. This alteration is affected by the third type of re-socialization process and its content. The third type of re-socialization process entails a modification of the socialization process that occurs in early childhood. During early childhood, every individual acquires a set of sociocultural constructions and social practices which inform the individual’s perceptions and structure his or her behavior as he or she develops. Because it takes place in early childhood, it occurs, for the most part, on a passive or subconscious level through observation, imitation and internalization. As this process occurs during early childhood, a phase of intensive growth and development, the acquired constructions and practices become deeply ingrained in the individual’s psyche. An additional or secondary ‘socialization’ process may occur during adolescence and adulthood, through entry into a profession, community or social group. Secondary socialization is often more active and conscious in nature. Although a secondary socialization possibly only reinforces, builds on and expands or supplements the initial or ‘primary’ socialization process, the knowledge, values, perceptions, ideology or practices acquired in it can also shed new light on, call into question and even lead to alteration215 of some of the constructions and practices acquired during the childhood socialization process. The secondary socialization or re-socialization process of the cult is directed towards altering, at least in part, the sociocultural constructions and social practices which its participants acquired in childhood, particularly those concerning female gender roles and gender power relations. Certain values and perceptions, concerning various aspects of gender roles and power relations, represented in the realities and symbols of the cult and its ritual are in contradiction with those of the primary socialization of its participants. As a result, the values and perceptions concerning these aspects acquired in the primary socialization process are called into question and altered through the re-socialization process. Here reference is being made to the entirety of these contradictory

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values and perceptions not as an ideology but as a ‘discourse’. This term ‘discourse’ is not referring to actual verbal articulation, in the basic sense of the term, but to non-verbal articulation, a use of the term which has recently become popular in the scholarly literature. This definition of the term derives from the approach of those scholars who have recently begun viewing human action as a text and analyzing what is articulated by this action, what statement is being made or what message is being communicated. The term ‘subordinate discourse’216 coined by several scholars to refer to non-verbal articulations about gender roles and power relations by women which are in contradiction to the male version also applies here. ‘Subordinate discourse’ indicates a verbal or non-verbal articulation of an image of women that they privately hold, consciously or unconsciously, and give expression to through ritual or practices in effort to regain inner strength to communally hold their own and keep the dominant societal group in check. In a sense, this constitutes one goal of the cult. In contrast to other examples in the literature, the cult participants are not initially aware of the contradictory values and perceptions being articulated, but are in the process of acquiring them. Through the confrontation with the ‘subordinate discourse’ of the ritual, they are inspired to reflect on the perceptions and values internalized in childhood. The discourse of the cult, those values and perceptions being articulated symbolically or through actions or lived realities, can be transcribed in the form of messages or statements about women and their social roles. In these statements, value is placed on self-image and individual initiative. As explained above, the cult and its ritual focus on the individuality of its participants. The images of the female jnûn which take possession and with which they allow their inner selves or psyches to momentarily fuse symbolically represent strong, assertive beings. The participants meet in a context where they act and interact without the restrictions of male supervision, familial ties and social roles. The cult community is a female community interacting as individuals and providing each other mutual support. They participate jointly in an effort to actively confront, rethink and eventually overcome their problems and the source of their inability to solve them, the inappropriateness of their female gender roles. The shuwwâfa constitutes a real example, an actual embodiment of self-determination

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and independence, ‘professional’, social, and financial. As a specialist, a religious expert, she is her own boss, successful, worthy of respect and powerful. These are the messages or statements about women that are articulated through the cult and its ritual, symbolically and practically. They contradict the statements or messages articulated in the everyday life activities and behavior of the participants. Over time, through their participation in the cult, some participants eventually internalize this new discourse about women and their social roles, gradually adjust the sociocultural constructions and social practices ingrained in them since childhood and finally make changes in their own lives. This entire process occurs, however, on an unconscious level, for the most part, although some informants acknowledge their awareness of a development process taking place through long-term, regular attendance, either as actual victims who perform or simply as observers. The gradual changes in their own behavior and in the relationships in their social worlds provide the evidence that this process is occurring. The Body in the Spirit Possession Cult and Ritual Not surprisingly, the female body is the central focus and medium of the spirit possession, the cult and the ritual. The body, in particular the female body, constitutes the central focus of mainstream Islamic rituals, everyday life practices and perceptions of gender roles and space, all of which are directed toward preserving certain standards of morality, purity, order, control and even authenticity in Moroccan society. It is these rituals, practices and perceptions which are instrumental in insuring the maintenance of the restrictions on women’s behavior which lead to the conflicts and problems and to the lack of their direct solutions causing spirit possession. It is these restrictions which are temporarily suspended in the ritual context and simultaneously called into question through its ‘subordinate discourse’. In general, spirit possession is a physical state in which the jinn enters the body of the victim, takes control of it and assumes responsible for its actions. The possessed experiences any of a known repertoire of physical and emotional symptoms, can temporarily disregard the restrictions on her behavior and behave ‘improperly’ without fear of sanctions as a result. This occurs on two different levels. Firstly, she

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temporarily suspends or interrupts the usual course of her normal, everyday life and becomes the subject of concern. Secondly, she seeks the assistance of a shuwwâfa and verbalizes her dissatisfaction indirectly calling into question the behavior of her husband or father with whom she is in conflict. Because of the jinn, she is no longer able to control her body and its actions and to uphold the usual obligations of her social roles. She is, therefore, not responsible for expressing her dissatisfaction with the circumstances of her social world. In an environment where one’s body and behavior is strictly supervised, monitored and controlled by oneself and others, particularly in the case of women, it is not insignificant that a mechanism like spirit possession exists to allow for deviations when the pressure becomes to great. It permits the possessed to do what is ‘unacceptable’, to rebel against and even exceed the bounds of self-imposed and external control and supervision and to temporarily overcome her powerlessness to directly influence her daily life situation. Furthermore, it is the body that is ritually washed and fumigated and becomes the focus of the spirit possession treatment. It is the body which absorbs the baraka. If amulets are prescribed they are usually to be worn or carried on the body. If herbal potions are recommended they are to be ingested by the possessed or applied to parts of her body. The body is smeared with the blood of the sacrificial animal and covered with the cloths in the favorite colors of the jinn. It is the body that constitutes the medium for the healing process of the ritual. Taking a closer look at the role of the body in the lîla, one notices that the participants are overstepping the bounds of acceptable behavior in yet another way. The behavior of the possessed during the lîla, which is outside the norm but which makes possible the healing process, is believed to be controlled by the jinn. The possessed is, therefore, not considered to be responsible for her behavior at that moment. While the initial symptoms, which allow the woman to call attention to her dissatisfaction, are uncomfortable, undesirable and sought to be eliminated as soon as possible, the state of loss of control, or trance, during the lîla, which is necessary for the alleviation of the symptoms, though it is in one sense confining, is in itself actually liberating. Although all of this happens on a unconscious level, many of my informants described their experiences during the lîla in similar terms, as being liberating. Some of them sensed the ongoing process on various

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levels. They asserted that ritual participation permits them to temporarily put aside their responsibility for their actions and behavior, to neglect the self-discipline and self-control expected of them on a constant basis in their daily lives and to give up the control of their bodies to the jinn. Furthermore, the induced spirit possession during the ritual ceremony enables the possessed to process, on a physical level, the conflict that was responsible for the initial symptoms. The physical confrontation of the possessed with the jinn is like a confrontation with the problem itself and the stress connected with it. The regaining of control over her body at the conclusion of the ritual is like a victory over the jinn and thus a victory over the problem. Through the ritual the possessed appeases the jinn by accepting its conditions transmitted by the shuwwâfa and begins to develop harmonious relationship with the jinn. In this way, she has come to terms with the problem symbolically and can address it in a different way afterwards as a result, which is also experienced as a kind of liberation. Even those attending and not directly participating in the lîla report that they also felt that they benefited from the atmosphere of liberation. Many of them explained that they felt themselves cleansed, in a sense, relieved, or refreshed, and strengthened to face the challenges of their everyday life again. It is also the body of the shuwwâfa which has been dedicated to the calling, to the assistance of other women in solving their personal problems. It becomes a receptacle for the jinn to enter which is the central medium of the calling and the cult. Conclusion The lîla is first and foremost a form of communal religious ritual expression. In the minds of the women participating in it, the religious aspect is as important as the communal, although they seem to enjoy it like they do celebrations and other types of social gatherings. The music and rhythm, and freedom to physically and vocally respond to and unite with them, are essential to the enjoyment of the communal ritual experience of the lîla. The body is the central focus of the spirit possession, its treatment and the cult ritual. It is the bodies of the clientele and the supervision and control of them that provide the main focus of the limitations

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placed on their behavior and gender roles. Their bodies become afflicted when they come up against these limitations. It is their bodies that are the medium of the performance in the treatment of this affliction. And it is the body of the shuwwâfa as a receptacle for the jinn possessing which makes the functioning of the cult possible. The cult ritual not only helps to mediate the incongruences and paradoxes in the everyday lives of its participants by providing a sphere where they can come to terms with the discrepancies between their expectations and needs and the realities of their life circumstances, the inappropriateness of their female gender roles and gender power relations. It assists them in processing their inner and interpersonal conflicts and implementing developmental steps, the individualization and socialization processes, necessary for re-adjusting the restrictive sociocultural constructions and social practices of their childhood and thus permitting them to possibly envision new and suitable niches for themselves in the present urban environment.

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Chapter 7 Conclusion The emergence and growth in popularity of the vocation and practices of shuwwâfât over the past four or five decades are intimately connected with the readjustment of a number of boundaries in Moroccan society. Ethnic, national, socioeconomic and gender dividing lines such as those separating Berbers and Arabs, the rural and urban environment, Europe and North Africa and men and women have taken on new dimensions and significance in the daily lives of Moroccans. Self-definition, personal relationships and lifestyles are being reshaped and altered most directly by a new trend toward individual autonomy, adjustments in the boundary between the public and private sphere and ongoing process of commercialization, professionalization and commodification. Moroccan men and women have been active participants in this revision process. Human action is characterized by reproduction and perpetuation as well as negotiation and transformation. According to the example of Sîdî Ma^rûf, the residential area of Casablanca where the fieldwork for this study was carried out, the degree to which ongoing societal transformation affects an individual depends, to some extent, on such factors as age or generation, socioeconomic background and the physical and communal circumstances of the immediate environment in which he or she resides. These factors influence the degree to which the individual is inclined to allow the effects of the transformation process to penetrate into his or her personal life or directly participate in it as well as the extent and kinds of needs for support mechanisms such as rituals which emerge to facilitate this acquiescence to change and participation in it. The degree and level of acquiescence and participation, in turn, determines the kinds of demands and expectations each individual develops as a result of changing values and beliefs. Responding to the new demands and expectations of women deriving from this alteration shuwwâfât have created a niche for themselves which is characterized by social, financial and ‘professional’ independence. Taking advantage of the complementary relationship between the two, they have ensured their legitimation by integrating their voca-

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tion into the wider complex of beliefs and rituals outside of mainstream Islam, on the one hand, and have proclaimed themselves as good Muslims, religious experts and guardians of proper behavior in accordance with it, on the other. In fact, in some ways they sit astride the delicate boundary between orthodoxy and heterodoxy. Their own life histories bear witness to the daily conflicts arising from the revision of boundaries including their own marginalization. The vocation, which combines both a long-existing tradition of spirit mediumship callings found previously and still today in rural areas in various forms, serving the functions of both sorceresses and fortune-tellers, and the ecstatic healing ceremonies of the popular mystical orders, was developed by the shuwwâfât themselves in response to these needs. As anachronistic as it may appear on some levels in the post-protectorate setting, its popularity, in fact, gives further evidence to the endurance of religiocultural discourses originating in the past, namely those concerning the supernatural, the existence of jnûn and their ability to intervene in the lives of human beings, the supernatural powers posited in some humans and their ability to act as intermediaries between the supernatural and natural worlds and a holistic approach to healing. The vocation of shuwwâfa and the practices and rituals related to it, like the broader domain of folk-religious practices and rituals in Morocco today into which shuwwâfât have integrated them, though dismissed as un-Islamic, out-dated or the product of ignorance by some individuals and groups within the society, nevertheless, continue to inspire and maintain the respect, convictions and faithful patronage of a large number of Moroccans. It is the way in which these rituals and practices supplement and compensate for those elements lacking in mainstream Islam that is welcomed by many and ensures their perpetuation. The financial, ‘professional’ and personal independence characterizing the daily lives and vocation of most shuwwâfât can be viewed in both a positive and negative light. While it has enabled them to create a personalized niche for themselves in society and to develop their vocation in innovative ways, this independence also means the absence of male supervision which is viewed as potentially threatening to the sociocultural order of the society. This threat or fear of unsupervised, independent women is responsible for the negative reputation and out-

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sider status plaguing these women. In spite of the fact that the beliefs providing the basis for their practices are similar to those of other folk-religious practitioners, that their socioeconomic and educational backgrounds are varied and that many of them faithfully adhere to and abide by the five pillars of Islam, shuwwâfât are accused, more often and more emphatically than other folk-religious specialists, of being immoral, dishonest, un-Islamic and ignorant and are often even stigmatized in their personal lives. Nevertheless, shuwwâfât, like the growing number of women freelance specialists, cater to the everincreasing demand for hiring strangers to assist in the resolution of intimate conflicts and dilemmas and with activities, tasks and responsibilities within the home in everyday life and during times of celebration. Creating ‘professions’ and the titles, duties, standards, styles and props to go along with them through their own initiatives, these freelance specialists can be seen as both products and producers of cultural expression and societal transformation. To an even greater extent than the shuwwâfât themselves, their clientele are married and unmarried and come from a variety of socioeconomic and educational backgrounds. Nevertheless, a common impetus for consulting shuwwâfât can be found among the women in this heterogeneous group. Each of these women, regardless of the similarities or differences characterizing their individual everyday life situations, has reached a point where her own expectations do not correspond to the reality of her daily lives, where she is dissatisfied or no longer able to cope with the situations in which she lives and where the demands placed upon her not in keeping with the kinds of preparation offered her by her upbringing. While consulting a shuwwâfa permits their clientele to call attention to the daily life boundaries restricting their bodies and behavior, the lîla, or spirit possession ceremony, provides temporary release from and a gradual reprocessing of them. The lîla constitutes a communal religious ritual organized for and by women. It provides its participants with a legitimate forum for seeking contact with the supernatural and distancing themselves from their everyday life circumstances. The confrontation with and resolution of personal problems, which provides a significant impetus for participation, is legitimated and instrumentalized through the central element and focus of the rit-

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ual, spirit possession. The general atmosphere, but particularly the centrality of the music and chanting, transform it into an outlet for suppressed emotions. The lîla focuses on the body physical temporarily separated from the body social, a state made possible and legitimated by spirit possession, and provides those present, the possessed as well as the spectators, with the possibility of undergoing an individualization and resocialization process. The ‘subordinate discourse’ about women, their nature, status and roles, inherent in and articulated symbolically through the strong and independent personalities of the female jnûn and pragmatically through the composition of the female cult community and the financial, ‘professional’ and personal independence of the cult leaders, the shuwwâfât, presents an image of women which contradicts the ‘dominant discourse’ about women in Moroccan society. This ‘subordinate discourse’ portrays women as powerful and independent individuals belonging to a female community not based on familial membership. The perception of the body, in particular the female body, in Moroccan society is central to understanding the appearance, development and significance of the cult. The human body is the object of the standards of discipline and purification techniques of Islamic rituals and of everyday life practices. During the course of the 20th century, female body has becomes a central focus of increased male supervision and control rendering women’s adjustment to the changing urban environment even more difficult. It is their bodies that are afflicted through spirit possession when the cult participants confront the limitations on their behavior hindering them from directly resolving these personal problems and conflicts on their own. Their bodies become the central focus of the healing process of the consultation sessions and the medium of treatment of possession in the cult ritual. Their bodies become receptacles for the jinn which possess them and control their behavior and movements. Their bodies are instrumental in the individualization and socialization processes of the cult ritual. Furthermore, the body of the shuwwâfa becomes the life-long receptacle for the jinn possessing her and enabling her to assist other women in understanding their personal problems and conflicts and resolving them. The paths chosen for adjusting to, accommodating and compensat-

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ing for societal developments and transformations vary from group to group and even from individual to individual within a specific group. In fact, as Chikhaoui, borrowing the notion from Paul Pascon, accurately points out, it is more appropriate to perceive Moroccan, or for that matter any, society as a composite of many different components or options made use of separately or in varying combinations than to view individuals, groups or even the entire society as situated at a particular stage or point along some unique and predetermined continuum of development or transition (1990: 55). The final choice among different components or options is an individual decision which is, in turn, influenced or affected by various factors in the social world of the individual making it. Until a new set of gender roles and gender power relations develops to provide new guidelines, many urban Moroccan women will continue to live, as Sophie Ferchiou (1991: 199) contends with regard to Tunisian women, torn between two opposing and competing sets of values in a permanent state of conflict. The consultation session and spirit possession ceremony are oriented toward assisting women in coping with, overstepping and eventually even readjusting those boundaries which restrict their behavior and their ability to resolve interpersonal problems and conflicts. Through their own constitution and content, these two rituals implicitly designate other boundaries to be exceeded, de-emphasized, ignored or dissolved and call for the intermingling of elements on either side of these boundaries. They acknowledge the compatibility between mainstream and folk-religious beliefs, rituals and practices and include elements of each. The penetration of the human body by and its fusion with supernatural beings is central in both of these rituals. They join the religious and the non-religious and even unacceptable in mainstream Islamic terms. Proper behavior, and the limitations and boundaries inherent in it, are recognized and respected in them on some levels, while the behavior, lifestyle and independence of the shuwwâfa fall outside of that which is regarded as proper and acceptable, as do many of the strategies and courses of action prescribed by her. They promote a revision of former gender roles and power relations in some ways and their preservation in others. They focus on the purification of the body as well as on its pollution. They combine age-old traditions with modern business techniques. They serve Moroccan women at home and abroad. The vocation, practices and rituals of shuwwâfât

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exemplify that which it serves to assist its participants in achieving, a synthesis of traits, options and strategies which, in the multi-faceted and rapidly changing Moroccan urban environment of today, is the most effective approach.

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Notes 1 The italicized Arabic words have been transcribed according to the transcription system at the back of the book. Most of them also appear in the glossary. The majority of them have been transcribed according to the Moroccan dialectal pronunciation. 2 The zar cult is a women’s spirit possession cult found in various parts of the Sudan and Egypt as well as in Saudia Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait, Oman, Iran, Somalia and Ethiopia (Nabhan 1994: 1-2). The zar ceremony resembles in a number of ways the spirit possession ceremony held by the four most common Moroccan popular mystical orders performing such ceremonies: Gnâwa, ^Îsâwa, Hamâdsha and Jilâla, and some of the shuwwâfât in this study. See Boddy (1984) and Constantinides (1977, 1978) for more information on the zar cult in the Sudan. 3 The term shuwwâfa, the plural of which is shuwwâfât, derives from the Arabic verb shâfa meaning to see. The term will be retained throughout this study to avoid any misunderstandings which might result from connotations related to a possible translation of it. 4 Lâlla ^Â’isha is one of a number of jnûn, or spirits, which have names and are important in the beliefs about spirit possession in Morocco. See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one for more information. 5 Sîdî ^Alî is both the name of the sanctuary and the holy figure to whom it is dedicated. Sîdî ^Alî and his sanctuary, like that of Mûlay Ibrâhîm near Marrakesh, is of particular importance to shuwwâfât, as they both are known for their powers in the treatment of spirit possession. He is also the patron of the Hamâdsha popular mystical order. For more information see Crapanzano (1981). 6 According to Malika and other family members, she had suddenly begun to speak Hebrew, although she had never had any contact with the language before. 7 The terms siyyid and walî as well as sâlih are used for both the holy figure and the sanctuary dedicated to him. There are also female holy figures in Morocco to whom shrines have been dedicated, but they are less common.

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8 Chris Gregory, author of Gifts and Commodities: Observing The Economy, in a personal communication concerning preparation for the field. 9 Liyâlî is the plural of lîla, the Moroccan dialectal Arabic pronunciation of the word layla, the term used for the hadra, or spirit possession ceremony, when it is held by a shuwwâfa. 10 This segmentation does not exist in administrative or any other terms and is of my own creation. I chose to name the segment to simplify any reference to it below. The bulk of my information was gathered in Sîdî Ma^rûf. See chapter two for a description of this area. 11 See the section on creating a niche in chapter three for further explanation. 12 This shuwwâfa, like others, guides the consultation session by asking questions about the woman’s personal life based on the constellation of the tarot cards she has laid out. This continues until she discovers the situation which is causing the woman trouble and emotional unrest. 13 This and other references made by the shuwwâfa to Allah and the Prophet demonstrate her concern for establishing acceptability and legitimation for her practices in mainstream Islam. See the section on establishing the desired rapport in chapter five for further explanation of this strategy and the techniques it involves. 14 The shuwwâfa is intending to perform a spell referred to as tqâf on the young man to make him focus his full attention on Najat and be true to her. Tqâf is explained in chapter three. Shuwwâfât, and in particular tqâf, have become popular topics in Moroccan novels and short stories. In fact, tqâf is the central theme of the novel Love with a few hairs narrated by Muhammad Mrabet and written down by Pau Bowles. 15 Yellow is the favorite color of Lâlla Mira, one of the named jnun. See the section healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. 16 She is referring to one of the female named jnun, Lalla Mira. See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in this chapter. 17 The term al-ghayb was originally used to refer to the divine mystery to which only Allah had access, but which was seen nevertheless as an object of faith. In its folk-religious usage in Morocco it refers to all that which is imperceptible to the human senses.

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18 Shûr, its plural, is used in Morocco today for various practices performed by shuwwâfât and fuqahâ’. 19 From this point onward the Moroccan dialectal Arabic singular jinn and plural jnûn will be used to refer to members of this race of beings instead of any English equivalent. 20 The Sudanese zar spirits have been given the names or titles of various colonizers over time. An example of a more extensive use of the spirits and their personalities to come to terms with historical developments is the spirit possession cult among the Tonga of South Zambia (Luig 1993b). 21 Further elaboration on the origins of or influences on these beliefs exceeds the scope of this study. Evidence of influences from other cultures and regions (Westermarck 1926: i, 395-96; Dermenghem 1954; Crapanzano 1981: 174), in particular African (Pâques 1964: 589), are often quite obvious. 22 Jnûn, in particular ^Â’isha Qandîsha, and spirit possession also play an integral part in the ceremonies of some of the Moroccan popular mystical orders. Crapanzano provides extensive background information on the origin and function of the one of these popular mystical orders, the Hamâdsha (1981: 23-45). 23 This does not seem to be the determining factor for acquiring the status of jnûn-’awliyâ’, as ^Â’isha Qandîsha is believed to have once lived. Some believe she is synonymous with a woman named Aisha who rebelled against the Portuguese in the 16th century. She is not, however, considered to have the same dual status. 24 Considered the greatest walî of Morocco during his lifetime, he lived in the eleventh century and was a simple shepherd before becoming a mystic. His sanctuary is in Taghiya. 25 He was Berber, lived in the twelfth century and was a forerunner of the Shadhiliyya Movement. He is the patron of the town of Azzemur where his sanctuary is located. 26 See the section on shuwwâfât and shrines in chapter three. 27 See the section on the ceremony in chapter six. 28 Fuqahâ’, the singular of which is fqîh, is used to refer to religious specialists who have undergone special religious training which includes memorization of the Qur’ân and studying various religious sciences. They perform a number of communal functions including teaching the Qur’ân to young children, reciting the

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Qur’ân on various occasions in private homes at the request of the head of the household, assisting in the solution of personal problems by revealing the unknown and curing physical and emotional illnesses including spirit possession. While some of them perform the latter with the help of magical formulas involving numbers, most of them use two other more common methods. The first method, taqiyya, consists in reciting one or more Qur’ân verses known for their healing powers into a glass of water and then giving the water to the afflicted to drink. The verse or verses can also be written on a piece of paper with a special liquid made from safron which is dissolved in the water for the afflicted to drink. The second involves preparing a hijâb or amulet by writing one or more of the same or similar verses on a piece of paper with ink or safron depending on the purpose for which it is being prepared. The paper is folded, wrapped in cloth, tied with a strip of cloth and worn by the afflicted for a given length of time depending on the affliction. 29 Only a fraction of the large number of studies undertaken to describe ritual procedures and functions of the vast array of spirit mediumship and spirit possession cults which exist throughout the world (Zaretsky / Shambaugh 1978; Bourguignon 1976) will be mentioned here. 30 In her dissertation, Amiti, journalist and professor of Sociology at the Faculté des Lettres in Kénitra, intentionally limited her focus exclusively to the very poor shuwwâfât inhabiting the bidonvilles and old medina of Rabat and Salé. She examined their life stories, the socioeconomic conditions in which they live, their negative status and their practices. She explains that, although there are shuwwâfât living in other parts of these cities under better socioeconomic conditions, the group she studied make up the vast majority of all shuwwâfât. This is possibly true, although there are no available statistics to verify it. Her field research methodology consisted of semi-directed interviews as well as systematic and participant observation. 31 Mwâsim, the singular of which is mûsim, is the yearly pilgrimage celebration of a holy figure. See the section on shuwwâfât and Moroccan religious expression in chapter three for more information.

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32 Westermarck, working sixty years earlier, asserts that there was a prevalence of women in the Gnâwa order and none at all in the Jilâla and ^Îsâwa. He does not mention the Hamâdsha order at all. 33 Comaroff’s recent study of the history and culture of the Barolong boo Ratshidi of the South-Africa-Botswana borderland provides some important insights into precisely these relationships and processes and will thus be drawn upon here to identify an analytic framework for examining these issues. She traces the ideological transformations of a particular group from the precolonial cosmos through the Protestant ethic of the missionaries to the founding of a Zionist movement. Nevertheless, her analysis of relationship between the human body and the social collectivity, the functioning of human action and the relationship between human action and historical processes provide enlightening insights for the present study. 34 Such rituals are commonly referred to as rites of passage, the term given to them originally by Arnold Van Gennep (1908). 35 Here I am referring to what Max Gluckman (1963) chose to call rituals of rebellion. 36 In his recent contribution to a collection of essays, Arjun Appadurai stresses the extensive interaction in today’s world of what he terms ethnoscapes and suggests that a global perspective is not only vital, but can even serve as the beginning point for cultural studies (1991: 209). 37 See the section on shuwwâfât and Moroccan religious expression in chapter three for further elaboration of this relationship. 38 An enlightening discussion of these drawbacks is Abu-Lughod’s contribution to a School of American Research Advanced Seminar in which she suggests three modes for ‘writing against culture’ which is her suggestion as to how to solve the dilemma of the discipline, i.e. how to recapture anthropology. 39 The development and growth in popularity of this cult has not been documented. The practices and rituals which characterize it existed separately from one another previously in the form of a spirit mediumship cult and spirit possession rituals. Their gradual consolidation into the present cult and its relatively recent increase in popularity are difficult to trace. Although the hierarchi-

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40

41

42 43

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cal infrastructure and interaction among cult leaders that one might expect to find in connection with a cult are lacking in this case, I have nonetheless chosen to use the term ‘cult’. As Erika Bourguignon pointed out in a personal communication, this same lack of infrastructure and interaction can also be observed in the case of other similar cults, e.g. the zar cult in the Sudan. As one scholar recently pointed out, while the cosmologies, fundamental beliefs and general approaches to healing provide the ideological basis for such healing practices, as far as methodical details are concerned, improvisation is the name of the game. In fact, healers or cult leaders often practice independently of one another and are, in many contexts, competitors (Drewal 1992). Although the protectorate agreement allotted both the Spanish and the French territory and rights in Morocco, the French received the largest and most central region, including the center of administration. They were therefore responsible for the administration of the entire country and most of the vast re-structuring that took place in Moroccan society during the protectorate period. In fact, the regions under the control of the Spanish developed more slowly and still lagged behind those under French control even after independence (Hart 1976: 447). Naqqâshât, the singular of which is naqqâsha meaning painter, engraver, artist and sculptor, is the term used for a freelance vocation for women that has been rapidly expanding. See the section on the second generation and its adjustment process in this chapter. A jallâba is a thin, loose over-garment with a wide hood worn by women when entering the public sphere. In 1952, 92.8 percent of the adult population of the entire district was of rural origin. The majority were born on the plain surrounding Casablanca and Rabat, in the coastal region to the south and in the Sûs to the south of these two regions. Only 2.7 percent were born in Casablanca and 4.4 percent in other urban centers especially Marrakesh (Adam 1968: 260-64). As Seddon accurately points out, it is incorrect to characterize pre-protectorate Moroccan society as primitive and static and the protectorate period as the only impetus inspiring the developments which occurred in the course of this century, as many

Notes

French colonial scholars tended to do (1981: 28-29). Discussions on programs for religious, educational and political reform began in the early nineteenth century (Hassani 1991). Nonetheless, the pace of development and change accelerated considerably after the turn of the century. The goal of this chapter is not to play down early historical developments, but rather to emphasize the rapidity and extent of the changes occurring during this period and their repercussions for the inhabitants of Casablanca in order to better understand the processes of adjustment still going on in the 1980’s. 45 The tribe and its subdivisions provided the spatial, economic, social and political unit of Berber society. Even after conversion to Islam, which came only after a period of resistance following the second wave of Arab invasions, and submission to the authority of the central government, the internal functioning of the tribe and its sub-units continued much the same as before (Stewart 1967: 11). The qâ’id and his shyûkh, who were sent by the sultan to administer the tribal units and sub-units, were often simply superposed on the existing political structure and had only nominal authority. This political structure consisted of the governing council, or jamâ’a, whose members were the heads of extended families and whose decisions were taken by majority vote. A leader was elected only in times of emergency and then only for one year. The customary laws by which the Berbers governed themselves had evolved over centuries through usage (Stewart 1967: 11). The religious authority of the sultan was not clear-cut, either, as local religious figures took precedence especially in the more distant regions. In spite of their conversion to Islam the Berbers continued to cling to many of their former beliefs (Stewart 1967: 12). 46 Besides language and forms of artistic expression, the basic difference between Berber and Arab society lay in the political and religious arenas (Stewart 1967: 11). The Arab concept of government was quite different from that of the Berber. Absolute and unquestioned authority was vested in the qâ’id as the sultan’s representative at the tribal level. The Sharî’a, or Islamic law, provided rules and regulations for religious and social practices instead of customary laws of the Berber tribes. Criminal matters were dealt

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with by a qâdî, or judge, appointed by the sultan and civil cases were handled by the qâ’id. Thus the authority of the sultan, as a political and religious leader, was more strongly felt even at the tribal level in Arab society (Stewart 1967: 11). 47 In his book on traditional beliefs about and perceptions and symbolic representations of the body in the Maghreb (1984), Malek Chebel, who holds a doctorate in the fields of anthropology, clinical psychopathology, psychoanalysis and political science and who is president of the Collège des Hautes Études Psychoanalytiques, explains that, in general, the body is viewed as a shell or receptacle in which the soul, the spirit or personality of the individual abides. Although his book is based primarily on fieldwork conducted in a rural area in northeastern Algeria near Skikda, he uses sources based on other parts of the Maghreb as well as general Islamic perceptions of the body. 48 Arguing similarly, Boddy (1988), in her study of the zar cult in Sudan, coins the term ‘interiority’ which she defines as an ‘aesthetic paradigm’ informing the individual’s view of and attitude toward physical space and gender roles. Boddy relates ‘interiority’ to earlier historical developments and the constant need on the part of village inhabitants to defend their village and themselves against outsiders, an explanation which also finds application in the Moroccan context. She applies this paradigm to the human body as well as to the village pointing out that it derives from and is connected to a defensive stance toward that which is outside. Furthermore, she explains that men’s activities, one of which is to defend the village, are centered outside the home and village, while women primarily remain within the sheltered interior. 49 In his enlightening study of the Inultan clan from 1850 to 1912, Tawfiq shows that this systematic, geographical distribution of clans had begun to break down (1978: 123-27). Using documents from the period, he shows that branches of the Inultan clan had relocated throughout the southern region of Morocco and some of them inhabited the town of Damnat which he focuses on in particular. Branches of other clans also inhabited the town. Furthermore, like Ubach / Rachow (1923: 19), he describes the ritual which developed to integrate members of one branch or clan into another which, in fact, indicates a concern for systematizing

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50

51

52 53

membership and a sense of lineage and clan configuration, even if it did not consist solely of blood relatives (128-45). The definition and terminology used here for the tribe and its social sub-units derives from a combination of two sources both describing tribal structure and organization observed in the Moroccan rural settings in the fifties and sixties (Hart 1976: 10; Eickelman 1976: 106). Eickelman’s description of rural social structure includes five levels and derives from explanations by members of two different ‘tribes’ who used metaphors from both a tree and the human body. The largest group was referred to as the trunk (^arsh) indicating the tribe. The next level known as the group (firqa) or thigh (fakhda) designated the section. The next level referred to as circle (dawwar) indicated local communities. And finally, the house (dâr) or tent (khaima) constituted the extended family. Hart distinguishes six levels: tribe, clan, sub-clan, large lineage, small lineage and nuclear family. Borrowing from both of these definitions, this study refers to the subdivisions of the Berber and Arab tribes beginning at the lowest level with the nuclear or extended family or those individuals constituting one household; the lineage or those extended family households inhabiting a village or encampment and living and functioning as a community; the fraction or those lineages having contact and mutual bonds or agreements for various reason; the clan or those fractions inhabiting one area of the tribal lands which are often viewed as a group; and the tribe. The tribe itself is referred to using the prefixes ’ulâd and bnî, Arabic words for children or sons and ait, the Berber word for people (Hart 1976: 8). Here again, Tawfiq opposes the Western researchers’ emphasis on mutual exchange of labor and goods at the communal level in place of monetary transactions. He distinguishes differences among branches of one clan and among branches of various clans inhabiting the same town and documents the existence of wage labor (1978: 337-38). These discrepancies in findings may simply indicate regional differences. Patron-client relationships at the interpersonal level are discussed in the following section. One important aspect inherent in all of these relationships is hasham, or the attitude of deference. Understanding the Arabic word

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hasham, which “refers both to a state of embarrassment or shame and to the corresponding acts of modesty or deference” (AbuLughod 1986: 234), is essential to fully grasping the functioning of patron-client relationships and interpersonal interaction in general and male-female interaction in particular. As Abu-Lughod so precisely expresses it, “hasham as the experience of shame arises in interpersonal interactions between social unequals or strangers; it is conceptualized in the idiom of exposure and manifests itself through a language of formality, self-effacement, and the cloaking of the ‘natural’ weaknesses or sources of dependency, which includes anything having to do with bodily needs, sexuality, and so forth. Hasham in this sense is the correlate of social distance, being both a response to that distance and a means of maintaining it” (1986: 234). Deference was and is expected to be shown the person of higher status, the patron, by the person of lower status, the client, in most situations of interpersonal interaction as a sign of respect and a means of honoring him or her. The client is considered either a short- or long-term dependent of the patron. Although dependency is considered a feminine stance, as it was and is expected of women as a rule, it was and is nonetheless considered honorable and expected of males in a given situation. Besides, in other situations these same males take on the role of patron in interaction with other individuals. Clients are expected to show deference and respect toward a patron and to perform menial tasks and services for the patron. Patrons, in return, provide financial support or services made possible by their position, power and status as well as their patronship which, at the same time, enhances the status of the client. The status of the patron is, in turn, enhanced by the number of clients owing patronage to him (Abu-Lughod 1986: 83-84). Abu-Lughod is referring here to relatively recently sedentarized nomadic tribal society in Egypt. David Hart, studying Berber sedentary tribal society in northern Morocco in the 1950’s and 1960’s, briefly mentions a similar stance applied in male-female interaction using the term hashûma, which he calls an “allpervading concept”(1976: 48). Thisstance ofdeference canbeobserved in interpersonal interaction in Morocco today. 54 Adam (1968) refers to this relationship as a dependency relation-

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55 56

57

58

59

60

61 62 63

ship. Hildred Geertz (1979) also makes reference to patron-client relationships. Vanessa Maher (1978) describes various types of patron-client relationships among women around the Mediterranean. Gill Shepherd (1987) cites examples of such relationships among Muslim homosexuals in Mombassa. A woman’s status was and is dependent on the status of her father before marriage and thereafter on that of her husband. Some tasks outside the home, especially in cases where immediate temporary and intensive labor was necessary, such as harvesting, could occasionally be delegated to women. Tasks within the home, such as cooking, were, under no circumstance, even in the absence of women, taken over by men (Ubach / Rackow 1923: 9). This belief, that the amount of ^aql women are capable of attaining is less than that of men, represents a mainstream Islamic view held by Muslims elsewhere as well (Rosen 1984: 33; Eickelman 1976: 132). For a discussion of this view in the Sudan, see Boddy (1989: 98). Rosen emphasizes the fact that it is primarily Moroccan men who readily verbalize this view and that women tend to offer a sociological explanation for the differences between the sexes (Rosen 1984: 33). For information on the separate social lives of Moroccan women see Vinogradov (1974), Maher (1974 and 1984), H. Geertz (1979: 315-79), D. Dwyer (1978) and Mernissi (1975). Ubach’s and Rackow’s accounts of social practices among Berber tribes present the choice of marriage partners as more of an individual and personal affair (1923: 30). See the section on shuwwâfât and Moroccan religious expression in chapter three for more details on the relationship between religious rituals and perceptions of the body and boundaries and the complementarity of mainstream and folk-religious rituals and practices in this regard. According to another source this process began in the 12th century (Laroui 1993: 34-38). For more information on these rituals see Lang (1992) and Reysoo (1991). In naming the major urban centers in 1912, Bernard distinguishes between hadariyya, or those centers important in cultural or religious terms: Fez, Rabat and Tetuan and makhzaniyya, or those

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important as centers of government: Fez, Rabat, Meknes and Marrakesh. 64 An elaborate system of land tenure existed in Morocco in 1912. Land was held in four, possibly five ways. Milk lands were those which were privately owned. Hubûs lands, or waqf lands in the Arab countries to the east, were lands left in trust by pious Muslims to be managed by trustees with the income to be used for charitable religious purposes. They were most often devoted to agricultural pursuits. Domanial lands were those lands owned by the government, in other words owned by the sultan himself. Gîsh lands were domanial lands on which the cultivators had usufruct. They were lands in fertile areas occupied by Arab tribes who provided the government with military service in times of war in exchange for the use of the land. ^Arsh lands were collectively owned tribal lands found in the mountains and on the arid rocky plateaus. Milk land tenure was not possible in this case because of the Islamic legal requirement that private holdings be cultivated. The division of the land among the tribes was, however, very unstable, because the tribes in many areas were either nomadic or semi-nomadic (Stewart 1967: 17-19). 65 The burden of taxation fell upon agricultural ‘wealth’ as agriculture was the principal occupation of Moroccans. The form of taxation took was ordained by the Qur’ân and was first introduced in the twelfth century by Sultan Yakûb al-Mansûr. There were two principal sources of revenue: the ^ashûr (tax on produce) and zakât (tax on animals) both of which were paid in kind. The ^ashûr, the Muslim tithe, was 10 percent of one’s produce which was to be given to the poor to fulfill the religious obligation of giving alms. In the case of irrigated lands, the amount was reduced by one-half since, in Islam, it was held that a man having to water his land should pay less than one whose land was watered by rain. At first, the ^ashûr was given directly to the poor by the taxpayer. Later, it was collected annually by the state for the poor with the sultan serving as the representative of the Prophet and thus distributor of these alms. The zakât was also an annual tax of 2.5 percent levied on the count of animals. Work animals and those animals owned for less than a year were not included. In 1880, however, Mûlay Hassan attempted to reform the tax system by

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introducing a single tax, called tartîb, which combined the ^ashûr and zakât and, unlike previously, applied to non-Muslims as well. The attempt failed and the old system was maintained until 1901 when Abdelazîz revived the idea. The ^ashûr and zakât were abolished before the tartîb, which was to be paid in cash, was firmly established. Thus, revenues which were able to be collected remained extremely low until the tartîb was reintroduced under the protectorate (Stewart 1967: 25-27). 66 Trade between Morocco and Europe began very early and the first treaty relations date back to the eleventh century. Treaties between Morocco and European trading partners were concerned with two sets of rights: economic and extraterritorial, or the safety and protection of the traders and their possessions. While the groundwork was laid in the fourteenth century through extensive trade negotiations with Italy, the pattern for treaty relations developed more fully in the seventeenth century, when three treaties, which included consular rights, were negotiated with France. By the end of the eighteenth century treaty relationships existed with France, the Netherlands, Denmark, Spain, Britain and the United States. Germany joined the list of trading partners later, not until 1890. During the last twelve years preceding the protectorate, Spain, Britain, France and Germany all vied for more and more rights in Morocco concluding agreements among themselves and with Morocco. The penetration of Europeans into the country proceeded at a steady pace causing discontent among Moroccans. The murder of seven Europeans working in Casablanca provoked the landing of French troops in 1907. German discontent with this action led to a series of agreements ending with the FrancoGerman accord of 1911, in which Germany accepted the principle of the French protectorate in exchange for territory in the French Congo. Taking advantage of this dearly bought political freedom, France then concluded the Treaty of Fez in March of 1912. Under this treaty the French agreed to respect the independence of the sultan and the integrity of his realm in exchange for protectoral status, the intention of which was to assist Morocco in its economic development and improve the lot of the Moroccan people. Finally, in the Franco-Spanish Treaty of November 27, 1912, the territory of Morocco was divided into three zones: a French,

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Spanish and international one. The French received by far the largest share in terms of territory and natural as well as human resources (Stewart 1967: 39-53). Morocco’s bargaining power gradually diminished during the nineteenth century finally reaching a point where a return to equality in relationships with trade partners was impossible. This reduction of power is usually seen as resulting from Morocco’s defeat in two important confrontations in the mid-1900’s with the French in 1844 and the Spanish in 1860. As a result of the defeat in 1844 Moroccan army lost its reputation of being invincible. The resulting Treaty of Lalla Marnia in 1845 gave the French trading rights and control of the eastern border. It also paved the way for the Anglo-Moroccan Treaty in 1856 giving the British extensive trading rights as well. The peace treaty concluding the Spanish-Moroccan war of 1859-60 gave the Spanish permission to establish a diplomatic and missionary presence in Tetuan (Le Tourneau 1992: 10-11). 67 In 1912, the only means of transport were horses, donkeys and camels, except for the sultan’s personal automobile and his short private railroad line which afforded him and his guests a brief tour of the palace grounds (Stewart 1967: 33). There were neither roads nor bridges, only trails (Bernard 1931: 175). 68 While oriented towards facilitating pacification and economic development, the development of a public transport network also benefited the Moroccan population. Highway construction provided immediate employment opportunities for pacified tribes. By the time railroad construction began, 1,639 kilometers of primary roads and 374 kilometers of secondary roads, which facilitated further pacification operation, had already been completed. Railway construction progressed more slowly and, because of the high price of electricity needed for its operation, never proved to be as efficient, except in the transport of phosphates. The network of domestic transport was developed primarily as a means of tapping interior resources for foreign markets. The exportation of these resources was not possible without the final segment of the network, the ports, which, before the protectorate, were in very poor condition. Being the center of industry, Casablanca became

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the primary port, with secondary ports at Safi and Kenitra (Stewart 1967: 147-54). The development of means of transport facilitated travel from rural areas to urban centers. As a result, reports of the advantages of the urban lifestyle spread even faster, thus, directly and indirectly, contributing to the ever-growing rural exodus. The development of transportation also led to a change in the nature of migration. While in the beginning usually unmarried men moved to urban centers, later married men, who could relatively often and easily return for visits and eventually, once established, bring their wives and children without much difficulty, joined the exodus (Adam 1968: 274). 69 The establishment of the protectorate intensified the already increasing European interest in acquiring land in Morocco. Acquisition was difficult due to the precarious nature of ownership under Islamic law and the absence of registration. Dhahîrât of 1913 and 1914 instituted a system of land registration, a legal process paid for by the applicant. A decree in 1914 declared hubûs, gîsh and collective lands, in other words, all lands except milk and domanial, inalienable, making conveyance possible with the approval of local governors and judges. Domanial lands, which were brought under immediate French control by virtue of the protectorate agreement, were sold to the French farmers (Stewart 1967: 72-73). A further decree in 1919 contained provisions for the seizure of inalienable lands. First, in the case of collective lands, it decreed that a Moroccan ‘tent’ needed 12 hectares of good land, 15 hectares of average and 20 hectares of mediocre. The rest of the land was declared superfluous and seized by the government. Secondly, gîsh lands, settled by Arab obligated to military service in exchange for using the land, were expropriated, as the national defense had become the responsibility of the French army. Hubûs lands, held in trust for religious purposes, were also made seizable by the government, although public opinion caused the French to act gradually in this case. Milk land was also eventually brought under government control. In this way, land was made available to the French farmers who migrated to Morocco after 1912 (Stewart 1967: 72-75).

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The amount of land available to Moroccans was obviously reduced in the process. The justification for these policies, i.e. that, by placing Europeans around the countryside, the techniques of the French farmers would be absorbed by example by the Moroccan farmers allowing them to produce more on their reduced holdings as theretofore and thus improving the lot of the Moroccans, which was one of the principles of the protectorate, failed for two reasons. The Europeans were given the best agricultural lands in the country, while the Moroccans were relegated to the marginal farmlands. Thus, their holdings were reduced not only in quantity but also in quality. Furthermore, because of the spatial separation the intended learning by example was not able to take place. At the same time as the Moroccans were experiencing reduced yields, they were faced with heavy population growth. The resulting pressures forced them either to work for Europeans or to migrate to the growing urban centers (Stewart 1967: 79-82). 70 The long French tradition of governmental intervention in the workings of the economy was duplicated in Morocco. The government, controlled by the French, catered to the demands of the Europeans as it was believed that a prosperous European agriculture was essential to its success. Measures introduced by the government to control prices and production by means of taxation and subsidies were, therefore, usually aimed at benefiting the European farmers. While Moroccan farmers were forced to continue to grow hard wheat and barley because of the poor quality of their land, French farmers were offered subsidies and other forms of incentives by the government to diversify. For example, rebates on the tartîb, or agricultural tax, in 1916 for clearing land for European-type cultivation, selling grain to the army, growing soft wheat, cultivating fallow and planting olive trees and, in 1923, for the use of ‘European methods’ were granted. While some Moroccan farmers benefited to a limited extent from the rebates of 1916, the rebates for the use of ‘European methods’ meant nothing to the majority of them, as they could not afford the modern equipment. When direct assistance programs were finally developed in the fifties, the long-neglected problems of the Moroccan farmers had assumed such vast proportions that the long-overdue piecemeal, long-range measures were a poor substitute for the immedi-

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ate, intensive program required by the circumstances. Left with the choice between barely surviving or working for Europeans, who determined the wages of their laborers at will, large numbers of Moroccans left the countryside to try their luck in the blossoming industry of the urban centers (Stewart 1967: 82-85). Minimum wage regulations were not adequately enforced and, even when they were, they did not keep pace with the rising prices of the most important commodities (Stewart 1967: 106). 71 The first step in the establishment of the mining industry was to determine where the richest deposits could be found and who had rights to them. A geological survey was undertaken and, in 1914, a dhahîr was issued decreeing that mineral rights were distinct from surface rights and belonged to the State except in the case of minerals which could be exploited by the open-pit process (Stewart 1967: 118). In 1928, the Bureau de Recherches et de Participations Minières was established, a public corporation with the same rights and obligations as private companies. At first, the B.R.P.M. worked in partnership with private firms exploiting oil and coal deposits and later all other minerals except phosphates. In 1951, the definition of ownership of minerals was changed and all solid combustibles, metals, nitrates, mica hydrocarbons and phosphates were made the property of the State. Despite the increasing importance of mineral exports after the second world war, because of the increased mechanization, the number of Moroccans employed in mining itself did not rise significantly (Stewart 1967: 125-26). 72 Light industry was developed, for the most part, to meet the demands of the French and the European market. The differences in demands arising from cultural dissimilarities narrowed somewhat, however, as Moroccans, through contact, acquired European tastes (Stewart 1967: 127). Sugar refineries relied solely on foreign sources of supply. The per capita consumption of sugar in Morocco was among the highest in the world. Domestic production could not satisfy local demand. As production costs were high and thus locally produced sugar expensive, protection was afforded to refiners in 1933 by a law establishing compensatory taxes on imported sugar, except from France and French colonies. As was the case with

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flour-milling, high-cost sugar refineries were subsidized by lowincome consumers (Stewart 1967: 129). The development of the cement industry was also facilitated by protection measures. The sources of supply were local, but again production costs were higher than abroad. A law in 1933 established compensatory taxes on imported cement. Rate reductions on the Moroccan railroads and outright government subventions provided further support for the growth of the cement industry. The French-owned cement producing companies prospered considerably during the postwar construction boom. The governmentowned construction companies were the principal customers (Stewart 1967: 130). The fishing industry was also developed to meet the needs of Europeans within and outside Morocco. Fishing had been an occupation of Moroccans for centuries, but the character of the fishing industry changed completely with the protectorate. Fish consumption, which prior to the protectorate was confined to the communities along the coast, became popular in other regions. Motor-driven fishing boats and better equipment were introduced by the French. As supply outran the domestic market, canning was introduced and canned fish, mostly sardines, became an important export item. It ranked second to phosphates in 1950. The existence of the industry depended to a great extent on the French market since French prices were double those prevailing in world markets (Stewart 1967: 134). Textile manufacturing was the only one of the new industries which directly affected the traditional Moroccan industry. Before 1939, the domestic textile industry was largely in the hands of artisans. The cotton industry developed in the postwar period. Not intended for export, it was nevertheless centered in the coastal cities of Casablanca, Mohammedia and Kenitra because of the availability of power and the supply of cheap labor afforded by these cities. The struggle to compete with imported machinemade goods was again facilitated by protection measures. This time quotas were set to control the influx of foreign wares (Stewart 1967: 130-33). 73 The tax structure was heavily biased toward the European segment of the population under the protectorate. As pointed out

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above, the burden of the tartîb fell more heavily on the Moroccan farmers. Other direct taxes on businesses and personal income contributed only a small portion of the total revenues and, being proportional, tapped high income brackets only lightly. Custom duties and consumption taxes on tea, sugar, beer and alcohol represented a considerable portion of total revenues and the greatest burden fell on the Moroccan population. The prosperity of Frenchmen in Morocco was, therefore, at the expense of both the Moroccans and Frenchmen in France (Stewart 1967: 160-61). 74 At the turn of the century, besides some few private Jewish schools and a Spanish mission school, the only educational system which existed in Morocco had originated centuries before in the period of Islamization and was religious in nature. It consisted of msâ’id, or ‘elementary’ schools, where children learned the Qur’ân by heart and, in the process, to read and write, as well as madâris where Islamic law and sciences were taught. This system continued, expanded and even grew in popularity during the protectorate. The msîd eventually became a preliminary stage of education for Moroccan children which was completed before entering the public schools (Adam 1968: 459). The first European schools founded by the French as early as 1907 were originally intended for European children but were soon expanded to accommodate the children of wealthy Moroccans. As the French schools expanded, Arabic public schools were founded in response. Educational opportunities for girls remained well behind those for boys and were more practical in nature. Advanced, vocational and professional educational opportunities began to develop as well. 75 The development of public facilities was oriented toward providing for the well-being of the European population and promoting industrial and economic development. The development of electrical power, which was needed for mining, the railroads and life in urban areas, began early in the protectorate. The investigation of possible sources of water power began in 1920 and by the mid-thirties enough plants had been built to furnish the needs in all three areas (Ayache 1959: 167-68). In the development of electricity and other facilities in the cities emphasis was initially placed on the new, or European quar-

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ters, and the old, or Moroccan quarters, were ignored. While, in the new quarters, the network of streets was modernized and a water and sewage system, schools, hospitals, slaughterhouses, markets, administration buildings and parks were built, the old quarters saw none of these improvements (Ayache 1959: 172). Large portions of the Moroccan population lived under extremely crowded conditions in the old quarters or in bidonvilles which grew constantly with the arrival of more and more immigrants. With time, however, modern public facilities were introduced into the old quarters, and new quarters equipped with modern housing and modern public facilities were made available to those segments of the Moroccan population who could afford to live there (Adam 1968: 119-33). 76 Banking remained, however, an institution reserved, to a great extent, for foreigners. It required an extreme change in attitudes and patterns of behavior on the part of Moroccans. Thus, it took most Moroccans a long time to get used to and accept banks and banking. This was due to the fact that the Qur’ân rejects the idea of the accumulation of wealth and forbids Muslims from participating in forms of money lending which involves earning interest. Besides, those Moroccans with enough money to open an account felt it to be beneath their dignity to be reduced to a number, to stand in line and to be served by a clerk instead of being received as an individual of high status. Thus the attempt made in 1920 to found a Moroccan bank proved to be a failure and it went bankrupt in 1922. The second attempt in 1947 also proved unsuccessful. This avoidance of banks and banking had begun to change by 1965, though it still did not completely disappear for several years (Adam 1968: 325-31). 77 The Salafiyya, like the Wahhabiyya, developed originally as a fundamentalist movement seeking a return to the uncorrupted faith of the as-salaf as-sâlih, the pure ancestors. During the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire under a renewed tide of European imperialism, it bore the influences of Djamâl ad-Dîn al-Afghanî, Muhammad Abduh and Rashîd Rîda and advanced the restoration of Islam to its original purity by eliminating corrupt medieval accretions and the assimilation of selected elements of European culture (Halstead 1967: 120).

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78 Although other influences on the ideas of the reformers and later nationalists are evident, particularly later on, the Salafiyya was the primary source in the early stages. 79 John Halstead (1967) and Roger Le Tourneau (1992) provide extensive information on the individuals, ideas, activities, events and publications in Morocco, France and elsewhere which influenced the growth and development of the nationalist movement in Morocco and its contribution to the eventual termination of the French protectorate. 80 Although the events of this period broadened the political and intellectual awareness of those directly involved and, to a more limited extent, the political consciousness of the masses who participated less intensively, they had little effect on attitudes toward family and gender roles, particularly of the latter (Adam 1972: 226-27). 81 Some scholars refute the idea that Casablanca was chosen because of its geographical location and claim that it became important only by chance as a result of the murders and the landing of the French troops there in response (Adam 1968: 32). 82 For more details on these types of relationships, see the section on interpersonal bonds above. 83 The growth in the importance of the nuclear family as a social and economic unit in the rural environment in the last few decades has also resulted from the social and economic changes brought about by the protectorate period (Hart 1976: 445). For more information on the effects of the disappearance of the lineage as a spatial, economic and social unit see Baffoun (1982), Mernissi (1978) and Vinogradov (1974). 84 The term ‘new veiling’ refers to the veiling resulting from the influence of the Islamist movement. This form of veiling can be distinguished from ‘traditional’ forms of veiling in two ways. In contrast to ‘traditional’ veiling, the ‘new veiling’ is nationally and internationally uniform as well as voluntary. It entails a self-conscious decision based on religious conviction. Both forms permit women to circulate in the public sphere without being hassled. 85 Important sources on the historical development of discourses about veiling and gender roles include Göle (1995) for Turkey,

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86 87 88

89

90

91 92

93

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Hoffmann-Ladd (1987) for Egypt and Bessis and Belhassen (1992) and Daoud (1993) for Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria. For more information on new trends in wedding celebrations, see Kapchan 1996. The National Committee of Women’s Affairs was founded in 1987 to address these issues (al-Musaddiq 1990: 62). Consulting a psychologist possibly constitutes an option for only a small number of Moroccan women today. As there is no available literature on this option, it is impossible to say which women, if at all, take advantage of it and in what way. One article does, however, document the consultation of a psychologist by a Tunisian woman experiencing marital problems caused by a difference in attitude between the husband and wife with regard to female gender roles and suffering from symptoms of spirit possession as a result (Harzallah 1981). According to most informants, family members or relatives are preferred for daycare. Daycare facilities are reported by informants to be limited in number, administered unsatisfactorily and poorly staffed and equipped or, when up to acceptable standards, too expensive. MacLeod reports similar reactions among informants in Cairo (1992: 26-27). In a study of attitudes towards healing practices and medicine, Bellakhdar points to the social aspects of the healing process characterizing it as a familial or communal event (1984: 7-8). Black is one of the favorite colors of her spirit medium ^Â’isha Qandîsha. The tsbîh, or string of ninety-nine beads used to recite the names or qualities of Allah and to meditate about Him, is only one example of numerous props used in the consultation session. The spelling used here corresponds to its pronunciation in Moroccan dialect. See the section on creatig a niche in chapter three for an explanation of the various props for seeing and their use. This term comes from the Arabic verb fataha meaning ‘to open’. The ftûh is necessary for opening or beginning the consultation. Further explanation follows. The speaker switches back and forth between direct and indirect speech. The Arabic texts have been translated literally. It is common for folk-religious specialists to inquire about their

Notes

96

97 98

99

100 101

102

client’s own name and mother’s name when preparing an amulet or performing divinatory procedures (Westermarck 1926). It is common to light candles both in caves dedicated to jnûn and sanctuaries dedicated ’awliyâ’. It is done in order to honor the jinn or walî, to obtain baraka from him or her or to establish ^âr, a relationship of obligation with him or her (Westermarck 1926). Prescribing the burning of candles to assist clients in solving their personal dilemmas was not observed except in the case of this shuwwâfa. The flow of clients can be steady, as in this case, or sporadic depending on the reputation and popularity of the shuwwâfa. Lead-pouring involves pouring melted lead into cool water. It is one of several props commonly used for seeing. See the section on creating a niche in this chapter. Amulets are prepared for several reasons: to bring the client good fortune in a future endeavor like an examination, marriage or business transaction, to ameliorate an uncomfortable or inconvenient situation in the client’s life, to protect the client against misfortune or spirit possession and, as is the case here, to counter a spell that has been cast on the client by someone else. They are usually made in the following way: A Qur’ân verse is written on a small piece of paper. Tiny pieces of metal believed to repel jnûn are placed in the center of the piece of paper. It is then folded several times and wrapped in a very small piece of cloth. This is tied up with a strip of cloth. Moroccans living in Europe are known to make trips back home or send someone to a consultation session for them. According to a shuwwâfa, who had gone to France to visit a cousin living there to distance herself from the personal problems of her clientele with which she was daily confronted, there were a number of shuwwâfât living and catering to the needs of the Moroccans living there. As soon as people learned of her presence there, she was called upon to extend her services to them as well (Welte 1990: 125). See the section on creating a niche in this chapter for further explanation of the different types of innovation which have led to the various forms this vocation has taken today.

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103 See the section on the vocation of shuwwâfa in chapter four for examples on this process of learning through observation. 104 Gaudry (1929), studying folk religious practices among the women of the Auras, distinguishes three different types of roles for women: the sorceress, which she offers as the translation of the Berber titles tasehhart and settant; the diviner, her translation of the Berber title tagezzant; and tbîba, which is the feminine form of the Arabic word tabîb meaning doctor and which also exist in the French language today. Goichon (1927, 1929 and 1931) mentions the term sahhâra, the Arabic word for sorceress, only once and otherwise uses the French word for sorceress (1927: 195). Westermarck uses the term suwafa when referring to women in Dukkala and Fez who perform practices similar to today’s consultation sessions and for women who hold ceremonies similar to today’s liyâlî. Women performing similar practices in the Rif are referred to as dizuhriyin, the singular of which is dizuhrit. He uses neddara and talla^a for women in Andjra and Sale respectively who hold ceremonies to cure spirit possession similar to the liyâlî of today (1926: 356). 105 The most common type of magic, or magic spell, documented in the sources and observable among shuwwâfât is referred to in both cases tqâf. It can be cast on a husband or boyfriend who is unfaithful to make him lose interest in other women or even impotent when in contact with them. When a young woman has difficulty finding a husband or a wife is unable to get pregnant, the cause is often thought to be tqâf. Breaking tqâf often requires determining who has cast it. The procedures for casting and breaking tqâf vary from one practitioner to another in the sources as well as among today’s shuwwâfât. Casting the spell usually entails taking a small item that has been touched by the victim of the spell and enclosing it securely in a small container. The container is sealed and hidden in the home of the victim. Breaking the spell usually requires obtaining an item, large or small, belonging to the person who has cast the spell, such as a piece of clothing or lock of hair. This item is then burned or buried. Today’s shuwwâfât prefer more simple procedures, as today’s clientele have less time and money for complicated procedures.

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106 Westermarck asserts that there are no women members of the ^Îsâwa and Jilâla orders (1926: i, 349). 107 Without providing any further details on it, Goichon, in her study of secluded bourgeois women of Fez, explains that these women were given to invite male and female members of the Gnâwa order to organize “an evening of music and magic” (1929: 6-7). Secret trips out of their seclusion were also undertaken by these women for the purpose of consulting black sorceresses who had come to Fes from various parts of the South together with black sorcerers. These are mentioned in this connection with the evenings of music and magic, but no further information is provided about them (Goichon 1929: 7). 108 The first description originally appeared in English. The second and third descriptions are my own translations of the original French versions. 109 Most of the sources include descriptions of long, elaborate procedures for healing and casting magic spells which include the appropriate incantations and recipes. They are not always described within the context of the consultation situation with clientele. 110 See the initial section of chapters one, three and five for examples of the consultation sessions of three different shuwwâfât. 111 According to Westermarck, the ’Ulâd Bu^azı¯z were Arabs inhabiting Dukkala. 112 According to Westermarck, the Ait Wâryâgar were Rifians. 113 Only male musicians appear at liyâlî. 114 The ta^rı¯ja is a Moroccan drum. 115 ‘Those People’ is one of the euphemisms used to refer to jnûn, a word which is rarely used for fear of bothering or summoning them. 116 This intermingling of commercial and religious activity is even more blatant at the mûsim. See Reysoo 1991 for more information on this aspect. 117 See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one for an explanation. 118 See the section on the ceremony in chapter six for a description of a lîla. 119 This sanctuary is dedicated to Sîdî Muhammad ash-Sharqî from the tribe of Banu Zammur in the district of Tadla. He founded the

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121

122 123 124

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town of Bujad of which he is the patron. His order is influential in the surrounding area. For more information see Eickelman (1976). These syringes and black and white drawings of hands with henna designs on them, usually covered in plastic, seem to be the going tools of the trade. Whether they operate out of their own small gift shops or their own homes or position themselves in sanctuaries or various points along the beaten track of sightseeing excursions for tourists, these specialists, who can be found throughout the country today, are all equipped with these two items. The entrepreneur catering to the new demand for this equipment is also a woman, according to some sources. The decision to use of the term Moroccan religious expression to refer to all forms of religious observance including both mainstream Islam and popular- or folk-religious practices resulted from a personal discussion of the problem of definition of Islam with John Middleton. Although the terms mainstream Islam and folk- religious beliefs and practices are used throughout this study for purposes of clarity, stress is nevertheless being placed on the relationship between two parts of a whole. For a more extensive discussion of this problem Dale Eickelman’s article on Islam in local context (1983). This challenge is addressed in the section on their position in society in chapter five. One scholar solves this problem by defining an attitude he observed among his informants in the Moroccan pilgrimage center of Boujad for dealing with the realities of everyday life in general and with maraboutism in particular. He explains that his informants take a matter-of-factual or common sensical attitude toward everyday life situations. They believe that Allah created everything that exists and willed everything that happens and that it is each man’s duty to look after his own interests, to take the world as it is and to decide how to act on a situational basis. In his scheme maraboutism is therefore one of many available options for defining social practices and relationships (Eickelman 1976: 126-30). Although at-tasawwuf was incorporated into Islam and considered to be an acceptable form of religious expression from the

Notes

12th century on, some Muslims still question its acceptability especially with regard to the use of music, the offering sacrifices to ’awliyâ’ and jnûn, feats of self-mutilation and other questionable practices in the dhikr or hadra. The Moroccan state neither condones nor condemns the orders and their practices. 126 Ironically, the term originated in connection with a tradition, associated with jihâd, by which a “rigid, austere and orthodox vision of Islam which rejected the heterodoxies of urban Morocco” (Joffé 1997: 60) was spread throughout the countryside and which reached its climax in the mid-tenth century. 127 Holding consultations is impossible on Friday as the jnûn retire for the day to their underground abode. 128 The standards of cleanliness or purity and control of physical behavior and movements maintained by everyday life practices and ritual are interconnected. From early childhood bodily cleanliness is emphasized and maintained by a weekly thorough scrubbing at the hammâm, or public steam bath. Participation in all rituals also requires that the body be in a state of ritual purity. Before each of the five daily prayers the ritual cleansing, or wudû^, which involves thoroughly rinsing the hands, face, feet and orifices, or the interior of the nose, mouth and ears in a precisely set down procedure, must be performed. Once in the state of ritual purification any contact with the opposite sex should be avoided until after the completion of the prayer. After sexual intercourse the body must be cleansed in its entirety by way of the major purification, or ghusl, before participating in any religious ritual. Ghusl also has a compensatory and integrating function and ends the anxiety caused by the mysterious forces of orgasm, menstrual blood and childbirth (Bouhdiba, 1979: 60). During menstruation and in the first forty days following childbirth, the female body is considered to be in a state of impurity or pollution. Both of these phases end with a ritual cleansing marking the re-entry into a normal state of purity. Sexual intercourse and participation in religious rituals are forbidden during these phases. Many women wait until after menopause to perform the hajj, as it lasts an entire month. While men are able to enter and maintain a state of ritual purity at will on a daily basis, women are hindered by circumstances out of their control at certain times.

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129 Attitudes toward the female body differ from those toward the male body in several ways. These differences begin during the upbringing process and derive from biological distinctions. Physical punishment, which is used more often in the case of girls than boys, is meant to instill in them the extent to which their behavior affects the reputation of the family. In fact, boys begin fairly early to participate in the physical punishment of their sisters. Girls are taught at a very early age that their wedding day is the most important day in their lives with regard to their happiness and good fortune, but only if they remain virgins until then. They are often reminded of this fact. Girls are forbidden from participating in certain sports and games for fear of damaging their hymen and thus their honor (Ben Khouya 1991: 36-37). The fact that the operation which can restore the hymen is still in considerable demand demonstrates the importance still placed on virginity today. Girls also learn at an early age to be concerned about their appearance. They learn techniques to preserve their natural beauty and to make themselves attractive for the purpose of finding a husband (Belarbi 1991c: 32). Finally, they learn that having children, especially boys, is the most important function of their bodies (Ben Khouya 1991: 48-49). Nevertheless, they rarely receive any kind of instruction or preparation for the beginning of their menstrual flow, for their wedding night or for childbirth. Instead these topics are taboo. As a result many women report having been filled with fear, uncertainty and desperation at the thought of and at the outset of each of these events (Belarbi 1991a; Ben Khouya 1991: 24-25; ar-Razi 1991). Furthermore, sexuality, and the desires and pleasures it involves, are seen as a natural and healthy. They are, however, only permissible within wedlock. Married women are therefore expected to behave and dress in such a way as not to arouse the sexual interest of men other than their husbands. For some women, this still includes some form of veiling and avoidance of contact with male non-relatives. Any deviations from the norm in the behavior of women are seen as a loss of control and a threat to the reputation of the family and to society. This threat to society derives from the general belief that women’s sexual drives can lead them to create a state of fitna, or chaos, in society, if they were granted too much freedom.

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130 It is preferrably produced by women who are no longer menstruating, widowed and dilligently practicing Muslims. This ensures the purity of the product. 131 Reference is being made here to the down-to-earth aspect and the possibility of influencing one’s everyday life situation in an active way which is lacking in mainstream Islamic ritual but which characterizes folk-religious practices and rituals. 132 Rafîsa is a dish made with ghayf, a special kind of home-made fried bread, broken into small pieces, in a sauce of lentils and chicken which has a very intense and extremely pungent aroma. 133 The entire month of Sha^bân is an intensive period for spirit possession ceremonies, as it precedes Ramadân, the month during which they are forbidden. The 24th is particularly significant as it marks the beginning of the final phase before the month of abstinence. 134 The woman always refers to jnûn as ‘that thing’ so as not to incur their wrath. 135 Rjâl il-Ghâba is a tribe of jnûn particularly significant for the Jilâla order. 136 Mûlay Bûsh^ayb is a famous walî in the region of Dukkala. 137 Bâshâ Hammû is one of the named jnûn. See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. 138 The connection between rejection by the mother and spirit possession occurred often among and was emphasized by the shuwwâfât living and practicing in Sîdî Ma^rûf. This connection will be dealt with below. 139 Another term for fuqahâ’, or male folk-specialists and healers. 140 She is referring to the self-mutilation rituals performed by some of the popular mystical orders. 141 This type of shuwwâfa is most often found practicing in public spaces like at the entrance of shrines. See the section on shuwwâfât and shrines in chapter three for one example. 142 Chapter One begins with a consultation session with a shuwwâfa of this type. 143 Chapters Three and Four begin with a consultation session with a shuwwâfa of this type. 144 This chapter begins with a narrative by a shuwwâfa of this type. 145 In their study of an Ixil fortune-teller, Colby / Colby (1981) have

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146 147 148

149

150 151 152 153 154 155

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also pointed to circumstances during the childhood of the fortune-teller as responsible for the psychological development leading to the his entry into the vocation. See the section on ritualized emotional expression and music in the lîla in chapter six for more information. See the section on ftûh in the section on creating a niche in chapter three for more information. The interview is preceded by the explanation that the shuwwâfa treating Habiba told her that she was to become a shuwwâfa and that she should attend the mûsim of Sîdî ^Alî to prepare herself for entering the vocation. Here she is referring to the mqaddim and those who accompanied him. Information about these individuals is however not provided. A tbaq is a large earthenware dish with a cone-shaped lid used to store the props for seeing and other items used for the vocation. A similar observation has been made in the case of the marketplace oratories of similar kinds of specialists (Kapchan 1996). Mûlay Ibrâhîm’s status is, however, somewhat ambiguous. The term il-jawâd can also be used to refer to holy figures. Tafusîkhât yuhûdî is a type of root which gives off a putrid odor when burned and which is used to rid someone of jnûn. Reference is being made here to both the Moroccan Jewish Kabbala and magic traditions from the Sûs region in which geometric forms, mathematical formula and natural elelments constitute important methods and themes. In her article about shrine visitation by young Moroccan women, based on a survey using semi-directed conversations with and systematic and participant observation of 250 eight- to seventeenyear-old female visitors of the shrines of ’awliyâ’ in the medina of Rabat, in Chellah and in the cemetery of Oudayas, Naima Chikhaoui, professor at the Institut National de Sciences Archéologiques et Patrimoines, stresses the fact that it is the conflicts with their families, especially their fathers, resulting from opposing attitudes in these areas as well as the drive to make contacts outside their restrictive social worlds which lead these young women to visit these shrines (1990: 60). The informants for this

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158

159

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study made similar statements regarding the reasons for consulting shuwwâfât and attending liyâlî. An awareness of the conflicts surrounding the choice of friends and marriage partners arose through observations in Sîdî Ma^rûf. Soumaya Naamane-Ghessous, professor of Sociology at the Faculté des Lettres in Casablanca, discusses the pressure and inner conflicts deriving from the restrictions placed on young women by their families and social worlds concerning their choices of friends and partners in the second chapter of her recent book on the concept of shame and the everyday life and sexual behavior of Moroccan women (1992). Her book is based on a survey using questionaires conducted between October 1981 and August 1984 encompassing 200 Casablancan women chosen at random from a broad spectrum of socioeconomic milieus ranging from those inhabiting villas to those living in the bidonvilles, ranging in age from fifteen to forty-five and ranging in educational background from illiterate to university students. The questionnaires, which contained general questions about various aspects of the women’s lives, were intended to get the women to talk about their past and eventually, after gaining their confidence, about the more delicate subject of their sexual behavior. In her article on shrine visitation by young Moroccan women, Chikhaoui explains that her informants invented other explanations for the symptoms which actually resulted from inner conflicts, knowing that their families, especially their fathers, would not understand or accept the real explanations and wishing to avoid interpersonal conflicts that would arise from telling the truth (1990: 57). The inner conflicts which result from the inability of women to address certain issues, especially those concerning sexuality, the marital relationship and the choice of a spouse are discussed at length by Naamane-Guessous (1992: 32-53). Reference is being made both to immediate financial instability and difficulties and to the stability and preservation of the marriage, which constituted the source of subsistence for and thus a primary focus of many of my informants. Although most women prefer to frequent only one shuwwâfa, some women choose to consult several especially initially when

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162 163 164

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168

169 170

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they are searching for one in whom they can confide and place their trust. See the section on shuwwâfât and shrines in chapter three for more information. See the section on shuwwâfât and shrines in chapter three for more information. Weekly or monthly liyâlî have become less common because of the time, energy and money involved and the diminishing interest today. Two commonly known to and attended by the shuwwâfât of Sîdî Ma^rûf are the Saturday lîla at Sîdî Muhammad near the center of town and the Wednesday lîla at Marshîsh on the road to Mediouna. See the section on shrines and shuwwâfât in chapter three. If the lîla were being held especially for the shuwwâfa as is typically done during the month of Sha^bân, a wooden platform with a chair, or sometimes simply a chair, would be set up for her to sit on, making her the center of attention. The lîla can also be held in the home of a client. This occurs in the case of wealthier clients by preference or when a client is in urgent need of treatment and the shuwwâfa is unable to hold a lîla in her home. Although it was not the case for this lîla, the musicians sometimes arrive in procession parading through the streets playing their instruments and chanting. This attracts attention, making the general public aware that a lîla is being held. This practice is becoming less common because many shuwwâfât today prefer to personally invite the audience and avoid calling the attention of the police to the lîla. Although it is not illegal to hold a lîla, they nonetheless make efforts to avoid unnecessary interference in their practices. Qizbât is the plural of qizba, a reed flute about 18 inches long. Banâdîr is the plural of bandîr, a round, flat drum about 18 inches in diameter held in both hands and played by tapping one’s fingers on the outer edges. Qarâqib is a percussion instrument consisting of a narrow piece of wood about 18 inches long, four inches wide and two inches thick with two castinet-like metal plates about five inches in diameter back to back at each end held in both hands and played by

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173

174

175

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moving the plates apart and back together making a muffled, tinny sound. This initial segment which lasts until the guests arrive only occurs when the shuwwâfa has a close relatioship with the order and musicians and chooses to do so. The chants that follow are not always provided in their entirety. Only those dedicated to ’awliya’ which are generally short are complete. The chant to Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir is long and has been included in its entirety. In the case of jnûn, with the exception of two, only the initial lines of the chant have been included. Each chant includes descriptions of the most significant traits by which the walî or jinn, to which it is dedicated, is most commomly identified. The boundary between walî and jinn is generally unclear. In the ceremony, where both ’awliya’ and jnûn are given equal attention in similar types of chants, the boundary line between them is almost completely dissolved. In fact, some scholars distinguish between what they call human-’awliya’, spirit-’awliya’ and jnûn. The performance of each chant involves repetition especially of the most important lines. Repetition is applicable when one or more of the participants reacts to a particular chant. It is then necessary to continue the chant until the participant or participants have reached the climax of their ecstatic trance. This varies considerably. See Welte (1990) for more information of this aspect. The ’Ulâd Bi-l-\Ahmar is the name of a tribe of jnûn who are supposedly the most wicked of all jnûn (Westermarck 1926: i, 264). See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. A siyyid located on a hill not far from the northern edge of Casablanca where a weekly hadra of the Jilâla order is held. There is also a cave dedicated to ^Â’isha Qandîsha. It is a popular place of pilgrimage for shuwwâfât residing in Casablanca. See the section on shuwwâfât and shrines in chapter three. Mûlay ^Abd il-Qâdir is one of the most famous ’awliyâ’ of Morocco, although he is buried in Baghdad. He is the patron of the Jilâla order. Mûlay Bû Sîlhâm is also a famous walî whose sanctuary is located near Larache.

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178 Tayr ^Allâl is the nickname for Sîdî Mas^ûd bin il-Hussayn. His sanctuary is located in ’Ulâd Faraj. 179 This is the name of the woman taking care of the qubba in the past. 180 This is nisba adjective for those from the town where the sanctuary is located. It is referring here to Sîdî Mas^ûd bin il-Hussayn. 181 Bû ^Abîd ish-Sharqî is known as the patron of horsemen and horsemanship (Westermarck 1926: i, 180). His sanctuary is located in Wad Zam a town not far from Bu il-Ja^d, the center of the Sharqâwa order. 182 The word khawâja is used to refer to or address foreigners. It underscores the distance of the sanctuary of Bû ^Abîd ish-Sharqî from Casablanca. This distance is also emphasized by the fact that his followers must come on horseback. Other musician claim that the line of the chant begins with the word khalfa and can be translated as separation also stressing the distance of the sanctuary from Casablanca. Other informants explained that the word khalfa also means step in Moroccan dialect and translated the line: One step suffices for you, although you are far away. 183 Although the word jîtî means ‘you have come’ when speaking to a female, the expression jîtî b^ı¯d means ‘you are far away’. It is not uncommon to use the feminine form of the imperative and past tense when addressing a male in Moroccan dialect. 184 Mûlay ^Abdallâh Sîdî Ja^far is an important walî in the region of Dukkala. His sanctuary is located on the Atlantic coast near alJadîda. There are two deep crevices nearby where jnûn are believed to lurk. 185 Attendance of the lîla continues over time even after harmony with the supernatural has been re-established and the prominent outward signs of spirit possession have subsided to insure that the healing process has definitely reached completion, to prevent a relapse and to maintain a peaceful relationship with the jinn. 186 The slaughtering of animals is not uncommon as a folk-Islamic practice. It is done at the tombs of ’awliyâ’ to acquire baraka and insure the willingness of the walî to assist in the healing or problem-solving process for which the tomb visit was organized. At the lîla as well as at the sites around Morocco dedicated to them, animals are sacrificed to jnûn to placate them and elicit their co-

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187 188 189

190 191

192

193 194

195

196

operation in alleviating symptoms of spirit possession and attaining ecstatic trance. The only form of sacrifices officially accepted in mainstream Islam are those to Allah on the two most important annual feast days, ^îd al-kabîr which commemorates the sacrifice of Ismail by Abraham and ^îd al-fitr at the end of Ramadân. While the ’awliyâ’ being honored here are all male, there are more female jnûn than male. This refers to the tattered cloak worn by early Islamic mystics in Morocco and elsewhere. This chant is performed to summon Lâlla ^Â’isha Qandîsha, the commonly known named female jinn. il-Bahriyya is one of her titles. It means the one from the sea. See the section on healers, seers and spirits in chapter one. Il-^Iyyâsha refers to those possessed by Lâlla ^Â’isha. There are sites dedicated to Sîdî Mûsâ in various parts of Morocco, but especially on and near the Atlantic coast around Casablanca. He is known as a jinn-walî. In Dukkala, he is believed to rule over the jnûn of the sea. The sanctuary to Sîdî Wa^dûd is in Azzemour. Across from it is one of the many places throughout Morocco dedicated to Lâlla ^Â’isha il-Bahriyya. Lâlla ^Â’isha is being summoned to the lîla. Gnâwa il-Khal is another name for Sîdî Bîlâl who is the patron saint of the Gnâwa. He was the black slave bought and freed by the Prophet. He became the first mu’adhdhin in Islam. Sîdî Mîmûn is also known as is-Sultân il-Khal (Westermarck 1926: i, 391). See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. No specific reference can be found to Sultan Gnâwa. The chant could be referring to Sîdî Mîmun who is also known as il-Gnâwî (Crapanzano 1981: 177). See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. The chant describes the clothing often worn by members of the Gnâwa order. In Moroccan dialect the word min is used in place of mithla. It is, however, still unclear why the dress is black like the seashells when the seashells used to decorate the articles of clothing typically worn by the Gnâwa are white. The phrase could also be

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197 198 199 200 201

202

203 204 205 206 207

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rendered black from the seashells, but the meaning is still problematic because the seashells are white. For information on Hâjja Mîmûna, see the section on healers, seers and spirits in chapter one. For information on Bâsha Gazzâr, also known as Sîdî Hammû, see the section on healers, seers and spirits in chapter one. For information on Lâlla Mîra, see the section on healers, seers and spirits in chapter one. For information on Hâjja Mâlika, see the section on healers, seers and spirits in chapter one. Lâlla Fâtîm Shilha is the daughter of Sîdî Hamâd u Mûsâ who is said to be the patron of the tribe of Tazerwalt where is shrine his located. He is well-known in the Sûs. By performing a sacrifice at his shrine, a musician is thought to improve his chances of becoming skillful (Westermarck 1926: i, 163-64). He also has a reputation for helping robbers and thieves (Westermarck 1926: i, 181). ^Â’isha ^Awîsha is the daughter of Sîdî ^Allâl al-Hâjj of the Baqqâliyyîn family who is said to have flown to Mecca. The family is a tribe of jnûn are also referred to as ’Ulâd il-Battâr and are known for their dangerous curses. A special ceremony is celebrated in honor of the Baqqâliyîn near the shrine of Sîdî ^Allâl al-Hâjj at il-Hrayaq in the mountains of Gzâwa during the Mîlûd, or feast commemorating the birth of the Prophet on the twelfth of the month of Rabî ^ al-’Awwal (Westermarck 1926: i, 162). Reference is being made to this feast in the second line of the chant. it-Tâlib il-Fqîh is a jinn whose popularity seems to have diminished in Casablanca. This means he knows the Qur’ân by heart. Rijâl il-Ghâba is a tribe of jnûn. See the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one for more information on Bûdarbala. il-Bûhâlî Sîdî ’Ahmad is a jinn more commonly known as Sîdî Bûhâlî (Westermarck 1926: i, 350). The term bûhâlî is used for those who are mentally disturbed and incapable of leading a normal existence. They are often considered to have special supernatural powers and referred to as ’awliyâ’. Some of them are even honored with sanctuaries.

Notes

208 For information on ’Ulâd Khalîfa see the section on healers, seers and spirits in Islam in chapter one. 209 The musicians keep and divide these gifts of money among themselves afterwards. They are also paid for their work by the shuwwâfa. Presently, they charge 700 dirham for a lîla. 210 At the request of the shuwwâfa, the ceremony can continue after the meal in the same way it does at some hadrât. This is fairly uncommon among the shuwwâfât of Sîdî Ma^rûf. Only those guests with considerable experience with trance usually stay on for this segment, although some remain to watch and not to participate. The musicians resume their playing and chanting after the meal and a rest period. When the participants begin to reach a state of trance, large slaughtering knives are brought out. They are given to those who have gone into trance. They begin slashing their inner forearms with the knives. The slashes cause them to bleed, but because of their entranced state they feel no pain. This segment can go on until five or six in the morning. 211 Several scholars have noted the limitations on emotional expression characterizing some North African and other Muslim communities and the over-determination of self with regard to women’s bodies and behavior (Boddy 1988; Rosen 1984) and the available possibilities, in particular spirit possession rituals, for compensating these limitations and overdetermination (Ferchiou 1972; Maher 1984). 212 A more thorough examination of the connection between the expression of certain emotions, vulnerability and honor in a similar cultural setting can be found in Lila Abu-Lughod’s article entitled Honor and sentiments of loss in a Bedouin society (1985b). 213 Here reference is being made to the sociocultural constructions and social practices discussed in the first part of chapter three which are internalized through socialization in childhood and which inform and structure the behavior and social interaction of the individual throughout his or her life. 214 The term ‘female culture’ has been taken from Luig (1992) who uses it in a similar way in her discussion of the a spirit possession cult among women in Zambia. 215 Today, other sources, especially the mass media, provide impetus

241

Notes

for the process of rethinking and transforming these basic sociocultural constructions and social practices. 216 Messick (1987) uses this term to refer to an alternative female view of gender roles and power relations symbolically articulated in earlier weaving practices in Morocco. 217 This glossary is arranged in alphabetical order according to the English alphabet. The transliteration and definition of the words are based primarily on the Moroccan dialectal Arabic forms and situationally translated. Some Modern Literary Arabic words, using the same orthography as the authors of the texts from which they were extracted, have also been included. 218 The system of transliteration used by the scholars from whose works these words have been extracted has been maintained.

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265

Transliteration

Arabic Transliteration Consonants

267

Transliteration

Vowels

268

Glossary

Glossary of Arabic and Berber Terms Arabic Terms217 al

’amîr al-mu’minîn ’amîn ^aql ^ar ^arsh ^arsh il-’aryâh

^ashûr

’awliyâ’ baraka bismillah ar-rahmân ar-rahîm bkhûr bnî dâr dawwar dhahîr dhikr fakhdha fataha fâtiha firqa fitna fqîh

‘the’, the definite article in literary Arabic. The ‘l’ is sometimes replaced by the first letter of the word following it. prince of the believers, title given to the king of Morocco inspector or overseer of the marketplace reason, rationality, mind, intellect, intelligence obligation collectively owned lands in the mountains and on arid rocky plateaus trunk, tribe one of several euphemisms referring to jnûn used to avoid disturbing them. It is the literary Arabic plural of rîh meaning wind or odor tax on produce paid in kind, consisting of ten per cent of one’s harvest to be given to the poor to fulfill the religious obligation of giving alms plural of walî equivalent to blessing or benediction in the name of Allah the Merciful and Compassionate generic term for incense sons or children house, dwelling, extended family circle, subdivision of a tribe official decree mystical ritual for seeking closeness to Allah thigh, subdivision of a tribe the literary Arabic verb meaning ‘to open’ first verse of the Qur’ân group, portion, subdivision of a tribe chaos, civil strife, lack of consensus male specialist men who has undergone special religious training including memorization of the

269

Glossary

ftûh fuqahâ’ al-ghayb ghûl gîsh

il-Gnâwa ghusl hadariyya hadra hadrât hâ’ik hâka hajj il-Hamâdsha hammâm hammâmât hasham hashûma hashûmî hadhâk an-nâs

hubus

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Qur’ân, teaches in a Qur’ân school for children can be hired to recite parts of it privately on special occasions and consulted for assistance with personal problems opener, fee paid to a shuwwâfa for a consultation session plural of fqîh absent, hidden, not perceptible to the human senses ogre fertile lands occupied by Arab tribes who provided the government with military service in times of war in exchange for the use of the land one of the four largest popular mystical orders in Morocco Islamic cleansing ritual cultural spirit possession or ecstatic dance ritual plural of hadra loose over-garment plural of hâ’ik pilgrimage to Mecca one of the four largest popular mystical orders in Morocco public steam bath plural of hammâm state of embarrassment or shame, stance of deference or modesty state of embarrassment or shame, stance of deference or modesty adjective used for behavior of women showing embarrassment, shame, deference or modesty one of several euphemisms used to refer to jnûn to avoid summoning or provoking them meaning those people inalienable property the yield of which is devoted to pious purposes

Glossary

il

ildûn ^ilm ’imâm ^inâya il-^Îsâwa jalâlîb jallâba jamâ^ il-fanâ’ jamâ^a il-jawâd il-Jilâla jinn jnûn kâhin khalwa kahl

khayma kuhhân lihâf lîla liyâlî madrâsa makhzaniyya matlûq milk

‘the’, the definite article in Moroccan Arabic. The ‘l’ is sometimes replaced by the first letter of the word following it. leading-pouring, prop by shuwwâfât used in ‘seeing’ knowledge or science prayer leader in mosque protection, providence one of the four largest popular mystical orders in Morocco plural of jallâba thin, loose over-garment worn by women when entering the public sphere well-known daily open-air entertainment festival in Marrakesh governing council at the lineage level of a tribe euphemism for jnûn also referring to ’awliyâ’ one of the four largest popular mystical orders in Morocco spirit plural of jinn, spirits soothsayer at the time of the Prophet place of retreatment, room at a shrine for purification rituals the color black and a powder produced from natural ingredients including antimony (the primary ingredient) and date and olive pits and used as eyeliner tent, extended family plural of kâhin Moroccan couch spirit possession or ecstatic dance ritual plural of lîla school where Islamic law and sciences were taught governmental adjective used for assertive behavior of women privately owned land

271

Glossary

Mîlûd

mjmâr al-mlûk

mqaddim

mqaddima msîd mu’adhdhin Mûlay Ibrahîm

il-mu’minîn

mûsim

il-muslimîn

mwâsim nafs nafûsîkh

nîya

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feast commemorating the birth of the Prophet Muhammad on the twelfth of the month of Rabî’ al-’Awwal earthenware pot used to hold coals for burning incense one of the euphemisms used to refer to jnûn to avoid disturbing or provoking them. It is a transliterationofthe Moroccan pronunciationof the literary Arabic plural, mulûk, of the word mâlik which means king man responsible for overseeing a shrine, heading a spirit possession ceremony and slaughtering sacrificial animals feminine form of mqaddim, used as a synonym shuwwâfa Qur’ân school for children the one who calls the believers to prayer five times daily from the minaret attributed with special powers for the treatment of spirit possession whose shrine is located in the mountains to the east of Marrakesh one of the euphemisms used to refer to jnûn to avoid disturbing or provoking them. It is the literary Arabic plural of the word mu’min meaning believer, or one who belives in Allah pilgrimage to marabout or shrine and festival celebrated once a year in honor of the walî to whom the shrine is dedicated one of the euphemisms used to refer to jnûn to avoid disturbing or provoking them. It is the literary Arabic plural of the word muslim meaning Muslim plural of mûsim center of animal life forces or drives root which, when thrown onto hot coals and burned like bkhûr, gives off a putrid odor, which in turn repels jnûn trust, good intention, belief

Glossary

qâdî qâ’id qubba quwwâd rafîsa

rîh rjâl il-blad

rûh as-salaf as-sâlih salât sâlih sâlihîn sawm shahâda sharîf shaykh shaytân shîkha shûr shurfa shuwwâfa shuwwâfât shyûkh Sîdî ^Alî

sihr siyyid tabîba

religious court judge government official sent by the sultan to administer the tribal sub-units small white-domed cube-shaped edifice which functions as a shrine to a walî or marabout plural of qâ’id dish made with ghayf, a special kind of home-made fried bread, broken into small pieces, in a sauce of lentils and chicken which has a very intense and extremely pungent aroma rhythm and chant associated with a particular named jinn and used to summon it one of several euphemisms used to refer to jnûn to avoid disturbing or provoking them meaning men of the country breath of life, soul, spirit pure ancestors ritual prayers synonym for walî plural of sâlih fasting during the month of Ramadân profession of faith actual or alleged descendants of the Prophet government official ranking under the qâ’id or title of head of mystical order devil female musical performer Moroccan dialectal term for magic plural of sharîf seer plural of shuwwâfa, seer plural of shaykh walî attributed with special powers for the treatment of spirit possession whose shrine is situated near Meknes in the north of Morocco literary Arabic term for magic synonym for walî tradition female doctor

273

Glossary

tallâ^ taqiyya

ta^rı¯ja tartîb

at-tasawwuf tbaq

tqâf tsbîh ’ulâd ^ulamâ’ walî

waqf wudû^ zakât

ziyâra

seer-exorcist healing technique used by fuqahâ’ consisting in drinking Qur’ân verses which have been spoken or dissolved in water Moroccan drum tax introduced by Mûlay Hassan in 1880 combining the ^ashûr and the zakât which was also applied to non-Muslims Islamic mysticism Moroccan dish with cone-shaped lid store the props for seeing and other utensils of the vocation magic spell used to manipulate the feelings and behavior of another person string of beads used to meditate about Allah Moroccan dialectal pronunciation of the word for sons or children Islamic religious scholars shrine or man, living or dead, who attributed with a special relationship or closeness to Allah, who acts as an intermediary between human beings and Allah and to whom a shrine has been dedicated Middle Eastern equivalent for the North African term hubus Islamic cleansing ritual giving of alms, tax on animals paid in kind, consisting of 2.5 per cent of the value of one’s animals shrine visitation

Berber Terms218

ait settant tagezzant

274

family or people sorceress diviner

Glossary

tamazight

tariffît

tasehhart tashilhît

the name for Berber confederation inhabiting the Middle, Central High and Eastern High Atlas and their Berber dialect the name for Berber confederation inhabiting the Rif mountains in northern Morocco and their Berber dialect sorceress the name for Berber confederation inhabiting the Western High and Anti-Atlas and the Sûs Valley and their Berber dialect

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