How to break up a fight on a bus in Morocco

Summary

A traveler recounts their experience of intervening in a fight on a bus while en route to Essaouira, Morocco, during their two-month exploration of the country.

Abstract

The narrative describes the traveler's journey from Marrakesh to the coastal town of Essaouira, highlighting the vivid cultural experiences of Morocco's night markets and the serene desert landscapes. The journey takes an unexpected turn when a dispute between the bus driver's assistant and a new passenger escalates into a physical altercation. Despite not understanding the language or the cause of the conflict, the traveler feels compelled to intervene, twice stepping in to help restrain the aggressive assistant. The conflict eventually subsides, and the bus continues its journey, leaving the passengers, including the shaken man across from the traveler, to reflect on the intense encounter. The traveler is left feeling that their instinctive intervention was justified and looks forward to the rest of their adventure in Essaouira, having put the unsettling incident behind them.

Opinions

The traveler views the Moroccan night markets and desert landscapes as "incredible" and "mystic," indicating a positive and fascinated perspective on Moroccan culture.
The author expresses a sense of duty to intervene in the fight, suggesting a belief in the moral imperative to help others in distress, regardless of the potential risks or cultural barriers.
There is an underlying respect for the generally "pleasant" demeanor of the Moroccan people, which contrasts sharply with the aggressive behavior witnessed during the bus ride.
The traveler reflects on the intensity of the experience, acknowledging the unknown factors at play and the possibility that the aggressor could have been a "wanted criminal," yet they trust their instincts and feel their actions were warranted.
The narrative concludes with the traveler's resilience and forward-looking attitude, eager to continue their adventure in Essaouira despite the earlier confrontation.

How to break up a fight on a bus in Morocco

The night markets of Jemaa el Fna in the old city of Marrakech, Morocco were incredible to experience for the first time. Street performers displayed their unique skills, while the sounds of thunderous drumming fused with the aroma of exotic local cuisine filled the air. Dark hooded cobras swayed rhythmically in the night. The local Mosque erupted through the darkness with a haunting call to prayer, perfectly framing my first night in Morocco.

I had two months to explore the country. I planned to tour the high Atlas mountains for some trekking and climbing. Then spend some time wandering through the deserts outside Merzouga. Along the way I would be stopping off at all the little places in between. My first destination though, would be the seaside town of Essaouira.

Upon looking at the man’s identification he erupted into a long fiery rant in Arabic

The bus ride from Marrakesh out to the coast was about four hours. I was looking forward to the new scenery on the trip out there. Shortly after arriving at the bus station that morning I bought a ticket, found my bus, and I was away.

Once out of the city the countryside opened into aired desert. Farm animals scratched about in the dry earth searching for food. Occasionally goats could be seen standing in argan trees as they seeked out the tree’s pulpy fruit. This was an unusual sight which only added to the countries mystic.

A short time latter we arrived at a small roadside bus stop. Passengers from some of the regions more remote areas slowly filed onto the bus. As they found their seats, the driver’s assistant came along to check their tickets and identification. One of the new passengers, a man in his mid twenty’s took the seat across from mine. When the assistant reached him he clipped his ticket. Upon looking at the man’s identification he erupted into a long fiery rant in Arabic. I had no idea what he was saying. Though it wasn’t hard to tell there were some strong emotions involved. The two men then began in a fierce exchange.

I stepped in and grabbed the aggressors arms, pushing them down at his waist

It quickly escalated with the assistant attacking the new passenger, the two of them swinging wildly at one another. The buses other passengers started backing away as the brawl intensified. I didn’t know or understand what was happening but I felt a need to help end it. I stepped in and grabbed the aggressors arms, pushing them down at his waist. He twisted and fought against me as the chaos in the bus eased slightly.

Two other men appeared from the front of the bus and wrestled the angry assistant outside. It was quiet, but only for a moment. As the tearful man was being talked down outside he broke free. He raced back onto the bus in a furious state, intent on continuing his assault. I’ll never know the cause of what happened that day. I can only speculate it may have been to do with rival bloodlines. In any case, the experience was extremely intense.

The tears flowed as the attacker continued to struggle free

This time I stepped in again with the help of some others on the bus. With the man now overwhelmed with restraint, the fight became a passionate screaming match. The tears flowed as the attacker continued to struggle free. This must have gone on for twenty minutes before the man, I think having made his point, gave up and settled into the front of the bus. We had been parked on this stretch of empty road for almost an hour before the bus started moving again. It was a shocking display from a culture of people that are generally so pleasant to be with.

The bus continued to drone along as we made our way out to the coast. The man sitting across from me looked shaken and lost in his thoughts. He sat in silence as he starred out the window, while the assistant was not seen again.

I was glad I interfered that day. Even though I had know idea what I was getting involved in. That man could have been a wanted criminal. Though something didn’t seem right, causing my instincts to kick in and I did what I could to help. Fortunately it didn’t escalate beyond that point.

As we drew nearer to the coast, salty sea air filled the inside of the bus. We pulled into the bus station in Essaouira and one by one all poured out onto the sandy parking lot. By then, everyone seemed to have forgotten about that days altercation, or at least I had. Having newly arrived at my destination, I was excited to continue on with my adventure.