5:00 p.m. -- Visit a bustling Berber town near Tafraout, Morocco. Participate in snake-charmer’s show by standing in the middle of a circle of people and holding a bag while keeping a watchful eye on the snake near my feet. Have some Moroccan tea (of course). Learn from a local guy that there will be a party of some sort at a nearby village.
9:35-10:35 p.m. -- Drive to the village on a winding mountain road. Hike up a big rocky hill in the dark and arrive at the event. About 200 people are sitting on and around a flat circular stone surface. There are separate sections for women -- most of whom are veiled, the vast majority completely covered except for their eyes -- and men. In the middle of the circle are a few microphones, some sound equipment, and lots of desserts and tea-making equipment.
10:50 p.m. -- The mayor of the village greets us. I say my one Berber word (which means hello) and he seems pleased. One thousand welcomes! We greet one another with four kisses on alternating cheeks. Thanks to one of my friends, who is from near this village, we are offered a seat near the front of the crowd.
11:10 p.m. -- The event begins. About 24 men dressed in vertically divided half-white, half-brown cloaks with pointy hoods come onto the stage. They range in age from about 14 to perhaps 70.
11:15 p.m. -1:45 a.m. -- The men do their thing. Their performance has two main parts; one part lasts for about 15 or 30 minutes, then the other part for a similar duration, then back to the first part again.
The first part is a tiny bit like an MC battle among rappers. All 24 men stand in a line facing the crowd. Suddenly, one begins to sing in a high, strong voice. It’s like an acapella fusion of yodeling and opera singing. The initial note lasts for maybe 15 seconds, high and strong, moving assuredly from note to note -- and then there is complete silence. Ten long seconds pass. Then the man continues to sing. We are told that he makes up the words as he goes along. Some lyrics are about the Berber people, or about their land, or about God. After perhaps 3 or 5 minutes, someone else will burst into song over the initial singer. That first singer will stop, and the second will sing his piece. The men sing to one another, playfully making fun of one another or trying to outdo one another. Perhaps 8 men sing at various points. As the battle rages on, women sitting on the side periodically chime in with piercing, undulating shrieks. Particularly good or witty singing will elicit a near-constant stream of their ear-shattering howls from the women.
The second part of the performance is the dance. The men rearrange themselves into a semicircle and begin beating drums, using small cymbal-like instruments held with a single hand, and singing together as they dance and march around in a circle. The dance, perfectly in tune to the music, involves clapping, stepping, and shoulder movements. The men move their feet to one rhythm, clap to another, and quickly shrug their shoulders up and down to a third. The shoulders move so fast it sometimes seems like the men are having seizures -- but the good ones keep their heads perfectly still. All the while, they’re singing and chanting. After a few revolutions around the stone circle, it’s back to the Berber yodel-opera-hip-hop battle.
12:15 a.m. Tea and desserts are served. Moroccan tea is an art, I learn. My friend’s uncle is on hand as a sort of tea engineer. His lone job is to make sure the tea is of a high quality. The tea is indeed delicious. It tastes of equal parts mint (or something like it), standard tea flavor, and sugar. The desserts are small tasty pastries.
2:00 a.m. It’s the ladies’ turn. A group of about 12 young women, probably between ages 13 and 25, arrives on stage after the men leave. Unveiled, they are dressed in fancy patterned dresses and wear, I am told, up to seven kilograms of silver each. The women stand in a line and begin to clap, sway, and sing. There's no marching or dancing or shoulder-shrugging, just clapping, swaying, and singing. Their songs repeat the same words and rhythms and last upwards of 10 minutes per song.
Many of these girls have moved to other cities to help their families earn a living, and they aren’t as polished as the men. So as they struggle a bit, more and more of the women from the audience come to stand behind them and help with the singing. They also perform emergency wardrobe repairs and adjustments -- seven kilograms of silver is tough to keep in place. With the aid of these (mostly older) family and friends, the ladies get along just fine.
3:30 a.m. It’s cold on the top of this mountain. The ladies are still going strong. One of our friends is flagging, big time. I'm a little loopy from sleep deprivation and too many Moroccan teas (I actually had 7 that day, something I will never do again). We spend the next half-hour making sure our other friend (who knows many of the people here and himself performed in these festivals in years past) can say proper goodbyes. One thousand goodbyes!
Some time after 4:00 a.m. We begin our hour-long journey home as the ladies take a short break. We later learn that the singing continued until after daylight. A thousand thank-yous to the Berbers for their hospitality and the good show.
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