"I love the Belarusian language even more than Russian — it's closer to my heart." A Moroccan has lived in Salihorsk for 18 years and is absolutely delighted

Today Jalal smilingly calls himself an Afro-Belarusian, celebrates Easter, and actively uses TikTok with his daughter. He considers his arrival in Belarus a great adventure and enormous luck. About how karaoke lessons helped the foreigner learn Russian, why Moroccan relatives fell in love with Narachan bread, and how Jalal ended up in the Salihorsk mine, the publication "Elektronny Salihorsk" writes.

We only knew one word — "yes"

In August 2005, Jalal arrived in Belarus with two close friends. The guys planned to enroll at BSU, study to become translators, and return to Morocco.

"When we arrived at the university and went to see the rector, we realized we had fallen into a trap," Jalal recalls. "We didn't know the language at all, and no one around us understood what we wanted. At that moment, our entire vocabulary consisted of a single Russian word — 'Da' (Yes); we didn't even know the word 'Net' (No). And we only learned that word because our French teacher in Morocco had a funny surname, Dada."

After their arrival, the foreigners were temporarily accommodated in a departmental hotel for airport employees, where living was extremely expensive for them. But they were very lucky: one of the girls who worked at the airport knew French (and for Moroccans, French is a second native language).

"We wrote her a note saying that we had come to learn Russian and desperately needed a dormitory," the hero smiles. "She translated our request into Russian. With that piece of paper, we went back to the rector. They allocated us rooms, and that's how our Belarusian adventures began."

Karaoke lessons

"Initially, we thought Russian was simple. That was absolutely not the case," Jalal shakes his head. "It's incredibly difficult. I've lived in Belarus for 21 years, but I still can't say I know it perfectly: my grammar is weak, and I sometimes make mistakes with accents.

But what's surprising: I love the Belarusian language even more than Russian — it's closer to my heart. When I hear Belarusian speech, it feels like I'm listening to a beautiful song."

Studying at the preparatory faculty of BSU brought many surprises to the Moroccan students. One of the most effective subjects for them became karaoke lessons. Teachers would simply play popular songs for the foreigners, from which they would memorize unfamiliar words.

"We were shocked," laughs the Salihorsk resident. "The very first song they played for us was perfectly suited to our situation — it was Pierre Narcisse's hit 'I'm a Chocolate Bunny.' A fun song, I won't deny it! But after that, I learned 'Moscow Nights,' and it remains my favorite to this day."

Love in the dairy section

The Moroccan friends studied Russian for three and a half years, still intending to become translators. But over time, Jalal faced financial problems. However, it was during this difficult period that he met his future wife.

The girl was from Salihorsk and studied at Maksim Tank Belarusian State Pedagogical University in Minsk. The international family still has its most beloved romantic spot in the capital — a bus stop on Rokossovsky Avenue near Minsk's very first hypermarket, "Hippo." It was there, in the grocery store, that their fateful encounter took place.

"When I first came to Belarus, I tasted glazed curd snacks for the first time in my life," Jalal recalls. "I was lucky that my future wife also loved them. We met in the dairy section. We were buying curd snacks and unexpectedly touched each other. That's how it all started."

From the capital to his wife's small homeland

The young couple got married in Salihorsk but initially stayed in Minsk, where they rented an apartment. Jalal had to temporarily leave his studies to support his young family.

"I went to work as a loader, and I'm not ashamed of it one bit; I'm proud of that experience," the Moroccan frankly admits. "This work also helped me in mastering the language. Although, of course, my wife was my main teacher. I was lucky: she knew French, so at first, we easily found common ground."

The couple decided to move from Minsk to his wife's small homeland. Life in the capital on a small loader's salary with expensive housing rent became unbearable, and in Salihorsk, an apartment left by her grandmother was just empty.

"We left Minsk with great regret," Jalal shares. "We really liked the capital. And moving to an unfamiliar city is always a huge stress. But as a result, I've been living in Salihorsk for 18 years now. I got used to it, settled in, now it's my home. As for the friends I came with, they didn't stay in the country: one didn't even live here for a year and left for Spain, and the other moved to Poland five years later."

Of course, Jalal's initial global goal did not come true. He came to Belarus for a quality diploma, understanding that with a European education, he could occupy a prestigious position in his homeland, for example, working at the Moroccan embassy.

"That dream remained in the past, but there's nothing terrible about it. Instead, I found a beloved family here," Jalal reflects. "Later, I still enrolled in a linguistic university, successfully completed it, and received a diploma as a philologist, a French language teacher. I am very satisfied with my education."

Jalal eventually changed his mind about returning to Morocco, and the man had two noble reasons for this.

"Firstly, my wife is the only daughter of my father-in-law and mother-in-law. Of course, they were very worried at first that I might take their child far away to another continent. I wasn't offended; on the contrary, it's proof of how much they love and protect their daughter. Six months were enough for them to get to know me completely, accept me, and love me as their own. I considered it cruel for a man to take their only daughter far from home. Secondly, the culture of Morocco is fundamentally different from Belarusian culture. My wife would have had to adapt for too long and too hard there. Why subject her to such stress?"

Павялічыць

"Belarusians are one degree kinder than Moroccans"

Initially, in the new country, Jalal genuinely didn't understand local humor. He thought that because of his unfamiliarity with traditions and foreign culture, people were simply making fun of him.

"But that was absolutely not the case," Jalal smiles. "I needed to live here for two or three years to adapt, get used to things, and understand everything. The Belarusian people are the kindest of all I have ever met. And I'm not saying this because my children were born here, or because my wife and friends are here. This isn't just another compliment; it's the pure truth. If you compare Moroccans and Belarusians, my native people are, of course, also good, but Belarusians are still one degree kinder."

Jalal admits that he has changed many professions. He worked as a loader for six years, then was a janitor, a repair fitter, and later moved to the mines. Now he works at the first mine administration of "Belaruskali" — in the crushing department.

"I won't even talk about the ideal cleanliness; everyone already knows this: Belarus is the cleanest country in the world, that's an undeniable fact," the Moroccan reflects. "But what I also absolutely love is that no matter who you ask 'How are you?', even if their salary is small, they will always answer: 'Everything is fine!'"

"What didn't work out in Morocco came true here"

Jalal admits that in Morocco, he would not have had any chance to get on television or play in KVN (Club of the Funny and Resourceful), although he really dreamed of it. But in Belarus, after obtaining a residence permit, all doors opened for him, and all these desires unexpectedly came true.

He won his first KVN cup when he worked as a janitor at Salihorsk kindergarten No. 25. At that time, all the mines participated in the humorous tournament, and the kindergarten employees joined as an auxiliary unit. Jalal went on stage, and their team immediately took first place.

"And recently, I was invited to become a host for the TV program 'Belye Rosy' (White Dew), which is filmed all over Belarus. According to the project's concept, the host must be a foreigner," Jalal shares his joy. "When they called me from the casting and approved me for the role, I was in shock. I'm a TV host, and I will host a program in Russian, a language I once didn't even know! For me, it's a miracle: all my cherished dreams have come true right here, in Belarus."

Previously, Jalal flew to his homeland in Morocco quite often, but now plane tickets have become much more expensive. He last visited his parents in 2024, flying alone, and before that, he took his entire family for holidays. His relatives in Morocco miss Jalal and his family terribly, and the Salihorsk resident himself always brings them an unusual gift from Belarus — loaves of black Narachan bread. There is no such product in Morocco, and his Southern relatives eat it with great pleasure.

Jalal has a wonderful family: his wife Maria is an experienced educator with two higher educations, now working as a kindergarten teacher. Their elder son Amir is already 17 years old and studies in the 11th grade, while their younger daughter Yasmina has moved to the 4th grade. Incidentally, at school, the fact that their dad is a charismatic foreigner was very positively received by the children's classmates. They constantly ask Amir and Yasmina how far Morocco is and what it's like to have such an interesting international family.

Culinary shock: sour cream in soup and love for draniki

"No matter what topic we delve into, it always comes back to humor for us," Jalal laughs. "I remember when I first tasted borscht. The soup was very delicious, but my friends and I experienced a cultural shock when we were offered to add sour cream to it. How can you even put it in soup?! In Morocco, no one would even think about it. But we risked it, tasted it, and it was astounding. Now I can't eat borscht without sour cream at all."

But the Moroccan's main and most ardent culinary love in Belarus became draniki (potato pancakes) once and for all. Jalal fell in love with them at first bite and admitted that he eats them like sunflower seeds.

The only local dish that Jalal never got used to is classic golubtsy (cabbage rolls), although he is quite loyal to lazy golubtsy (lazy cabbage rolls, usually without rolling).

"On the other hand, over the years, my wife Maria has wonderfully learned to cook traditional Moroccan dishes," Jalal proudly says. "She perfectly makes our national soup, harira — it's a very thick, hearty soup with chickpeas, which is completely unlike the pea soup familiar to Belarusians. She also makes excellent couscous."

Easter traditions and TikTok battles

Integration into Belarusian culture has gone so far that Jalal's international family celebrates all local holidays with great pleasure. For example, they start preparing for New Year's in advance and plan a rich festive table. In Morocco, New Year's is also celebrated, but without such importance — there everything is much simpler, with a usual home tea party and cake.

But Jalal's most beloved holiday unexpectedly became Easter.

"I am a Muslim, but I sincerely love Belarusian Easter!" the hero admits. "I terribly love these festive buns and the tradition of 'fighting' with colored eggs."

A new bright chapter in the Afro-Belarusian's life became TikTok, which his beloved daughter Yasmina helped Jalal to discover.

Initially, the Moroccan simply went live and participated in battles, but quickly realized it was boring. Then Jalal showed creative ingenuity and came up with his own intellectual live show: he conducts educational quizzes for subscribers on various topics with three answer options (in the style of the famous TV game "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?"), and also plays online "Crocodile" with viewers. People still admire his charisma in the comments.

"All this popularity happened only thanks to the enormous support of my daughter and wife," Jalal smiles. "Our mom acts as the operator. She and our son Amir are modest and shy people; they don't like to get close to the camera, but Yasmina and I are bolder, so we gladly light up the frame!"

• 7
• 0
• 0
• 1
• 0
• 0
• 0
• 1