Moroccan Labyrinth

Lessons of the Moroccan Labyrinth

By Leslie Jones, Freelance Writer

Boasting vibrant, colorful hues of Morocco, ceramics are artfully displayed throughout the city.

I barely escape being run over by ducking into the nearest doorway, as donkeys carrying heavy loads crowd into the long, narrow corridor. With shouts of “Balak! Balak!” (look out!) announcing the animals’ arrival, vendors, residents, tourists and children step out of the way as livestock spill into the dark passages within this mysterious labyrinth. As soon as the donkeys pass, the swarm of humanity closes in again, everyone carrying on with their daily lives.

The world within the ancient walls of Fez, Morocco, offers myriad sights and sounds for those who enter. No description can serve justice to the deluge of shouts of bartering and swirls of vibrant colors here, an almost unconceivable panorama that has barely changed in the past thousand years. Fez, founded in the 9th century and home to the oldest university in the world, is one of the best-preserved medieval cities of the Arab-Islamic world, and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

While still learning to manipulate the uneven cobblestones underfoot, I slowly regain my composure and begin to explore the souk’s passages with trinkets of all shapes and sizes. Fresh fish and meats, leather goods, vegetables and fruits, earth-toned spices, caged pigeons, and copper pots and pans are all intermingled within this city of goods.

The Hand of Fatima, a sacred design that offers safety and a watchful eye over people, is artfully crafted into silver key chains, earrings and pendants. Perhaps it’s a good idea to buy something to better ensure my imminent safety.

An e Hiding her face from the camera, a woman prepares the traditional Moroccan bread. lderly man sits in the corner of one copper kitchenware shop, sharing his craftsman techniques with a young boy. Perhaps it’s his grandson being trained to carry on the family business into the next generation. How many generations have come before him?

Beggars kneel with outstretched hands while sharply dressed businessmen in hooded burnooses respectfully walk around them to congregate at community water wells. Women walk, eyes lowered to the ground, beautifully adorned in their colorful djellabas, shopping for the daily produce. Cats, obviously not intimidated by this cacophony, stare up at the fish counters, hoping for a scrap or two for a midday meal.

Cumin, ginger, fava beans and paprika are colorfully displayed in small stands lining bustling passages, alongside olives, nuts, mint and saffron. While skilled artisans form copper cooking pots over open fires, the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked herb bread wafts in the air. I suddenly realize that I’m famished.

Nearby merchants begin handing out several rounds of bread while walking by. The fresh, warm bread tastes of delicate herbs and spices, like everything I’ve tasted here in Morocco. Another round is passed along while continuing on through this mesmerizing dream.

A steep, narrow stairway leads to a shop filled with colorful leather goods. I purchase a pair of leather babouches (slipper-like shoes) in bright saffron, a color I will forever associate with Morocco.

Next I headed up a staircase onto a terrace several stories above the street, skilled tanners are crouching and balancing over enormous vats filled with dyes in shades of bright saffron, poppy, indigo and black. This area is where some of Morocco’s magnificent, world-renowned leather goods are colorfully adorned.

Harsh words of warning have fallen deaf on the ears of those of us here with the greatest curiosity. If lost, it could literally take days to be found. While proceeding down a chosen path, I begin walking a bit slower, to peer into the many intriguing doorways. As I catch brief glimpses of ornately tiled courtyards, I long to wander through one of the stylishly decorated residences.

Gated residences, mosques and palaces here are private, with courtyards open to the heavens. Filled with fountains and trees, they serve as reminders of nature and of Allah’s bountiful blessings.

Allah’s blessings are recounted daily at the nearby venerable Kairouyine Mosque, one of the oldest and largest mosques in Africa, situated at the heart of the medina. The spectacularly ornamented building was erected in 810. The associated university was founded i A resident fetched water at one of the many community wells found within the city of Fez. n 859.

Herded around another corner and up a little hill by another merchant, a newly gathered group soon encounters a berber rug shop, filled with colorful designs. We are seated and sugary sweet mint tea is served while a rug purchasing “show” begins. Several individuals are suddenly selected from the group and led to a room far above, to be shown more samples.

As quickly as I’m herded upstairs, I sneak back down; I’m not buying their selling schemes. While several in the group purchase rugs, I again venture outside.

Bright silk fabrics flap in the breeze, a henna artist paints designs on a young woman’s feet, and a small cafe serves harira soup (made of beans, lentils and cilantro) and lamb in beautifully crafted blue-and-green earthenware bowls. I had admired this colorful, extraordinarily crafted pottery earlier in roadside stands throughout Morocco.

Suddenly passing through a gate, I’m reluctant to leave behind the sights and smells of the souk. My mind continues to wander within those walls for the remainder of the afternoon.

As I glance one last time over my shoulder at the old city walls, I notice, for the first time, an abundance of television antennas on many rooftops. Many thousands of people live within these walls, with no extra room to breath and no additional housing available. What to me has been an exotic visit is merely everyday life to its inhabitants.

While some are obviously thankful to see this highly sensory experience end, others around me are ready to reenter and spend a few extra hours reliving everything we have witnessed. As for me, I can't help feeling as though I’ve been inducted into a secret society.

Back to Index