Tchaikovsky meets Mohamed

The first thing I did when I arrived in al Maghreb was to start asking everyone I met if they knew any traditional violinists. I was determined to find the musicians I had come searching for, although I was not sure what the plan would be when I found them. I began asking every Moroccan that chanced my way, “do you know a violin player?” Reminding myself of the children's book, “are you my mommy?” I almost always received a variation of the same answer, “I have a friend who plays, but I haven’t seen him for about a year…” But I held on to my glimmer of hope, because even if violinists were only vaguely known of, at least they existed; and it was all up to me to find them. And then, just several days ago, luck joined my forces (or perhaps it was perseverance and nagging finally pulling through.)

I went to join a group of friends for coffee at the Prestige cafe one night where I was met by my good friend Younes, who introduced me to a young man whom I had never seen before. “This is Idriss,” he said, “my violinist friend I told you about.” My brain did a little break dance there on the spot while my head threatened to split in half due to the idiotic grin stretched full across my face. It turns out Idriss studies Arab classical violin at the music conservatory here in Meknes, while his father is a professional (!!!) violinist and all around musician. And yes, they can both play the violin on their laps.

I ran into Idriss again on campus a few days ago, and we made plans to go to see a symphony orchestra concert that evening at the cultural center in La Ville Nouvelle. I could not tell you what I expected to find there as I have ceased trying to imagine how anything will be in Morocco, after realizing that the reality rarely matches the image, for better or for worse.  However, stepping into the concert hall was like stepping out of the third world and into the first. It was as though Africa was on one side of those glass doors, and Europe or America on the other. I was, admittedly, a bit shocked at first. The high ceiling with dozens of lights forming a symmetrical star shown down upon the backs of plush strawberry red and royal blue seats, while the walls were paneled with tastefully modern wooden trim. There was one thing, however, that was added as if to ensure that no one quite succeeded in forgetting where they were. On either side of the stage sat a gold framed 5’ by 3’ foot picture of King Mohamed VI. Oh yes, and there was another hanging front and center above the orchestra.

The concert itself was entirely lovely, although I did find the whole thing a bit ironic. I have always said that I believed Russians were the most artistically and musically talented people in the world, with some exceptions of course (China has some awfully good child violinists). So here I am in Morocco, the country and culture I have longed to know for so any years, listing to a Moroccan orchestra play Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto No.6, with a young Russian violin soloist. It was just too much. And in case that was not enough, the piece played after intermission was Tchaikovsky’s symphony “Pathetique,” which I played with the Marquette Symphony Orchestra in December, the last concert I was in before leaving the states.