Daddy-Long-Legs at the Rabat Medina

I call him "Daddy-long-legs" because of his tall, slender frame with long legs. Just a few inches taller than I am.

I was overwhelmed  in a positive way that fateful Saturday. I mean the reception itself was beyond comprehension. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach and I think that might be fairly true. "Would you like to go to Rabat with us?" Hajia Latifa asked after the sumptuous meal of couscous had settled. Although I looked confused, probably because I did not understand what was being said, I just nodded. Rabat, okay let's go. There's no harm in that. She was already dressed in a beautiful djallabia laced with embroidery on the front. All right, that was so typical. Oh how can I forget Haj Abdelrahim (It's pronounced a certain way). I prefer to call him Alhaji Rahim since I couldn't bear with the twisting of my delicate tongue (I'm smiling in old negro spiritual). "Yo quiero", "je t'aime" were inscribed on Mounia's blouse. "I think I love you too", I silently told myself, just myself haha. So all was set to go. I was indeed clueless why we were going, trust me. 

THE MEDINA 

"Prochaine station, Place Al Joulane 1". I can't tell why I always melt at the sound of the soothing voice of the lady that makes announcements on the tram. Others might find it irritating, but it oddly enough tickles my eardrums. That sensation is so therapeutic. Looks like I am daydreaming now. I need to wake up. Where are we? Old Medina it is, uhm-hmmm. I was then having wild, wild thoughts about why I came there in the first place. I've been to the Medina about a thousand and one times. The Medina is a large market, that's all I can say . "Let's just see how different this would be", I whispered to Marwan. At the Medina, Mounia was my buddy-buddy. By the way, I was told Mounia means wish. Allow me throw the spotlight on her now. Finding our way through this labyrinth of a Medina, we were eagerly looking to see all the rare tropical fruits we had talked about with Moncef. In one corner of the paved street was pawpaw (papaya). Check, check, the list went on and on. Now the real struggle lies here. Saturday, I think, is a good time to see the hustle and bustle of life at the Medina. It was crowded, perhaps overcrowded. The walkways were small and one has to meander his way through a sea of people; a Herculean task in my opinion. "Balaak, faites attention" were not uncommon to be heard (You can now start learning any African language today!). Mounia insisted I kept my sac-à-dos in front of me. For the umpteenth time I obliged, for safety sake. She was  behind looking for God-knows-what. So I decided to cry out to her in Arabic and French saying, "Mounia, yalla vas-y". The reaction was priceless, unexpected.

 The expression on Hajia's face was that of bewilderment, joy, and admiration. I guess I made a good impression on her. While Navigating the labyrinth, we crunched on some pastries that were bought early on. It tastes good, just like the savouries we have in Ghana but I felt this particular one was made with a maggi-like spice. I am digressing now. We came to a stop at a jeans stall. Marwan wants to get for himself some jeans trousers. Much to his dismay, every pair he chose seemed to be too short or small. I call him "Daddy-long-legs" because of his tall, slender frame with long legs. Just a few inches taller than I am. (I am tall too compared to someone 😈). If he were in Ghana, he would have been nicknamed "Odogo", "Long John", or "Tee Taller".  I wish I had those legs because that will bring an end to me folding my trouser length about five times in order to put it on. Finally found him a perfect pair and set to go. It's 7:30 pm already. We ate "chabakiya" شباكية ( chips dropped in caramel, I think ) while I rehearsed what  I had to say to "khalti"(aunt). I kept postponing till that moment became inevitable. Mounia called Hajia to tell her I had something to say to her. Like seriously, I'm so shy. All eyes on me I mustered courage and my lips started moving as everyone was eager to hear what I had to say.

 "Hajia Latifa, shoukran 3la couscous lyoum. Kan bnin bzaaaf", I murmured. "Awili", "winuu", that was the cutest thing they had heard in a very long time. I literally thanked her for the meal and told her it was very delicious. It was at this point I was given the Moroccan card lol. (Black card not revoked). They opened their doors widely to me and said that I shouldn't hesitate whenever I want know about anything , even remotely Moroccan. 

As I said earlier, I've been to the medina several times but this was different. Different because anytime I went there, I went alone to get really quick and return home. However, I received some funny looks that day. I'll talk about that another day. 😂

Keep watching this space, there's something in the pipeline.#WETOO. Très chic. I'm out. Bislama!