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Translation of the article, published in "De Volkskrant", about Ahmed Marcouch, Chairman of the District City Council of Amsterdam-Slotervaart, January 26th, 2008.

Even before the plane took off to The Netherlands, the world of ten year old Ahmed Marcouch had turned upside-down. “Those flight-attendants, I remember them quite well, with their uncovered, cut hair. They wore tight skirts, which revealed their legs”. He had never seen women like that in his life. “Everything was so overwhelming. I was stuck in a kind of time-machine”.

A one way ticket to Amsterdam , the first trip of a lifetime. Illiterate Ahmed Marcouch had never been outside Beni-Boughafer, his native village in Morocco . Leaving their village behind them, Ahmed, his sister, his brother, and his stepmother entered the clean efficiency of Schiphol Amsterdam Airport . Another planet: “The people, the hectic atmosphere, the lights, the speakers”.

After the plane-trip,  they drove to his father's house, over the highway, the A-4. It was a third floor apartment, in the east part of Amsterdam . “A dump of fifty square meters, but we thought it was wonderful, because you had to use the stairs to reach it”. I did not even know this existed: three, or even four houses on top of each other. We were used to climb trees and mountains, but we had never climbed a flight of stairs!”

His brother, later, said that the house looked like a hospital, with all the beds situated next to each other in the living room – Marcouch's family would eventually exist of 15 children. Up until today, they still try to get together every Saturday, in the house of the very ill 85-year old father and his second wife.  

Ahmed (38), a son out of his father's first marriage, has now become the most famous District City Council Chairman in The Netherlands. The ex-policeman is the ambitious Mayor of Slotervaart, a district of 45 thousand inhabitants, 40 percent of which is of foreign origin.

This is the part of Amsterdam in which Samir A. and Mohammed B. grew up, the part of Amsterdam in which youngsters attacked the police station during New Year's Eve. “This is scum, and we have to deal with them the hard way”, according to Ahmed Marcouch. He does not like to beat around the bush, and he does not like to make people into helpless victims, or people who make themselves into helpless victims. His motto is: “You are the architect of your own life”. His cutting edge analysis of society makes him popular among the Dutch, and not so popular in some parts of the Moroccan community. 

The Imam of the Ummah-Mosque in Slotervaart stated: “The local administrators try to establish their careers at the cost of Moroccan youngsters”. 

Sarcastically: “I think he meant Wilders”.

Do remarks like this hurt your feelings?

“Yes, of course. It is the Imam's fault. I am honest. I say: “You will not get anywhere if you spent all of your days at the community center. You will have to work hard” This is not a particularly nice message. “Of course, Moroccan youngsters would rather hear that it is not their fault, but that their failure is due to external circumstances”.

Solemnly: “If youngsters deprive others of their liberty, frighten others, deprive them of their possessions, everybody has to stand up against them. In The Netherlands, too many people look the other way. They even do not feel any anger about this kind of injustice. Because they do not feel the impact of it, in their expensive and posh neighborhoods. 

Does your family sometimes say that you are going too far?

“Recently, I had a discussion with one of my cousins. He said: ‘You should help those youngsters, do not push them into a corner'. I replied: ‘If you live in Amsterdam , you are sitting on gold. Now, do I have to pick it up and put it into their hands myself?'” 

In his office, there is a black and white, slightly yellow, picture of a stern man, in a winter coat which is open, shining shoes, surrounded by pigeons on Dam Square . It is Ahmed's father, who, in the Sixties, left to The Netherlands, looking for gold.  

He is holding a pigeon in his hand.

“Yes, that pigeon was a miracle for my father. In Morocco , animals avoid people. If a dog sees a human being at the other side or the street, it runs away. It knows a rock will be thrown at it. ‘The Dutch even tamed the pigeons'. Those were the stories migrants told at home”.

After a short break: “You read a picture like this, eventually. My father, in a suit, well-dressed, cleanly shaven. That is the way he looked, when he visited us in Morocco , three times a year”. 

That must have been hard.

“Extremely. I was so happy when he was here, and in mourning when he left. After that, we were anticipating his cassette-tapes which he would send from time to time. At moments like that, he was ‘at home with us' for a short moment”. 

What did he say on those tapes?

 “My father told everyone what to do. That we had to be obedient, that we had to be careful with our money. He told about his daily life; that he just had cooked dinner, done the laundry, how difficult life was. But the most important thing was hearing his voice. And we all waited until he called our names, very exciting. He called everybody by name. 

Your mother died when you were three years old.

“I never knew my mother. I did my best, but I do not have any images. There are no pictures or anything”.  

What did she die of?

Surprised: “I do not know. She died in the month my brother was born. My father was in The Netherlands when she died. Somebody gets ill and dies. In my region, nobody asks any questions if that happens”.

Later: “I must have felt a tremendous emptiness, during my childhood. I grew up without my parents. I do not cry easily. I remember, however, standing at my mother's grave when I was twenty years old, during the holidays, that I felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. I realized that I deeply felt the lack of my mother's warmth.

“I had a strong relationship with my grandmother. I could sleep in her lap. I have never felt a connection like that with my stepmother”.  

Your father came back to Morocco to marry your stepmother, and, after that, went back to The Netherlands, to work.

“He remarried quickly, in order to make sure that we were taken care of. My stepmother suddenly had three babies around her, and my older brother and sister. That was difficult, we went through some hard times”. 

Did you make her life difficult?

“No, I have never been a difficult child. I did not go to school, I did my share of housework. It was complicated, emotionally, that I had to connect, get attached to someone. At the same time, I did not want anyone to take my mother's place”.      

At the end of the Seventies, his father brought his entire family to The Netherlands. Ahmed Marcouch smiles, talking about that. His father did not want to re-unite the family as such. He much more wanted to secure his own future. “He did exactly what the government did with foreign employees. It was like economical acquisition. He mainly brought us to The Netherlands to make sure his sons would get a job. Thus, they would be able to take care of him later”. 

So, suddenly you had a father. What was that like?

“Suddenly, my father was there, yes. He interfered with things. He behaved like a preacher. As a boy, I used to think: ‘I'd rather have him slapping me in the face than preaching'”.

“The pressure was high. After one year at elementary school, he already expected us to fill in all kinds of difficult forms, that we could read all his letters. Much later, I realized that it was a matter of survival. My father did not have any clue about the school system, what kind of choices there were in educational levels. I signed my report cards myself. I grew up quickly”. 

And you were completely honest about the content of the letters which were sent by the school?

Amused: “Well, at first, I could not read them myself anyway. So, yes, it was difficult”. 

The fact that he had to grow up so quickly, was also caused by yet another – remarkable – event. His father never had him registered as a citizen in Morocco . Formally, he took the place of his brother Ahmed, who died when he was three years old. A change of identity, caused by pragmatism. His father only came to Morocco a year after he was born. His mother was not allowed to get out of the village to have him registered. “Biologically, I was born in 1969, but, on paper, I was born in 1966” . 

So, actually, you have lived your life as someone who is three years older.

“Yes. They put me in the fifth grade, at school in The Netherlands. When I was sixteen, but, on paper, nineteen, I went out to get a place of my own. When you turned eighteen, you could apply for your own place. I went to the municipal housing office to get my license, and the lady asked me: ‘Are you aware of the fact that a house costs money?'. In reality, I was fifteen years old. She must have been confused”. 

That must be odd, to actually live the life of your brother.

“I do not think about that very often and it does not really affect me, psychologically. Some things, you have to do a bit quicker , actually, you have to take the same pace that he would have taken”. 

Did you feel obliged to take his pace?

“I had no choice. It also had some advantages. When I was 15, or 12 actually, I was allowed to deliver newspapers. After that, I discovered that I could take a cleaning job. This way, I made some money, for the family”.

 “My father's message was clear: ‘You have to do better. We did not get the chance, you have the chance. Make sure you do better'”.  

Ahmed Marcouch was willing to do better, but he did not yet fully understand the Dutch educational system. He had a lower technical education, when he applied for university. He still laughs about it. “I did not know about the fact that a higher secondary school degree was required, before you could go to university. The lady at the counter of the Amsterdam University was very surprised”. 

‘How long, before I can finally accomplish something?', he asked himself. His older brother gave him the example of Lech Walesa. ‘That guy is just a laborer, without any significant education. Now, look what he has accomplished'. “I realized that it wasn't just school. I could become someone”.

Ahmed Marcouch wanted to have a job which allowed him to be in contact with others, in which he could help others. He went to nursing school. “Well, I did not do this for a long time at all”. 

Suddenly, you had to wash women!

“Washing people, that was a shocking experience for me. I was very shy back then. I struggled with that. I had never….” 

Seen anyone naked?

 “Exactly. I could not tell my supervisor that this was a problem for me. I quit, and I went to work in a paper factory. Still, I was angry at myself for not opening up to my supervisor about this problem”.

“Then, I bought a little book, on discount. It was about how to behave in public. I learnt a lot from it. There were tips like: ‘Sit straight, watch your hands, do not touch your head too often' To me, it was like an epiphany”. 

The shyness………

“I just was timid. I looked down, I did not look anyone straight in the face, I broke out in sweat if somebody addressed me. Back in Morocco , modesty was a virtue. I really had to learn to be the first. To say: ‘I….'”. 

Does this still bother you sometimes?

“Well, in extraordinary circumstances”. He starts laughing. 

Such as?

“I'm still very modest. I find it hard to speak in the company of people I look up to, who perhaps have more knowledge than I have. Sometimes I just think it is not my place, not my position”.

In a lower voice: “And I am also shy when I……like someone, you see? But, if I tell others that I used to be this shy, they say: ‘You?? Come on!'”.  

At the paper factory, he was a good employee. “I had a notebook and a pen. This was also a tip out of the little book I bought. Be active and listen actively: nod and make notes. At the end of meetings, the supervisor always asked everyone for additional comments and remarks. I solemnly promised myself to always have an opinion. To be as honest as possible. We are all here to make the company grow”.          

He got married to a girl from the village in which he was born. “Much too young”, according to the divorced father of two sons and one daughter. “I was eighteen and she was sixteen years old. We became parents at a very young age”.

Ahmed Marcouch chooses his words carefully, talking about his failed marriage. 

Did you already know your future wife?

“Well, not really. I always went on vacation to my native village. I knew her family, sort of. She was a decent girl. Then, I went to her parents, and asked them for her hand in marriage. It was not an arranged marriage as such. It was my own choice. However, when you are that age, you do not realize the influence of the people around you”. 

Had you ever spoken with her?

Immediately: “No”. He laughs. “I did not generate lots of conversation. I was the shy boy. I had no idea. I did not have any experience either”.  

It seems so strange to live together with someone you hardly know.

“That is because your paradigm, your culture, is completely different. To me it was normal: I have a wife, she has a husband, and now we are going to build our home, our household, our family. Yet, I still had to grow. I was searching, had numerous jobs. I was not able to help her”. 

It must have been difficult for her as well. Coming here, directly from Morocco .

 “Yes, that is the time-machine I talked about at the beginning of this interview. For her, as a woman, it was much more difficult even. She was used to the fact that a woman only came outside the house accompanied by her husband. I expected her to be independent, to run errands on her own, to go to school to learn Dutch. However, she was not prepared for that”.  

That must have put a lot of strain on your relationship.

“Yes. If you have to force someone to cross boundaries, that is not very good for your relationship”. 

That is the way you tried to help her?

“Yes, relentlessly in a way. Because I did not fully understand. I thought: ‘Come on, take the Dutch course! Other women are not even allowed to do that!' Much later, I realized how many obstacles she had to overcome, to take this step”.  

You are talking about this in a rational way, but your divorce must have been difficult.

“It has been the hardest decision I ever had to make. It has changed who I am”. 

Why?

“I felt like I was failing my children. I tried to cope with it as well as I possibly could, for the sake of my children. I have a good relationship with them, and with my ex-wife as well – I talk with them every day. Every morning, I take my seven year old daughter to school. I am involved in what happens at her school”. 

I can imagine Moroccan parents saying: ‘How could he possibly tell me how to raise my child? He is divorced'.

 “Yes that is possible. A divorce is not something you talk about easily, in the Muslim community. Yet, I also know that a lot of children in trouble, are the product of a dysfunctional marriage. When I used to work in the police force, I spent a lot of time solving domestic, relational conflicts. If I look at the way parents are making each other's life a living hell, I think: ‘Do your children a big favor, and get a divorce'”. 

Are you involved in a relationship at present?

“No”.

After the divorce, did you get involved in any relationship?

 “No. It wasn't that easy. It was a difficult time. I'm so involved and busy with everything I do. I want to give all my time and energy to my children”.

Hesitating: “I still have not met anyone with whom I ………I'm not really preoccupied with it. Maybe it is a fear of commitment”. 

But women like you a lot, so I have heard.

 “Really? Okay. Yes, ehm……..” Shyly: “Well, then you are better informed than I am”.  

After three years of working at the paper factory, he went to the police academy. It was something out of his childhood. He remembers listening to the motorbikes and sirens of Starsky and Hutch, at the entrance of the local coffee house (he could not afford to go to this village cinema).

He spent ten years, working as a police officer. At the same time, he went to college to do social studies. This was before he entered the political arena. “Being a policeman is a wonderful job. If you understand your vocation, it is a good position to help others”. 

Where does your vocation come from?

“It has been inspired by religion. You have to do the best you can, for others. You have to be of service to others. You have to bring up the best in yourself. We all felt this, the entire family”. 

There are, however, Muslims who say: ‘We have to submit to our destiny. It's God's will'.

“Yes, well, they obviously do not understand”.  

Okay.

Laughs: “No, really, they do not understand. God has given us reason. We have to use it”.

Are you still glad you made it as Chairman of Amsterdam-Slotervaart?

“Yes, I have a mission”.  

I heard you even pick up empty cans from the street.

“It is a nice thing to do. I think it is strange to walk by and just leave it there”. 

You are doing your very best to improve the quality of life in your district. Aren't you angry about what happened on New Year's Eve, during which the police station was attacked?

“Of course. I am furious at the youngsters who did this. And at their parents. Nobody bothered to pick up the phone. Many parking meters were destroyed and no one even considered calling the police. This is outrageous. And I am mad at myself. That I did not take enough measures to prevent this".  

However, you have warned everyone that there could be riots on New Year's Eve.

Carefully: “Yes…..but maybe I should have raised my voice”. 

Mayor Cohen must have known about this warning.

“I did not call him. I only warned the local chief of police”.  

You warned the right people, and still, you are partly blaming yourself.

“To me, it is a lesson learnt. I do not want to point fingers”. 

 Your assistant says you are very hard on yourself.

“Really? Thinking: “This quality has made me persevere. It has made possible what I have done up until now”.  

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