Money & Markets

Morocco’s a mathematician’s dream. Lfloos, or money, is measured in dirham (or drahim if the number’s between 2 and 10), ryal, and centimes (or francs). Basically, 100 centimes=1 dirham. The currency itself is denominated in dirham bills and centime coins.

What makes shopping interesting is that most vendors say prices in ryal. 20 ryal=1 dirham. Not only do we have to do math in our heads, we also have to do translations. Story: my first morning at site (I’m not a morning person), I wanted to buy bread before class. The local hanut owner I bought cheese and yogurt from the day before quoted me a price of 24 francs (first he said “arbauashreen” then “Vingt-quatre francs”) for a piece of day old bread. I was shocked; why is he ripping me off today?, Are we playing the bargaining game already?, I’m not a tourist, I could buy a whole meal for 20 francs in France for that amount ran through my mind. I held up a 2D coin to show him I wasn’t paying more than this. He took it and gave me change. I had no idea how much that bread cost. That day in class, I learned about Morocco’s money system AND that hanut prices are fixed. Alhumdullah.


At the outskirts of town, there’s a weekly outdoor market, called a souq, where fresh meat, animals, veggies, fruit, knickknacks, clothes, spices, tea breaks, electronics, and beauty products are for sale. These prices (except for clothes) are also somewhat fixed. My CBT group took a field trip there once and stocked up on lunch supplies. We wandered up and down the aisles of tents offering such goods. Boys selling plastic bags and men selling cold drinks also roamed around. Unlike RIM, the souq is a male-dominated area.

Twice a week, Aminaville also has swiqas, outdoor markets right in town. Wednesdays are Produce Day and Fridays are Clothes and Household Goods Day. I’ve eaten fresh figs, pomegranates, and turkey (obviously, not together). It’s great. Last week, my site mate Donna and I watched a man who sold cactus flowers, which apparently stop bowel movements. He cut the ends off of the fruit and peeled off the skin. One of his clients ate seven of them right there in the swiqa. We would have watched him eat more, but we were caught staring and felt like we needed to walk on. . . .