Princesses and Poverty

I have just spent the most satisfying past few hours. I’ve eaten a great tagine; using my hands in case anyone from Saritas blog comes over and reads this. And then I went down into the belly of the median and souks. The markets here beat Fez hands down. There are so few tourists here that it’s not even assumed that I am one. And I am dressed a little more Moroccan and a little less Atomic Kitten today. It’s the end of the trip and all I have clean is denim jeans and jackets.

I saw the most gorgeous princess outfit; which I bought. Not for myself but for the long established Princess Alyssa, 4 of Chesterton. I wanted to complete the purchase with Moroccan style princess shoes but it would seem that being a princess isn’t high on the agenda for children’s shoes here.

There is such a bustle in the markets; that I can’t even begin to describe or capture it in any way. It’s impossible to get a camera out and take a photo and you get so swept in the movement of the crowd it’s difficult to stop and take it all in. Smells include roasting chestnuts mmm and chicken faeces not so mmm. Sounds include the cries of market sellers; most of which are young boys with these incredibly booming and adult voices. Sights include piles of dried fruit amidst the sparks of knives being sharpened on stone wheels.

It’s not all consumerism. Outside the medina mosques; the streets are lined with beggars. The worse case of elephantisis I’ve ever seen even in photos and an array of malformed or absent limbs. In the backstreets behind the medina; runny nosed and watery eyed children play with sticks and little girls with matted hair clomp the ground in too big hard soled shoes. Families gather in the more spacious crossroads of the narrow streets. Open doors reveal courtyards; tiled entrances; the smell of lunch cooking and of communal bathrooms.

I write this off a side street. The boy running the shop has put on Santanas Oye Come Va and I am transported back to a village in Mexico. Another village where children played in the streets amongst puddles and fetid cats. Another place where I realise how lucky I am to see the world; how blessed I am that I do not have to live in poverty.

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