Muimma 3nina and the Mortar

The mortar holds significant meaning and was ever-present in my childhood and our community. My grandmother brought her mortar with her, and my mother had her own as well. My parental grandmother Rachel passed her mortar to my mother before she passed away, since mortars are inherited and carried forward through generations, becoming talismanic objects in motion. Since my grandmother lived with us, her mortar stayed in our house. Although I didn't receive the physical mortar, I feel I've been given a gift. My longing for my grandmother's mortar has been satisfied in an unexpected way. Discovering Muima 3hnina pounding the mortar in the propaganda film felt like a gift in itself.

Esther Messas 1950

The traditional Moroccan brass mortar, known as mehraz (المهراز), produces a strikingly rich and resonant soundscape that emerges from its dense, metallic structure and the rhythmic gestures of its use. When struck by the brass pestle, the mortar releases a bright, bell-like chime that reverberates through the surrounding space, carrying a percussive clarity that lingers in the air. The weight of the pestle combined with the firm grip, creates a series of layered auditory textures—a deep, grounding thud as ingredients are crushed, punctuated by sharp, high-pitched metallic rings when the pestle glances against the interior walls. This interplay of tones shifts depending on the force and angle of each movement, transforming the act of grinding into an immersive, tactile sound experience.

The sonic presence of the mehraz is a signal, a rhythmic invocation of preparation and ritual. In moments of rapid grinding, the high-frequency metallic overtones intensify… It stayed in my body not because of the mortar but because I wanted to connect to my grandmother; I was looking for an embodied signal.

Dar Illigh, August 2023.

Note: Watching the film archive: Topographic montage of maps and borders like ink drawings overlaid onto the "pastoral" and "exotic" landscapes of Morocco. Classic French European soundtrack, it's already starting ambiguous, what a disconnection. My uncle responds to the French agent in Tamazight, but it sounds like someone else. The whole movie was brutally overlaid with foreign voices and sounds. I see my uncle David, I see my aunt Esther, I cannot hear their voices because of the voice-over French translation, a woman sorting wheat seeds on a large tray on the floor. There are rare moments of real sound, and I am attuned to them. The real sound, with its poor quality, is intense enough to bring me closer and closer.

There are only a few rare moments in the film where the original sound was heard, and one of them is that three-and-a-half second scene of Muima Hnina pounding with a wooden mortar.

Performative note: I am looping the 3-and-a-half seconds of pounding mortar, sculpting its grain with electroacoustic granular synth. The repetitive pounding resonates like an ancestral pulse, evoking a sensory connection that is ambiguous and haunting. I don't know if I am the one affecting her or if I'm being affected. preying the abstract. October 2023.