Gnaoua in the Alleys of Asilah

[By Samantha Zaza in Rabat, Morocco] Above is Hamide, a Gnaoua musician who zipped across our path on a bike, down one of Asilah’s narrow alleyways, sintir on his back. It was so quick that at first I wasn’t sure what I saw— a hunched figure in a striped djellaba with what looked like a guitar— but after turning a few corners, we ran right into him. Hamide was laying out a few items on tie-dyed cloths on the ground when he greeted us, which involved placing hats beaded with small cowrie shells on our heads for a laugh.

Sensing that I was eager to sketch Hamide but a bit shy, Pedro asked if he would pose for a portrait. With a wide grin he pulled out the sintir, a low, banjo-like instrument of stretched camel skin with three goat gut strings.

“Je joue pour le bébé.” He declared.

A deep, trance-like melody filled the alley, lulling Baby to sleep. Seizing the precious moment of having a slumbering infant on our hands, I drew. At some point during the song, a young man popped out of a door with a plate of couscous for Hamide, which he shared with us.

“Nous sommes une grande famille.”

***

Sketched with Derwent drawing pencils and pink pigment powder.

See the photos, read the stories on my blog Harika.