The Terminus
[A card, purchased at a small souk in the Marrakech Market. It is my name, Patrick, written in Arabic by a calligrapher. The cost was about $4.00. A small amount for a priceless piece of art. Important to me. Photo is mine.]
The end of journey is not a period, but a comma.
~~ Anon
Wait! Wait for a moment. Don’t go. Come over here and sit. There is a soft cushion and a richly textured rug for you. Take off your shoes. Relax here while I pour you a glass of mint tea. Sit here with me, one last time, for I have one more tale to tell you…
But, before I begin my story, I must ask you to relive the past ten days with me. This will not take long, for I am tired and my muscles are sore. And I need my sleep.
Ten days ago, a young man named Kamal stood waiting for us at the Tangier Airport. He was holding a card in his hand:
[I have arrived at many airports in my years of traveling. After walking past many men and women holding signs for people, this is the first time I saw my name on such a card. Photo is mine.]
We drove away to our hotel and our journey officially began. I have covered the many highlights of our tour in previous blog posts so I see no need to recap them here. I will just mention my favorites:
The city of Chefchaouen, the Blue City impressed me deeply. The passageways, the climb to our hotel, the souks…and the buildings of blue. Truly beautiful in so many ways.
Fez. A storied city that is the center of tile-making and leather works. I stood and looked down on vats of dye. I smelled the pigeon feces that is used in the tanning process. I bought a leather belt and soft slippers. Mariam now uses a new red leather wallet, which she loves.
The camel ride into the Sahara. My dream has been fulfilled. I hoped for a look up at a black sky full of uncountable stars, but the cloud cover had other ideas.
We stayed at a hotel in the Dades Gorge of the Atlas Mountains that was one of my favorite places. Spacious rooms and cool quiet ambience.
[Our bedroom at a remote old hotel in the Atlas Mountains. Photo is mine.]
We made a stop at a Mosque and a tomb which was closed until the time of prayer. Inside the adjacent Kasbah, the women squatted in doorways talking while the children ran about. We carried a large plastic bag of pens to give to the kids. A few accepted, and then word spread. Soon every child in the Kasbah had come for a pen. In ten minutes, we were out of pens.
[Before we handed out our pens to the children, we stood at the entrance to a Mosque. We, as non-Muslims, were not allowed to enter. The far door at center faces east, the direction of Mecca. Photo is mine.]
We drove for six hours on the last day of the road journey. We were heading for Marrakech.
[We drove for hours, watching the arid landscape slowly give way to a light shade of green. A little more rainfall. The adobe villages flew by us on each side of the car. Here’s a few seconds of filming from the car. After this, I put the iPhone away and tried to sleep. Video is mine.]
Which brings us the final stop on our journey. The famous city of Marrakech, the Red City. Listen to Crosby, Stills & Nash’s Marrakech Express as you watch it. I made attempts to add the song, but I got bogged down in the various methods. Besides, I need to tell you one final story before I settle back and read a folktale or two from my book.
The Final Story
[A Minaret of a Koutoubia Mosque in Marrakech, close by to the Market Square. Photo is mine.]
Once a year, during the holiday of Ramadan, a practicing Muslim is required to fast from dawn to dusk (seventeen hours a day) for twenty-nine to thirty days. There are exceptions to this, however. Health reasons, economics and others. But, the rule is pretty solid and sure.
Look closely at the Minaret. Count the number of spheres. There are four. However, the fourth ball, the one at the top is of great interest. It is the focus of my last story. Some say the lower spheres signify the major religions of the world: Islam, Judaism and Christianity, others (including me) believe they stand for the three elements of life according to Islam: Water Air & Fire. The small ball on the very top… It too has various interpretations to explain why it’s there. This is the one I prefer:
The wife of Sultan Yacoub el-Mansour broke her fast early. For this indiscretion, she was given a penance. She had all her gold jewelry melted down to make a sphere. This is the fourth one, the small one on the top.
This story, as in all stories, is likely to be the product of the imagination of one of the many storytellers that can be found in Marrakech. A city of storytellers.
If a Muslim chooses not to fast for a particular reason, he or she must feed sixty people after the holiday. And, that act of not denying yourself a fast, will help to feed others. Hopefully, it is said, the poor will benefit.
My story is now ended. All that is left is to get picked up by Kamal at 9:30 tomorrow morning, Sept. 26, and be on our British Airways flight to London. There, another few weeks will provide us with yet more stories, laughs, people and side trips down the narrow lanes and busy streets of London and the open skies, often full of rain, along the footpaths of Dorset. Join us again in a few days as I revisit old haunts of my days living in Dorset.
Don’t go away…
[Mariam. Photo is mine.]
Good night from Morocco.
A note to my readers: When I get back home I will have a project that will be published on n WordPress and YouTube. It was filmed two nights ago when we had dinner in the Market. We did a walk through the amazing chaos of the night. Right now it’s a nearly 8 minutes of unbroken video. I plan to edit it and add some music…but not too much because the sights need the sounds . The clapping, calling, music and more. Just be patient.
