is not very high, dark complexion without being black, like very sunburned but that sun which shows that is not for pleasure but for work. His age is indefinite, at least for me, wrinkles, work and time, which is sometimes cruel, it has been marked by her leaving.
Their clothes are not exactly clean, or at least not appear, but that is not dirt on who is left, but that which produces the city where he lives, filled with sand, even in the most unexpected recesses.
A Rachida I met three years ago, when I still had no name and was merely a seller of jasmine in Khan El-Khalili. To whom you have not been there will tell you to put up with the vendors "street" of Khan is even more difficult to endure continuous calls from the shop: purses, handkerchiefs, dolls, toy helicopters, lighters, bracelets, rugs, fans. . a torturous back and forth to which we add the henna tattoo artists and sellers of jasmine.
Rachida was one of those to which they always said " la, shukran *. I repeated many times and many times I saw that on my last day of visit to the market ended up giving me a necklace of jasmine ... I curled up on my wrist during overnight.
This summer, after three years, my surprise was great to see Rachida recognized me because he was seen not only in the eyes, that smile, but his gestures. The difference is that this time I gave from the beginning and bought the jasmine, which caused a strange relationship between the two, wherever he saw me and greeted me, finally, the third night exchanged names in the middle of an alley, where she sat looking tired taking tea.
Rachida changed the face when we saw the market, sitting in coffee will not say that softened him, because it would be too generous, but the truth is that relaxed and looked like another. If not bought jasmine and gave it to us if we bought him, we always gave more. We exchanged a few phrases in Arabic (I did not allow for more) and joked with the waiters or the other vendors with respect to us .. now we were part of it, maybe not his property, but that would be the idea ...
The night before Ramadan introduced us to his son, a young male copy of it, he did a voice of pride, bragging about it. To say goodbye before returning to the hotel, I wished a happy Ramadan and I went for a kiss .. I went ahead and gave it to her I would not know how to explain it: I forgot what were the signs of respect that we had learned in Morocco and the only thing I could think was that ... He deserves all the respect in the world, although I suppose that many will be surprised our gesture.
There's nothing like being a foreigner and get carried away ...
(* no, thanks)
