For people moving to Morocco desiring to stay for a long period of time, they will need to apply for a carte de sejour (residency card).  You can find the list of documents needed for this in Part 1 of our Applying for Residency series.  Gathering the documents is a process in itself, and submitting the paperwork is another experience altogether.  For myself, I asked some of my friends about their experiences when they submitted their applications, and this gave me an idea of what to expect.  The purpose of this article is to hopefully give you a reasonable expectation if you ever need to apply. 

Disclaimer: This article is particular to my own experience, and your own results may vary depending on where in the country you are applying. 

…As I stand outside the police station in the brisk spring weather, I wonder how long my wife and I will be here this morning.  We had arrived around 8:40am this Wednesday morning and received number 32 from the police officer attending to the line of foreigners.  The sun peeks over the nearby buildings, and I wonder what time the people who arrived before me had arrived in order to receive the first numbers. 

What fate awaits me today?

After waiting outside for an hour and a half, my wife and I are allowed to enter the main foyer of the Maarif police prefecture.  The line continues until we are greeted by two female police officers collecting electronics.  We hand over our phones in exchange for two numbered, plastic squares.  Following this, we sign a sheet with our names, nationalities, passport numbers, and current time (10:10) on lines 55 and 56.  Then, we stroll into a waiting area and find a place to sit, taking in the room.  Three workers are standing behind a large uni-desk, while two other workers are seated further back at their own desks with computers.  The room is full of the same people we had seen outside.  A few minutes after seating ourselves, we hear the first number, barely audible in the full room.  “Quatorze,” (fourteen), speaks one of the workers in French, quickly followed by “Quinze,” (fifteen).  I glance down at the number 32 written on my small piece of paper.  “This looks like it will be a long morning…”

Scanning the room, I look to the back corner where the list of necessary documents is posted.  Because people surrendered their phones in the previous room, they are handwriting the list with pen and paper.  Separate lists for business owners, spouses, employees, and students fill the bulletin board.  I had mistakenly not brought a book this day, so I return back to people-watching.  

As the called numbers creep into the upper twenties, my anticipation rises.  I pull out the two binders in my backpack that contain the paperwork we have been busily gathering for the past month.  Finally, around 11:45am, “trente deux” is quietly mumbled and we anxiously walk up to the front desk, three hours after we had joined the line outside. I greet the worker in my best Moroccan Arabic and am met with stone face.  I explain that my wife and I are business owners needing to apply for residency.  “What percentage owners are you?” he asks. “40% for me, and 25% for her.” I reply.  “She has to own 30% or more of the company, otherwise she has to apply as your spouse,” comes the response*.  “Bummer,” I think to myself.  While this is not completely unexpected, the response means that we will be spending significant amount of time here in the future…

The worker asks me to present my documents one by one.  

Passport pages…check.

Rental contract…check.

Personal bank statement…not three months-worth but the quantity is enough to show sufficient means of surviving in Morocco. 

Business bank statement…I explain that our business has just been formed and we are in the process of opening a bank account.  “What amount of money is necessary to have in this bank account?” I inquire.  He indicates an amount that will be enough.  Our business start-up capital is half the amount he mentions, so that might be an accounting challenge…

Background check…my FBI background check from the US turned three months old the previous week, so now it has become invalid.  “What do I do?  I can’t go back to the States and get a new one,” I state.  “The courthouse in Rabat can help you with that,” is the reply.  Hmm, I wasn’t planning a trip to Rabat anytime soon… 

At my request, the worker scans the business documents to confirm that they are still valid. Thankfully the verified copies have not expired, which means we will only need to figure out the business bank statement and the background check before we make a return trip.  

In the ensuing days, I am able to obtain a Moroccan background check at the Court of First Instances in Casablanca.  Our business bank account is also opened, and the capital start up funds are deposited into it.  The next week, we return to the police station on a Thursday, this time arriving at 8:20am.  We are handed number 39, and wait three and a half hours before I am able to submit my paperwork again.  While in the waiting room, we are scolded for reading on our Kindles, and are ordered to put them away.

When number 39 is called, my wife and I walk up to a different worker at the desk.  My 90-day tourist visa is set to expire the following day, and when the worker notices this, he says, “You delayed.”  I explain to him that we had come the previous week and were working hard to gather all of our paperwork.  He closely examines all of the documents and says they look good.  

Relief. 

Over the next hour, we wait in another line to pay the application fee for a one-year carte de sejour, 100 dh.  I am informed by the supervisor that I need to return on Monday for an interview.  On the way out of the building, we talk to the police officer who had scolded us for using our Kindles.  We apologize that we didn’t know they were forbidden, and he kindly explains that he understands our situation, but if he had allowed us to use them, then other people might be confused and think that electronics are allowed.  We leave, thankful that we had been able to talk to him, able to see him as a human being of worth, rather than just labeling him a cranky police officer. 

The following Monday I return for my interview.  I am taken upstairs, wait for 20-30 minutes, then talk to a worker for over an hour, explaining my educational and work experience.  She is satisfied, and takes me back downstairs, where the supervisor tells me to return in three weeks for my recipisse (official receipt). 

Three weeks later I return, wait briefly, then talk to another worker who says to return in three weeks to a month.  Four weeks later I return on a rainy morning and am rewarded with my recipisse!  The worker tells me to return in a month to receive my carte de sejour; upon receiving it my wife will be able to apply for her own.  As of the publication of this article, a month’s time has not yet passed.

Best of luck to you as you apply for your own carte de sejour! 

*The general consensus is that someone needs to own at least 35% of a business to be able to apply as a manager/owner; however, we have heard of success stories of people receiving residency with a percentage less than that, which is why we tried.  It also seems that only one spouse (the husband) can apply for carte de sejour at a time as a business owner, regardless of the ownership share.

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