"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 can't get enough

Today, Jalal smiles and calls himself an Afro-Belarusian, celebrates Easter, and actively maintains TikTok with his daughter. He considers his arrival in Belarus a great adventure and a huge stroke of luck. How karaoke lessons helped a foreigner learn Russian, why Moroccan relatives fell in love with Narach bread, and how Jalal ended up at a Salihorsk mine, writes the publication "Electronic Salihorsk".

We only knew one word — "yes"

Jalal arrived in Belarus in August 2005 with two close friends. The guys planned to enroll in 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 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 housed in an airport staff hotel, which cost them a huge amount of money. But they were very lucky: one of the girls who worked at the airport spoke 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 paper, we went to the rector again. They allocated us rooms, and that's how our Belarusian adventures began."

Karaoke lessons

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

But what's surprising: I love the Belarusian language even more than Russian — it's closer to my heart. When I hear Belarusian speech, I feel 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 turned out to be karaoke lessons. Teachers simply played popular songs for the foreigners, and they memorized unfamiliar words from them.

"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 Am a Chocolate Bunny.' The song is cheerful, 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 encountered financial problems. However, it was during this difficult period that he met his future wife.

The girl was from Salihorsk, and in Minsk, she studied at BSPU named after Maxim Tank. The international family still has their most beloved romantic spot in the capital — a bus stop on Rakasouski Avenue near Minsk's very first hypermarket, "Hippo." It was there, in the grocery store, that their fateful meeting took place.

"When I first came to Belarus, I tasted glazed cheese curds 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 curds there and unexpectedly touched each other. That's how it all began."

From the capital — to the wife's hometown

The young couple got married in Salihorsk, but initially remained living in Minsk, where they rented an apartment. Studies had to be temporarily put aside to support the 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 job also helped me learn the language. Although, of course, my main teacher was my wife. I was lucky: she knew French, so at first, we easily found a common language."

The couple decided to move from Minsk to the wife's hometown. City life on a small loader's salary with expensive housing rent became unbearable, and in Salihorsk, an apartment left by her grandmother was vacant.

"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 have been living in Salihorsk for 18 years. I got used to it, settled in, and now it's my home. As for the friends I came with, they didn't stay in the country: one didn't even live 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 at home, for example, working in the Moroccan embassy.

"That dream remained in the past, but there's nothing terrible about that. Instead, I found a beloved family here," Jalal reflects. "Later, I still enrolled in a linguistic university, successfully graduated, 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 himself, 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 initially very worried that I wouldn't 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. It took us half a year for them to get to know me completely, accept me, and love me as their own. I decided it would be cruel for a man to take their only daughter far from home. Secondly, Moroccan culture differs fundamentally from Belarusian. My wife would have had too long and difficult a time adapting there. Why subject her to such stress?"

Павялічыць

"Belarusians are one degree kinder than Moroccans"

At first, in the new country, Jalal sincerely didn't understand the local humor. He thought that because of his lack of knowledge of traditions and a foreign culture, people were just making fun of him.

"But that wasn't the case at all," Jalal smiles. "I needed to live here for two or three years to adapt, get used to it, 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, my wife is here, and my friends are here. This is not just another compliment, but the pure truth. If you compare Moroccans and Belarusians, my native people are, of course, also kind, 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 ore department of "Belaruskali" — in the crushing department.

"I won't even talk about ideal cleanliness; everyone knows it already: Belarus is the cleanest country in the world, that's an indisputable fact," the Moroccan reflects. "But I also incredibly like that no matter whom you ask 'How are you?', even if the person's salary is small, they will always answer: 'Everything's fine!'"

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

Jalal admits that in Morocco, he would not have had a single chance to appear on television or play in KVN (Club of the Cheerful and Resourceful), although he deeply dreamed of it. But in Belarus, after receiving 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 in Salihorsk kindergarten No. 25. At that time, all the mines participated in the humorous tournament, and the kindergarten staff went as an auxiliary workshop. Jalal went on stage, and their team immediately took first place.

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

Previously, Jalal flew home to Morocco quite often, but now plane tickets have become much more expensive. The last time he visited his parents was in 2024; he flew alone, and before that, he took his whole family on vacation. Relatives in Morocco miss Jalal and his family terribly, and the Salihorsk resident always brings them an unusual treat from Belarus — loaves of black Narach 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 education degrees, currently working as a kindergarten teacher. His eldest son, Amir, is already 17 years old and studies in the 11th grade, while his younger daughter, Yasmina, has moved to the 4th grade. By the way, 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," Jalal laughs. "I remember the first time I tasted borscht. The soup was very tasty, 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 amazing. Now I can't eat borscht without sour cream at all."

But the main and most passionate gastronomic love of the Moroccan in Belarus became draniki once and for all. Jalal fell in love with them from the first bite and admitted that he eats them like seeds.

The only local dish that Jalal never really took to is classic golubtsy (cabbage rolls), although he is quite tolerant of lazy golubtsy.

"But my wife Maria has wonderfully learned to cook traditional Moroccan dishes over the years," Jalal says proudly. "She perfectly makes our national soup harira — it's a very thick, hearty soup with chickpeas, completely unlike the pea soup Belarusians are used to. 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, a usual home tea party with a 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 page in the life of the Afro-Belarusian was TikTok, which Jalal's beloved daughter Yasmina helped him discover.

At first, the Moroccan simply went live and participated in battles, but quickly realized it was boring. Then Jalal showed creative ingenuity and invented his own intellectual live show: he hosts 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 tremendous 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 braver, so we gladly light up the screen!"

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