rock the casbah

For decades, Tangier has captured the Western imagination as a hedonistic enclave for bohemian expatriates. Now, a new generation of native Tangier creatives are taking the reins to reclaim their city's narrative

- Stephanie Rafanelli

People will tell the same old story until they hear a better tale," says Ahmed, an elder I meet by chance in Tangier's casbah - a Cubist jumble of white buildings beneath circling gulls that cry out over the morning call to prayer. We're chatting, perched on the high ramparts of the old Portuguese citadel, our heels in Africa, Europe on the horizon like a giant seabird gliding toward us. "Birds go back and forth without borders," muses Ahmed, his words flying just as freely among Darija (Moroccan Arabic), French, and Spanish. Tanjawi - or Tangerines - are sociable polyglots who speak in a meze of languages. Ahmed's hair is as silvered as Moroccan sardines, his green eyes drizzled with amber like the olive oil in bissara pea soup.