Moroccan Mosaics


hooded men veiled women slippered feet 

harbouring cell phones

clandestine calls in quiet cobbled corners

insistent mullahs call to prayer

siren songs at dawn and sunset

insistent sellers call to buy

come inside look please my shop for you good price

I have very beautiful very lovely come inside

kaleidoscopic colours yellow blue orange purple

clash of colours cultures words scents sensibilities

and cats of all colours everywhere

 

hooded men veiled women slippered feet

roaming packs of dark-eyed children

ragged dirty begging bugging beguiling tourists

in every language possible but mostly French because Maroque

un cadeau un bon-bon un stylo un stylo rouge

little hands reaching out, snatching, grabbing 

quick before another gets

quick too to snatch a purse or bag 

little thieves in training

with masters round the corner

where cats are curled

 

hooded men veiled women slippered feet 

hiding secret selves

sudden eruptions of shouting and slapping

angry men shrill women crying children

tempers shards of pottery breaking flying

shattering against silent stone walls

slippered feet fleeing

down dark stone alleyways

disappearing into small wooden doorways 

quickly closed hiding homes behind high windowless walls

safe havens for some, prisons for others

cats atop the walls peering down, no prisoners they

 

hooded men veiled women slippered feet

in the crowded swarming souks touts and shop keepers compete for customers 

selling carpets jewelry incense shawls spices inlaid boxes pottery baskets slippers beads leather poofs perfume dresses jackets shirts

great open vats of dates figs olives dried fish sit next to bicycle repair 

beside tables spread with pirated CDs 

or great cones of colourful spices cumin turmeric chile cinnamon ginger ras al hanout

next to butcher shops where great sides of beef hang right in the street 


beside a shop, just a hole in the wall, where men make wooden doors and tables

intricately carved in geometric patterns, inlaid with stone or shell 

next to three men sewing djellabas

one holds the threads, rhythmically swapping them back and forth, 

as another hand-sews the seams, such tiny patient stitches

next door a man makes picture frames from old car tires

another makes shopping bags from tetra paks and tin cans

and hanging everywere around and overhead beautiful fabrics woven embroidered shawls blankets pillows dresses shirts 

and always cats on pillows blithely licking their paws 



hooded men veiled women slippered feet 

sitting in cafes sipping sugar sweet mint tea 

eating salty olives

puffing on a hookah, smoke curling round their heads

playing sheshbesh, cards, checkers

or sitting in dusty piles against a wall, a tree

saying silent prayers or sleeping

and cats curled at their feet

 

hooded men veiled women slippered feet

evoking ancient memories and mysteries 

snake charmers camel drivers fortune tellers slave traders

story tellers water sellers roving dentists jugglers thieves

now with cell phones satellite dishes internet

yet unchanged the essence of these people

their ready smiles, arms extended

hands ready for a shake, or placed softly over their hearts

salam alaikum marhaba

peace be with you 

you are welcome



Location: Marrakesh, Morocco

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