Life in Morocco and Glimpses Beyond Part 7

All the while he is sitting cross-legged on an old box, with his scales before him.

"What? Now, come, I'll give you _so_ much," says the merchant, naming a price slightly less than that asked.

"Make it _so_ much," exclaims Sad, even more persuasively than before, as he "splits the difference."

"Well, I'll give you _so_ much," offering just a little less than this sum. "I can't go above that, you know."

"All right, but you always get the better of me, you know. That is just what I paid. Anyhow, don't forget that when I want a new cloak,"

and he proceeds to measure out the purchases, using as weights two or three bits of old iron, a small cannon-ball, some bullets, screws, coins, etc. "Go with prosperity, my friend; and may G.o.d bless thee!"

"And may G.o.d increase thy prosperity, and grant to thee a blessing!"

rejoins the successful man, as he proceeds to another stall.

By the time he reaches home his basket will contain meat, fish, vegetables, fruit and herbs, besides, perhaps, a loaf of sugar, and a quarter of a pound of tea, with supplies of spices and some candles.

Bread they make at home.

The absurdly minute quant.i.ties of what we should call "stores," which a man will purchase who could well afford to lay in a supply, seem very strange to the foreigner; but it is part of his domestic economy--or lack of that quality. He will not trust his wife with more than one day's supply at a time, and to weigh things out himself each morning would be trouble not to be dreamed of; besides which it would deprive him of the pleasure of all that bargaining, not to speak of the appet.i.te-promoting stroll, and the opportunities for gossip with acquaintances which it affords. In consequence, wives and slaves are generally kept on short allowances, if these are granted at all.

An amusing incident which came under my notice in Tangier shows how little the English idea of the community of interest of husband and wife is appreciated here. A Moorish woman who used to furnish milk to an English family being met by the lady of the house one morning, when she had brought short measure, said, pointing to the husband in the distance, "_You_ be my friend; take this" (slipping a few coppers worth half a farthing into her hand), "don't tell _him_ anything about it. I'll share the profit with you!" She probably knew from experience that the veriest trifle would suffice to buy over the wife of a Moor.

Instructions having been given to his wife or wives as to what is to be prepared, and how--he probably pretends to know more of the art culinary than he does--the husband will start off to attend to his shop till lunch, which will be about noon. Then a few more hours in the shop, and before the sun sets a ride out to his garden by the river, returning in time for dinner at seven, after which come talk, prayers, and bed, completing what is more or less his daily round. His wives will probably be a.s.sisted in the house-work--or perhaps entirely relieved of it--by a slave-girl or two, and the water required will be brought in on the shoulders of a stalwart negro in skins or barrels filled from some fountain of good repute, but of certain contamination.

In cooking the Moorish women excel, as their first-rate productions afford testimony. It is the custom of some Europeans to systematically disparage native preparations, but such judges have been the victims either of their own indiscretion in eating too many rich things without the large proportion of bread or other digestible nutriment which should have accompanied them, or of the essays of their own servants, usually men without any more knowledge of how their mothers prepare the dishes they attempt to imitate than an ordinary English working man would have of similar matters. Of course there are certain flavourings which to many are really objectionable, but none can be worse to us than any preparation of pig would be to a Moor. Prominent among such is the ancient b.u.t.ter which forms the basis of much of their spicings, b.u.t.ter made from milk, which has been preserved--usually buried a year or two--till it has acquired the taste, and somewhat the appearance, of ripe Gorgonzola. Those who commence by trying a very slight flavour of this will find the fancy grow upon them, and there is no smell so absolutely appetizing as the faintest whiff of anything being cooked in this b.u.t.ter, called "smin."

Another point, much misunderstood, which enables them to cook the toughest old rooster or plough-ox joint till it can be eaten readily with the fingers, is the stewing in oil or b.u.t.ter. When the oil itself is pure and fresh, it imparts no more taste to anything cooked in it than does the fresh b.u.t.ter used by the rich. Articles plunged into either at their high boiling point are immediately browned and enclosed in a kind of case, with a result which can be achieved in no other manner than by rolling in paste or clay, and cooking amid embers. Moorish pastry thus cooked in oil is excellent, flaky and light.

XIII

THE NATIVE "MERCHANT"

"A turban without a beard shows lack of modesty."

_Moorish Proverb._

Haj Mohammed Et-Tajir, a grey-bearded worthy, who looks like a prince when he walks abroad, and dwells in a magnificent house, sits during business hours on a diminutive tick and wool mattress, on the floor of a cob-webbed room on one side of an ill-paved, uncovered, dirty court-yard. Light and air are admitted by the door in front of which he sits, while the long side behind him, the two ends, and much of the floor, are packed with valuable cloths, Manchester goods, silk, etc.

Two other sides of the court-yard consist of similar stores, one occupied by a couple of Jews, and the other by another fine-looking Haj, his partner.

Enters a Moor, in common clothing, market basket in hand. He advances to the entrance of the store, and salutes the owner respectfully--"Peace be with thee, Uncle Pilgrim!"

"With thee be peace, O my master," is the reply, and the new-comer is handed a cus.h.i.+on, and motioned to sit on it at the door. "How doest thou?" "How fares thy house?" "How dost thou find thyself this morning?" "Is nothing wrong with thee?" These and similar inquiries are showered by each on the other, and an equal abundance is returned of such replies as, "Nothing wrong;" "Praise be to G.o.d;" "All is well."

When both cease for lack of breath, after a brief pause the new arrival asks, "Have you any of that 'Merican?" (unbleached calico).

The dealer puts on an indignant air, as if astonished at being asked such a question. "_Have_ I? There is no counting what I have of it,"

and he commences to tell his beads, trying to appear indifferent as to whether his visitor buys or not. Presently the latter, also anxious not to appear too eager, exclaims, "Let's look at it." A piece is leisurely handed down, and the customer inquires in a disparaging tone, "How much?"

"Six and a half," and the speaker again appears absorbed in meditation.

"Give thee six," says the customer, rising as if to go.

"Wait, thou art very dear to us; to thee alone will I give a special price, six and a quarter."

"No, no," replies the customer, shaking his finger before his face, as though to emphasize his refusal of even such special terms.

"Al-l-lah!" piously breathes the dealer, as he gazes abstractedly out of the door, presently adding in the same devout tone, "There is no G.o.d but G.o.d! G.o.d curse the infidels!"

"Come, I'll give thee six and an okea"--of which latter six and a half go to the 'quarter' peseta or franc of which six were offered.

"No, six and five is the lowest I can take."

The might-be purchaser made his last offer in a half-rising posture, and is now nearly erect as he says, "Then I can't buy; give it me for six and three," sitting down as though the bargain were struck.

"No, I never sell that quality for less than six and four, and it's a thing I make no profit on; you know that."

The customer doesn't look as though he did, and rising, turns to go.

"Send a man to carry it away," says the dealer.

"At six and three!"

"No, at six and four!" and the customer goes away.

"Send the man, it is thine," is hastily called after him, and in a few moments he returns with a Jewish porter, and pays his "six and three."

So our worthy trader does business all day, and seems to thrive on it.

Occasionally a friend drops in to chat and not to buy, and now and then there is a beggar; here is one.

An aged crone she is, of most forbidding countenance, swathed in rags, it is a wonder she can keep together. She leans on a formidable staff, and in a piteous voice, "For the face of the Lord," and "In the name of my Lord Slave-of-the-Able" (Mulai Abd el Kader, a favourite saint), she begs something "For G.o.d." One copper suffices to induce her to call down untold blessings on the head of the donor, and she trudges away in the mud, barefooted, repeating her entreaties till they sound almost a wail, as she turns the next corner. But beggars who can be so easily disposed of at the rate of a hundred and ninety-five for a s.h.i.+lling can hardly be considered troublesome.

A respectable-looking man next walks in with measured tread, and leaning towards us, says almost in a whisper--

"O Friend of the Prophet, is there anything to-day?"

"Nothing, O my master," is the courteously toned reply, for the beggar appears to be a shareef or n.o.ble, and with a "G.o.d bless thee,"

disappears.

A miserable wretch now turns up, and halfway across the yard begins to utter a whine which is speedily cut short by a curt "G.o.d help thee!"

whereat the visitor turns on his heel and is gone.

With a confident bearing an untidy looking figure enters a moment later, and after due salaams inquires for a special kind of cloth.

"Call to-morrow morning," he is told, for he has not the air of a purchaser, and he takes his departure meekly.

A creaky voice here breaks in from round the corner--