Briony’s Homecoming Gig, Melbourne – SCORCHER FEST, 9th Dec

Ok, ok, so this is a bit premature, huh? Well, excuse me for getting all excited like.

Mark the date. On the 9th of December, about a week after I return to Melbourne after volunteering in Morocco for the better part of this year, I will be playing my first gig back in Australia at SCORCHER FEST, an awesome music festival in its 10th year, proudly supporting local musicians.

I can’t think of a better homecoming than to have you there to support my set, and to enjoy the other 49 acts over 3 stages that will be on offer throughout the day jam-packed full of awesomeness.

Tickets are only $25!

They can be purchased through me (preferred – shoot me an email at, or through the festival website. If you use the latter method, just make sure you select me as the act you’re coming to see.


If you haven’t already checked out my music (a mix of indie/folk/jazz/blues), you can find me by clicking here. If you have bought the EP I released in March, hopefully you’re enjoying it immensely and if you haven’t (and like the music) please consider buying one. You’ll be helping to support the volunteer work I’ve been undertaking since April this year in Taroudannt, Morocco (you can read about this in previous posts).  CDs are selling for $15 + $3 postage. Just shoot me an email (again, at You are awesome (in advance).

I seriously can’t think of a better way to celebrate my return, than to have an audience of my friends listening to all the new material I’ve come up with while I’ve been over here. Seriously, it would be awesome.

Until then, take care and stay warm wherever you are (Melbournians, I’ll blow some 50C heat your way if you like),

x Briony


Update on the women’s income-generating project, Taroudannt, Morocco

Given that my last few blog posts have been about either my glorious voyage around Morocco or music updates, I thought it time to remind you, dear supporters, that I am indeed still over here to work!

Hence, here’s an update on the Women’s Project on which I am working. This, for those who don’t know, is just one of Group Maroc Horizons’ and its London partner, the Moroccan Children’s Trust’s, many endeavours to provide support to street children and their families in Taroudannt, Morocco.

For the last month the Centre Afak has been very quiet as it has been school holidays (hence the timing of my country-wide trip). As of the 20th of July it has also been Ramadan, and very, very hot, so things seem to be happening even more slowly than the already laidback pace. Nevertheless, the development of a women’s income generating project, for the mothers of children who visit our centre, is still coming along nicely.

We are still working very closely with the women, and this week we have commenced individual conversations with the women about how the project will look practically for them, inviting them to make suggestions and talk through any potential problems in anticipation of a pilot of the project. So far we’ve had a really positive response! We hope to commence a one-month trial in the next month, though Ramadan does post an obstacle to productivity so we’ll have to work around this.

So, what does the project look like? For those who haven’t been following this blog, the seven interested members of our women’s group, which has been convening once a week since September 2010, have, along with me and my Moroccan colleague, come up with a business model whereby they will cook and deliver lunches, Monday-Friday, for the many government office workers who often cannot find time to leave their posts to buy lunch. Those women whose houses have working kitchens will host groups of 2-3 women to prepare the food, and each will be responsible for her own set of clients. At the request of the women, they will be provided with training in the areas necessary for the functioning of the project, with the possibility of further training in other areas such as literacy.

As well as assisting the women to generate some income, our women’s group continues to provide a safe space for women to talk about their daily challenges, their rights, parenting practices, solutions to their worries, and of course to socialise. Over the course of my time in Morocco (I’ve been here since April), and through the participatory approach we take to meetings, I have noticed the women’s confidence and engagement dramatically increase. It really is wonderful to see a project like this benefiting those who it purports to benefit, and including them meaningfully in each process.

I look forward to keeping you updated as our work with the women and their project continues!


Un Petit Tour du Maroc, Part III – Fez, Volubilis, Moulay Idriss and Meknes

From the crooked, blue washed walls of the hill-set medina in Chefchaouen, we made our way (again on a CTM bus) to Fez.  This wonderful, infamous city was, unanimously, the highlight of the whole trip. However, for me and my fellow travellers, this wasn’t really on account of the city itself (though it was lovely) but for a little guesthouse we stayed at right in the middle of the old town, at which we received the most unprecedented and quite unbelievable hospitality. I have absolutely no second thoughts whatsoever about the free publicity I’m about to give this place and its owners, Aziz and Mohammed, here on this blog.

We arrived at Dar El Yasmine after a little bit of fuss. In our attempts to follow the written instructions we’d received when we booked the hotel online at the last minute, we’d taken a taxi to the edge of the medina, where we assumed we needed to be. There, we were accosted by a shady guy who tried to inform us he was meeting us from his hotel, whilst trying to take our bags. Obviously a complete scam as we hadn’t told anyone that we’d arrived (and outside the walls no less), I picked up my phone to call the guesthouse at which point the guy promptly vanished like a puff of shisha smoke.

After my phone call, and without any fuss this time, we were met by one of the actual staff members from the guesthouse, who greeted us quickly then sped off in front of us, zigzagging between the throngs of people crowding the cluttered and narrow main street of the medina. Hardly able to keep him in sight as we lugged our suitcases behind us, half skipping every few metres, we eventually ducked into a small lane on our left, hung densely with colourful and lush carpets.

Straight on, and around the corner to our right we found it: a mounted plaque announcing our arrival at Dar El Yasmine. Through an ancient wooden door framed by studded, rusted steel, we were welcomed, literally with open arms, by Mohammed, one of the young, entrepreneurial owners. As we sat drinking delicious, sweet mint tea, another young guy flew down the stairs. Quite instantly the energy in the room heightened. His entire face sparkled as he introduced himself, in perfect English, as Aziz, the other owner. We were quite taken aback by the energy, ease and immediate friendliness with which he spoke with us. He truly seemed to personify goodwill and honesty, and indeed proved this to be the case time and time again over the course of the three days we spent there.

Laughing at his choice of dress – a full suit – in such extreme temperatures, Aziz explained enthusiastically that he’d just come from the wedding of his best friend, who was – wouldn’t you know it! – marrying an Australian girl. Of course, as soon as we dropped our bags off in our rooms, we were whisked off as his new guests. Our concerns at being ‘wedding crashers’ were dismissed with a wave of the hand by Aziz, and were further assuaged the moment we arrived. Karim, the groom, welcomed us in as old friends, clearing a table and setting places for us. We dined on tajines of chicken, prune, and goat, and gorged ourselves on caramel ice cream and fruit, eating with other latecomers including an old, man, clearly a victim of hard knocks, who’d heard the music and invited himself in off the street. He was welcomed to the party, just like us, of course.

A Moroccan wedding is truly a spectacle to withhold. A Moroccan bride, with the help of her entourage of ladies hired specifically for the occasion, will typically change her outfit between 5 and 10 times on her wedding day, if you can believe it. Tradition dictates the variety of colours and forms these dresses take, and let me tell you the heavily bejewelled numbers are not for the faint hearted! The bride’s feet and hands will also be covered with intricate patterns of dark henna, her face with a thick slick of makeup, and her eyes decorated with black kohl curving outwards with a dramatic flick. For the most part of the day, in my experience, the bride doesn’t really move (who could, in those heavy garbs?!) but sits there looking very decorated while people take lots of photos.

The bride and groom will also generally make a number of grand entrances to the party during the day. During the time we were at the wedding in Fez, the groom rode in on a horse accompanied by a fanfare of horns, while the bride was carried inside in a l’aamehria, a wooden carriage veiled with shimmery fabric, which was hoisted up on the shoulders of many men (again hired specifically for the occasion).

In Morocco, the party can go all night, with music playing very loudly until the early hours of the morning. I’d experienced this previously on the eve of my departure to Tangier, on the first leg of the trip. Unfortunately, I didn’t crash that one because I was trying to sleep, which simply meant I tore my hair out to the offensively loud and distorted beats and wails from the clearly broken speakers as they bounced off the walls of my bedroom until 5am. At the wedding, however, I was privy to what actually happens when the music is inside the building. Note: manic dancing applies. Hang onto your mothers; I made the mistake of letting mine loose.

After we left the wedding, we wandered the medina for a while before returning to Dar El Yasmine to sit on the cushioned terrace, where Aziz prepared apple shisha for everyone. We were joined by a group of wonderful people, including two recent high school graduates from the Netherlands, Sebastian and Annalou, as well as a Spanish girl who we’d met on the bus to Fez. On the way over, as we stopped at a cafe to refuel, we’d watched on in delight as Sylvia bounded off the bus, bought lunch for and virtually force fed the ancient Moroccan lady (a stranger) still sitting in the seat next to hers. She took no note of the woman’s many polite refusals, instead smiling, laughing and persisting until the woman accepted her offer with gratitude. I instantly loved her for this, as she reminded me of so many of my Spanish friends; like them, she was vociferous, completely forward, unapologetic, and, well, simply wonderful!

Up on the terrace, Aziz suggested that he might cook everyone dinner, which just added to the existing home-away-from-home vibe. A couple of us accompanied Mustafa, a beautiful young Berber lad who’d recently moved to Fez from the desert (but missed his desert ways greatly) to the market to buy everything we needed. We spent the next couple of hours cooking up a storm together in the tiny hotbox of a kitchen. The Dar El Yasmine ‘family dinner’ was recreated every night we were there, and – you may not believe this – when we made a move to fix up our bill at the end of our stay we were told we were not being charged for it. Where on earth, other than Morocco?!

The next day, Aziz and Mohammed had organised us a fantastic private tour to the Roman ruins of Volubilis, Meknes and the sacred city of Moulay Idriss in an air-conditioned minivan (though we certainly didn’t ask for such luxury, it was paradise given the high 40C temperatures!

We first caught sight of the formidable ruins of Volubilis from the road, high about the plateau upon which it slowly disintegrates: far in the distance we could make out crumbling archways cushioned by softly rolling hills. The heat rippled in a haze around us, giving the impression that it was, itself, responsible for the remains. Winding downhill we reached the site, and though we didn’t opt to take a local guide, we found our way around well enough by using our Lonely Planet map. Sure, we missed out on some of the history doing it on our own, but we enjoyed stumbling upon the many beautifully preserved allegorical and mythical mosaics, and trying to recreate the fallen city in our imaginations.

The beautiful ruins at Volubilis

Following Volubilis, we drove through Moulay Idriss, the sacred town where lies the tomb of Moulay Idriss himself, the creator of the first Arab dynasty in Morocco. Up until the year 1916 the town was banned to non-Muslims, due to its sacred status. They say that one trip to Moulay Idriss is worth a fifth of the hajj – the pilgrimage to Mecca – though for us, there was really very little to see.

Our driver also made a stop in a little village, the name of which eludes me, where we were welcomed into the home of a Berber cave-dwelling family. There, the cool earth surrounded us, allowing everyone inside respite from the heat. Though it was a fascinating stop, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. It was obviously a place frequented by tourists, and I watched on in extreme discomfort as one of the much older, and visibly frail women filled a bucket of water to its brim, balanced it on her head and proceeded to show off her dance moves without spilling a drop, egging us on to take photos. Though I know such performances are intended as a means to earning some menial income, I just wanted to pay her to stop! I have never been able to stomach the absolutely unashamed and unequal division of power, or the sense of intrusion, that is always present in these situations. It makes me really sad that the world is like this.

The town of which the name escapes

On the way home we stopped past Meknes, very briefly, though we were all so exhausted we didn’t have much energy to give it a good go. I think I’ve mentioned the heat before. I’ll do it again. The. Heat. Is. Brutal.

And that must be why we decided it’d be a good idea to spend the next three days in the middle of the Sahara desert at Erg Chebbi, on the border with Algeria. Good one, us!

‘Til the next episode,