Abdelhadi and I were
off to see Lahcen, my tourist shop operator / farmer / wheeler dealer
who lived in the Atlas Mountains in the village of Taddart.
The streets were filled with smoke as the open air cooks prepared
meat for all the buses that stopped there mid-way between Marrakech
and Ouarzazate. Just don't ask what the meat was.
invited us to his village to stay in his home. Wow! There
were Berber women dressed in all colors. The grain harvest was in
full swing. People (children) piled huge loads of wheat on their
home was like a small apartment complex. He shared the building
with his parents and his brother's family. It was stone on the
outside but cemented and painted inside. Couch cushions lined
the wall and also served as beds. At night there was even electricity.
He lived with his wife and four children.
never saw his wife. Lahcen did all the entertaining.
We didn't eat until 10:00. It was a steaming hot tagine stew made mostly with peas, tomatoes,
and meat. It was eaten with bread and not silverware.
was like one of the plagues of Egypt. They swarmed all day in
the shop. They swarmed all afternoon at home. Not as many,
but some swarmed all night. I slept with jeans and socks on.
I had my arms pulled inside my T-shirt and to finish this outfit,
my gym shorts covered my head allowing protection and air holes.
didn't sleep any better and he also found fleas were in the rug (before
he moved to the couch). To make it worse and add salt to his
wounds, I was snoring away so he knew I was sleeping well.
1998 by Phillip Martin All rights reserved.