The Kindness of Strangers

Maps were pointless in a city like this. Although the guidebook Kate purchased showed a rough layout of the neighbourhood, the city’s disregard for posted street signs forced tourists to rely on landmarks, memory skills, and the kindness of strangers. But Kate felt she could handle the complex maze of streets all on her own, as she had travelled to more obscure places than Marrakech.

After leaving the safety of the charming Riad she was staying at, Kate looked both ways down the narrow alleyway and chose to go left. This was the route suggested to her by the hotel staff, so for now she should probably take their advice until she got to know her way around. The roadway was more of a stony path than an actual street, and she had to watch for broken sidewalk blocks and potholes along the way. Vendors along both sides of the path called out to her with endless “Bonjour!” greetings, and were quick to notice which merchandise she kept her gaze on. She figured out that if she looked at an item for more than three seconds, they naturally assumed she wanted to buy it and the rest of the shop with it. After a while Kate just stared at the path ahead, trying to ignore all the catcalls from persistent shop owners.

The dusty, dirty walk seemed never to end, but finally Kate reached the main market square. She had heard that the food stalls in the middle of the square were the best places to get a cheap meal. After paying for an expensive room at the Riad, she definitely wanted to keep the rest of her expenses to a minimum.

The square was clearly the main event in Marrakech, and both locals and eager tourists were quickly filling up the vast open space. It was difficult to walk against the grain of pedestrian traffic, especially when scooters and donkeys with heavily loaded carts were demanding right of way. There was a billow of smoke rising from the middle of the square, so Kate knew that the food stalls were close by. As she approached the stalls she instantly became a target for more catcalls.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle! Couscous au poulet! Couscous au légumes! Brochettes de poulet ou viande!”

“Mademoiselle! S’il vous plâit, regardez notre menu! Couscous! Tajines! Brochettes!”

“Bonsoir Mademoiselle! Bonsoir!”

Kate could barely walk in a straight line from all the menus being thrust into her face. Each stall worker claimed they had the best food at the market. If she slowed down her pace the workers became even more vigorous in their attempts to lure her into their booth. They used an over-abundance of wit, charm, and pleading in their well-rehearsed sales pitches. As this was Kate’s first dinner in Morocco she wanted it to be a unique experience, but after walking up and down the aisles it became apparent that every booth had the same type of menu items and prices. So now it came down to the personality of the staff, and if other locals and tourists were also sitting at the booth. Kate returned to the first aisle she originally walked down, and this time the staff used all their charming ways to catch her attention.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle! Let me show you our tasty dishes! Please, have a seat at our table!”

“Bonsoir Mademoiselle! We have best Tajines in Marrakech! Do you prefer chicken or meat or vegetable? We also have couscous and salads! Mademoiselle please look at our menu!”

“Bonsoir Mademoiselle! How are you? Please let us have the pleasure to serve you this evening.”

Bingo. Kate was sold, and the courteous gentleman guided her to a seat in their dining area. But after being so polite and well mannered while she took her seat, the man immediately started shouting orders to the rest of the staff. They have a customer! The staff darted between her table and the grill area as if they were competing in a race, and quickly set down paper placemats and cutlery. Suddenly a menu appeared in front of Kate’s face, and she had exactly ten seconds to place her order while the waiter stood there tapping his fingers on the chair next to her.

Kate wasn’t familiar with the names of Moroccan food, and many of the items were listed in French, which she regrettably hadn’t practiced since high school. Her eyes quickly scanned all the items, but she couldn’t decide quickly enough for the impatient waiter.

“Mademoiselle, your order please?” the waiter said in a huff.

“Uh…I’m just deciding…ummm…” Kate nervously replied.

“Tajine is excellent, or perhaps couscous? Meat or chicken?”

“Uh, what type of meat is in this dish?” Kate asked while pointing to one of the menu choices.

“Meat.”

Kate looked up at the man, waiting for him to explain further what he meant by ‘meat’. But he just stood there with a notepad in his hand, staring blankly back at her. After a few awkward seconds Kate looked back down at the menu and just picked an item. There was no point in creating a debate about their anonymous meat products.

“I’d like to order the couscous with chicken and vegetables please.”

“Merci!” the waiter immediately swiped the menu out of Kate’s hands and returned to the grill area.

“Couscous avec poulet et légumes!” he shouted at the staff.

A few seconds later a small dish of olives, grilled vegetables and basket of bread showed up at her table. There was enough bread to serve an entire family, and she assumed it’s probably their custom to provide these complimentary items to guests before their meal. Kate had built up a hearty appetite after a long day on the train, so she gobbled up the olives, veggies and a few pieces of bread in a matter of minutes.

Soon afterwards the waiter set down on the table a heaping plate of couscous and veggies. The couscous formed a pyramid-like structure, and had carrots, squash, cucumber, chickpeas and raisins cascading along the sides of it. The chicken was buried underneath like a treasure in the sand. The dish was much bigger than Kate had imagined, but she felt obligated to eat most of it to avoid any possible confrontation with the staff. While she ate the large meal a silver pot of mint tea and glass cup were set down beside her. The waiter held the pot up very high while the tea streamed down into the small glass. She thought, this must be taught in the Moroccan school of cuisine, and how do they have such good aim?

Kate managed to finish the entire couscous dinner and all of the small appetizer dishes. Her stomach ached from all the food she consumed so quickly, but at least the mint tea helped with the digestion. It was starting to get late in the evening, and Kate wanted to walk around the square still and look at the street performers, so she signaled the waiter to bring the bill.

The waiter wrote the prices on a scrap piece of paper with the total listed at the bottom. Kate’s eyes bulged after seeing the total. This can’t be right – 225 Dirham? After doing a quick conversion to Canadian Dollars, that would be about $35.00!

“Excuse me waiter, can I please see the menu again?”

The waiter grabbed one of the menus sitting at another table and gave it to Kate. After calculating each of the items she ordered, it came to half of his total.

“Excuse me, this can’t be right. I added it up, and according to what I ordered it comes to ----“.

“Mademoiselle, you had this and this and this. The total is this amount,” the waiter replied defensively while pointing to each of the prices written on the paper.

The waiter spoke so rapidly that Kate could barely decipher what he was saying, and the music blaring from the square made it even more difficult. She could not reason with him, and since she ate all the food, she was stuck paying the exorbitant amount. This left her with just a few coins, which would be used up later to buy bottled water. Kate grabbed her bag and stomped out of the booth, nearly tripping over the other chairs on her way out.

The beating drums and singing from street performers in the square helped ease off Kate’s tension, and she tried peering over the shoulders in the crowd to see the performances. There were so many different performers to watch that it was like being at the fair back home. As she strolled through the square she saw acrobats, snake charmers, henna artists, people preaching to the crowd with bottles of natural medicines piled in front of them, women and children selling sweet pastries, and men with colourful outfits wandering amongst the crowd. With the bright lights, African-style music and aroma from the food stalls, it was a feast for the senses. Kate was eager to take a few photos to show her friends back home, so she pulled out her digital camera and started fidgeting with the dials.

A man immediately marched over to Kate and held out a drum in front of her.

“Tip! Tip!” the man demanded.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

The man had no patience for her confusion.

“Tip! Tip!” he shouted as he shook the drum in front of her.

“What for? I haven’t done anything!” she shouted back.

“You take photo! Tip!”

The man’s eyes became wide and piercing, and he beat his drum even harder to prove his point.

“But…” Kate started to say, but then surrendered and threw in a couple coins.

“You give more! More Tip!”

Kate was astounded at the nerve of this man, and quickly left the scene to avoid further confrontation. She was not going to let this man take the remaining change she had, especially after her expensive dinner.

The allure of the market square was quickly losing its appeal for Kate, and she started heading back to the Riad. However in the distance she saw a narrow alleyway with shops selling Moroccan-style decorations and other interesting merchandise. She was immediately intrigued and walked over to take a better look.

Shop booths were wedged in side by side crammed with merchandise. There were large brass overhead lights, decorative clay pots for Tajine stews, silk and cashmere scarves, brightly patterned footstools and pillow covers, Muslim-style clothing, colourful serving dishes and lots of woven baskets and bags. There were so many interesting items that Kate’s attention constantly shifted from one booth to the next, trying to see everything on display. Shop vendors competed for people’s attention as they strolled through the alleyway, shouting greetings and pointing to their merchandise.

The labyrinth of alleyways was amusing at first, but after a while Kate just wanted to head back to the Riad. When she arrived at a central area she looked down each of the spoked alleyways to judge which one could get her back to the market square. But after a few attempts she kept arriving back at the same spot. She checked the map in her guidebook, but that was hopeless with its lack of detail and unmarked street names. It seemed the more she tried to get out, the more lost she became. All the shops started to look the same down the narrow winding streets.

Kate’s pace started to slow down, and she looked all around her to see which way to go next. The shopkeepers were staring back at Kate, calling out for her to come inside their booth to look at all their wonderful things.

“Bonsoir! Please come inside, we have many things to choose----“

“Bonjour mademoiselle! Take a look at our beautiful lamps! We have small ones and large ones to suit-----“

“Hello! Please see all our fine fabrics! Do you like silk or cashmere? We have just the right----“

“Bonjour!”

“Bonsoir!”

Kate’s face became flush and tears started welling up in her eyes. As she walked along everything started spinning with bright colours flashing by, and people’s voices echoed all around her. She stumbled over to a corner and covered her face with her hands, almost dropping her guidebook on the ground. With her body slumped forward, the only thing she could see were people’s feet plodding along the pathway, barely noticing Kate as they brushed by.

After a few minutes Kate’s head suddenly popped up. Her eyes were filled with determination, and she brushed back her hair and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. She smiled to herself and walked back out onto the path. At the first sign of a friendly face she began her mission.

“Pardon-moi, which way to the market square, s’il vous plâit?” Kate asked the young man, smiling with each word she said.

The man pointed his finger to the right, and squiggled it around in an effort to illustrate all the twists and turns along the way.

“Merci!” Kate said with enthusiasm as she walked away.

“But mademoiselle, before you go please look----“

“Non merci!” she blurted out before he could finish his sales pitch.

Kate tried her best to remember all the directions the young man gave her, but at several points there were other alleys that split off from the main path, making it difficult to know which one to take. But before she went any further, she asked another person for directions.

It took her about fifteen minutes and five people later until she finally arrived back in the market square. Her face glowed with happiness and she raised her arms up to the sky. She took a deep breath and continued on her way with extra vigor. She was about halfway across the square when she noticed a young man thumbing through his guidebook looking confused. He looked up for a moment and saw Kate coming towards him.

“Uh, Pardon-moi, parlez-vous anglais?”

“Yes, I do! Can I help you?”

“Oh, thank god. I’m trying to find a nice café. Do you know any place that’s good? All I could find were the food booths over there.”

“Yeah, I would definitely go somewhere else. If you like, I could join you and we could find a place together.”

“That would be great. I just got into Marrakech this afternoon and would really appreciate the company.”

“My pleasure.” Kate replied with renewed confidence.

As they walked through the busy square together, Kate just smiled at all the craziness happening around her. Rather than be consumed by the intensity she simply let it drift and flow past. But the kindness of strangers stayed with her the rest of the evening.