Moroccan Stories

From The Marrakech Express

Scene: A narrow, busy street in the medina in Marrakech. It is twilight. Everyone scurries. The muezzin wails out his call to prayer. Foot and futuristic traffic. We happen to fall into step with an old man wearing a plain wool djellaba, a white turban, and yellow leather curled to slippers. Shuffling at an easy pace, he is rhythmically whacking his donkey ever few steps.

Old Man (in translation): How do you do my friend!
Me: How are you? No problems?
Old Man: Nope, everything's well. Everything well with you? Any problems with you?
Me: No problems with me either, friend. (We shake hands and touch our hearts.) Well, what are you up to?
Old Man: Oh, same as always. (Whacks his donkey.) This here's my donkey.
Me: Nice donkey.
Old Man: Yep. She's my house, my wife, my car, my keep, and of course my donkey!
Me: Wow! (Mulling it over.) Could you use any spare change?
Old Man: (Hesitates.) Do you have more?
Me: Sure, I have a lot more, take it! (Trying to hand him the coins.)
Old Man: Well, wait a minute. Do you want to make more, or do you expect more? Even more?
Me: Yes, look, here take it!
Old Man: Then you keep it. You need it more than I do. You have much and want more; I have nothing and want nothing.

Whacks his donkey as we part at a crossroads.