_____At last a shower. I must say that for a while I did not even notice that I was filthy. It was kind of nice. At any rate Mom and I said our good-byes to the other PC volunteers and made our way to the grand taxi stand. We had to wait a while for the taxi to fill up so we had tea at a café across the street. After forty-five minutes the head of the taxi lot came over and told us that it was time to go. It was just my luck that they put Mom and I in the way back of this Pugeot station-wagon. It really was uncomfortable for me because I had to slouch down really low in order for my head to fit. It was only a matter of minutes before my right leg was asleep from my hip down to my foot. In addition it was getting pretty hot. Originally I thought the Moroccan belief that strong winds carry disease was pretty funny. It is for this reason that you can find a man on a hot day wearing two long-sleeve button down shirts under a wool sweater and then on top of that a woolen Jellabah! They also still practice the ancient art of blood letting. So here we are in this cramped little sweltering death box of a car. I can't feel most of my lower body. The hot diesel exhaust and the aerosolized tuberculosis has been re-circulating through the car and I can't breath because all of the windows are rolled up to prevent disease except for the one directly in front of me that is down two centimeters and providing us all with barely enough oxygen to breath and this nice man in a three piece suit has been working for the past twenty minutes trying to push it up but it's stuck and won't go up all the way!! To make matters worse I was out of bottled water and had to pee really bad. Everyone else in the car was huddled up front participating in a colorful conversation that Mom tells me is about picking the right woman and the recent women's right's reforms. At any rate our driver is particularly vocal. So vocal that he is all over the road, but unlike other drivers who are all over the road he is driving painfully slow. The two-hour drive from Ouarzazate to Zagora takes us four hours! Ouch! The road was only a single paved lane that accommodated two-way traffic. This is fine in the desert when you can swerve onto the wide shoulders. However, in the mountains where there is not much of a shoulder and no guard-rails it is particularly horrifying. Mom was kind enough point out several burned out cars and busses on the gorge floor. Thanks Mom.

We arrive in Zagora at about three in the afternoon and we are both starving. Before we can eat we have to drop off our bags at M'barka's flat. From the grand taxi stand it is a quick two-block walk down an unpaved alley to Mom's building. Actually, there are only two paved roads in Zagora. The one that we drove in on and another that they had recently paved in anticipation of the King's tour. So everything else in Zagora is an unpaved alley. Now Zagora in on the northern edge of the Sahara desert and has the feel of a frontier town. I could hear Copeland playing in the background as we got out of the taxi. The grand taxi stand was right next to souk and the covered market. There were people everywhere, donkeys too. Most of the men were dressed in jellabahs with some form of head protection, either a head-scarf or a decorative skull cap. Most of the women wore scarves as well. A few women were completely veiled but a few were in western cloths too. On the way to Becky's apartment we passed her local hanut, a music shop that was blaring Moroccan music, and a carpenter's shop. The street was filled with people putting together wooden tables and chairs. It turns out that she lives directly above the carpentry shop. In fact the shop owner is her landlord. There is a small blue door on the 'street' that opens up into a narrow staircase. We go up three floors and in to her apartment. I was immediately shocked at how nice it was. Very clean and well built. I was not sure what to expect, but the reality was much nicer than I had thought.

We drop off our bags and head out for food. On the way we decide to play a joke on Lahcen. Lahcen in one of my Mom's Moroccan friends who owns a shop down the street (Pronounced la-Sen). He is somewhat fluent in about ten different languages including English, Spanish, Czech, and German. Lahcen's main business is chartering treks in the desert. Before I left I asked Becky if she wanted me to bring any gifts for her Moroccan friends. She said that Lahcen really wanted a Jimmy Cliff tape. So I procured a copy of Jimmy Cliff's greatest hits for Lahcen. Now for New Years a bunch of the Peace Corps volunteers came to Zagora and went on a big trek into the desert. (Kris & Amy's Pictures of New Years) The guys at the Zween house in Ouarzazate had prepared me for Lahcen and his "Lahcenisms." Lahcenisms are phrases in English that he uses when giving the hard-sell to tourists. "I will show you the hotel of a thousand stars." "You will see things which you can see nowhere else." "The haggle is the charm of the business." Now the idea of the joke is that I would go into Lahcen's shop pretending to be a tourist (who am I kidding) and then use these same lines on Lahcen and see what he says. I get dressed up in my jeans, T-shirt, blue head-scarf, and my bright red daypack. You could identify me from space as a tourist. So Mom tells me how to get to the shop and sends me on my way. She goes to get some sandwiches and is going to meet me at the shop. I walk back towards the grand taxi lot and right across from it is Lahcen's shop. Of course I walk right by it. Realizing that I had missed it I start to double back. From the street I hear "Hello, hello, how are you!" I turn to find Lahcen dressed in slacks, a London fog jacket, a very ornate intricate big black head-scarf, and some dark glasses. I recognize him immediately from pictures that Mom had sent. Here is the breakdown of what happened next:

Seth: "Oh you speak English, this is wonderful."

Lahcen: "Yes, Yes, I speak English. What do you do in Zagora?"

Seth: "I am a tourist. I would like to go on a trek. I want to see the hotel of a thousand stars!"

Lahcen: Temporarily at a loss. "I will make the trekking for you. I will show you the hotel of... two thousand stars."

Seth: "I want to see things that I have never before seen."

Lahcen: "Ahhh... This, this I can show you. You American?"

Seth: "Yes I am."

Lahcen: "Oh, I have American Peace Corps friends in Zagora. One is from Wisconsin and one is a school teacher! (referring to Becky) She is on holiday in Fez."

Seth: "Really? That's great! I would like to meet them." (At this point I am struggling to keep a straight face.)

Lahcen: "I have post cards from them in my shop. Come with me." (I follow.)

A classic ploy for a shopkeeper is to lure an unsuspecting tourist into his shop and have him translate a postcard. Once in the shop the tourist gets badgered to buy some goods. Not me, as I am well armed. We get into his shop and he starts digging through a tattered envelope and pulls out a postcard for me to read. I flip it over and nearly erupt into laughter because the postcard is from Becky! I read a few more letters and then wonder over to a small silver teakettle. I ask how much he wants for it. 90 Dhs. I place it on the table between us. At this point Ahmed (Lahcen's business partner, or sbitar, whom I had met on the way to Mom's flat) comes in and winks at me. Ahmed asks me if I am hungry. Yes I am hungry! At which point he hands over a small bag containing a meat, egg, and tomato sandwich and some French fries. Way to go Mom!

Seth: "Wow Lahcen, do you give food to all tourists in your shop?"

Lahcen: "For you, yes." (At this point he is clearly confused.)

Seth: "So you want 90 Dhs for this tea kettle. In America we have a saying 'The bargain is the charm of the business.' Here is what I will do. I will trade you this tea kettle for this Jimmy Cliff tape." (I reach into my bag and produce the tape.)

Lahcen: His eyes get big. "Ohhh, Jimmy Cliff. I like Jimmy Cliff!"

At this point Mom and Joe come in. Joe is the other Peace Corps volunteer in Zagora with Mom, and lives in the apartment directly below her. Joe introduces himself and so does Becky. I tell them my name. It takes Lahcen a second. "Seth? You are Seth? Oh no!" At which point everyone breaks out into laughter and Lahcen collapses in tears as he realizes what has just happened. It was absolutely hilarious.

Left to Right: Brahim, Manjeet, Tarik, Lahcen, Ahmed, and Joe.

We stayed in the Shop sitting around smoking and drinking tea for the rest of the afternoon. Mom didn't smoke because she is a woman. That night Joe, Becky and I cooked at her place. After dinner Mom asks me, "Did you finish the rest of the food? We are going to need those pans cleaned so we can heat bath water tomorrow." Ha! From what I have seen so far, Zagora ain't that bad.

Copyright Seth Toomay 2000

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