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Intro
“Marrakech,” a first-person travel narrative, presents George Orwell’s firsthand observations of Marrakech’s locals, climate, and customs. As the story opens, a corpse is carried by a restaurant. Wrapped only in rags, the corpse draws the flies away, which soon return. These flies, Orwell notes, gravitate toward the corpses in town, as the locals do not use coffins. Supporting the wooden bier carrying the corpse, four men chant in unison, participating in a custom that does not include women. As they weave through the bazaar, between the pomegranates, taxis, and camels, the mourners chant in unison. Arriving at a graveyard with many unmarked graves, the men drop the corpse into a shallow hole. Throwing dirt on the body, Orwell observes that, without markers or headstones, relatives lose track of the deceased within a few weeks.
Describing the experience of walking through towns like Marrakech, with a population numbering around 200,000 people (at the time of the essay’s composition in 1939), Orwell notes that a significant fraction live in desperate poverty, with the rags they wear their only possessions. For the traveler or outsider, Orwell claims, these conditions make the inhabitants seem more like a colony of bees than humans. Explaining that empires require this outlook—which fails to acknowledge the humanity of colonized peoples—Orwell makes the charged suggestion that these Moroccan people resemble dirt, not only because of their skin color but also because of the fact that they will soon return to the dirt in death after sweating and starving for a few years.
Orwell feeds a gazelle at the public garden. The gazelle nibbles at the bread but tries to butt his hand away. A worker for the Municipality, tending to the nearby path, observes the gazelle’s reluctance, telling Orwell that he—the worker—could eat the bread. As Orwell tears off a piece of the bread, the worker hides it in his rags.
Orwell describes the living conditions in the Jewish quarters, noting that the area’s overcrowding dates back to old restrictions on where Jewish people could live. The streets are narrow, and the houses mostly lack windows. Everywhere, Orwell sees crowds of children, which he compares to flies. Urine collects in the center of the street, forming a small stream. Large families work in cave-like booths, and Orwell describes an aged carpenter who sits crossed-legged before a lathe, his left leg misshapen from sitting in that position for so many years. His young grandson already works with him. When Orwell lights a cigarette, people crowd him and ask if they can have one. He quickly runs out of cigarettes and notes that these laborers view them as a practically unattainable luxury.
Orwell considers the antisemitic beliefs he hears in Marrakech. Alluding to Hitler, Orwell recounts the charges that Arabs and some impoverished Europeans level against the Jews. Some people claim that the Jewish people control the banks and the financial system, but Orwell underscores the absurdity of such claims by spotlighting the abject poverty of the Jewish quarters.
Arguing that manual labor makes all workers partly invisible, Orwell counters that this effect increases with non-White workers. Claiming that White laborers in northern Europe will at least be noticed, Orwell admits that south of Gibraltar, the same laborers would be ignored. In the tropics, people look at everything but the native inhabitants working in the fields. With the human misery unseen, travelers can view places like Marrakech as a resort, as opposed to the poorer regions in the U.K., where poverty deters tourism. Orwell then considers what Morocco means to foreigners, suggesting that English people view it as exotic and French people view it as a place of financial opportunity.
Just as Marrakech is hostile to the inhabitants, so too is the climate hard for animals. Orwell claims that no animal larger than a hare can survive the dry ground that was once covered with forests, yet farmers still work the land. And every afternoon, Orwell writes, a line of tiny, “mummified” old women carry firewood. Stopping an elderly woman, Orwell gives her some money. Her wails suggest how unusual this act is, and his kindness shocks her. Considering this story, he notes how old women often lag beyond younger men as families travel together, burdened with their luggage.
Noting how strange their invisibility is, Orwell confesses that he didn’t see these elderly women at first, even as they carried firewood past his house daily. Following one of them, the movement of the firewood drew his attention to the old body beneath. Implicating himself in their invisibility, Orwell admits that he almost instantly noticed the cruelty toward animals. He acknowledges the hypocrisy of caring for overworked animals like donkeys while ignoring the plight of the poor humans.
Orwell then describes Senegalese soldiers marching southward. Exploited and used by France, these soldiers look physically attractive to Orwell, who comments effusively on their beauty. Objectifying their dark skin, Orwell recounts how they sweat in the hot sun as they balance loads on their backs. Drawn to one of these soldiers, Orwell observes this Senegalese soldier as their eyes meet. Orwell characterizes the soldier’s look as one of admiration and respect for White people like himself, even as the French have made him a citizen and taken him from his home to work in some colonial outpost. Considering this look, Orwell explains that every White man fears that at some point this respect will dwindle and the guns the Africans carry will turn on their imperial masters. He sees this fear in the White commanding officers but suggests that the Black soldiers themselves don’t recognize this dynamic, comparing them to a line of cattle.
