Snake Charmers, Monkey Handlers, and Storytellers: The Performers of Jemaa el-Fna

The first thing you hear when you approach Jemaa el-Fna from the south side is the pungi. That nasal, droning flute sound that somehow cuts through traffic noise, conversation, and the call to prayer. Follow it and you'll find a man sitting cross-legged on a blanket, a cobra swaying in front of him, and a semicircle of tourists standing at what they hope is a safe distance. This is the scene that has defined the square for centuries. It's also one of the most complicated ethical situations you'll face in Marrakech.

Jemaa el-Fna was designated a UNESCO Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity in 2001. That designation was largely about the performers. Not the food stalls. Not the orange juice stands. The performers. Storytellers, musicians, herbalists, snake charmers, acrobats, and Gnaoua trance performers have occupied this square since at least the 12th century. When the Almoravid dynasty built the Koutoubia mosque, these performers were already here.

The snake charmers are the most visible and controversial group. They typically set up on the western edge of the square, between the Cafe de France and the row of orange juice stalls. You'll see them from mid-morning until sunset, sometimes later. Most work with Egyptian cobras, puff adders, and the occasional Barbary macaque thrown into the act for variety. The snakes are real. The danger is debatable.

Here's what actually happens. Most cobras used in the square have been defanged or had their venom glands removed by a practice called venomoid surgery. This doesn't make the snakes harmless (they can still bite, and infection is a real risk), but it reduces the risk of fatal envenomation. The charmers know their animals. Most come from families in the Aissaoua brotherhood, a Sufi order that has practiced snake handling since the 15th century. For them, this is a spiritual practice as much as a tourist attraction.

That said, the welfare of the animals is a real concern. Cobras are kept in small baskets or bags for hours in the Marrakech heat. The pungi doesn't actually hypnotize the snake. Cobras are deaf to airborne sound. They're tracking the movement of the flute, not the music. When a cobra sways, it's in a defensive posture, following a perceived threat. Animal welfare organizations including the Born Free Foundation have documented poor conditions for many of the square's animal performers.

The monkey handlers raise even more serious ethical questions. The Barbary macaques you'll see chained to handlers' wrists or perched on tourists' shoulders are an endangered species. Capturing them from the wild is illegal under Moroccan law. The animals are typically taken as infants from Atlas Mountain populations, their mothers sometimes killed in the process. Their teeth are often pulled or filed down to prevent biting. Organizations like the International Fund for Animal Welfare have been campaigning against this practice for years.

So should you watch? Should you pay? That's your call, and reasonable people disagree. Some argue that tourist money sustains a centuries-old cultural tradition and provides income to families who have few alternatives. Others point out that you can appreciate the cultural heritage of the square without supporting practices that harm animals. A middle path: watch the musicians and storytellers, skip the animal acts.

If you do watch the snake charmers, understand the economics. There is no free show. The moment you stop to look, you've entered an implicit contract. If you take a photo, you owe money. If a snake is placed on your shoulders (this happens quickly and without warning), you definitely owe money. The expected payment is 20-50 MAD for watching and taking photos from a distance. Having a snake draped over you will cost 100-200 MAD, and the charmer will push for more. Agree on a price before the cobra goes around your neck. Not after.

The monkey handlers operate on the same model but more aggressively. A common tactic: a handler approaches you in the crowd, places a monkey on your shoulder before you can react, and then his partner takes a photo with your phone. Now you've had the experience and the photo, and the handler wants 100-200 MAD. Saying no after the fact is difficult because the handler will follow you, sometimes for several blocks. The best defense is spatial awareness. If you see a man with a monkey approaching, create distance. A firm 'La, shukran' (no, thank you) while walking away works. Do not make eye contact with the monkey. Seriously.

The storytellers of Jemaa el-Fna are a different experience entirely, and one that's disappearing. Traditionally, the halqa (circle) was the heart of the square's entertainment. A performer would gather a crowd in a circle and tell stories, recite poetry, perform comedy, or deliver moral tales. The audience would pay at the end. These performers worked in Darija and sometimes Amazigh, making the art form largely inaccessible to tourists but important to Moroccan cultural identity.

Today, the number of active storytellers has collapsed. In the 1980s, there were dozens performing nightly. Now you might find three or four on a good evening. The reasons are predictable: smartphones killed the attention span, young Moroccans moved to cities for different work, and tourist-focused acts (which earn more) crowded out the traditional performers. UNESCO's designation was partly an attempt to reverse this decline, and some funding has gone to training young storytellers, but the art form remains critically endangered.

You'll find the remaining halqas mostly in the eastern half of the square after sunset. Even if you don't understand Darija, watching a skilled storyteller work a crowd is worth the language barrier. They use their whole body, shift between characters, pull audience members into the performance, and build tension like a stand-up comedian working a club. Tipping is expected. Put 10-20 MAD in the collection when it comes around.

The Gnaoua musicians deserve their own mention. Gnaoua is a musical tradition that came to Morocco with enslaved people from sub-Saharan Africa centuries ago. It blends African rhythms with Sufi Islamic elements and uses the guembri (a three-stringed bass lute), iron castanets called qraqeb, and call-and-response vocals. In Jemaa el-Fna, you'll find Gnaoua groups performing in the late afternoon and evening, usually on the south side of the square near the mosque.

The Gnaoua performers in the square are the accessible version of a much deeper tradition. Full Gnaoua ceremonies (called lilas) are all-night healing rituals involving trance states, specific color symbolism, and spirit possession. You won't see that in the square. What you will see is excellent musicianship and rhythms that regularly get tourists dancing whether they planned to or not. Tipping is 10-20 MAD. If you want to go deeper, the Gnaoua World Music Festival in Essaouira (usually held in June) is worth the three-hour bus ride.

Acrobats and gymnasts also perform in the square, mostly young men and boys doing flips, human pyramids, and tumbling routines. These groups set up east of center and perform in the late afternoon. The acrobatics are good. Tips of 10-20 MAD are standard. Some of these performers are associated with informal training schools in the Medina where older acrobats teach younger ones.

The herbalists and traditional medicine sellers occupy a strange middle ground between performer and vendor. They set up tables piled with roots, dried animals, powders, and handwritten signs promising cures for everything from baldness to impotence. Some of this is actual traditional Moroccan herbalism. Some is pure theater. The herbalist's pitch is a performance in itself, often lasting 20-30 minutes with elaborate demonstrations. You're not obligated to buy anything, and most of what they sell is harmless if useless.

Practical tips for engaging with performers. First, keep your phone in your pocket until you've decided whether to pay. The photo-then-demand-money dynamic is the source of 90% of negative interactions. Second, carry small bills. Having exact change (20 MAD notes and coins) lets you pay what's fair without overpaying because you only have 100 MAD notes. Third, if you're with children, keep them close. Performers will target kids (putting snakes or monkeys on them) because parents are almost guaranteed to pay. Fourth, the best time to watch performers without pressure is late afternoon during Ramadan, when the square is quieter and performers are more relaxed.

The ethical framework is ultimately personal. These performers are real people earning a living in a city with limited economic opportunities. The average snake charmer earns 200-400 MAD on a good day, which is modest by Marrakech standards. At the same time, some of these practices hurt animals. You can respect the cultural tradition while choosing which specific acts to support with your money. Watch the musicians. Listen to a storyteller. Tip a Gnaoua group. And if the animal acts make you uncomfortable, it's perfectly fine to walk past.

One thing is certain: Jemaa el-Fna without its performers would be just another plaza. What makes the square is the people performing in it, a tradition of gathering in public to watch and be watched that goes back centuries. That tradition is under pressure from tourism that wants it sanitized and economic forces that push performers toward whatever act earns the most dirhams. Seeing it on your own terms, deciding what to support and what to skip, is part of understanding Marrakech.