Life in Morocco and Glimpses Beyond Part 9

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SUNDAY MARKET, TANGIER.

_Cavilla, Photo., Tangier._]

On our right are typical Moorish shops,--grocers', if you please,--in which are exposed to view an a.s.sortment of dried fruits, such as nuts, raisins, figs, etc., with olive and argan oil, candles, tea, sugar, and native soap and b.u.t.ter. Certainly of all the goods that b.u.t.ter is the least inviting; the soap, though the purest of "soft," looks a horribly repulsive ma.s.s, but the b.u.t.ter which, like it, is streaked all over with finger marks, is in addition full of hairs. Similar shops are perched on our left, where old English biscuit-boxes are conspicuous.

Beyond these come slipper- and clothes-menders. The former are at work on native slippers of such age that they would long ago have been thrown away in any less poverty-stricken land, transforming them into wearable if unsightly articles, after well soaking them in earthen pans. Just here a native "medicine man" dispenses nostrums of doubtful efficacy, and in front a quant.i.ty of red Moorish pottery is exposed for sale. This consists chiefly of braziers for charcoal and kesk'soo steamers for stewing meat and vegetables as well.

A native _cafe_ here attracts our attention. Under the shade of a covered way the kahwaji has a brazier on which he keeps a large kettle of water boiling. A few steps further on we light upon the sellers of native salt. This is in very large crystals, heaped in mule panniers, from which the dealers mete it out in wooden measures. It comes from along the beach near Old Tangier, where the heaps can be seen from the town, glistening in the sunlight. Ponds are dug along the sh.o.r.e, in which sea water is enclosed by miniature d.y.k.es, and on evaporating leaves the salt.

Pressing on with difficulty through a crowd of horses, mules and donkeys, mostly tethered by their forefeet, we reach some huts in front of which are the most gorgeous native waistcoats exposed for sale, together with Manchester goods, by fat, ugly old women of a forbidding aspect. Further on we come upon "confectioners." A remarkable peculiarity of the tables on which the sweets are being sold in front of us is the total absence of flies, though bees abound, in spite of the lazy whisking of the sweet-seller. The sweets themselves consist of red, yellow and white sticks of what Cousin Jonathan calls "candy;" almond and gingelly rock, all frizzling in the sun. A small basin, whose contents resemble a dark plum-pudding full of seeds, contains a paste of the much-lauded hasheesh, the opiate of Morocco, which, though contraband, and strictly prohibited by Imperial decrees, is being freely purchased in small doses.

On the opposite side of the way some old Spaniards are selling a kind of coiled-up fritter by the yard, swimming in oil. Then we come to a native restaurant. Trade does not appear very brisk, so we shall not interrupt it by pausing for a few moments to watch the cooking. In a tiny lean-to of sticks and thatch two men are at work. One is cutting up liver and what would be flead if the Moors ate pigs, into pieces about the size of a filbert. These the other threads on skewers in alternate layers, three or four of each. Having rolled them in a basin of pepper and salt, they are laid across an earthen pot resembling a log scooped out, like some primaeval boat. In the bottom of the hollow is a charcoal fire, which causes the khotban, as they are called, to give forth a most appetizing odour--the only thing tempting about them after seeing them made. Half loaves of native bread lie ready to hand, and the hungry pa.s.ser-by is invited to take an _al fresco_ meal for the veriest trifle. Another sort of kabab--for such is the name of the preparation--is being made from a large wash-basin full of ready seasoned minced meat, small handfuls of which the jovial _chef_ adroitly plasters on more skewers, cooking them like the others.

Squatted on the ground by the side of this "bar" is a retailer of ripened native b.u.t.ter, "warranted five years old." This one can readily smell without stooping; it is in an earthenware pan, and looks very dirty, but is weighed out by the ounce as very precious after being kept so long underground.

Opposite is the spot where the camels from and for the interior load and unload. Some forty of these ungainly but useful animals are here congregated in groups. At feeding-time a cloth is spread on the ground, on which a quant.i.ty of barley is poured in a heap. Each animal lies with its legs doubled up beneath it in a manner only possible to camels, with its head over the food, munching contentedly. In one of the groups we notice the driver beating his beast to make it kneel down preparatory to the removal of its pack, some two hundred-weight and a half. After sundry unpleasant sounds, and tramping backwards and forwards to find a comfortable spot, the gawky creature settles down in a stately fashion, packing up his stilt-like legs in regular order, limb after limb, till he attains the desired position. A short distance off one of them is making hideous noises by way of protest against the weight of the load being piled upon him, threatening to lose his temper, and throw a little red bladder out of his mouth, which, hanging there as he breathes excitedly, makes a most unpleasing sound.

Here one of the many water-carriers who have crossed our path does so again, tinkling his little bell of European manufacture, and we turn to watch him as he gives a poor lad to drink. Slung across his back is the "bottle" of the East--a goat-skin with the legs sewn up. A long metal spout is tied into the neck, and on this he holds his left thumb, which he uses as a tap by removing it to aim a long stream of water into the tin mug in his right hand. Two bright bra.s.s cups cast and engraved in Fez hang from a chain round his neck, but these are reserved for purchasers, the urchin who is now enjoying a drink receiving it as charity. Tinkle, tinkle, goes the bell again, as the weary man moves on with his ever-lightening burden, till he is confronted by another wayfarer who turns to him to quench his thirst.

As these skins are filled indiscriminately from wells and tanks, and cleaned inside with pitch, the taste must not be expected to satisfy all palates; but if hunger is the best sauce for food, thirst is an equal recommendation for drink.

A few minutes' walk across a cattle-market brings us at last to the English church, a tasteful modern construction in pure Moorish style, and banishing the thoughts of our stroll, we join the approaching group of fellow-worshippers, for after all it is Sunday.

XVI

PLAY-TIME

"According to thy shawl stretch thy leg."

_Moorish Proverb._

Few of us realize to what an extent our amus.e.m.e.nts, pastimes, and recreations enter into the formation of our individual, and consequently of our national, character. It is therefore well worth our while to take a glance at the Moor at play, or as near play as he ever gets. The stately father of a family must content himself, as his years and flesh increase, with such amus.e.m.e.nts as shall not entail exertion. By way of house game, since cards and all amus.e.m.e.nts involving chance are strictly forbidden, chess reigns supreme, and even draughts--with which the denizens of the coffee-house, where he would not be seen, disport themselves--are despised by him. In Shiraz, however, the Shekh ul Islam, or chief religious authority, declared himself shocked when I told him how often I had played this game with Moorish theologians, whereupon ensued a warm discussion as to whether it was a game of chance. At last I brought this to a satisfactory close by remarking that as his reverence was ignorant even of the rules of the game,--and therefore no judge, since he had imagined it to be based on hazard,--he at least was manifestly innocent of it.

The connection between chess and Arabdom should not be forgotten, especially as the very word with which it culminates, "checkmate," is but a corruption of the Arabic "shekh mat"--"chief dead." The king of games is, however, rare on the whole, requiring too much concentration for a weary or lazy official, or a merchant after a busy day. Their method of playing does not materially differ from ours, but they play draughts with very much more excitement and fun. The jocular vituperation which follows a successful sally, and the almost unintelligible rapidity with which the moves are made, are as novel to the European as appreciated by the natives.

Gossip, the effervescence of an idle brain, is the prevailing pastime, and at no afternoon tea-table in Great Britain is more aimless talk indulged in than while the cup goes round among the Moors. The ladies, with a more limited scope, are not far behind their lords in this respect. Otherwise their spare time is devoted to minutely fine embroidery. This is done in silk on a piece of calico or linen tightly stretched on a frame, and is the same on both sides; in this way are ornamented curtains, pillow-cases, mattress-covers, etc. It is, nevertheless, considered so far a superfluity that few who have not abundant time to spare trouble about it, and the material decorated is seldom worth the labour bestowed thereon.

The fact is that in these southern lat.i.tudes as little time as possible is pa.s.sed within doors, and for this reason we must seek the real amus.e.m.e.nts of the people outside. When at home they seem to think it sufficient to loll about all the day long if not at work, especially if they have an enclosed flower-garden, beautifully wild and full of green and flowers, with trickling, splashing water. I exclude, of course, all feasts and times when the musicians come, but I must not omit mention of dancing. Easterns think their western friends mad to dance themselves, when they can so easily get others to do it for them, so they hire a number of women to go through all manner of quaint--too often indecent--posings and wrigglings before them, to the tune of a nasal chant, which, aided by fiddles, banjos, and tambourines, is being drawled out by the musicians. Some of these seemingly inharmonious productions are really enjoyable when one gets into the spirit of the thing.

At times the Moors are themselves full of life and vigour, especially in the enjoyment of what may be called the national sport of "powder-play," not to speak of boar-hunting, hawking, rabbit-chasing, and kindred pastimes. Just as in the days of yore their forefathers excelled in the use of the spear, brandishing and twirling it as easily as an Indian club or singlestick, so they excel to-day in the exercise of their five-foot flint-locks, performing the most dexterous feats on horseback at full gallop.

Here is such a display about to commence. It is the feast of Mohammed's birthday, and the market-place outside the gate, so changed since yesterday, is crowded with spectators; men and boys in gay, but still harmonious, colours, decked out for the day, and women shrouded in their blankets, plain wool-white. An open s.p.a.ce is left right through the centre, up a gentle slope, and a dozen hors.e.m.e.n are spurring and holding in their prancing steeds at yonder lower end.

At some unnoticed signal they have started towards us. They gallop wildly, the beat of their horses' hoofs sounding as iron hail on the stony way. A cloud of dust flies upward, and before we are aware of it they are abreast of us--a waving, indistinguishable ma.s.s of flowing robes, of brandished muskets, and of straining, foaming steeds. We can just see them tossing their guns in the air, and then a rider, bolder than the rest, stands on his saddle, whirling round his firearm aloft without stopping, while another swings his long weapon underneath his horse, and seizes it upon the other side. But now they are in line again, and every gun is pointed over the right, behind the back, the b.u.t.t grasped by the twisted left arm, and the lock by the right under the left armpit. In this constrained position they fire at an imaginary foe who is supposed to have appeared from ambush as they pa.s.s. Immediately the reins--which have hitherto been held in the mouth, the steed guided by the feet against his gory flanks--are pulled up tight, throwing the animal upon his haunches, and wheeling him round for a sober walk back.

This is, in truth, a practice or drill for war, for such is the method of fighting in these parts. A sortie is made to seek the hidden foe, who may start up anywhere from the ravines or boulders, and who must be aimed at instanter, before he regains his cover, while those who have observed him must as quickly as possible get beyond his range to reload and procure reinforcements.

The only other active sports of moment, apart from occasional horse races, are football and fencing, indulged in by boys. The former is played with a stuffed leather ball some six or eight inches across, which is kicked into the air with the back of the heel, and caught in the hands, the object being to drive it as high as possible. The fencing is only remarkable for its free and easy style, and the absence of hilts and guards.

Yet there are milder pastimes in equal favour, and far more in accordance with the fancy of southerners in warm weather, such as watching a group of jugglers or snake-charmers, or listening to a story-teller. These are to be met with in the market-place towards the close of hot and busy days, when the wearied bargainers gather in groups to rest before commencing the homeward trudge. The jugglers are usually poor, the production of fire from the mouth, of water from an empty jar, and so on, forming stock items. But often fearful realities are to be seen--men who in a frenzied state catch cannon b.a.l.l.s upon their heads, blood spurting out on every side; or, who stick skewers through their legs. These are religious devotees who live by such performances. From the public _raconteur_ the Moor derives the excitement the European finds in his novel, or the tale "to be continued in our next," and it probably does him less harm.

XVII

THE STORY-TELLER

"Gentleman without reading, dog without scent."

_Moorish Proverb._

The story-teller is, _par excellence_, the prince of Moorish performers. Even to the stranger unacquainted with the language the sight of the Arab bard and his attentive audience on some erstwhile bustling market at the ebbing day is full of interest--to the student of human nature a continual attraction. After a long trudge from home, commenced before dawn, and a weary haggling over the most worthless of "coppers" during the heat of the day, the poor folk are quite ready for a quiet resting-time, with something to distract their minds and fill them with thoughts for the homeward way. Here have been fanned and fed the great religious and political movements which from time to time have convulsed the Empire, and here the pulse of the nation throbs. In the cities men lead a different life, and though the townsfolk appreciate tales as well as any, it is on these market-places that the wandering troubadour gathers the largest crowds.

Like public performers everywhere, a story-teller of note always goes about with regular a.s.sistants, who act as summoners to his entertainment, and as chorus to his songs. They consist usually of a player on the native fiddle, another who keeps time on a tambourine, and a third who beats a kind of earthenware drum with his fingers.

Less pretentious "professors" are content with themselves manipulating a round or square tambourine or a two-stringed fiddle, and to many this style has a peculiar charm of its own. Each pause, however slight, is marked by two or three sharp beats on the tightly stretched skin, or tw.a.n.gs with a palmetto leaf plectrum, loud or soft, according to the subject of the discourse at that point. The dress of this cla.s.s--the one most frequently met with--is usually of the plainest, if not of the scantiest; a tattered brown jellab (a hooded woollen cloak) and a camel's-hair cord round the tanned and shaven skull are the garments which strike the eye. Waving bare arms and sinewy legs, with a wild, keen-featured face, lit up by flashing eyes, complete the picture.

This is the man from whom to learn of love and fighting, of beautiful women and hairbreadth escapes, the whole on the model of the "Thousand Nights and a Night," of which versions more or less recognizable may now and again be heard from his lips. Commencing with plenty of tambourine, and a few suggestive hints of what is to follow, he gathers around him a motley audience, the first comers squatting in a circle, and later arrivals standing behind. Gradually their excitement is aroused, and as their interest grows, the realistic semi-acting and the earnest mien of the performer rivet every eye upon him. Suddenly his wild gesticulations cease at the entrancing point. One step more for liberty, one blow, and the charming prize would be in the possession of her adorer. Now is the time to "cash up." With a pious reference to "our lord Mohammed--the prayer of G.o.d be on him, and peace,"--and an invocation of a local patron saint or other equally revered defunct, an appeal is made to the pockets of the Faithful "for the sake of Mulai Abd el Kader"--"Lord Slave-of-the-Able." Arousing as from a trance, the eager listeners instinctively commence to feel in their pockets for the balance from the day's bargaining; and as every blessing from the legion of saints who would fill the Mohammedan calendar if there were one is invoked on the cheerful giver, one by one throws down his hard-earned coppers--one or two--and as if realizing what he has parted with, turns away with a long-drawn breath to untether his beasts, and set off home.

But exciting as are these acknowledged fictions, specimens are so familiar to most readers from the pages of the collection referred to that much more interest will be felt in an attempt to reproduce one of a higher type, pseudo-historical, and alleged to be true. Such narratives exhibit much of native character, and shades of thought unencountered save in daily intercourse with the people. Let us, therefore, seize the opportunity of a visit from a noted _raconteur_ and reputed poet to hear his story. Tame, indeed, would be the result of an endeavour to transfer to black and white the animated tones and gestures of the narrator, which the imagination of the reader must supply.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photograph by A. Lennox, Esq._

GROUP AROUND PERFORMERS, MARRaKESH.]

The initial "voluntary" by the "orchestra" has ended; every eye is directed towards the central figure, this time arrayed in ample turban, white jellab and yellow slippers, with a face betokening a lucrative profession. After a moment's silence he commences the history of--

"MULAI ABD EL KaDER AND THE MONK OF MONKS."

"The thrones of the Nazarenes were once in number sixty, but the star of the Prophet of G.o.d--the prayer of G.o.d be on him, and peace--was in the ascendant, and the religion of Resignation [Islam] was everywhere victorious. Many of the occupiers of those thrones had either submitted to the Lieutenant ['Caliph'] of our Lord, and become Muslimeen, or had been vanquished by force of arms. The others were terrified, and a general a.s.sembly was convoked to see what was to be done. As the rulers saw they were helpless against the decree of G.o.d, they called for their monks to advise them. The result of the conference was that it was decided to invite the Resigned Ones (Muslimeen) to a discussion on their religious differences, on the understanding that whichever was victorious should be thenceforth supreme.

"The Leader of the Faithful having summoned his wise men, their opinion was asked. 'O victorious of G.o.d,' they with one voice replied, 'since G.o.d, the High and Blessed, is our King, what have we to fear?

Having on our side the truth revealed in the "Book to be Read" [the Koran] by the hand of the Messenger of G.o.d--the prayer of G.o.d be on him, and peace--we _must_ prevail. Let us willingly accept their proposal.' An early day was accordingly fixed for the decisive contest, and each party marshalled its forces. At the appointed time they met, a great crowd on either side, and it was asked which should begin. Knowing that victory was on his side, the Lieutenant of the Prophet--the prayer of G.o.d be on him, and peace--replied, 'Since ye have desired this meeting, open ye the discussion.'

"Then the chief of the Nazarene kings made answer, 'But we are here so many gathered together, that if we commence to dispute all round we shall not finish by the Judgement Day. Let each party therefore choose its wisest man, and let the two debate before us, the remainder judging the result.'

"'Well hast thou spoken,' said the Leader of the Faithful; 'be it even so.' Then the learned among the Resigned selected our lord Abd el Kader of Baghdad,[8] a man renowned the world over for piety and for the depth of his learning. Now a prayer [Fatihah] for Mulai Abd el Kader!"

[8: So called because buried near that city. For an account of his life, and view of his mausoleum, see "The Moors," pp. 337-339.]

Here the speaker, extending his open palms side by side before him, as if to receive a blessing thereon, is copied by the by-standers.[9] "In the name of G.o.d, the Pitying, the Pitiful!" All draw their hands down their faces, and, if they boast beards, end by stroking them out.

[9: "The hands are raised in order to catch a blessing in them, and are afterwards drawn over the face to transfer it to every part of the body."--HUGHES, "Dictionary of Islam."]

[10: A term applied by Mohammedans to Christians on account of a mistaken conception of the doctrine of the Trinity.]