This is Farid.
I met him at the entrance to the main gate to the medina in Fez, both of us sitting down at a cafe for a morning cup and smoke. I had realized quickly that my original plan of spending my entire trip in Fez was mistaken as I had shot hardcore for two and a half days and felt that I had already had my fill. After all, you can only shoot a pic of a donkey in an alley so many times.
I was looking for a guide / driver that would take me out to the desert down south and possibly either back to Fez or to Marrakech. There were package deals available through tour groups and there were also numerous offers I was receiving from drivers and guides, all scams to varying degrees.
Farid and I started talking and he told me he was a driver with a tourist company but he was also an independent and could take me where I wanted to go. One of the challenges I face each time I travel is conveying to locals what interests me visually, meaning that I do not want to see palaces or museums or greatly important old buildings. People and their real lives. That is always my goal whenever I travel.
I gave him a challenge: get me inside a Berber home to photograph, especially a Berber woman. Photographing women in Arabic cultures is notoriously difficult and the Berber peoples are also very camera shy. He said he knew a woman a few hours away in a small Berber village that we could visit and she would even make us food and offer us tea. He quickly understood that I was not interested in landscapes or buildings. We got along pretty well and talked for a while and I was excited as he saw some of my work and he seemed to understand exactly what I was looking for.
We haggled over the price for a bit, reviewed a preliminary itinerary on a map and agreed to meet up the next morning at my riad to begin the journey.
I quickly realized that I was lucky as Farid and I hit it off and he took me to places well off the tourist radar, getting me access to people and places that I never would have been aware of it weren’t for him. We spent the next four days together, a lot of time in the car, a lot of cigarettes. He taught me Arabic as we went along and helped me to negotiate prices wherever we went.
I learned a lot about him. He had three wives (one had passed away a few years ago in an accident), two kids, had lived in Spain and Italy, his eldest daughter was training to be a fighter pilot in the Mococcan Air Force, a fact which, though it directly contradicted many of his old world patriarchic values, made him extremely proud.
Like myself he was gregarious and a great talker and his charm opened up many doors for me. He understood what I needed to photograph and facilitated this throughout. He was a great and competent driver.
And yes, he is aware that he looks exactly like that dude from the Mummy movies.