In Search of Moroccan Tales: An Interview with Tahir Shah

Tahir Shah’s In Arabian Nights is a riveting account of an astonishing journey in search of Morocco’s neglected oral stories. For Shah, owning the Caliph’s House in the heart of Morocco has provided him with the occasion to zealously seek to construe the tiniest fraction of the diversity of Moroccan culture. Right from the start, one can easily discern that the British author and journalist is heavily inspired by the mythical heritage of One Thousand and One Nights. He does not lack the impetus, and frequently peregrinates around several Moroccan regions to garner marvelous tales from Moroccan storytellers.

The book contains twenty-five chapters, each of which intriguingly begins with a Moroccan proverb, Arab saying, or a famous quote. From his experience in the room of torture in Pakistan to his life in the Caliph’s House in Morocco—the ‘paradise’ he ‘longed to return to,’ as he puts it—one is regularly reminded of the mesmerizing epic One Thousand and One Nights and its significant influence on the author. As he deliberately manipulates time, readers are halted at the end of each chapter, in the same way Shahrazad stops the act of storytelling to Shahrayar at the end of each tale. This is noteworthy in the sense that Shah considers that the tales in this collection “work in a special way;” his father said that such narratives “divert the mind while passing on a kind of knowledge” (9). Throughout the book, the reader learns that Morocco is, at first, recondite and incomprehensible to the author, and that One Thousand and One Nights and Morocco are very much similar. Inspired by his luminary father who claimed that they are a “family of storytellers” (24), and that storytellers are “guardians of an ancient wisdom […] because there is no possible way to assimilate a country better than its own stories.” Tahir Shah is, therefore, in the quintessential place to collect oral tales. His insatiable appetite is rather turned into obsession as he runs after tales in
cafe Mabrok, Jame el Fena and everywhere else.

As he willingly or unwillingly engages in a multitudinous array of scintillating debates with characters like Dr. Elmehdi, the author is able to learn about Arabs and Amazighs and what storytelling means to the Amazigh people, “we search for the story in our heart” (45). This urges Shah, in turn, to look for the story in his heart. After a long search, he finally convinces Murad, the storyteller, to come to Dar Caliph in order to keep this tradition alive because Murad’s “repertoire had an intrinsic power, an ability to change how people feel and think, and even had the power to heal” (118). Through this act, the reader learns that Shah’s father is simply continuing his ancestors’ mission of keeping storytelling alive. The book contains several tales, each of which Shah encounters through a different character. One is led to infer that this is not merely an attempt to collect and preserve vanishing Moroccan narratives, nor simply the author’s journey across the country. Rather, it is about reviving forgotten oral stories, delving into people’s personalities, and, even more importantly, experiencing the convoluted social and cultural milieu that Shah is immersed in. Equipped by the books written on Morocco such as Westermarck’s Rituals and Beliefs in Morocco, the writer comes to realize that “in Morocco, there are many things you [Shah] will never find in books”’ (389) or as Osman puts it addressing the author, “You read something in a book, some writing, and you think you are an expert”(293). From the chalk writing on the walls of Dar Caliph to the stork’s nest and its association with ‘Baraka’, and from jinns inhabiting certain chambers of the house to Sukayna the astrologer (Shawafa) with her superstitious explanations, these elements become inescapable in Shah’s work. The book, let us remember, also provides a fecund ground for Tahir Shah to make comparisons between East and West and to explore how famous figures like Paul Bowles, Edith Piaf, Albert Camus, and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, among others, were drawn to it.

An Interview with Tahir Shah

Mohamed Rouichi: Why the Moroccan oral story?

Tahir Shah: Morocco is a country in which reading is not an obsession or even very popular. This is evidenced in the lack of bookshops and the few national newspapers. But, in my estimations, rather than being a hindrance, this is something of a benefit. You see, in Morocco a far more ancient, and far more profound method of transmission
takes place – oral-based rather than literary. I am a huge admirer of the oral culture of Morocco because it is far older than the Occidental world’s preoccupation with written
text… and, because it speaks to the imagination of the listener in a quite different way.

MR: What particular elements stand out to you in Moroccan storytelling?

TS: The extraordinary thing about Moroccan folklore is that it’s the ultimate hybrid and it is of course a reflection of the country itself. Morocco stands at a crossroads
between Africa to the South and the Arab world to the East, between the Americas to the West and Europe to the North. As a result, Moroccan folktales have developed by
wide-ranging and disparate themes, ideas, and influences, over many centuries.

MR: What factors do you think are driving the growing interest in storytelling, particularly in Moroccan narratives?

TS: People are at last coming to understand that folktales are not mere entertainments, but rather they are a matrix that holds an ancient wisdom. Indeed, I would go as far as
saying that folktales are the ultimate crucibles of human knowledge, gathered over millennia. Learn to decode them, and you are learning to use the most powerful tool
ever devised by our species.

MR: In what specific ways do you believe Moroccan tales capture and reflect the unique cultural identity and values of Moroccan communities, if they do so at all?

TS: Morocco is a strong country with an equally strong national pride. But, when it comes to folk tales, the different regions vary widely. And, that’s how it’s always been. In the Rif, the tales told are often different from those recounted down in the desert; and on the streets of Fez, the stories vary again from those spoken and heard in Casablanca.
As far as I am concerned, there’s a great beauty in this mosaic of stories, which together form a national identity of culture.

MR: Do you believe Morocco has succeeded in preserving its oral traditions? If yes, what do you consider to be the underlying reasons?

TS: There are surely many reasons for this. I would surmise that one of the reasons is that darija may be the dialect of the nation, but it is not the language of the
administration. That means people can’t find books readily available in darija… and they don’t find it easy to read in Classical Arabic. So, as a result, oral culture is
prominent. Go into any Moroccan home and you find very few books, although you do find a radio and a TV… that’s because Moroccans like to listen rather than read.

MR: You have stated that Morocco is the “paradise” you “longed to return to”. What makes it so?

TS: Because it’s a crossroads as I have said. And, as such, it is well-balanced. I can’t remember the last time I ever met in Morocco someone who was neurotic. It is the land
of no-neurosis, and that’s because people balance one another. They talk to each other. And, most importantly, they listen rather than merely speaking.

MR: Right from the start of your book, one can easily discern that you have been heavily inspired by the epic One Thousand and One Nights, as you put it, “it felt that One Thousand and One Nights and Morocco are very much alike.” Can you elaborate?

TS: The Thousand and One Nights is about far more than stories within stories. It’s about human life, culture, etiquette, as well as values such as chivalry, duty, honour, and
respect. For me, Morocco is the embodiment of those values in the most perfect way imaginable.

MR: It caught my attention when you mentioned how Morocco initially seemed incomprehensible to you, possibly because you had relied mostly on books written about it.
Later, Osman states, “You read something in a book, some writing, and you think you are an expert.” How did Morocco differ from the narratives written by Western writers, and what did your firsthand experience reveal that the books couldn’t?

TS: The Occidental world has been preoccupied with Morocco, its culture and geography for centuries. One of the reasons for this is that it’s so different from Europe, and another is that it’s so accessible – a stone’s throw from the southern-most gates of Iberia. I have dedicated a huge amount of time over the last twenty years to reading almost all the accounts of Westerners who travelled in Morocco since medieval times. What strikes me firstly is how they have – almost universally – misunderstood this country and its people. And, secondly, how they have been unable to penetrate the deeper layers of culture. In my reading of the situation, this is because the visitors didn’t listen to the stories being told.

MR: You had the audacity to traverse the Moroccan formidable landscapes in search of oral tales. What specific goals did you aim to achieve by documenting oral stories?

TS: I was interested in the oral folklore of Morocco because it is a true reflection of the culture. It is hidden ‘in plain sight’ and is known to all.

MR: Owning The Caliph’s House must have given you a unique opportunity to experience a small part of our culture. What was it like living there?

TS: Magical. Harmonious. Illuminating. Bizarre. Extraordinary.

MR: In your book, you mention that your father once told you that there is no better way to understand a country than through its own tales. How do Moroccan narratives help you grasp the nuances of this ancient and complex society?

TS: Moroccan folk tales have a way of getting into your bloodstream as it were, and influencing the way you perceive the place, as though some ancient and almost primeval
alchemy has taken place.

MR: You come from a family of storytellers as you have stated, did you feel an urgent need to preserve Moroccan folktales? If so, why?

TS: No, the need was not urgent. It wasn’t even necessary. Rather, it was something that I undertook because it called me to do so, as though I heard the calling on the wind
through the fronds of the palms.

MR: In your view, is the Moroccan oral tale a narrative form that can be effectively translated? What aspects, if any, might be diminished or missed in translation?

TS: Moroccan stories are almost absolutely lost in translation. And thank god for that! If they were translatable, you would have the Occidental world taking them, changing them, and readministering them to Morocco. This has happened for instance with Hollywood’s interpretation of Aladdin, which is the most excruciating embarrassment when held up to the original.

MR: If you were to select one oral tale that resonates with you the most, which would it be?

TS: The Story of Hatim Tai.

MR: You concluded your riveting book by tucking your children, Ariane and Timur, into bed and sharing a bedtime story about a kingdom house where a little boy and girl lived—the Kingdom of Morocco. Are you still telling them tales? Do you plan to continue doing so? Why?

TS: Ariane and Timur are all grown up now. Just as Dar Khalifa lives inside them, so do the stories they heard within its walls as they were raised. They love Morocco in a deep down way. I like to hope that one day when they have children, they will bring them to Morocco to learn what is right and what is wrong.

Mohamed Rouichi is the interviewer of Tahir Shah for this article, and he is a Ph.D. researcher in New Trends in Literary Linguistic and Cultural Studies at the University Abdelmalek Essaadi, Tetouan, Morocco.