Moments from Morocco

28 May 2016

I walked past this girl today. She seemed to have gotten out of a cab and was asking someone for directions. She had dark brow hair that was tied in loosely. Her facial features were sharp. She had a gold nose ring and dark eyebrows with beautiful eyes. I felt like I knew her. She wore a blue hoodie that looked aged with light blue jeans. We made eye contact. In the hustle and bustle of moroccan streets, I kept moving and she kept going. But I noticed her, and she noticed me. It’s been several hours now and I’m still thinking about her.

In me, there has launched a fresh fantasy of living here, learning Moroccan Arabic, and meeting a girl that exudes the vibrancy of this region. Coming from the stale corridors of Nairobi, this country is a breath of fresh air. Kenya could be described as the conversion of poverty and opression with capitalism and corruption. Morocco, on the other hand, feels like the intersection of multiple cultures baked together to form something delightful, something vibrant, something of a spectacle. Arab, African, and European influences are all felt as one winds through these lovely streets. Streets in which kids play soccer, laugh and fight each other.

We walked past a small perfume store. The walls were lined with ornamental glass bottles. Behind these rows were glass walls, adding a sense of endlessness to the tiny shop. Each of these glass bottles was filled to varying degrees with perfumes that range from clear to gold and dark brown. This gave the entire shop a sense of antiquated luxury. Shan and I entered inside. The shop was small. the perfumist was already attending a customer so we crowded behind them. this customer was an attractive young mother with her two daughters who appeared to be in her early 30’s. the little girls watched attentively as the perfumist mixed the scents with a syringe. He wore a striped white and gold shalwar that fit well with the shop.

As this perfumist mixed the perfume for the mother he playfully chatted with the two girls. They were absorbed by him. He used the syringe to blow air into the bottle so that the solvents mixed. When comple, he removed the syring and pointed it at the little girls and pushed the handle down. The syringe puffed the perfume that remained onto the girls as the coughed under the potent smell. The mother smiled as we all watched the girls react. The perfumist packed the perfume and handed it to the mother who thanked the man in Arabic.

Published on 28 May 2016