Niema had organised a trip to Morocco so that Loreena
could experience the culture, listen to the music and meet the people of
North Africa. In this excerpt Loreena, Niema and her friend Jeremy head
deep into the desert. Niema’s journal paints an evocative picture of
their trip out of Marrakesh and into the heart of the forbidding Sahara.
A bit scary driving in the desert with track marks
crisscrossing each other and no clues to go by: it certainly is easy to
get lost. The sand makes driving painful - slipping and churning. Hassan
is hardly any help as sands keep shifting and tracks keep changing -
anxiety all around. But by 7:00 o’clock we crawl into Merzuga,
triumphant. It’s just getting dark - we make it before nightfall by a
hair’s breath. Drop Hassan on outskirts. The village is right up against
dunes, absolutely quiet, not a soul about, what noise? What hassle? We
could use some hassle, some noise, some sign of life. Fortunately Hotel
Marzouga is not far away. Arrive with the last rays of light. Seems like
the edge of the universe, the edge of time.
We are given two adjoining rooms with three beds for
less than £8. Loreena has back problems and I make sure she gets the
best bed. She has one room, Jeremy and I share the other - very
primitive. No electricity or running water, but surprisingly clean. We
are the only guests. Even more surprisingly, we can get dinner later on.
We order salad, tagine, oranges. Outside, clear starry night, absolute
stillness.
I ask about the possibility of listening to Moroccan
music. The two boys who run the place say they play drums and sing and
will invite some friends and play for us. Although there is no sign of
cooking, dinner somehow appears by 9:30 and is surprisingly good -
probably prepared in one of the village houses and couriered over.
French boy and girl arrive and a blue-eyed Berber who, at first, we
think is also French. The three Moroccans play and sing. They are very
much in tune with each other and we’re told they play at weddings,
festivals, etc. They make fabulous music together - I’m so pleased for
Loreena. It’s amazing how Moroccans are able to conjure up meals and
music from nowhere. The French people are simpatico, especially the guy,
Michael, a traveller, very much into the spiritual aspect of things.
I suggest playing one of Loreena’s tapes. Jeremy
thinks it’s a great idea: Loreena resists, feeling her music would be
out of place. She’s constantly worried about inappropriate behaviour, a
concern which mounts in proportion to her growing fame, but Jeremy and I
who have no growing fame, manage to convince her. We play some tracks
from ‘The Visit’ on a battery-operated cassette player and they are
thrilled to bits. Michael insists on hearing more - says he finds the
music very spiritual. He looks like he’s caught some of the spiritual
and has broken into a glow. The Moroccans are dumbstruck, can’t believe
their good fortune. They love the music - are lit up by the event of it.
Rather than being out of place Loreena’s music is wonderfully in place,
it seems to fit the special qualities of the desert, to enhance the
stillness, the haunting nature of silence and space. The Moroccans are
alight with pleasure and the French people with the mystery, the magical
synchronicity, the karmic significance - radiance all around.
At one point when the tape is playing, they can’t
believe it’s Loreena singing. They keep pointing to her in disbelief and
saying, “Non, c’est pas toi,” (“It’s not you”). Jeremy shows them her
photo on the cassette cover and asks if they want to see her passport.
They laugh, overwhelmed by the sense of occasion. Loreena gets into the
high spirit of things and sings along with the tape; standing ovation -
how wonderful to be able to give such pleasure.
Michael advises us to get up early as sunrise in the desert is
spectacular - we’re right by the largest dune in Morocco, Erg Chebbi.
Approach my bed replete with the satisfaction of a special night in a
very special place. Before going to sleep I step from the front door
into the sand - absolute stillness - get caught up in the stars and the
dark outline of dunes.
I was gratified a year later, in 1994, when she released ‘The Mask
and the Mirror’. The sounds of Morocco were unmistakable. In her
recording of ‘Marrakesh Night Market’, even the images we had
encountered were etched into her lyrics: the swirling smoke, the circles
of people in the market place, the dancing cobras, the hooded men; and
her album notes included the rooftop café, the night market experience,
the magic of the Moroccan adventure. The richness of the musical
arrangements, using a wide variety of instruments, prevalent in ‘The
Mask and the Mirror’, was even more evident in ‘The Book of Secrets’,
released in 1997, with her eclectic use of instruments. She even
included a hurdy gurdy. Thirty-two musicians participated in that album,
playing a diverse range of instruments, including such little known ones
as the serangi, bodhran, rebec, shawm, timba, esraj, as well as four
types of guitars and the more usual cello, violin, percussion, all
playing together with her piano, harp, accordion and vocals. The
arrangements were hers, a measure of her exceptional talent. Even more
remarkable was the fact that no one else in her family had the slightest
musical aptitude. Hers was a unique gift, or, as she preferred to call
it, a special visit. So was our visit to Morocco.
Extracted from
Travels With Loreena McKennitt
by Niema Ash, Purple Inc Press, 2005 ISBN
0-9550301-0-2.
