Casablanca youth fight radicalism with rap

CASABLANCA, Morocco, Apr 30 (Reuters) Six suicide blasts in Morocco's biggest city have sparked fears of more al Qaeda-linked bombings to come, but they provided an unlikely inspiration for a streetwise young rap musician.

Sitting in the cramped back room of a Casablanca apartment, his friends beating out the rhythm on their hands and chests, Younes Samih launches into his latest song, ''Today's War''.

''What do you want -- to make blood and tears flow? Have you found no other way out except to blow yourself up?'' the 23-year-old pours out in a quickfire torrent of Arabic.

''Come with us and think about it. Don't let yourself be poisoned. If you die by blowing yourself up, where will you leave your heart?'' Since March 11, six bombers have died after detonating suicide belts in incidents that wounded more than 20 people in Casablanca but killed only one other person, a police officer. In the latest and most spectacular, two brothers blew themselves up on April 14 outside the US consulate.

Despite the low death toll, the events have rattled locals and revived memories of al Qaeda-linked attacks in the city in 2003 when a dozen suicide bombers struck simultaneously, killing 45 people including themselves. The government said last week it was pouring an extra 2,000 police into the city.

''This isn't over. This is a new beginning,'' says Mohamed Darif, a Moroccan analyst on Islamist movements who sees the recent blasts as part of a wider al Qaeda resurgence in North Africa.

CITY OF CONTRASTS Why has the violence here focused on Casablanca? ''Casablanca is a little Morocco. All the contradictions of Moroccan society, you find in Casablanca -- political left and right, Islamists of all colours, poverty and wealth,'' Darif says of the city of 4-5 million, one of the largest in Africa.

Driving out from the centre of Morocco's economic capital, with its wide boulevards and squares shaded by palm trees, a visitor quickly starts to notice those contrasts.

Large tower blocks loom at the side of the highway, then the first shantytowns come into view. At first sight, the vast slum of Sidi Moumen looks like an earthquake zone, a chaotic jumble of brick and corrugated iron, low-slung walls and roofs.

Perhaps a third of a million people live, sometimes 10 to a room, in the now notorious neighbourhoods where several of the latest suicide bombers, as well as those of 2003, had their homes.

Incongruously, many of the shacks have satellite dishes.

Curious to meet a visitor, children wave and local men crowd round. They are friendly but the prevailing mood is despair.

''Miseria (misery),'' one man says over and over in Spanish.

''There are no jobs, there's no money,'' says a 22-year-old man named Youssef. ''That's the bathroom,'' he adds, laughing, pointing to a communal tap in a dusty open space strewn with rubbish and frequented by the odd cow, sheep or hen.

''No one works. They sleep till 11 o'clock or midday,'' says Hassan, an older man with gappy, decayed teeth. Do people here fear more violence? ''You never know. You have to be ready for anything.'' YOUTH NETWORK Across town, on a sunny weekend afternoon, there is a brighter mood in the Sbata neighbourhood where a youth network is holding a street meeting to encourage youngsters to register and vote in parliamentary elections later this year.

Among members of the network, Reseau Maillage, there is a universal rejection of the suicide bombers and a fear they have tainted the country's image.

''We're all practising Muslims but we don't recognise that kind of Islam. We don't know where these people are coming from, disturbing our lives,'' says Taoufik Rachid, a volunteer.

''They are fragile people and they've been brainwashed,'' says Amal Ahboub, a young woman of 21.

Since the latest blasts, the youth groups say they have deliberately organised more of their gatherings and concerts in the open air to show they are not intimidated.

''We keep on arranging street activities to show we're not afraid of the street,'' says Amane El Aouad, another volunteer. ''They can't extinguish our joie de vivre.'' It is in her apartment that the rapper, Younes, rehearses his song about the bombings. In a couple of weeks, he will perform it at a big concert to mark the anniversary of the suicide attacks of May 16, 2003 -- a date engraved on Moroccan minds like September. 11 for Americans.

The lyrics flow on.

''Our country was calm and peaceful, until these criminals changed all that,'' says the swaying singer with the jet black, slicked-back hair.

''But it doesn't matter. We will erase all that and we will carry on.'' REUTERS SZ PM0855