On Wlad dyal Bled

 I was over the hill on the developed agricultural flats of North Morocco and somebody, upon hearing where I was from called me “Wlad dyal Bled.”

I was at the souk yesterday and I came upon a belt. For those that don’t know, Moroccan belt buckles are proud to be the gaudiest things you have ever seen. If they don’t have a fake diamond encrusted dollar sign spinner over top of a watch with a hologram and a fake pistol on either side, they are not really Moroccan belts. This particular belt buckle I found was fake silver, weighed about a kilogram and said “Redneck and Proud of It” over top crossed muskets. Talk about a find! I instantly set out trying to explain to the vendor what the English words on the belt buckle meant. “Redneck, its like someone from the country, like Wlad dyal Bled.”

And that is when I put it together. What the person from the North called me. Living in the foothills, a boy of the countryside. I am a Moroccan Redneck.