Choir: Take Two

This is how you audition for a choir in Casablanca.

First, you hear people talk about it a bit, and you have a brief but friendly Facebook exchange with someone who apologizes for his poor English, even though his English is pretty fantastic.

Then, one day, someone mentions that there are going to be auditions tonight at 7pm, and you go and ask your angel of a French teacher if her driver would mind taking you to the appointed location. You feel you can do this, because you bawled your eyes out in front of her after your last cataclysmic audition, and she gave you her phone number, and said, “Call if you ever need anything. I have a driver.” A driver who speaks neither English nor French, but that’s okay, because your angel of a French teacher hops in the car and goes to the audition with you, even though she’s just worked a ten-hour day. This is what angels are made of.

You leave at 6:15, and at 6:55, you find that your phone’s GPS has guided your compliant driver directly onto the wrong way of a one-way street. But that’s okay, because this is Morocco, where the only real rule of the road is that the fanciest car wins. And by Moroccan standards, this is a pretty sweet car. So you win the one-way game of chicken, and turn around, and drive in concentric circles around the desired location until you finally locate an entrance.

Eventually you find yourself in the parking lot of one of the biggest schools in the country, and you approach the guards with all the confidence that comes with being in the presence of an angel who is fluent in Arabic, Berber, French, and English. The first three of these languages are the key to the hearts of the Moroccan people, and the fourth is the key to yours. With all of them at your side, in the form of a spunky Belgian-Moroccan, you are invincible.

You enter the pristine oasis of a campus, and (again) are told to turn droit when you really should turn gauche. But that’s okay. Your angel is not about to be fooled by faulty directions. She is a savvy one. She pokes her head into a classroom, and you are immediately invited inside to hear all about la chorale. “It’s okay! We can speak English here,” smiles an approachable chorister. So in you go.

You don’t understand a word of the French/Arabic hybrid floating around the room, but that’s okay. Your angel hears it all, and translates quietly in your ear. Then you head out into the hall to wait your turn for the dreaded audition. Your angel keeps your butterflies at bay by telling you funny stories en anglais, and when it’s time for you to go in and sing, the approachable English-speaker goes with you.

The director, you find, is equally approachable. He claims not to speak much English, but he does so anyway, and you understand each other just fine. He asks you questions about your life and your reasons for wanting to sing in the choir. You sing your stupid French Canadian folk song. You mangle the words, because you threw them out after the last cataclysmic audition, but it’s okay. Your voice rings through the room as if it’s supposed to be there, and he nods approvingly. You only have to sing it once. He tells you there’ll be a welcome email in your inbox tomorrow. And there is.

Your angel’s driver drops you off at your doorstep, and you crawl into bed to nurse your monster of a migraine. Yes, it’s true. You did all that with a migraine in your skull, and you still got in. Because you, and your angel, are amazing.

So there you go. You’re going to be singing in an Arabic/French choir, but there will be English speakers there to help you along the way. They are passionate about singing, they laugh and have fun together, and they perform at all sorts of interesting festivals and events. Think of all you will learn from these people, and all of the things you will do! Think of how smart you’ll be when you actually know a thing or two about Moroccan music, and how rich your teaching will become!

Yes, it’s a little humbling to think that you couldn’t have done it alone. It’s not like little Peterborough, where you can go anywhere, at will, all by yourself, to do the things you want to do. It’s a different life. You need people here, and that’s okay. There are angels who are kinder than kind, and they lead you to other angels; and soon you have a whole chain of be-haloed people around you, and life becomes lovely and livable again.

So really, there are only two steps to trying out for a choir in Casablanca: 1) ask for help, and 2) go. And those two steps, I suspect, will work for pretty much all of life, if you can just bring yourself to master them. Fortunately, there is ample opportunity here for practice, every single day.

Ask for help, and go. Repeat as necessary. Succeed.

Curious about my new peeps? Check out La chorale Casasawt on Facebook and YouTube!