The Truth and nothing but so Help me Allah (court addendum)
Hey all,
First and formost happy July 4th. I hope you all managed to do something fun and not to ileagal to celebrate. Mark and I are here in Oz and will celebrate as much as the 128 degree temp lets us. You heard that right... and for those of you south of here... I'm truely sorry. Secondly, after reading an e-mail about Mark and I and our recent adventures that was almost completely false and because the truth is a fun enough story without blowing it all way out of proportion I feel the need to set the record straight and satisfy curiosity about our recent brush with the Moroccan legal system. If thats not something that interests you... read no further but do take care of yourselves until the next time I see you!
From the begining, Mark and I began our adventure with the Gendarmes in Taliouine about a week after ariving in our site on June 2nd. Taliouine is a tough 6 hour trip from our site and we managed not to forget any of out paperwork in the interests of not having to do it again too many times. June 2nd was 6 days before the deadline of 3 months ran out and we would become illigeal aliens in Morocco. We arrived early AM and then had to sit around and wait until the Gendarme commander could come and start the process. He did arrive and before noon we were all set... our folder was complete except for the Attestation de Travail from the eaux et forets, which they hadn't sent us yet, but we were told that this wasn't a problem and we got our reciepts for the Carte de Sejour and went on our merry way 6 hours back to our sites all proud of ourselves and thinking we had actually accomplished something. The next day the Gendarme commander sent a Gendarme all the way to my site to tell us that actually, not having the thing from the Eaux et Forets WAS a problem after all and that we needed to go to Marakesh to get it, post haste. I told him I would do what I could after he tried to find someone to re-explain in english what I needed to do. (HA good luck with that) It was Saturday, and since I thought my chances of finding anyone to give us permision to go to Marakesh on sunday morning were pretty slim I waited till Monday to call my Program Director. I repeated the message to him and he told me that the thing from the Eaux et Forets was on the way. I mentioned that the Gendarmes had been pretty adament about needing it by wednesday and he just kinda laughed and said that the Gendarmes were pretty adament about everything and that it was in the mail. We would get it when we got it. Mashi Mushkil.
A week or two goes by and we are definately past the deadline... whatever... they havn't sent anyone up to bother us in a while so I figured someone, someplace has passed on the message and that we are in the clear. About as I was thinking this the mayor figure in my town comes up to me (again, Sunday morning) and tells me that Mark and I are REQUIRED to go and see the Gendarmes first thing monday morning... Regardless if we have the required paperwork or not (shit). I walk the 6 k to the phone and bother my assistant program director on my own dime to tell her that Mark and I will be travelling the next day to see the Gendarmes and that I don't know what they want... She was cool with that and I think more than a little curious herself, considering we already have our Carte reciepts and they should be done with us. When I got back to town I asked my mayor if anyone had told Mark he was supposed to come.... He shrugged and gave me an Inshallah (double shit). By this time it was too late for me to blitz the 12 k or so to Marks house and back so I inshallahed myself and went to dinner. (my 5th meal of the day) Incidently, immediately before this a flood wiped out the road to my town so I had to get up at 4 am and Hike over a mountain for 6 k before being able to reach the nearest road still passable by 5 am. Because my host brother that was guiding me over the dark rocky terrain decided to stop and have tea with a shepardess on the way (hashuma!) I saw the taillights of the the 5 am transport into Taliouine cresting the rise into the pass out of town. It was at about this time that my host brother tells me that this isn't a problem because there is a 7:30 transport. I just stared at him with my best "why the hell didn't you tell me that in the first place" look which was totally lost on him because he was already nose down in his next glass of tea at the local cafe. I waited for the next transport and caught it no problem. He drives about half way and then stops at one of the suq towns along the route and transfers me to a bus that will supposedly take me the rest of the way... Problem being that the bus dosn't depart till 11, which will put me in Taliouine first thing in the afternoon, but not first thing in the morning. I shrug this off and take a nap on the bus, have tea with the driver, etc. 11:30 rolls around and we take off. I stumble in to the Gendarmes' office about 1:30 pm praying for Mark and Coffee and getting niether. I stick my head into the commanders office and he becons me to come inside. The first two questions I get after 5 minutes of greetings are... "why so late?" and "where's your freind?" I'm tempted to answer... "its Morocco duh... " and "what friend?" but I settle for... "sorry, transport was bad." and "I don't know I thought he would be here already." I could have answered "because elephants trampled my little sister" and it woudln't have mattered because he speaks arabic and french and I speak tashelhiet and english. He shrugs and frowns and mutters to himself about how all americans are problems and we are his current biggest and then evidently decides to proceed anyway and using some combination of english, french and arabic with a few tashelhiet words thrown in when one of the other Gendarmes comes in to bring him (but not me) coffee that I have broken the law and have to go to court. Having been in a berber village where I've done absolutely nothing for the last 3 weeks this is news to me. He tells me something about having to see him within 15 days, not 3 months to start the application for residency. Ok.... also news to me... I tell him I understand and will talk to the PC about paying the fine and going to court. He tells me that I have to stay there until the find someone who speaks english to tell me in greater detail what I did wrong. I tell him its no problem, I understand... He tells me to follow him to a little white room next door, has me sit inside and shuts the door behind him. I hear a click and sure enough... its locked... I have a table and a chair for company.
About this time i decide that I need to call PC. I get my phone out and turn it on. Its dead as a doornail because there is no power in my village.... I look around for an outlet... walu... I shrug and get out my most recent trashy novel and start to read. Every 10-15 minutes a gendarme sticks his head in the door to check on me and I give him a cheery wave and flash a smile. They frown more each time. If they are trying to intimidate me by leaving me alone they've forgotten where I've been for the last 3 weeks.
After 2 hours, the commander comes back in and gets me and tells me that they can't find anyone to translate but that I'm going to have to remain thier "guest" until mark manages to get off his lazy butt and get down from the mountains (ok... so I'm paraphrasing that). I fast talk them into calling my program director for translation by not dissagreeing when they think its the consolate. Unfortunately he dosn't answer his phone but he calls my assistant program director with no problem after I broke the barrier. I breifly explain to her whats going on and she has an arguement with him on the phone for a while, presumably over who was the bigger idiot as it was all in arabic and I didn't understand a word. After, she tells me that she's going to talk to Bruce and my program director and see what pans out, and he's going to make some calls too... She finishes by telling me to "sit tight." Don't think thats going to be a problem! The commander makes a call and *poof* imediately becomes friendly. Apparently he's decidded that he was the bigger idiot. He calls my program assistant back and tells her he's made a mistake and that we were right all along, mashi mushkil. He offers me coffee and lunch which I refuse on principle, citing my need to find a hotel because it would be dark by the time I got home now. I leave for home the next day thankful its over. That week our papers from the Eaux et Forets come (thanks guys! only 3 weeks too late) and Mark and I call to tell PC to tell the Gendarmes that we'll bring the papers by on our way to Oz for our weekend out of site on July first. Mashi Mushkil....
The following week we call our program assistant to finalize travel plans and locations for our first weekend out of site in 6 weeks and she tells us that the Gendarmes have decided that they wern't the bigger idiots after all. (why does this not suprise me) and that we'll have to go to court in Taroudant, our provincial capital after all. We make arangements to meet Machmudi at the Bab in Ouarzazate Thursday the last day of June and then travel with him to the court etc. This part all goes as planed with the exception of a freak car accident on the way from Oz to Taliouine where a power pole worker attempted to throw a chunk of wood through our windshield. We got to the Gendarme's late (again) but they were much nicer this time, signed our names to something written in arabic that we didn't understand, (lesson here?... Probably.) and were on our way to a 3:30 appointment at the prosecutors office in Taroudant with the assurance that it would take 10 minutes and we might have to pay a fine of 5 or 6 hundred D's. Mashi Mushkil. A couple of hours later sitting in the Prosecutors office he explains what we did etc. fills out some more papers in arabic we can't read that we then sign saying that we'll have to go before the judge. This is mildly suprising to both us and the gendarme that came with us. We go downstairs and sit in the big intimidating courtroom on the defendants side after being seperated from the people we came with by a couple of police officers. We are clearly the only non moroccans there. We watch a few trials without really understanding whats going on. Then there is a short recess and the main judge comes back alone and calls my name. I go up to the judge and stand in the little railed off box right in front of him and look way up to him on his high bench. Machmudi comes and stands next to me to translate. He asks me the usual... my mothers name... my fathers name... when I was born.... if I understand what I did... I nod to this, though I really have no clue when it comes down to it.... After about 3 minutes of this he sentences me to a month in jail and a 3000 Dh fine. Then he considers for a minute... looks at me.. and waives the jailtime. I didn't understand any of this so I'm still standing there with a dumb smile on my face. Machmudi translates and I frown for a minute, then shrug and smile again on the way back to my seat. I tell mark "yikes" as he walks up and resist the urge to give him a high five. Probably wouldn't have been appropriate. A similar sentence comes down on him, though he manages to have a legal dispute about laws in the US first and how ingnorance is no excuse. The sentence comes as a suprise to everyone, and there is a chance that we'll have to go see the govenor of the province to get permision to stay in the country but we so far havn't had to do that.
PC is considering appealing and will talk to the embassy on Tuesday. After the trial machmudi's 2 phones were ringing off the hook and mark and I were elated... Finally... something to talk about! Anyway.. we're here in oz until they figure out if we need to be involved in any appeal and then back to the bled.
Hope things are good for everyone and that you're settling in to your villages. Sorry for the length of this e-mail. I'll keep you posted on any futher developments. Stacey or Erica, forward to any health girls you might think would be interested.
Until next time
Love and luck
-Andy Tibbs
First and formost happy July 4th. I hope you all managed to do something fun and not to ileagal to celebrate. Mark and I are here in Oz and will celebrate as much as the 128 degree temp lets us. You heard that right... and for those of you south of here... I'm truely sorry. Secondly, after reading an e-mail about Mark and I and our recent adventures that was almost completely false and because the truth is a fun enough story without blowing it all way out of proportion I feel the need to set the record straight and satisfy curiosity about our recent brush with the Moroccan legal system. If thats not something that interests you... read no further but do take care of yourselves until the next time I see you!
From the begining, Mark and I began our adventure with the Gendarmes in Taliouine about a week after ariving in our site on June 2nd. Taliouine is a tough 6 hour trip from our site and we managed not to forget any of out paperwork in the interests of not having to do it again too many times. June 2nd was 6 days before the deadline of 3 months ran out and we would become illigeal aliens in Morocco. We arrived early AM and then had to sit around and wait until the Gendarme commander could come and start the process. He did arrive and before noon we were all set... our folder was complete except for the Attestation de Travail from the eaux et forets, which they hadn't sent us yet, but we were told that this wasn't a problem and we got our reciepts for the Carte de Sejour and went on our merry way 6 hours back to our sites all proud of ourselves and thinking we had actually accomplished something. The next day the Gendarme commander sent a Gendarme all the way to my site to tell us that actually, not having the thing from the Eaux et Forets WAS a problem after all and that we needed to go to Marakesh to get it, post haste. I told him I would do what I could after he tried to find someone to re-explain in english what I needed to do. (HA good luck with that) It was Saturday, and since I thought my chances of finding anyone to give us permision to go to Marakesh on sunday morning were pretty slim I waited till Monday to call my Program Director. I repeated the message to him and he told me that the thing from the Eaux et Forets was on the way. I mentioned that the Gendarmes had been pretty adament about needing it by wednesday and he just kinda laughed and said that the Gendarmes were pretty adament about everything and that it was in the mail. We would get it when we got it. Mashi Mushkil.
A week or two goes by and we are definately past the deadline... whatever... they havn't sent anyone up to bother us in a while so I figured someone, someplace has passed on the message and that we are in the clear. About as I was thinking this the mayor figure in my town comes up to me (again, Sunday morning) and tells me that Mark and I are REQUIRED to go and see the Gendarmes first thing monday morning... Regardless if we have the required paperwork or not (shit). I walk the 6 k to the phone and bother my assistant program director on my own dime to tell her that Mark and I will be travelling the next day to see the Gendarmes and that I don't know what they want... She was cool with that and I think more than a little curious herself, considering we already have our Carte reciepts and they should be done with us. When I got back to town I asked my mayor if anyone had told Mark he was supposed to come.... He shrugged and gave me an Inshallah (double shit). By this time it was too late for me to blitz the 12 k or so to Marks house and back so I inshallahed myself and went to dinner. (my 5th meal of the day) Incidently, immediately before this a flood wiped out the road to my town so I had to get up at 4 am and Hike over a mountain for 6 k before being able to reach the nearest road still passable by 5 am. Because my host brother that was guiding me over the dark rocky terrain decided to stop and have tea with a shepardess on the way (hashuma!) I saw the taillights of the the 5 am transport into Taliouine cresting the rise into the pass out of town. It was at about this time that my host brother tells me that this isn't a problem because there is a 7:30 transport. I just stared at him with my best "why the hell didn't you tell me that in the first place" look which was totally lost on him because he was already nose down in his next glass of tea at the local cafe. I waited for the next transport and caught it no problem. He drives about half way and then stops at one of the suq towns along the route and transfers me to a bus that will supposedly take me the rest of the way... Problem being that the bus dosn't depart till 11, which will put me in Taliouine first thing in the afternoon, but not first thing in the morning. I shrug this off and take a nap on the bus, have tea with the driver, etc. 11:30 rolls around and we take off. I stumble in to the Gendarmes' office about 1:30 pm praying for Mark and Coffee and getting niether. I stick my head into the commanders office and he becons me to come inside. The first two questions I get after 5 minutes of greetings are... "why so late?" and "where's your freind?" I'm tempted to answer... "its Morocco duh... " and "what friend?" but I settle for... "sorry, transport was bad." and "I don't know I thought he would be here already." I could have answered "because elephants trampled my little sister" and it woudln't have mattered because he speaks arabic and french and I speak tashelhiet and english. He shrugs and frowns and mutters to himself about how all americans are problems and we are his current biggest and then evidently decides to proceed anyway and using some combination of english, french and arabic with a few tashelhiet words thrown in when one of the other Gendarmes comes in to bring him (but not me) coffee that I have broken the law and have to go to court. Having been in a berber village where I've done absolutely nothing for the last 3 weeks this is news to me. He tells me something about having to see him within 15 days, not 3 months to start the application for residency. Ok.... also news to me... I tell him I understand and will talk to the PC about paying the fine and going to court. He tells me that I have to stay there until the find someone who speaks english to tell me in greater detail what I did wrong. I tell him its no problem, I understand... He tells me to follow him to a little white room next door, has me sit inside and shuts the door behind him. I hear a click and sure enough... its locked... I have a table and a chair for company.
About this time i decide that I need to call PC. I get my phone out and turn it on. Its dead as a doornail because there is no power in my village.... I look around for an outlet... walu... I shrug and get out my most recent trashy novel and start to read. Every 10-15 minutes a gendarme sticks his head in the door to check on me and I give him a cheery wave and flash a smile. They frown more each time. If they are trying to intimidate me by leaving me alone they've forgotten where I've been for the last 3 weeks.
After 2 hours, the commander comes back in and gets me and tells me that they can't find anyone to translate but that I'm going to have to remain thier "guest" until mark manages to get off his lazy butt and get down from the mountains (ok... so I'm paraphrasing that). I fast talk them into calling my program director for translation by not dissagreeing when they think its the consolate. Unfortunately he dosn't answer his phone but he calls my assistant program director with no problem after I broke the barrier. I breifly explain to her whats going on and she has an arguement with him on the phone for a while, presumably over who was the bigger idiot as it was all in arabic and I didn't understand a word. After, she tells me that she's going to talk to Bruce and my program director and see what pans out, and he's going to make some calls too... She finishes by telling me to "sit tight." Don't think thats going to be a problem! The commander makes a call and *poof* imediately becomes friendly. Apparently he's decidded that he was the bigger idiot. He calls my program assistant back and tells her he's made a mistake and that we were right all along, mashi mushkil. He offers me coffee and lunch which I refuse on principle, citing my need to find a hotel because it would be dark by the time I got home now. I leave for home the next day thankful its over. That week our papers from the Eaux et Forets come (thanks guys! only 3 weeks too late) and Mark and I call to tell PC to tell the Gendarmes that we'll bring the papers by on our way to Oz for our weekend out of site on July first. Mashi Mushkil....
The following week we call our program assistant to finalize travel plans and locations for our first weekend out of site in 6 weeks and she tells us that the Gendarmes have decided that they wern't the bigger idiots after all. (why does this not suprise me) and that we'll have to go to court in Taroudant, our provincial capital after all. We make arangements to meet Machmudi at the Bab in Ouarzazate Thursday the last day of June and then travel with him to the court etc. This part all goes as planed with the exception of a freak car accident on the way from Oz to Taliouine where a power pole worker attempted to throw a chunk of wood through our windshield. We got to the Gendarme's late (again) but they were much nicer this time, signed our names to something written in arabic that we didn't understand, (lesson here?... Probably.) and were on our way to a 3:30 appointment at the prosecutors office in Taroudant with the assurance that it would take 10 minutes and we might have to pay a fine of 5 or 6 hundred D's. Mashi Mushkil. A couple of hours later sitting in the Prosecutors office he explains what we did etc. fills out some more papers in arabic we can't read that we then sign saying that we'll have to go before the judge. This is mildly suprising to both us and the gendarme that came with us. We go downstairs and sit in the big intimidating courtroom on the defendants side after being seperated from the people we came with by a couple of police officers. We are clearly the only non moroccans there. We watch a few trials without really understanding whats going on. Then there is a short recess and the main judge comes back alone and calls my name. I go up to the judge and stand in the little railed off box right in front of him and look way up to him on his high bench. Machmudi comes and stands next to me to translate. He asks me the usual... my mothers name... my fathers name... when I was born.... if I understand what I did... I nod to this, though I really have no clue when it comes down to it.... After about 3 minutes of this he sentences me to a month in jail and a 3000 Dh fine. Then he considers for a minute... looks at me.. and waives the jailtime. I didn't understand any of this so I'm still standing there with a dumb smile on my face. Machmudi translates and I frown for a minute, then shrug and smile again on the way back to my seat. I tell mark "yikes" as he walks up and resist the urge to give him a high five. Probably wouldn't have been appropriate. A similar sentence comes down on him, though he manages to have a legal dispute about laws in the US first and how ingnorance is no excuse. The sentence comes as a suprise to everyone, and there is a chance that we'll have to go see the govenor of the province to get permision to stay in the country but we so far havn't had to do that.
PC is considering appealing and will talk to the embassy on Tuesday. After the trial machmudi's 2 phones were ringing off the hook and mark and I were elated... Finally... something to talk about! Anyway.. we're here in oz until they figure out if we need to be involved in any appeal and then back to the bled.
Hope things are good for everyone and that you're settling in to your villages. Sorry for the length of this e-mail. I'll keep you posted on any futher developments. Stacey or Erica, forward to any health girls you might think would be interested.
Until next time
Love and luck
-Andy Tibbs
posted by Andy & Erin | 5:48 PM
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