How AI keeps sport scribbler onside in Morocco

Over the past few weeks here in Morocco, I have often felt like one of the actors on the set of that hugely popular 1970s British sitcom Mind Your Language.

For those who don’t know, the series is about people from different countries, social backgrounds, religions and languages having to communicate in English.

I have learnt during my travels that when you are in a foreign country, one of the most important things is to try to communicate in the local language as a sign of respect. That way, it is easy to win them over because they usually respond positively to your charm offensive and are helpful because they appreciate that you are trying your best.

That’s how I have gone about my business for the past two weeks or so in Morocco, where I am covering the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations (Afcon). Bafana Bafana are in the last 16 against Cameroon today.

It has been an eventful fortnight; most of my interactions have been comical because I don’t speak Arabic or French and a significant majority of the people here don’t speak English. This is a recipe for disaster because wherever I go there are always serious communication challenges, like in the Mind Your Language class where students struggle to communicate with each other — let alone comprehend instructions from teacher Jeremy Brown.

I often find myself in situations where technology provides the best solution for a breakdown in communication

In this day and age, you only have yourself to blame if you find yourself stranded. AI is there to help, and Google Translate and ChatGPT have been my best friends. I often find myself in situations where technology provides the best solution for a breakdown in communication.

ChatGPT comes in particularly handy when I am ordering food because all the menus are in Arabic and/or French. On one occasion I ordered something that turned out not to be what I was expecting and my dirhams went down the drain.

Google Translate helped when I needed a toothpick and the waiter was flummoxed by my attempts at sign language.

Then there are the taxi drivers, essential role players for visitors who don’t have cars. I got into an argument with one, Mahmoud, who took me from my lodgings in Marrakesh to the football stadium.

I asked him to stop at a petrol station en route so I could draw cash from an ATM, and he used this as a pretext to hike the fare to an unreasonable level, saying I had to pay extra for the waiting time.

I countered that I had spent less than two minutes at the ATM. Our discussion grew heated, but everything he said passed blissfully over my head because it was all in Arabic. In the end we recruited Google Translate, and reached agreement.

Some taxi drivers use an app which allows them to use their phones as automatic translation devices.

The apartment in which I’m staying does not have a unit number, so it becomes difficult for drivers to know where to pick me up. But fortunately I have a picture of the building and a standard message in Arabic, typed by the security guard, with precise directions.

Ordering street food is a major challenge. If you don’t use AI to make yourself clear, all I can say is “good luck”.

Over the weeks I have picked up some phrases in French and Arabic for greetings and sharing pleasantries. It’s not much, but the people I interact with appreciate my efforts.

Despite the language barrier I am enjoying my temporary life as a cast member of Mind Your Language touring the beautiful cities of Marrakesh, Agadir and Rabat. I will definitely be back.

Inshallah.