89 Am I an ‘Orientalist’?

People often ask me if it is through Bert Hogervorst and her Flying Hippo travel organisation that I travelled sketching through the Middle East and Morocco. They are surprised when they hear that from the age of 19 I’ve travelled and even lived and worked in the nearby Islamic world. Ever since as a child I was read from the Thousands and One Nights (with illustrations of Rie Kramer), I’ve had a fascination for the ‘East’. One could call me an ‘Orientalist’. However Orientalism and the Orientalist does have a patronizing and disparaging connotation. Nineteenth century British and French male travellers come to mind. They were lured on by perverse fantasies of alluring, sex-crazed women locked up in Harems. They would use the excuse of ‘study’ to scan the place for colonial purposes and they would undertake expeditions solely to establish ‘scientifically’ their own and their religion’s superiority over the indigenous Islamic and Jewish population. I don’t know if I fall under that definition of an ‘Orientalist’. I’m an elderly woman from a European country and a Lesbian to boot and I don’t have the tendency to ‘go native’. Maybe that could make me a sexist with neo-colonial tendencies and feelings of moral superiority. The only thing that I know for sure about myself is that I’ve always felt myself at home and safe in most of the Islamic countries I visited. Paradoxically I was also spurred on by an exiting sense of the dangerous unknown like so many travellers before me.

Back in Agadir

Back in Agadir, but not for long. For the whole journey from my home in Polranny to the room in the Tildi 14 hours later I had been fueled by adrenalin. As soon as the night porter closed the door of my hotel room behind him I fell on the bed in a deep sleep. Once I'm 'on my way' I tend to relax. I have no problem to leave worries about the next day behind once I'm in the state of traveling. However before I'm on the move I'm totally, insanely nervous and sick with apprehension. I contracted this in my youth. Before I started on another hitchhiking adventure I was ill for a week, but the desire for adventure and the urge to get away always won from the sickening panic. It was delightful to wake up knowing I was in Morocco once again. I thought I would be picked up by Aisha's friend around 2 o'clock. That meant I would miss the beginning of the 'Reunion'. But I didn't care. Now I was in Agadir I didn't worry anymore about if and how to get to Tiznit or Iligh. I felt confident again. However before I went down for breakfast I got a message that Abdellatif Jhilal would be at the hotel at 10 o'clock. During breakfast I had just enough time to make a sketch of the view from the terras of the iconic hill and the fortifications that gave Agadir its name. The complementary fruit basket the hotel staff had so kindly put in my room was hurriedly stuffed into my shoulder bag. At least some of it.

Plan B

On the plane from Amsterdam to Agadir we discussed Plan B although the day before our departure Bert had had contact with Aicha. Her message was: my Dad is looking forward seeing you and be waiting for you on the 27th. Still Bert had stood at a closed door too often to be absolutely sure. If things didn't pan out at least we would have ten days to spent in Southern Morocco. We had a rented car and could go anywhere. We could laze on the beach. We could go further south to TanTan. Drive along the south side of the Anti Atlas. See the western part of the Draa Valley. Discover areas we both hadn't visited before. We could 'do' the surrounding country of Iligh. I could draw everything but the inside of the stronghold. Plan B almost looked better than Plan A. Because what was Plan A? Aicha wanted two things: the preservation of the old manuscripts and making Iligh known to the world. Bert was curious. Bert wanted to know what was in there. Was it really what Aicha had suggested it was? And in how bad a state was it in? That was her main motive. Me, on the other hand, I wanted to make sketches that I could turn into a graphic novel. The first I would make in 25 years. The plane circled over the agricultural lands of the plain of the Souss river. We had arrived! When we stepped outside onto the tarmac we were overwhelmed by that deliciously heady smell of warm, slightly damp air, Ozon and exhaust fumes. It reminded me in a good way of Ahwaz, Iran where I had lived and worked. It felt like a good omen. Everything would be wonderful. Whatever!

Gaining confidence

I watched a show on Belgian TV in which the Chinese concert pianist Lang Lang was asked if being able to play a piano concerto faultlessly is possible because of hard work or talent. He conceded that talent and inclination were of course prerequisite conditions. He flexed his fingers and said: 'I just practiced for three hours on the piano and my fingers feel really soft and nimble now.' He pinched his rather pudgy fingers tenderly. 'This feeling in my fingers gives me confidence. I can play anything now without any difficulty.' He went on to say that it was like digging for gold and finding a vein. The harder you dig, the deeper you can penetrate into the vein till a whole mountain of gold opens up for you. I know that this is the same for me. The work I did in the last couple of years as a Urban Sketcher under all circumstances and anywhere at all has made it able for me to feel confident. I know I can sustain a production of drawings that is enough to compose a graphic novel from. The only doubt I had was access. I didn't want to have to spent ten days scratching the surface not being able to get to any vein at all. On the plane to Agadir we discussed a plan B.

Having a good laugh about it all

The situation surrounding our trip to Iligh, what Bert and I would find there and what we would do with it was so confusing we had a good laugh about it. We decided that whatever would happen, we would take it in our stride. Whatever bridge we'd encounter, we'd cross. Whatever we would find on the other side we would take on and not despair. In short: this was it. This was the story. This we would shape into a graphic novel. Well, supposedly one had to know beforehand what the purpose of the effort was and which part of the public we were aiming for. Initially the Jewish History Museum of Amsterdam had been interested in it as a possible part of educational projects they were doing to create more understanding of Jewish history among Muslim school-age children of Moroccan descent. Many kids with a Moroccan background believed that current Israeli politics was what being Jewish was all about (to say it politely). Anyway with this radical change of plan, we didn't know anymore who our public was and if we would have any at all. And the designers of my website whom I told our plans to also pressed the importance on me of making it fit tablet and smartphone. I did a little try-out before I left: it looks as confusedly scattered as I felt.

Doubt is creeping in

In the two months between booking the plane tickets and hiring a car for our trip to Iligh and actually traveling doubt started to creep in. At least with me. Bert and I rarely spoke. I was busy in Polranny, Ireland and she was busy in Amsterdam. I knew she tried a couple of times without success to get Aicha on the phone or by Messenger. We knew already that she had been ill for quite a while in the winter. But what was ailing her we didn't know. What were we going to find when we stood at the door in Iligh? It was all one big uncertainty. Letterlijk & Figuurlijk the book by Joost Pollmann about the different forms a graphic story could take had had a profound influence on me. Did it still make sense to draw a straightforward historical story set into the traditional framework? I had visions of me researching endlessly the original props surrounding Michiel De Ruyter on his trips to Iligh. And how about the detailing of the court of Aboudmiaa? It would take years for the graphic story to get finished. On top of that I always had said myself that a 'historical' movie said more about the time it was made in than the time it was supposed to be in. Wouldn't it be the same for a graphic history? And what about making an entire graphic novel on the computer instead of on paper? Was Photoshop really the right software for it or did I have to resort to Illustrator or Indesign? Did I have to take a subscription out for the software and do a course in how to use it? Did I really want to spend time and money on those things? When Bert and I got together again three weeks before the departure we didn't know anything anymore. Wasn't the whole rigmarole surrounding our involvement with Iligh a story in itself?

Bert's story

Bert Hogervorst has her own story about how she got interested in Iligh. She writes: 2013 I was struck by the prominent presence of Jewish people in the history of Morocco. I find it fascinating. Not only in the big cities but also in the south of Morocco where I visit the Ferkla Oases with Peti. The local museum gives a very elaborate presentation of Jewish life in the past. More Jewish traces in the Valley of the Draa river. The connection is with caravans and trade. I see old photographs on the Internet thanks to local man Kacimi. 2014 I'm in south Morocco in the fall with Peti and others. With some difficulty we reach Ifrane and visit there the synagogue. Ifrane has a surprisingly old Jewish settlement. There is also a Jewish cemetery next to the Oued (river). Later I find a reference about Ifrane in a blog of a Jewish American. The settlement is pre-Islamic. On the same trip we visit the Mellah of Tahala. After much asking around we find a very kind and knowledgeable young man. There is a small cemetery. The Souk is well preserved and many more buildings. It is a small ghost-town. We are shown a register of the Jewish families that used to live here. The young man brings the Souk and the Jewish community to life with stories from when he was a kid and the stories from his father and great-parents. These five Jewish families came to Tahala from Ifrane. He tells about the loss and sadness in the small town of Tahala when the Jews left. Apparently it were the Rabbys that left first. According to him there was a library with documents. Where was this? He waves vaguely towards the mountains. Would he have meant Iligh, a place I hadn't heard of at the time?

Balancing text and image

I was going to split up the book I had written about Morocco and divide it in different graphic stories. First I was going to do a try out. I would take Tangiers. Tangiers was easy I thought. There I had made many sketches in one neighborhood the Bab Teatro district. It is full of stories both contemporary and historic that are also interesting for people who would never go to Morocco. I wrote the text. It was too much really compared to the drawings I had. Next question could I make extra sketches from photographs? Was that 'cheating'? Rework portraits of historic people featured in the story and taken from the internet? Did I have to draw the story? Or could I just stick to the random sketches I had made of the neighborhood? Could the images be totally separate from the content? Wouldn't it become an illustrated book instead of a graphic story? Did it matter either way? I didn't find a solution. In the end I decided to go back to Tangiers to make more sketches in the Bab Teatro district and to have them correspond with the content of the text. The graphic story about Iligh Bert Hogervorst and I were going to make was by that time already on the cards. It turned out that on the next trip to Morocco I could combine a visit to Iligh with a stay in Tangiers. Bert and I would go to Iligh before we would go to Tangiers where Bert was going to meet a group she would take on a train trip through Morocco. I would stay on in Tangiers for another week to make more sketches.The distance between Iligh and Tangiers is enormous, but with the use of busses and trains it could be done with ease in two days. It turned out we did it in 24 hours.