The rise of female healers in the middle Atlas, Morocco

Sm. Sci. Med. Vol. 35, No. 6, pp. 819-829, 1992 Printed in Great Britain. All rights reserved

0277-9536/92$5.00 + 0.00 Copyright 0 1992 Pergamon Press Ltd

THE RISE OF FEMALE HEALERS IN THE MIDDLE ATLAS, MOROCCO JOGIEN BAKKER

Faculty

of Socio-Cultural

Sciences,

Free University, De Boelelaan The Netherlands

1105, 1081 HV Amsterdam,

Abstract-In this article the author seeks an explanation for the remarkable rise of women healers in the Middle Atlas mountains in Morocco. Two groups of women healers are being treated: the women herbalists in the marketplace and midwives in the rural region of a Berber tribe called Ait Abdi. An attempt is made to understand the role of women in healing among the semi-nomadic Berber tribes in the past. Apparently, indigenous Berber women as well as men played a minor part as reputed healers. This situation hardly changed over the years. It is Arab men, who settled as Qoran savants or visited the local markets and the local holy tribes (Chorfa) more or less monopolised the prestigious healing activities. It is argued that this was possible, because they had better accepted forms of legal and traditional legitimacy at their disposal. The development that is taking place among the more professional traditional healers nowadays consists of a replacement of male Arab and Chorfu healers by Arab and Chorfa women. In fact, men suffer a loss of prestige as traditional healers, whereas many women gain in this respect. This loss of male prestige in traditional healing is explained by the decreasing significance of a traditional means of legitimation and prestige of which healing is a part: God’s transmissible blessing called baraka. The last paragraph attempts to clarify why this collapse of traditional prestige afflicted dominant status groups (such as male Chorfu) more than sub-dominant groups such as Arab, Chorfa women. Key words-women

1. INTRODUCTION

healers,

Morocco,

traditional

medicine,

TO RESEARCH

herbalists,

midwifery

century (Section 2). The historical circumstances will be linked to the position of male and female Berber healers in the past (Section 3) [l]. It will be shown how these social features partially still determine the position of the woman healer nowadays (Section 4), but also how the main changes in the healer’s position seem to lie in their prestige (Section 5). This will lead us to some concluding theoretical considerations about the relationship between healing the prestige structures in the Middle Atlas (Section 6).

In September 1987 I started fieldwork to prepare a dissertation concerning modern and traditional medical systems in the Middle Atlas region of Morocco. During my stay in this area, which is inhabited by a Berber tribe called Ait Abdi, I became increasingly interested in how the position of the traditional healer alters under the influence of changing social structures other than the introduction of a-more or less competing-modern health care system. I came to believe that the affiliation of traditional healing to Moroccan prestige structures is a more potent concept for the dynamics of the existing ‘pluralistic medical system’ than a competition model which holds two supposedly opposite medical systems as main actors. This notion is illustrated by the remarkable rise of traditional women healers in the mountainous region of the Middle Atlas. Truly a remarkable rise, as it took place more or less independently of a rather rapid introduction of modern health care in the area. It is furthermore a notable development because the newly established healers are all women. Thus, the question to be treated in this paper is the following:

2. SOCIAL

CHARACTERISTICS OF AIT ABDI BEFORE COLONISATION

Before the French conquered the area o_f the Middle Atlas, the Ait Abdi were a predominantly nomadic tribe breeding sheep of outstanding quality. The only sedentary communities in this area consisted of a small settlement close to both the marketplace and the old Sultan’s army stronghold at Ain Leuh, and a village inhabited by three Chorfalineages. Chorfa [2] are considered to be holy because their patrilineage is believed to stem from the Prophet. The nomadic movements of the Ait Abdi consisted mainly of a yearly cycle between high Middle Atlas mountains and plateaus (altitude: 15OG2200 m) in summer and in winter a lower and more accessible area (700-1100 m) in the so-called Central Plateau. The higher area is called jbel. Here, snow falls in December, January and February, and in summer it is cooler and wetter than in the lower plains. This means that in jbel food for cattle can be found until autumn begins. Then vegetation ceases to

Which mechanisms in Moroccan Berber society have led to a growth in the number of female traditional healers in the Middle Atlas rural region? In order to answer this question I will first explain part of the socio-economic situation of the Middle Atlas Berger tribe Ait Abdi at the beginning of this 819

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grow because of the oncoming cold, so that it is necessary to descend to the plains (azarghar), where the fertile soils are covered with green plants and cereals once again. In the plains late autumn resembles a second spring season, although a comparatively less abundant one. Winter is usually spent in the plains, and it is only in the month of April that the nomads gradually start moving towards jbel again. By the end of June the migration to jbel needs to be completed, because by that time the sun shines so strongly that all the plants of uzarghar start to shrivel, which makes feeding the herds or cultivating the fields virtually impossible. The climate in the jbel is much more favourable then. This general design of semi-nomadic movement does not mean that the whole tribe decided to move all at once. These decisions were usually taken by a much smaller group, the tigemmi or minimal patrilineage, which was made up of 5-20 households of brothers with their wives, sons and their wives, and grandchildren. The group total could amount to 50 adults or more, who lived together in a circle of ‘big’ tents. Every tribe had a council that yearly assigned the herding grounds to the smaller segments of the tribe, the tigemmi. As literature indicates, the tigemmi was by no means a very stable social unit [3]. Moreover, departures of individual family members who had to search for food and water or to work in a distant field were other important events that caused active migration movement within the tigemmi. It is my impression that these factors caused considerable deviations from the general trekking design. In short, people lived in small circles of ‘big’ tents, while individual shepherds and agriculturists inhabited dispersed ‘small’ tents. In the latter case, neighbouring tents may have been separated by half a kilometer or more. Tent circles were likely to be even further apart. And although the whereabouts of households within the tigemmi were often clear, the movements of many men-and to a lesser extent their women and children-probably remained quite a mystery for their fellow tribesmen outside the tigemmi. I would like to suggest that due to this nomadic system, where every household more or less took care of itself [4], few ‘professional’ healing specialisations were able to develop. For a professional specialisation it is necessary for a healer to have a reputation beyond the narrow circle of his or her family or tigemmi. In my view, this is the main distinction between an amateur healing specialisation and a more professional healing specialisation. Another criterion, such as earning a livelihood with one’s specialisation, would not have been a suitable indication for professionalism. In the pre-protectorate nomadic society of Berbers healers did not receive payment but rather a voluntary gift (ftah). Healer families that were actually able to live on these donations were rare. The only ones that were privileged to do so were widely recognised Chorfa fUmilies.

However, in addition to their healing activities they performed ceremonial and mediating political tasks, for which they were also rewarded in the same donatory fashion. Yet, among the Ait Abdi everyone was a seminomadic raiser of sheep and, at the most, cherished something that should be considered a family hobby, such as making music or poetry, riding in fantasias or, indeed, curing certain diseases. I believe that healers within this tradition had difficulty in attracting customers that were not from their own tigemmi. Healers who were constantly on the move were simply too hard to trace and therefore could not gather together enough clients to achieve the reputation of a true specialist. Only the weekly market or another collective social occasion might have given them the opportunity to exercise their specialisation. This meant that the more prestigious healers in the Ait Abdi area were usually not found among the Ait Abdi themselves, but were more likely to be encountered in the villages of the sedentarised Chorfu [5], or at the weekly markets where Arab surgeons regularly passed. Among those commonly respected for their healing abilities were also the local Qoran savants the fqih-s. The fqih-often an Arab who did not originate from the Ait Abdi region-lived on gifts and a salary offered by the community, while taking care of the mosque tent. In addition he often served as a tailor and as a public writer and also provided for Qoran-inspired healthcare. The only Berber healing activities with some prestige were linked to the local saints and the ceremonies around them. The executors of these ceremonies, the moquddem -s, were often men of prestige and wealth. However, their characteristic powers as spirit masters were only shown on those special events, which did not occur more than two or three times a year. We can in fact establish that in the Ait Abdi area-and this may have applied to many other semi-nomadic Berber tribes-the Arab population (Chorfu, fqih-s and Arab surgeons) almost completely monopolised the prestigious healing activities. In fact, this is in general still the case within traditional medicine today. Especially fqih -s remain to be important traditional healers [6]. At this point it becomes interesting to know more about the position of women within the Berber community. Could they have become healers, as is stated in an article by Daisy Dwyer [7] about the Berbers living in the surroundings of Taroudannt? She even tells us that: “Most curers in Taroudannt (. . .) are women” [7, p. 5891. In order to understand the position of women as healers in the Aid Abdi tribe we need to know more about the tigemmi. The tigemmi is a patrilineally organised social unit, in which inheritance went from father to son (and not to the daughters!) and where marriage took a strict patrilocal shape. The fact that material and symbolic inheritance was-in the dominant ideology-solely a masculine matter meant that women were usually excluded from important religious functions, which

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The rise of female healers were legitimated by a divine force called baruka. One of the chief means of acquiring this indispensable symbolic asset was by inheritance. This meant that sons, and sometimes nephews, were considered appropriate inheritants and that women were virtually excluded from access to baraka. In Weberian terminology [8]: the traditional legitimation of healing was monopolised by mean. An exception would only occur when the woman’s father did not have suitable heirs to pass ‘the blessed virtue’ on to. Then he would allow his (eldest) daughter to inherit the symbolic power, to assure himself that buruka would remain confined within the circle of his closest relatives and would eventually be transmitted again to a male descendant, grandson or a great-grandson. This is the version men present when asked about the inheritance of buruka. I agree with Dwyer that, in a way, it is possible for buruku to be transmitted through bilateral, and not only through uni-patrilatera1 lines. I too have found examples of women healers who inherited their special talents from their mothers. However, it is a striking coincidence that all the rather prestigious female healers I interviewed, who had acquired their abilities through their mother and intended to pass their powers on to their daughters, never originated from the Ait Abdi region. The few Ait Abdi women healers I have known who claimed to have received their talent through their mothers had a rather limited reputation. There are no indications known to me that the situation in this respect was different in the past. Berber women did occasionally use the possibility of matrilineally inherited healing power but it did not bring them widely recognised prestige. Thus, we may conclude that it was quite problematic for a woman to obtain the miraculous power of buruku by inheritance. Nevertheless, there were other means: buruku could be given to a woman, e.g. by charity of a saintly person or in a dream during a night passed near a saint’s tomb. To be brief, some women might obtain a healing profession through charismatic legitimacy. However, this charismatic form was usually considered less prestigious. It means that, in the past as well as in the present, the status of women healers among the Ait Abdi is somewhat different from the situation in the Taroudannt region as described by Dwyer. Among the Ait Abdi most curers are certainly not Berber women and in those cases where female Berger healers were encountered they scored lower on prestige when compared to Arab women healers, Chorfa-specialists or masculine Berber spiritmasters. Generally speaking, it can be stated that women’s status in the religion of a semi-nomadic Berber society-which includes the veneration of local saints-was weaker than female religious status as Dwyer pictures it. It was really very rare for a woman to occupy a religious function as caretaker of a saint’s tomb or as a prominent member of a fraternity. On the other hand, compared to many other regions in Morocco, Berber women in the Middle Atlas had

greater freedom of movement (i.e. they were allowed to go to the weekly market once they were or had been married) and could enter more freely relationships with men [9]. 3. POSITION

OF TRADITIONAL

HEALERS

IN THE PAST

The healers considered in the following paragraph were involved in wide-ranging healing activities, but nevertheless shared one characteristic: none of the healers considered here operated on a full-time basis. The only ones who tried to earn a living with their profession were the men and women in the marketplace. The others were raisers of sheep, Qoran experts or housewives in daily life. Fqih -s

In traditional Berber society healing activities could be exercised by several people. First and foremost was the fqih, the Qoran savant. He had the ability to heal by using texts of the Qoran in prayers or amulets and by mixing the ink of Qoran writings in water. But these were not his sole healing activities. Usually he had some knowledge of herbs and assisted local rites at saints’ tombs where, among other things, people asked for good health. I think that it was one of the great advantages of thefqih that he lived at a more or less fixed place, near the mosque tent. Therefore he could be easily located. He could also help with all kinds of ailments: he was, what I would like to call, a ‘general practitioner’. His legitimacy was based on his knowledge of the Qoran and of the application of baruku within the Qoran for health purposes. His professional ability to heal was determined by a set of rules and is in this respect comparable to the way modern health care is legitimated today. In a reference to Weber again, we might call his buruku a form of legal legitimacy. Within Islam legally legitimated baruka is absolutely unobtainable for women, and in former days for almost all the Middle Atlas Berbers. Even today the fqih takes an important place in Berber society both as a religious expert and as a medical specialist. Chorfa

Other healers who were usually easy to trace were those who had inherited their special buruku together with their descent from the Prophet Mohamed. These descendants are called Chorfu and in Morocco they can be looked upon as an elite whose authority was based upon the inherited holy power of buruku. The holy village on Ait Abdi grounds, which I mentioned earlier, was in the past well-known for their healers (especially of rabies) and their holy ancestral tombs, where cures for many diseases could be found. Truvelling healers

Other groups of specialised healers were of the travelling kind, who occasionally visited the local

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markets to perform surgery. Most famous in the Ait Abdi region were the Arab eye surgeons, who had developed a technique for treating cataracts. In the marketplace other healers were to be found. First of all, the barber who used cupping techniques when patients suffered from headaches and fever. He was also known to perform circumcisions, although among the semi-nomadic Ait Abdi it was not unusual for the operation on baby boys to be performed by a woman of the tigemmi. Also, there was the traditional dentist who pulled aching teeth at the market. Finally, we should mention the travelling fqih -s and sorcerers from the south, who claimed cures for a range of diseases, from fertility problems and veneral infections to sleeplessness and headaches. Berber healers Besides these more or less non-Berber activities, one could also find the typical indigenous healer. This was usually a man (sometimes a woman) who had inherited the gift of healing from his father. These healers could treat a great diversity of illnesses, varying in scope from the massage of aching bones to the curing of liver diseases by the application of hot irons to certain places on the skin [lo]. One could hardly find a tigemmi without two or three of these minor curers. Some of them managed to obtain a certain reputation within the tribe or even a wider environment due to for example a forceful character or a miraculous cure, but that was only rarely the case. Jbar -s One indigenous Berber healer who stood a better chance of building up prestige was the traditional bonesetter or jbar. Bonesetting was a widespread specialisation among the Ait Abdi tigemmi-s. The jbar-s would treat man and beast in the same fashion. The specialisation of bonesetting was usually not considered to be hereditary. Men and women who would prove to be sufficiently decisive and energetic could build up a reputation as a bonesetter without religious legitimation. Because bonsetting did not demand a special religious virtue, a fracture could be treated by almost anyone who dared to. But if a more famousjbar was able to inspect the wound a few days later and was not satisfied with the way the bone was set by the ‘amateur’, he would unscrupulously break the bone again in order to reset it. Especially elder (stable-living) rich men of forceful character seem to have been-and still seem to be-the most prestigious jbar-s. Some women were however also known to be bonesetters. They were called jbara. Berber saints Often an important saint (usually a deceased one) was considered to be a master of spirits through which possessed people could find a cure by means of a trance dance (hadra). The hadra was in fact a

collective healing method. The people who led the performance of a hadra within their own tribe were organised by a tribal brotherhood who generally served the tribe’s most important saint. The members of this brotherhood (RmB) [1 1] were only recognised as healing specialists during certain religious events. This meant that their power was limited to the few occasions in a year when the ritual was collectively performed. In consequence, the occasion was the limitation of their prestige. Besides these occasions they seem to have been respected as the tribe’s most courageous warriors. The flow of baraka, however, did not only reach people through these brotherhoods. A woman often developed a rather personal relationship to the saint through regular visits to the tomb and occasional offerings. She could receive baraka for healing by a vision, a dream or another sign. The saint’s baraka, therefore, was accessible to men and women, each in their own manner. Women, however, hardly ever developed widespread reputation. A male ha&a-leader stood a much better chance of building a career of some significance. Herbalism and midwifery The healing with herbs was not a method exercised by specialists but was the domain of the average ‘housewife’. She was usually not a real authority in this respect but she knew enough to be able to collect a range of plants that mitigated diseases such as diarrhoea, vomiting, burns etc. The same is actually true for midwifery. Among the Ait Abdi hardly any midwife professionals were to be found. Every woman was considered qabla (midwife, wise woman) after assisting at two or three deliveries. From this great variety of healers and healing activities we may make certain observations. In this healing system Berber women played a minor role. If Berber women wanted to claim healing abilities it could usually only be legitimised in a ‘charismatic’ way. They had little access to ‘traditional’ or ‘legal’ legitimacy. As shown above, Ait Abdi women were only healers by exception, they were neither herbor midwife-professionals. This leads us to a second observation: their knowledge concerning midwifery and herbs was considered ‘lay’, both within their own tribe and among Arab outsiders living in the area. Healers with professional prestige, however, were relatively stable-living men originating from outside the tribe (healing marketmen, fqih, cherif, and the saint in his tomb). In summary, this means that the Ait Abdi healing system (if indeed we may call it a ‘system’) was characterised by: 1. Male domination; 2. Sedentarised prestigious healers; 3. Who were often tribe-outsiders (usually original Arabs); 4. Widespread medical knowledge among laywomen.

The rise of female healers 4. THE PRESENT SITUATION OF TRADITIONAL WOMEN HEALERS

The situation described above is quite different from the one we find nowadays. In fact, the most prestigious traditional healers in the countryside of the Middle Atlas at this moment are poor, female ‘general practitioners’. The women who are newcomers to the present Middle Atlas market of medical activity have most often an Arab, that is to say non-Be&r, background. These women can be divided into two categories: 1. Herbalists at the marketplace (&h&r-s) 2. And general practitioners (qabla-s) in the new villages in the countryside, especially in the lower plains. Achaba -s

Herbalists are a relatively new phenomenon at the Middle Atlas markets. The first women that sold herbs, other medical materials [ 121as well as medical and magical advice appeared about thirty to forty years ago. In the beginning there were only one or two women. They usually had had an upbringing in which mothers transmitted the interest for healing and knowledge of medicines to their daughters. In the last ten years or so other women have entered the market, and now the number of &h&z-s has increased to approx. 7-10 women in the region of Ain Leuh. Helga Venzlaff has noted something fascinating in this respect. At the end of the sixties she conducted research of the markets of the Azrou region (Ain Leuh included). Her primary aim was to make an inventory of the herbs and other medical and magical materials that could be found at the Middle Atlas marketplace. She noticed that fqih -s and masculine herbalists dominated the market and that they had a rather close cooperation. Market women were a small, though in Venzlaff’s eyes remarkable, minority. Nowadays, however, the women herbalists are a majority in the Middle Atlas. They even monopolise the smaller markets [13]. A single merchant-fqih and some travelling merchants from the south are generally the only competing factors for them. The biggest market near Ain Leuh, Azrou, offers more competition because of its size: the variety, diversity and specialisation also shows in the herb-selling category. But even here there are indications that women dominate the traditional medicines-market [ 141. The women that have entered the market most recently were not always educated by their mothers, as opposed to the older women who started the business. Even some Berber townswomen have carefully tried to start a small trade. In their search for a money-making job they simply imitated the established herbalists, asked some medical advice from the herb-wholesaler in Fez and maybe learned some

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magical secrets from friends and family, while the rest was learned from experience. The older women complain of the competition, which is tougher than in former years, and remark on the deteriorating quality of medical advice due to these newcomers. They call this development bad publicity for their business. The women are usually poor; they are divorced with children to take care of or married to an unemployed husband. They did not start selling herbs because it is looked upon as an honourable profession. But, as one of the younger women stated, “becoming an richaba is always better than being a whore”. Susan S. Davis has made an inventory of women’s status in a small Moroccan town-just outside the Middle Atlas-which includes women healers (she mentions ‘bath-woman’, ‘Cherzjiu’, midwife’ and ‘magician’). Three of the cited professions fall into Davis’ category of ‘status increase’. Only the witch/magician seems to be of ambivalent status because of people’s general uncertainty about supernatural, manipulative powers. In the marketplace the herbalists clearly do not fall in the ‘status increase’category: they suffer a decrease, since their profession exposes them to men in a public area. This is, despite local variation in female liberties, a sensitive topic in almost every Islamic area. For these women the only reason to establish themselves as professional herbalists is that that is a less bad solution to their financial problems [15]. Most of the women herbalists originate from the southern regions, like Er-Rachidia, Erfoud and Rissani. For Middle Atlas towns this area is a notorious immigration area [16]. Many women from these regions claim to be Chorfa and are known for their vast medical knowledge. This reputation attracts many customers who do not seem to mind that the healer being a woman has therefore lost prestige. Moreover, women customers are inclined to increasingly rely on the knowledge of the market herbalists. Lay knowledge therefore decreases in importance. In order to complete the picture of the &h&-s we must add that they are townspeople rather than rural dwellers. Also they attend to their business on a full-time, not on a part-time basis. This is an important difference from the rural qablu-s, who will be treated in the section below. One remark can be added to the above. In the Middle Atlas this relatively new profession for women has not come into being because of the rise of a so-called ‘transitional sector’, as can be followed from the situation in many sub-Saharan countries [17]. I have never noticed lichaba-s selling penicillin, antibiotics or even an aspirin alongside their traditional medicines. In Morocco certain representative persons of the transitional sector do exist, but these are mostly market men of the travelling kind who usually do not live in the region of Ain Leuh.

JOGIENBAKKER

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In short, the changes that occur in the herbalist branch at the marketplace are the following: 1. Women replace men; 2. Women have become recognised specialists, while lay-knowledge gradually disappears; 3. The elder women claim to be Chorfa, but lately this status (and their reputation for baraka) bears less importance for their prestige as a healer; 4. Their status as women decreases because of their profession. Qablas -s

The second category of new traditional women healers I would like to call qabla-s. In the Middle Atlas it is a word used for any somewhat elderly woman who has had some experience in midwifery. Therefore, the term does not cover all the activities exercised by the women healers I will describe in this paragraph. Nevertheless, it is the only suitable term that comes to mind. Qabla-s have long been found in Middle Atlas towns such as Azrou and Ain Leuh. In the rural areas with the semi-nomadic Ait Abdi, however, the practice of professional qabla-s is a rather new phenomenon. It is this development which will be discussed here. It probably started with the settling of immigrants from poor southern regions in the lowlands. Although these people have been living in the area of the Ait Abdi for several generations [18], they were never fully ‘Berberised’ and some of them used their reputation as healers and magicians to earn a living. In the settlements where they lived they became midwives and healers, sometimes also for the surrounding Berbers. But among the nomadic Berbers midwifery was usually exercised by any woman who was accidentally in the vicinity of a birth. I was told that it occurred quite often that after 2 or 3 births a woman would conduct her own delivery all alone. Women managed these things themselves, as they used to heal diseases with herbs that they picked themselves. Because all women developed just about the same level of expertise in healing, as they did for example in childcare, cooking and weaving, no one was considered a healing specialist within the Ait Abdi. Therefore they could not be considered professionals in the sense of the term as discussed above. The women who are termed professionals in this paper almost all live in azarghar, the lower plains, where the greater part of the population is settled, where the infrastructure of roads is quite good, but where one might expect that the competition with modern health care to be comparatively strong. There are four dispensaries in this part of the region and a small hospital in Ain Leuh. Also within reach lies Azrou (at a distance of 1S-30 km to azarghar), which offers a wide range of private and state medical facilities.

The medical activities of these women are divergent. Usually they have become specialists in birth attendance, but they also have a reputation for soothing abdominal pains, massage of aching bones and muscles, treatment of skin disease etc. Although informants were reluctant to admit it the new traditional female healers are probably considered to be magical specialists as well. The seven qabla-s I spoke to in the Ait Abdi countryside have a similar background: they are mainly poor women from the south (Erfoud, Rissani), they have married into the tribe of Ait Abdi, their husbands are poor labourers and they all claim Chorfa status. They started their professions 640 years ago. They all live in houses, so not in tents. There is no nomadic women among them. One woman orginates from the Rif and now lives permanently in jbel, the mountainous area. She might seem an exception, but she also lives in a place with a somewhat dispersed, be it dense and stable population and she, just as the others, claims to be Cherifa. Also, she lives close to the jbel market, which undoubtedly provides her with extra clients every Monday. She has good connections with some bchaba-s. As far as I know she is the only qabla in the mountain area with some reputation. We have to take into consideration that the mountains are a pre-eminently nomadic region which is twice as big as the lower ‘azarghar’ region. The number of fixed inhabitants is a quarter of that of the Ait Abdi plains. The proportion of women that originate from outside the Ait Abdi tribe is much smaller in jbel than in azarghar [19].

I have no clear indications that the number of professional qabla-s is still increasing. It was noticed, however, that younger Arab women who marry into the region do not lose interest in the healing profession. This is illustrated by the example of a 30 year old woman who started her profession as a healer only 6 years ago after giving birth to twins, a widely recognised sign that one may exercise massage for bruised joints and limbs. Now she is gradually starting to provide cures for other diseases and is sometimes consulted as a midwife as well. Although she is, according to tradition, not a Cherifa, she says she is “a little bit Cherifa”, because her grandmother on her mother’s side was one. We could conclude that, after giving birth to twins, she practically jumped at the opportunity to gain respect and perhaps earn a few dirhams from a medical profession. With only feeble legitimation, she saw a way to expand her activities. There is reason to believe that other poorer young women would do the same thing, especially because the example given is of such recent date. It is typical, however, that it was again an Arab woman who seized the opportunity and not a Berber. Berber women could just as well start medical activities after having twins, but they hardly ever do, or otherwise they perform on a very modest scale, often within the realm of the family.

The rise of female healers

When the comparison is made again with the status inventory of Susan Davis, we could say that these rural general practitioners experience a ‘status increase’, a much better social position than the market herbalists. Yet their earnings are not as good as the cichaba-s. The qubla is much more dependent on her religious legitimation and cannot always ask straightforwardly for money in the way the herbalist can. Also, the qabla who sits at home unnoticed is less frequently visited by clients than the cichubu, who is working visibly at the marketplace. The development in the rural area resembles the one in the marketplace but not with all characteristics. It seems that: 1. Being sedentarised is a necessity in order to be able to obtain a reputation; 2. Women are in the process of replacing men in the healing profession, although they do not dominate yet; 3. Women have become recognised specialists while lay knowledge is disappearing; 4. Being Cherifa or a proof of buruka is of vital importance for the prestige of a woman healer; 5. Women healers gain in status due to their profession. In the following paragraphs I will seek an explanation for the expansion of female medical activities in the Ait Abdi area, and the way in which it has come about. 5. COMPARISON BETWEEN DIFFERENT HEALERS AND THEIR PRESTIGE

In the process of comparing the social situation of ancient traditional healers to the conditions of the present traditional healers important resemblances as well as differences strike us. An important resemblance would be that general practitioners can presently-as they were in the past-be characterised as ‘holy tribe-outsiders’, while living in a more or less fixed place. I suggest that we may conclude from this resemblance that in a rather dispersed, semi-nomadic society a healer will much more easily acquire prestige if the man or woman is sedentarised and can legitimate the healer position with the socially recognised trait of holiness (buraka), which is preferably inherited through the patriline. Through lack of social control a tribe-outsider (especially when it is an Arab) can claim this trait more easily than a tribe-member. Therefore, it is not surprising that especially exogamously and patrilocally married Arab women become traditional healers. Exogamous marriage was one of the consequences of French colonisation, which, by safeguarding the roads, made it possible for Berbers and Arabs to travel, trade, work, and settle freely almost all over Morocco. Exogamous and patrilocally married Arab women have an advantage

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over indigenous Berber women. First of all, Arabs in general are much more reputed for holiness and medical capacity than Berbers. Besides, social control over the background of an Arab who is strange to the region is hardly possible. Therefore, even if their claimed holy status and medical knowledge are questionable, the benefit of the doubt is always on the side of the Arab women. Thus, generally speaking, Arab women had a far better access to buruku than Berbers had. What we see nowadays is a rise of female general practitioners that is taking place within the limits of these social conditions. Immigrant men may have had the same opportunity to start as healers, but they were usually already otherwise occupied: getting a contract for work or knowing that one could acquire access to collective pastures were some of the reasons for migration to the rural area. Also, being a healer would not have earned the immigrant man and his family a sufficient income. Female healers use their earnings as extra money along with the (small) family income. This is a possible explanation why especially women of the immigrant Arab population practice as healers. The few masculine Arab healers I spoke to were elderly men who stayed at home because the heavy physical work in the fields had become too much for them. Sedentarisation and the possession of buruka are social conditions that permit the performance of medical activities. At the moment that women could fulfil these conditions they started as healers as well. It more or less explains why the conditions for starting medical activities were less favourable for indigenous Berber women than for immigrant Arab women. Yet it does not explain why (Arab) women seem to be becoming more important as healers than men and are even starting to dominate certain branches of traditional medicine. The most striking difference between former and present healers lies surely in the concept of gender: men lose prestige as healers, women gain. It is challenging to find an explanation for the fall of men in the healing profession. Most of all the reputation of local Chorfa has suffered an important decline. The loss of prestige these men experienced becomes apparent in the stories of healers who stopped practising. They usually complain of patients that lack confidence in their ‘baraka’ for healing. The following exposition should be regarded as a first step towards an understanding of the former and present social position of the traditional healer in Berber society. Two observations may help to point in the right direction. 1. In the past many of the medical activities among the semi-nomadic Berbers of the Middle Atlas were a matter of people in power: Chorfa-families were the most important mediators between tribes in times of conflict, but were prestigious healers as well.

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The most courageous warriors in Berber tribes received the right to heal [20]. One acquired, for instance, the individual right to do massage after killing a person, and after admittance to the fraternity of courageous men (Rmri [21]) one was allowed to enter the elite of men that lead the trance dance, a collective healing activity. I gathered from this observation and similar research data that the curing of disease was looked upon as a sign of baraka of authorities in religious and political life. The act of healing was a confirmation, a legitimation for people in powerful positions, and therefore an instrument to gather baruku and prestige. (Of course, healing served other functions as well, but they bear no importance for the point I would like to make here.) 2. The second observation is that presently local Chorfu and RmB still exercise medical activities, but that these Chorfu and Rmri are no longer the people in authority. Their authority has to a great extent been replaced by local chiefs and chief assistants appointed by the government, and these powerful people do not need to combine their political functions with medical activities. This means that medical activities at this level have lost their power supporting function. Among these people the concept of buruku is largely out of use. Nowadays it is rather the opposite which is becoming more and more important: the healers use the glorious past (being Cherif or Rmci) to legitimate their right to exercise medical activities. These two observations more or less establish a very notable development in the social position of traditional medical healers. The reversal of a traditional medicine-which legitimates local authority-into a marginalised authority-which legitimates traditional medicine-gave some impoverished, marginalised people the opportunity to gain respect and livelihood by professional healing. Among these people we find many Arab women for whom their reputation as medically and magically knowledgeable persons of potential holy origin has proved especially advantageous. So far I have described the social circumstances that channel the conditions under which the healing specialisations are exercised. But we also noted that many men do not seem to need the prestige of healing any more, whereas women need both the money (especially the Lichubu-s) and the prestige (qublu-s). From this we learned that healing, prestige and, as a consequence, gender seem to be closely related to one another. In the next paragraph I will suggest some theoretical ideas about the relationship between traditional medicine and prestige. I do not claim theoretical

completeness, especially since the ideas that are being suggested are still new to myself.

6. HEALING AND PRESTIGE STRUCTURES IN THE MIDDLE ATLAS

For a theory of prestige I turn to Ortner and Whitehead, who wrote an introduction to: Sexual Meunings: the Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality [22]. They write about ‘prestige structures’. I believe that the concept of baruku should be regarded as a form of divine prestige. In fact, when a description of the sources of prestige is compared to the signification of buruku in the Middle Atlas society, it seems that buruku draws on the very same sources as prestige [23]. According to Ortner and Whitehead, the main sources of prestige are, briefly summarised, wealth, political power, personal skills, and accessiblility to these sources under the conditions of the effective use of these assets plus a certain generosity and concern for the social good. All these things are sources for buruku just as they are for prestige. But in order to understand the concept of buruku we should add one more condition: the capacity for supernatural intermediation. In Morocco buruku has always been a very concrete indication of one’s social powers and prestige, just as much as the possession of sheep or military strength. In fact, these things were seen as visible proof of buruku. However, it was also necessary to prove one’s supernatural powers, which was in fact a justification for the strong social position one occupied. It is my suggestion that in the process of proving supernatural powers the visible results of healing played a major role. It is as close as an earthly person can come to performing a miracle, while at the same time it shows a clear concern for the social good. This is a reason why buruku and, as a consequence, healing is important for powerful status groups (such as Chorfu): it legitimates their powerful position in society. Especially to the Arab elite groups legal, formal and charismatic legitimacy were all available to reinforce their claim to supernatural power. On the other hand, I would say that for marginalised groups healing as a source of buruku is sometimes even more important. Since they possessed neither material goods nor political power, it was their only hope to acquire buruku and prestige through magic, miracles and healing. Stated in this way, it is obvious that they could only hope to legitimise their claims by charisma. Of the three possibilities mentioned, healing seems to be the easiest to perform in the open, while it also expresses ‘concern for the social good’ in a most distinctive manner. In Morocco a phenomenon like this could be observed in the activities of several brotherhoods-which were accessible for the common man and woman-that specialised in trance dancing [24] and in the collective healing rituals of some Berber tribes, that clearly reestablished a feeling of tribal prestige (information from my own field-

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The rise of female healers work data). But also outside Morocco the importance of healing can be observed among marginalised groups. For example, a very prominent part of slave culture in the United States consisted of conjuring and healing [25]. This means that in the past the elite needed the bar&a of healing to legitimate their social position, but for the lower strata the ‘baraka’ of healing signified a possibility for social mobility. In general, however, healers that would adhere to the divine prestige of the elite (often an ascribed status) had the best chance to build up a good reputation. Ortner and Whitehead state that societies with only one single prestige structure are rare. The prestige structure of ‘gender’ is inevitable in every society. I would say that-in our case-‘ethnicity’ is important as well considering the distinction that is made between Chorfu, Arabs, and Berbers. I will make an attempt to explain how buruka finds a place within the prestige structures of gender and ethnicity in the case of the rise of female healers in the Middle Atlas. During the colonisation period the concept of buruku disintegrated, especially in the higher strata of society. Before the Berber tribes were ‘pacified’ by the French, they were constantly struggling for power and space. The only more durable power institutions were to be found with the holy (often sedentarised and arabised) tribes, who had the ascribed status of Chorfa. Within this scheme a constant effort to hold on to baruku was necessary to remain in power. This changed with the invasion of the French: they appointed local chiefs in their service, while courts of justice replaced the intermediating role of Chorfu. The new state related elite could do without buruku now. They had the French to keep them firmly in the saddle; buruku, for them, had become a superfluous form of prestige and a needless legitimation of their position in society. Where a traditional form of local leadership is disintegrating and divinity is totally or partially separated from it, this holy forcedivorced from the old social hierarchy-is often claimed by marginal groups or individuals who use this claim as a new source of prestige and base of power. Nicholas Thomas [26] describes this process for several societies, a process which seems to have taken place in the Middle Atlas on a small scale. Now that powerful men are no longer interested in ‘baraka’ it is women (and other marginalised groups and persons) that have taken over this divine form of prestige to use it for their own ends. The marginalised prestige structure of buruku is used by a marginalised group within the prestige structure of ‘gender’: women. This is a process that Ortner and Whitehead might have called the “fusing of prestige structures” 1271. Moreover, because the elite no longer chose to make use of the prestige structure of buruku and healing, it has become difficult to use healing activi-

ties for a social mobility oriented towards the higher strata: they have turned away from these skills. Admiration for such qualities can only be earned among people who are marginal themselves. This means that healing as a visible proof of buruku has become an instrument for relative social mobility. Buruku itself has become a form of relative prestige. Perhaps nowadays buruku is best translated by the term Rabinow uses: specialness [28]. In our case, the qublu-s in the rural area are poor Arab women, poorer than most Berber women. The only thing that distinguishes them from the Berbers is their Chorfu status. I consider it possible that they try to prove this with healing activities. I did not check my research data for this idea yet, but it is certain that it improves their status as women. It is an improvement of poor Arab women among less poor Berber women: it is a relative improvement. Traditional healing has become a question of relative prestige. This relative prestige seems to be less important for the richubu-s at the market. The object for the herbalist is money: she has to try to make a living out of her profession, even though she knows that she will suffer a status decrease as a woman. For her as well, however, there seems to be relative prestige in the healing profession. Not among women in general, but among a special category of women: the publicly exposed. It protects them from the reputation of whores. As a conclusion I suggest that qublu-s and cichubu-s, as marginalised groups in society, use marginalised prestige to achieve relative social acceptance [29].

7. FINAL REMARK

The final point I would like to make is this: the development which is taking place in traditional medicine in the Middle Atlas cannot simply be explained by the rise of modern health care. It is true that some categories of traditional medicine are vanishing, but can this process only be understood in the light of a lost competition to a superior modern medical system? As shown above, this cannot be the case since, apart from the vanishing of healers, new categories of traditional medicine are emerging, notably female general practitioners and herbalists. It also seems that traditional healers formerly depended greatly on the existing power system, because traditional authorities needed medicine to prove their own rehgious and political value. Because of the devaluation of this power system under French colonisation and the current Moroccan Makhzen, many healers suffered a loss of prestige. This would mean that modern medicine is not the direct cause for the (partial) disappearance and devaluation of traditional medicine [30].

JOGIENBAKKER

828 REFERENCES

1. Historical information about kinship, power relations and healing activities among the Ait Abdi in precolonial times was gathered from elderly Berbers, unless literature references in the text state otherwise. They could either memorise how their society was formerly organised, or were still able to recall what their parents had told them about it. 2. In this paper the popular French transcription of Arabic words will be followed. This is the tran&ription that is used in Morocco on traffic signs, on television etc. Chorfa is the plural form of Cherif, the title which is used for a holy man, whose descendance is traced from the Prophet Mohamed. Cherifa is the singular form used for a woman. Literally Cherifmeans noble or honourable one. 3. Beaudet G. Les Beni Mguild du Nord. Etude g&ographique de 1’8volution r&ente d’une confkderation semi-nomade. In Revue de Geographic du Maroc 15, 17, 1969. 4. Every household head had its own number of sheep, there were no common mills and other facilities except for the common grounds and the perhaps mutual storehouses. Hart tells us that this is “. . a standard feature of Berber socio-economic life in the Central Atlas,. . .” (Hart D. G. The Ait Sukhman of the Moroccan Central Atlas: an ethnographic survey and a case-study in socio-cultural anomaly. R.O.M.M. 38, (2), 141, 1984. This did not mean that the clan had no collective social structure: the ‘jejemari’regulated things like penalties for stealing, blood money, the decision to go to war etc. Also several religious events were collective such as the rain ceremony every spring and autumn and the maintenance of holy places on the tribe’s grounds. Yet, self-reliance was a matter of the individual-extended-family. 5. It is perhaps clarifying to distinguish between the social categories of Chorfa and Arabs. Arabs in Morocco are those groups who speak Arabic. Although it is historically speaking not always a realistic standpoint, this language group is supposed to stem from the Arab invaders of the Middle Ages. Chorfa, on the other hand, are the descendants of the Prophet; therefore, they are in the strict social sense always Arabs. Arabs, among the Middle Atlas Berbers, are usually outsiders with a reputation for knowledge (since they speak the language of the Qoran and the intellectual world). Thus. in terms of religious prestige there is a hierarchy: Berb&s at the bottom, Arabs above them and Chorfu at the top. 6. See for example: Akhmisse M. Mbdicine, Magie et Sorcellerie

au Maroc

ou [‘Art

Truditionne/

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Casablanca, 1985. I. Dwyer D. H. Women sufism and decision making. in Moioccan Islam. In Women in the Muslim World (Edited bv Beck L. and Keddie N.). DD. 585-599. fiarvard cniversity Press, Cambridge,‘i!%. 8. Cited in MacCormack, C. P. Healthcare and the concept of legitimacy. Sot. Sci. Med. 15B, 423428, 1981. 9. The Berber woman was certainly an important economic force in work on the land and with cattle. In some cases she might act as a representative of her husband in commercial activities if he himself or his grown-up sons were prevented from handling them. Also, Berber widows were allowed by the clan council to hold in usufruct a part of her husband’s possessions. The widow would in this case take care of her own affairs, although often aided by an adviser. Beaudet G. Les Beni Mguild du Nord. Etude giographique de l’bvolution r&ente d’une confkderation semi-nomade. In Revue de GPographie du Maroc 15, 1969. Women were usually married within the clan, which means that the clan-endogamous marriage was predominant. It can be observed that a sort of cousin’s marriage was normal, which probably

meant that a marriage within the cigemmi happened quite frequently. However, the following associations were not allowed: a son with the second wife or his father, nor with his father’s sister, an uncle could not marry his niece and an aunt could not marry her nephew. Also, marriage was forbidden between sisters and brothers with a milk relationship, between a nurse and her suckling and between the husband of the nurse and her girl-suckling. A husband could marry several wives, but never two sisters at the same time. Lt. Desnottes, Forces d’occcupation du Maroc Occidental. Bureau des Affaires Indigdnes Itzer, 1992, in Archives Diplomatiques. 10. This seems to be a techniaue widesnread in all Islamic regions of the world, from Africa south of the Sahara to Indonesia. Ammar S. MPdecins et Medecine de I’lslam: de I’Aube de I’lslam ci I’Age d’Or, p. 251. Editions Tougui, Paris, 1984. 11. The information on Rmci I draw almost solely from my own fieldwork: publications on the subject can hardly be found. Yet, according to my sources of information, Rmri took a role in Berber society that greatly resembled the role of Chorfa: they were mediators in conflict, were religiously pious men and were the prominent leaders of ceremonies organised around local saints. They can be described as indigenous Berber Chorfa. Their social organisation, however, does not resemble that of Chorfa. Rmci is not a hereditary ascribed status, but a voluntary achieved one. It depends on conduct and courageousness if someone is accepted as cibid Rmci (slave of Rmd). In some tribes a combination of descent and outstanding qualities lead to Rmh status: those tribesmen who are the closest descendants to the ancestor-saint stand a good chance of becoming the leaders of the tribe’s Rmri provided that they show pious conduct and a straightforward character. In a forthcoming dissertation I will elaborate on the subject. 12. Helga Venzlaff has conducted an elaborate research into the wares of herbalists in the Middle Atlas. She distinguishes four categories of consumption: (1) Meal spices, (2) Health remedies, (3) Magical medicines, (4) Beutifiers. Many herbs and spices are used for different means. Henna for example, the herb that is used to redden skin and hair, is considered curative (against infection of wounds), magical (against the evil eye) and beautifying. In Venzlaff H. Der Murokkanischer Drogenhtindler und seine Ware. Ein Beirrag zu Terminologie und Volkstiimlichen Gebrauch Traditioneller Arabischer Maleria Medica. Wiesbaden.

1977. 13. The markets they visit are the same ones every week. They follow the schedule of the Beni Mguild markets, which means that they visit the same six markets every week on six different days (there is no market on Friday, as in most of the country). Azrou is the centre, is the biggest market and has the greatest variety of produce. In consequence, some of the smaller markets are not always visited regularly by all the women: sometimes they miss a day because they expect that bus fares will be more than the profits of the herb sale. Because some markets are too small altogether for seven to ten women selling medicines, some of them have sought an altemative for one or two days outside the Azrou weekly markets cycle. They can only do this if they can afford the bus fares. Other women simply stay at home. 14. Personal communication: P. van ‘t Zelfde, Dutch student in Morocco for the Free University of Amsterdam. 15. Davis S. S. Working women in a Moroccan village. In Women in the Muslim World (Edited by Beck L. and Keddie N.), pp. 416-434. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1978. 16. Venema B. Ecological Crisis and Local Power Constellations: the Case of the Middle Atlas. Paper for the

The rise of female

17.

18.

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27.

Holland-Morocco Conference, Rabat, March 1 I-18th, 1990. Among others Slikkerveer L. J. Medisch Pluralisme in Noord-Oost Afrika: Multiple Utilisatie van Gezondheidszorg in Balik (Ethiopii). Ph.D. Dissertation, Rijksuniversiteit Leiden, 1983. Beaudet G. Les Beni Mguild du Nord. Etude Gtographique de 1’Evolution Recente dune Confederation Semi-nomade. Revue Geographie du Maroc 15, 17, 1969. Sources: Erat Civil d’Ain Leuh, Statistiques, 1988 and Rkensement de la Sante Publique, Circonscription Ain Leuh, December, 1988. Ain Leuh contains almost 5000 inhabitants. The whole Ait Abdi region, including Ain Leuh, is inhabited by approximately 28,000 people; 6000 of them are fixed inhabitants of the jbel area. Birth rates are up to 2.5 (Ain Leuh) to 3% (region). See: Corjon F. Maladies, Soins, Rites Magiques de Protection ou d’Expulsion du Ma1 chez les Enfants Berberes du Moyen-Atlas, p. 5. Bulletin d’Enseignement Public au Maroc, 1932. Rmri is derived from an Arabic word which means ‘to throw’ or ‘to shoot’ (with bow and arrow). It refers to the holy wars fought against the Christians. The patron of the Rmci, Sidi Ali ben Nacer, is supposed to have been one of the cleverest and most courageous warriors in these wars. Ortner S. B. and Whitehead H. (Eds) Introduction. Sexual Meanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1981. Compare Gellner E. Saints of the Atlas. Weidenfeld and Nicolson, London, 1969; p. 12: “. the possession of ‘baraka’, a concept used by them (people of the Atlas J.B.) which is as close to the sociologist’s notion of ‘charisma’ as one could hope to find.” Most famous are the Gnaoua, Hamadcha and Aissaoua. See Crapanzano V. The Hamaakha; A Study in Moroccan Ethnopsychiatry. University of California Press, Los Angeles, 1973; and Eickelman D. F. Moroccan Islam. Tradition and Society in a Pilgrimage Centre. University of Texas Press, Austin, 1976. Raboteau A. J. Slave Religion: the ‘Invisible Institution’ in the Antebellum South, p. 278. Oxford University Press, New York, 1978. Thomas N. Marginal powers. Shamanism and the disintegration of hierarchy. Crit. Anthropol. 8, (3), 53-74, 1988. Ortner S. B. and Whitehead H. (Eds) Sexual Meanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality, p. 17. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1981.

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28. Rabinow P. Symbolic Domination, Cultural Form and Historical Change. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1975. 29. Although the argument about marginalisation may bring I. M. Lewis’ book Ecstatic Religion to mind, I choose not to deal with it in the text for fear of confusion. I do not wish to raise the question of ‘thinly disguised protest movements against the dominant sex’, because it does not seem to concern the case of female healers in the Middle Atlas. I have nevertheless surmised that his classification of peripheral and central ‘cults’ (in my case: healing activities in general) will prove to be especially valuable, when I will try to establish the meaning of healing activities for marginal and elite groups in Moroccan society. However, the treatment of this theme is beyond the scope of this paper. Lewis I. M. Ecstatic Religion: An Anthropological Study of Spirit Possession and Shamanism. Harmondsworth, England, 197 1. 30. More literature helped form the ideas for this article, although it was not directly referred to in the text. On Moroccan history : Brignon J. a.o. Histoire du Maroc. Hatier, Casablanca, 1967. Bidwell R. Morocco under Colonial Rule: French Admin istration of Tribal Areas (1912-1956). Frank Cass, London, 1973. Ibn Khaldun (translated by Monteil V.) AI-Muqaddima: Discours sur I’Histoire Universelle. Tomes I, II, III. Beyrouth, 1967. Laous E. I’Habitation chez les Transhumants du Maroc Central. Hespetis, VI, 1935. On traditional medicine : Greenwood B. Cold or spirits? Choice and ambiguity in Morocco’s pluralistic medical system. Sot. Sci. Med. lSB, 219-235, 1981. McClain C. S. (Ed.) Introduction. Women as Healers: Cross-cultural Perspectives. Rutger University Press, New Brunswick and London, 1989. On the position of women: Jansen W. Women without men; gender and marginality in an Algerian town. Ph.D. Dissertation, Nijmegen, 1987. Maher V. Women and Property in Morocco: their Changing Relationship to the Process of Social Stratifcation in the Middle-Atlas. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1974. Maher V. Women and social change in Morocco. In Women in the Muslim World (Edited by Beck L. and Keddie N.). Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1978.