Life in Morocco and Glimpses Beyond Part 6

All is well when the two tiny children play together on the floor, and quarrel on equal terms, but it is another thing when little Hamed goes daily to school, and as soon as he has learned to read is brought home in triumph on a gaily dressed horse, heading a procession of shouting schoolfellows, while his pretty sister Fatimah is fast developing into a maid-of-all-work whom n.o.body thinks of noticing. And the distinction widens when Hamed rides in the "powder-play," or is trusted to keep shop by himself, while Fatimah is closely veiled and kept a prisoner indoors, body and mind unexercised, distinguishable by colour and dress alone from Habibah, the ebony slave-girl, who was sold like a calf from her mother's side. Yes, indeed, far different paths lie before the two play-mates, but while they are treated alike, let us take a peep at them in their innocent sweetness.

Their mother, Ayeshah, went out as usual one morning to glean in the fields, and in the evening returned with two bundles upon her back; the upper one was to replace crowing Hamed in his primitive cradle: it was Fatimah. Next day, as Ayeshah set off to work again, she left her son kicking up his heels on a pile of blankets, howling till he should become acquainted with his new surroundings, and a little skinny mite lay peacefully sleeping where he had hitherto lived. No mechanical ba.s.sinette ever swung more evenly, and no soft draperies made a better cot than the sheet tied up by the corners to a couple of ropes, and swung across the room like a hammock. The beauty of it was that, roll as he would, even active Hamed had been safe in it, and all his energies only served to rock him off to sleep again, for the sides almost met at the top. Yet he was by no means dull, for through a hole opposite his eye he could watch the cows and goats and sheep as they wandered about the yard, not to speak of the c.o.c.ks and hens that roamed all over the place.

At last the time came when both the wee ones could toddle, and Ayeshah carried them no more to the fields astride her hips or slung over her shoulders in a towel. They were then left to disport themselves as they pleased--which, of course, meant rolling about on the ground,--their garments tied up under their arms, leaving them bare from the waist. No wonder that sitting on cold and wet stones had threatened to shrivel up their thin legs, which looked wonderfully shaky at best.

It seems to be a maxim among the Moors that neither head, arms nor legs suffer in any way from exposure to cold or heat, and the mothers of the poorer cla.s.ses think nothing of carrying their children slung across their backs with their little bare pates exposed to the sun and rain, or of allowing their lower limbs to become numbed with cold as just described. The sole recommendation of such a system is that only the fittest--in a certain sense--survive. Of the attention supposed to be bestowed in a greater or less degree upon all babes in our own land they get little. One result, however, is satisfactory, for they early give up yelling, as an amus.e.m.e.nt which does not pay, and no one is troubled to march them up and down for hours when teething. Yet it is hardly surprising that under such conditions infant mortality is very great, and, indeed, all through life in this doctorless land astonis.h.i.+ng numbers are carried off by diseases we should hardly consider dangerous.

Beyond the much-enjoyed dandle on Father's knee, or the cuddle with Mother, delights are few in Moorish child-life, and of toys such as we have they know nothing, whatever they may find to take their place.

But when a boy is old enough to amuse himself, there is no end to the mischief and fun he will contrive, and the lads of Barbary are as fond of their games as we of ours. You may see them racing about after school hours at a species of "catch-as-catch-can," or playing football with their heels, or spinning tops, sometimes of European make. Or, dearest sport of all, racing a donkey while seated on its far hind quarters, with all the noise and enjoyment we threw into such pastimes a few years ago. To look at the merry faces of these lively youths, and to hear their cheery voices, is sufficient to convince anyone of their inherent capabilities, which might make them easily a match for English lads if they had their chances.

But what chances have they? At the age of four or five they are drafted off to school, not to be educated, but to be taught to read by rote, and to repeat long chapters of the Koran, if not the whole volume, by heart, hardly understanding what they read. Beyond this little is taught but the four great rules of arithmetic in the figures which we have borrowed from them, but worked out in the most primitive style. In "long" multiplication, for instance, they write every figure down, and "carry" nothing, so that a much more formidable addition than need be has to conclude the calculation. But they have a quaint system of learning their multiplication tables by mnemonics, in which every number is represented by a letter, and these being made up into words, are committed to memory in place of the figures.

A Moorish school is a simple affair. No forms, no desks, few books.

A number of boards about the size of foolscap, painted white on both sides, on which the various lessons--from the alphabet to portions of the Koran--are plainly written in large black letters; a switch or two, a pen and ink and a book, complete the furnis.h.i.+ngs. The dominie, squatted tailor-fas.h.i.+on on the ground, like his pupils, who may number from ten to thirty, repeats the lesson in a sonorous sing-song voice, and is imitated by the little urchins, who accompany their voices by a rocking to and fro, which occasionally enables them to keep time. A sharp application of the switch is wonderfully effectual in re-calling wandering attention. Lazy boys are speedily expelled.

On the admission of a pupil the parents pay some small sum, varying according to their means, and every Wednesday, which is a half-holiday, a payment is made from a farthing to twopence. New moons and feasts are made occasions for larger payments, and count as holidays, which last ten days on the occasion of the greater festivals. Thursday is a whole holiday, and no work is done on Friday morning, that being the Mohammedan Sabbath, or at least "meeting day,"

as it is called.

At each successive stage of the scholastic career the schoolmaster parades the pupils one by one, if at all well-to-do, in the style already alluded to, collecting gifts from the grateful parents to supplement the few coppers the boys bring to school week by week. If they intend to become notaries or judges, they go on to study at Fez, where they purchase the key of a room at one of the colleges, and read to little purpose for several years. In everything the Koran is the standard work. The chapters therein being arranged without any idea of sequence, only according to length,--with the exception of the Fatihah,--the longest at the beginning and the shortest at the end, after the first the last is learned, and so backwards to the second.

Most of the lads are expected to do something to earn their bread at quite an early age, in one way or another, even if not called on to a.s.sist their parents in something which requires an old head on young shoulders. Such youths being so early independent, at least in a measure, mix with older lads, who soon teach them all the vices they have not already learned, in which they speedily become as adept as their parents.

Those intended for a mercantile career are put into the shop at twelve or fourteen, and after some experience in weighing-out and bargaining by the side of a father or elder brother, they are left entirely to themselves, being supplied with goods from the main shop as they need them.

It is by this means that the mult.i.tudinous little box-shops which are a feature of the towns are enabled to pay their way, this being rendered possible by an expensive minutely retail trade. The average English tradesman is a wholesale dealer compared to these petty retailers, and very many middle-cla.s.s English households take in sufficient supplies at a time to stock one of their shops. One reason for this is the hand-to-mouth manner in which the bulk of the people live, with no notion of thrift. They earn their day's wage, and if anything remains above the expense of living, it is invested in gay clothing or jimcracks. Another reason is that those who could afford it have seldom any member of their household whom they can trust as housekeeper, of which more anon.

It seems ridiculous to send for sugar, tea, etc., by the ounce or less; candles, boxes of matches, etc., one by one; needles, thread, silk, in like proportion, even when cash is available, but such is the practice here, and there is as much haggling over the price of one candle as over that of an expensive article of clothing. Often quite little children, who elsewhere would be considered babes, are sent out to do the shopping, and these cheapen and bargain like the sharpest old folk, with what seems an inherent talent.

Very little care is taken of even the children of the rich, and they get no careful training. The little sons and daughters of quite important personages are allowed to run about as neglected and dirty as those of the very poor. Hence the practice of shaving the head cannot be too highly praised in a country where so much filth abounds, and where cutaneous diseases of the worst type are so frequent. It is, however, noteworthy that while the Moors do not seem to consider it any disgrace to be scarred and covered with disgusting sores, the result of their own sins and those of their fathers, they are greatly ashamed of any ordinary skin disease on the head. But though the shaven skulls are the distinguis.h.i.+ng feature of the boys in the house, where their dress closely resembles that of their sisters, the girls may be recognized by their ample locks, often dyed to a fas.h.i.+onable red with henna; yet they, too, are often partially shaved, sometimes in a fantastic style. It may be the hair in front is cut to a fringe an inch long over the forehead, and a strip a quarter of an inch wide is shaved just where the visible part of a child's comb would come, while behind this the natural frizzy or straight hair is left, cut short, while the head is shaved again round the ears and at the back of the neck. To perform these operations a barber is called in, who attends the family regularly. Little boys of certain tribes have long tufts left hanging behind their ears, and occasionally they also have their heads shaved in strange devices.

Since no attempt is made to bring the children up as useful members of the community at the age when they are most susceptible, they are allowed to run wild. Thus, bright and tractable as they are naturally, no sooner do the lads approach the end of their 'teens, than a marked change comes over them, a change which even the most casual observer cannot fail to notice. The hitherto agreeable youths appear washed-out and worthless. All their energy has disappeared, and from this time till a second change takes place for the worse, large numbers drag out a weary existence, victims of vices which hold them in their grip, till as if burned up by a fierce but short-lived fire, they ultimately become seared and shattered wrecks. From this time every effort is made to fan the flickering or extinguished flame, till death relieves the weary mortal of the burden of his life.

XI

"DINING OUT"[6]

[6: Contributed by my wife.--B. M.]

"A good supper is known by its odour."

_Moorish Proverb._

There are no more important qualifications for the diner-out in Morocco than an open mind and a teachable spirit. Then start with a determination to forget European table manners, except in so far as they are based upon consideration for the feelings of others, setting yourself to do in Morocco as the Moors do, and you cannot fail to gain profit and pleasure from your experience.

One slight difficulty arises from the fact that it is somewhat hard to be sure at any time that you have been definitely invited to partake of a Moorish meal. A request that you would call at three o'clock in the afternoon, mid-way between luncheon and dinner, would seem an unusual hour for a heavy repast, yet that is no guarantee that you may not be expected to partake freely of an elaborate feast.

If you are a member of the frail, fair s.e.x, the absence of all other women will speedily arouse you to the fact that you are in an oriental country, for in Morocco the sons and chief servants, though they eat after the master of the house, take precedence of the wives and women-folk, who eat what remains of the various dishes, or have specially prepared meals in their own apartments. For the same reason you need not be surprised if you are waited upon after the men of the party, though this order is sometimes reversed where the host is familiar with European etiquette with regard to women. If a man, perhaps a son will wait upon you.

The well-bred Moor is quite as great a stickler for the proprieties as the most conservative Anglo-Saxon, and you will do well if you show consideration at the outset by removing your shoes at the door of the room, turning a deaf ear to his a.s.surance that such a proceeding is quite unnecessary on your part. A glance round the room will make it clear that your courtesy will be appreciated, for the carpet on the floor is bright and unmarked by muddy or dusty shoes (in spite of the condition of the streets outside), and the mattresses upon which you are invited to sit are immaculate in their whiteness.

Having made yourself comfortable, you will admire the arrangements for the first item upon the programme. The slave-girl appears with a handsome tray, bra.s.s or silver, upon which there are a goodly number of cups or tiny gla.s.s tumblers, frequently both, of delicate pattern and artistic colouring, a silver tea-pot, a caddy of green tea, a silver or gla.s.s bowl filled with large, uneven lumps of sugar, which have been previously broken off from the loaf, and a gla.s.s containing sprigs of mint and verbena. The bra.s.s samovar comes next, and having measured the tea in the palm of his right hand, and put it into the pot, the host proceeds to pour a small amount of boiling water upon it, which he straightway pours off, a precaution lest the Nazarenes should have mingled some colouring matter therewith. He then adds enough sugar to ensure a semi-syrupy result, with some sprigs of peppermint, and fills the pot from the samovar. A few minutes later he pours out a little, which he tastes himself, frequently returning the remainder to the pot, although the more Europeanized consume the whole draught. If the test has been satisfactory, he proceeds to fill the cups or gla.s.ses, pa.s.sing them in turn to the guests in order of distinction. To make a perceptible noise in drawing it from the gla.s.s to the mouth is esteemed a delicate token of appreciation.

The tray is then removed; the slave in attendance brings a chased bra.s.s basin and ewer of water, and before the serious portion of the meal begins you are expected to hold out your right hand just to cleanse it from any impurities which may have been contracted in coming. Orange-flower water in a silver sprinkler is then brought in, followed by a bra.s.s incense burner filled with live charcoal, on which a small quant.i.ty of sandal-wood or other incense is placed, and the result is a delicious fragrance which you are invited to waft by a circular motion of your hands into your hair, your ribbons and your laces, while your Moorish host finds the folds of his loose garments invaluable for the retention of the spicy perfume.

A circular table about eight inches high is then placed in the centre of the guests; on this is placed a tray with the first course of the dinner, frequently puffs of delicate pastry fried in b.u.t.ter over a charcoal fire, and containing sometimes meat, sometimes a delicious compound of almond paste and cinnamon. This, being removed, is followed by a succession of savoury stews with rich, well-flavoured gravies, each with its own distinctive spiciness, but all excellently cooked. The host first dips a fragment of bread into the gravy, saying as he does so, "B'ism Illah!" ("In the name of G.o.d!"), which the guests repeat, as each follows suit with a sop from the dish.

There is abundant scope for elegance of gesture in the eating of the stews, but still greater opportunity when the _piece de resistance_ of a Moorish dinner, the dish of kesk'soo, is brought on. This kesk'soo is a small round granule prepared from semolina, which, having been steamed, is served like rice beneath and round an excellent stew, which is heaped up in the centre of the dish. With the thumb and two first fingers of the right hand you are expected to secure some succulent morsel from the stew,--meat, raisins, onions, or vegetable marrow,--and with it a small quant.i.ty of the kesk'soo. By a skilful motion of the palm the whole is formed into a round ball, which is thrown with a graceful curve of hand and wrist into the mouth. Woe betide you if your host is possessed by the hospitable desire to make one of these boluses for you, for he is apt to measure the cubic content of your mouth by that of his own, and for a moment your feelings will be too deep for words; but this is only a brief discomfort, and you will find the dish an excellent one, for Moorish cooks never serve tough meat.

If your fingers have suffered from contact with the kesk'soo, it is permitted to you to apply your tongue to each digit in turn in the following order; fourth (or little finger), second, thumb, third, first; but a few moments later the slave appears, and after bearing away the table with the remains of the feast gives the opportunity for a most satisfactory ablution. In this case you are expected to use soap, and to wash both hands, over which water is poured three times.

If you are at all acquainted with Moorish ways, you will not fail at the same time to apply soap and water to your mouth both outwardly and inwardly, being careful to rinse it three times with plenty of noise, ejecting the water behind your hand into the basin which is held before you.

Orange-flower water and incense now again appear, and you may be required to drink three more gla.s.ses of refres.h.i.+ng tea, though this is sometimes omitted at the close of a repast. Of course "the feast of reason and the flow of soul" have not been lacking, and you have been repeatedly a.s.sured of your welcome, and invited to partake beyond the limit of human possibility, for the Moor believes you can pay no higher compliment to the dainties he has provided than by their consumption.

For a while you linger, reclining upon the mattress as gracefully as may be possible for a tyro, with your arm upon a pile of many-coloured cus.h.i.+ons of embroidered leather or cloth. Then, after a thousand mutual thanks and blessings, accompanied by graceful bowings and bendings, you say farewell and step to the door, where your slippers await you, and usher yourself out, not ill-satisfied with your initiation into the art of dining-out in Barbary.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photograph by Dr. Rudduck._

FRUIT-SELLERS.]

XII

DOMESTIC ECONOMY

"Manage with bread and b.u.t.ter till G.o.d sends the jam."

_Moorish Proverb._

If the ordinary regulations of social life among the Moors differ materially from those in force among ourselves, how much more so must the minor details of the housekeeping when, to begin with, the husband does the marketing and keeps the keys! And the consequential Moor does, indeed, keep the keys, not only of the stores, but also often of the house. What would an English lady think of being coolly locked in a windowless house while her husband went for a journey, the provisions for the family being meanwhile handed in each morning through a loophole by a trusty slave left as gaoler? That no surprise whatever would be elicited in Barbary by such an arrangement speaks volumes. Woman has no voice under Mohammed's creed.

Early in the morning let us take a stroll into the market, and see how things are managed there. Round the inside of a high-walled enclosure is a row of the rudest of booths. Over portions of the pathway, stretching across to other booths in the centre--if the market is a wide one--are pieces of cloth, vines on trellis, or canes interwoven with brushwood. As the sun gains strength these afford a most grateful shade, and during the heat of the day there is no more pleasant place for a stroll, and none more full of characteristic life. In the wider parts, on the ground, lie heaps two or three feet high of mint, verbena and lemon thyme, the much-esteemed flavourings for the national drink--green-tea syrup--exhaling a most delicious fragrance.

It is early summer: the luscious oranges are not yet over, and in tempting piles they lie upon the stalls made of old packing-cases, many with still legible familiar English and French inscriptions.

Apricots are selling at a halfpenny or less the pound, and plums and damsons, not to speak of greengages, keep good pace with them in price and sales. The bright tints of the lettuces and other fresh green vegetables serve to set off the rich colours of the G.o.d-made delicacies, but the prevailing hue of the scene is a restful earth-brown, an autumnal leaf-tint; the trodden ground, the sun-dried brush-wood of the booths and awnings, and the wet-stained wood-work.

No glamour of paint or gleam of gla.s.s destroys the harmony of the surroundings.

But with all the feeling of cool and repose, rest there is not, or idleness, for there is not a brisker scene in an oriental town than its market-place. Thronging those narrow pathways come the rich and poor--the portly merchant in his morning cloak, a spotless white wool jellab, with a turban and girth which bespeak easy circ.u.mstances; the labourer in just such a cloak with the hood up, but one which was always brown, and is now much mended; the slave in s.h.i.+rt and drawers, with a string round his shaven pate; the keen little Jew boy pus.h.i.+ng and bargaining as no other could; the bearded son of Israel, with piercing eyes, and his daughter with streaming hair; lastly, the widow or time-worn wife of the poor Mohammedan, who must needs market for herself. Her wrinkled face and care-worn look tell a different tale from the pompous self-content of the merchant by her side, who drives as hard a bargain as she does. In his hand he carries a palmetto-leaf basket, already half full, as with slippered feet he carefully picks his way among puddles and garbage.

"Good morning, O my master; G.o.d bless thee!" exclaims the stall-keeper as his customer comes in sight.

Sad el Faraji has to buy cloth of the merchant time and time again, so makes a point of pleasing one who can return a kindness.

"No ill, praise G.o.d; and thyself, O Sad?" comes the cheery reply; then, after five minutes' mutual inquiry after one another's household, horses and other interests, health and general welfare, friend Sad points out the daintiest articles on his stall, and in the most persuasive of tones names his "lowest price."