The Fez Sacred Music Festival 2013: a tale of gospel and Oh! A Happy Day

It was under a big dark Moroccan sky.  It was under a Fez arch hundreds of years old.  It was there they came...the Zulus.  

They were called the Ladysmith Red Lions and they were from South Africa.

The Lion Zulus came to dance and they came to sing at the Fez  Festival of World Sacred Music. They sang of many things. But mostly they sang of Jesus.

Soon on the stage was  Leanne Faine from Chicago.  Her voice was deep and raspy.  And she belted out songs like a woman on fire.  

She, too, sang of Jesus.

As did Leanne's ensemble band.

And then from California came Butterscotch.  She didn't really sing at all but beat-boxed.  I think {but I can't be sure} that she, too, was inspired by Jesus.

And then something happened.  

Leanne was joined by the Zulu Lions........

And by the beatboxing Butterscotch........

And they all sang gospel together.

{That sort of thing happens at the Fez Festival of World Sacred Music.}

Now I must confess....I never sing about Jesus.  Ever.  But I was on my feet, my hands clapping, and yes, singing about Jesus.  And another thing.....the Moroccan Muslims to my left and to my right {and behind me and in front of me}, I would wager that they never sing about Jesus either.  But they were on their feet, too.  And we were all singing.....

Oh happy day (oh happy day) 
When Jesus washed (when Jesus washed) 
Washed my sins away (oh happy day) 

And for a moment, it really didn't matter what we all believed and what separated us.  And it really was.....a happy day.  And a happy night.

The Fez Sacred Music Festival 2013: a tale of 2 birds on a high wire

I was in that imperial Moroccan city a thousand years old.  I was in Fez.  I had come exactly a year before. And I had come again for the same reason:  the Fez Festival of World Sacred Music.  

The year before I had fallen in love with a girl.  Tonight I would fall in love with another.  Or maybe I would fall in love with two.  

The stage was set for them. 

And then they were there. American singer Rosemary Standley and Spanish cellist Dom La Nena.  Together they were Birds on a Wire.  

Rosemary reminded me of an old French film star. She meandered from Dylan to Fairuz and sang Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits.  Her accent was perfect in several languages. She was timeless.

And when she sang, I could hear her golden fingers.

And when she drummed I could feel her longing.

As for Dom la Nena, her bow across the strings made a heartbreaking and joyous sound.

Too soon, far too soon, it was over.  They got up laughing to say their goodbyes.

And then they clapped for us as they left the stage.  

But really, the applause should have been only for them....

****** 
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PS:  New stock of the very prettiest Moroccan handira -- wedding blankets in my shop, Red Thread Souk.  Take a peek right here.

Marrakech: and a tale of cutting back {or maybe a tale of roses}

I had planted them from the smallest of roots. That was all I could afford then, and I needed so many. Hundreds. Each year they had grown, their branches sturdier, their thorns fiercer. And the blooms…well, it was all about the blooms. {Isn’t it always with roses?} This year an Egyptian friend had urged, Cut them early, two months early. And cut them back, way back. Cut them until there’s almost nothing left. Then they’ll fight like warriors to grow. Gardener Abdullah at Peacock Pavilions had looked at me askance, a small leaf caught in his beard. It’s too early for that, he said, his straw hat fraying on one side. Oh, let’s try it, I said.  And so we did.

And when the slaughter was over, it looked like a wasteland -- a wasteland of rose nothingness. The jagged stems, the rose remains, poked from the ground in painful stubby clusters. And I thought to myself then, What have I done?  {Dismayed, so dismayed at the ugliness.}  Gardener Abdullah said nothing. He just squinted into the sunlight, his clippers hanging loosely from one hand.

But then. Then. Then of course they grew. Slowly, yes, slowly. Until they bloomed and bloomed and bloomed like a snowy sea of petals that stretched out before me.

PS There’s a lesson to be learned here. There’s something to this cutting back. That’s why I have been quiet on this blog the last two weeks. My time here swapped for an attempt at something else. The roots of that something else have not grown much and perhaps they never will. But then again…..perhaps, perhaps...... they will.

Images by Michelle Gin

Morocco: and a tale of Moroccan carpets and rugs

Because it's almost Summer, I bring you flowery carpets, I bring you colorful carpets, and I bring you lively carpets.....  

Really.

Find  all my beautiful hand picked stock at my shop, Red Thread Souk.  Afordable, and, yes! payment plans possible.