The ISA JournalGnawa: Tracing the Black Roots of a Moroccan Musical Tradition

Music has always been my first and deepest love, and something I have missed the most about home is going to shows. My favorite pastime back in Texas is attending ten-dollar local hardcore shows and having close calls with death as bodies drenched in sweat fly across the room. The idea of wheelhouse kicking to unintelligible screaming may not sound appealing to most, but it’s not a concept that really begs to be understood. I guess Morocco doesn’t have much of a punk scene, but I was lucky enough to find the next best thing.

Gnawa is a well-known musical genre based in Morocco. The name originates from the Gnawa ethnic group, who were brought to the Maghreb from West Africa as slaves. Gnawa is an Amazigh word, roughly meaning ‘black people,’ to refer to these slaves. Stories of displacement and inhumane subjugation are incorporated in many Gnawa songs, and they have been passed down orally for centuries. Similar to the negro spirituals of the United States, the narrators of Gnawa music find comfort in suffering through religion and spiritual freedom.

I was spending my afternoon at a small restaurant here in Meknes when I struck up a conversation with a server. I have never been the best at small talk, but I found that music is a foolproof topic for keeping a good chat going. I told her that I really liked the song she was playing over the speakers, and that was when I first learned about Gnawa. “It’s spiritual music,” she said to me. The server pulled out her phone and showed me a performance at another café in town. Immediately, I decided that I had to experience this for myself.

I arrived at the venue just a few weeks later, excited to experience live music for the first time since leaving America. I went in knowing virtually nothing about what was going to happen, which I believe makes for an even better adventure when you don’t know what to expect. I entered the café to a room that was hardly bigger than the bedroom at my homestay. But intimate setups have always been my favorite kind, so I knew I was in for a good time.

There was no stage, only a long green sofa where the four-piece band would sit. This specific kind of sofa is known as a sedari, which is unique to Morocco and some of its neighboring countries. Surrounding the sedari were as many chairs as could ergonomically fit given the size of the room, and I happened to arrive early enough for a front-row seat.

The small space allowed the sound from the amplifiers to fully envelope my surroundings. I found it most impressive how the group was able to take such a simple musical arrangement and harness it to its full effect. The ma’alem essentially serves as the bandleader. He plays a three-stringed instrument made from goat skin, known as a gimbri. This paired with his incredibly powerful voice is the focal point of the sonic palette, and he is backed by supporting singers and percussionists. The rest of the night was a dynamic one comprising celebration, serenity, spiritual healing, and everything in between.

Black suffering and the art we produce from it have permeated nearly every single culture around the world. We have been enslaved, lynched, burned, drowned, raped, and castrated. But we have continuously managed to turn that suffering into resilience. Despite Gnawa being so culturally different than what I was used to, it felt very familiar to me. Gnawa is punk. Gnawa is jazz. Gnawa is hip-hop. Gnawa is Black music.

Tolu O’jori is a student at Texas A&M University and an ISA Featured DEI Blogger. He is studying with ISA in Meknes, Morocco.