Rings and rugs

We are parked tonight on a campsite about five miles north of Tinerhir (Tinghir) about four miles south of the Todra gorge which we are planning to visit tomorrow. We left Boumalne Dades this morning with very dirty and dusty, yellow streaked vans and after a short journey of only 45 minutes arrived at Tinghir and stopped for our morning coffee. Eight out of ten today for good coffee, bread, cheese and apricot jam. Next door was a supermarket and we called in for a few bits and pieces. As we waited to pay a guy came in, had a muttered conversation with the assistant and a bottle of fig vodka miraculously appeared which was quickly wrapped in newspaper. Aha, I thought, and enquired if they had any beer. I was shown to the room next door which was stocked with wine, beer and spirits and purchased a tray of Flag beer at an exorbitant price. As we left the guy who had purchased the vodka was outside and asked with a laugh if I had managed to find the beer. We got chatting and it turned out he had lived in Paris for twenty five years, worked as a motor mechanic and had come home for a holiday and to visit his mother who was unwell. He asked if we had been to the market or the area where the Jewish silversmiths had lived and worked and when we said we hadn't he gave us directions and eventually said it was no trouble to show us the way. Off we went through a maze of streets where small metal fabricators, welders, joiners and a few other trades were banging and clattering away, roads were being repaired and push bikes, mopeds and the occasional car weaved their way through, avoiding pedestrians and pot holes. Eventually we arrived at a small market square and were led through a tiny doorway, which we would never have found, and into the women's market, so called because it sold women's and children's clothes and shoes and not much else. We exited into a maze of alleyways where the Kasbah was being restored with the traditional clay and straw blocks. This was a part of town, explained Mohamed, where tourists rarely came. We passed a water fountain where women and children were filling water containers and Mohamed explained that the water only flowed for two hours in the morning and two hours at night. By now we were completely lost amongst the narrow twisting lanes, we turned a corner and Mohamed, before taking his leave to his house just around the corner, introduced us to Hassan, who was stood outside a fairly non descript doorway. On the way Mohamed,who is a Berber, as is almost everybody here in the south, chatted away to us in near perfect English, telling us about the silver mine just outside town which is the largest mine in Africa and which employs over three thousand people. Telling us, as other people had told us before, how well the Berbers and Jews had got along together. He pointed out many community and educational centres in the Ksour. For many years in Morocco the Berber people were looked down upon and even persecuted by the Arabs, who arrived in the seventh century but now there is a resurgence in Berber pride with Berbers, who were the original occupants of Morocco, accounting for eighty five percent of the population as a whole and the Berber language being taught now in mainstream schools.

So, back to Hassan who invites us into his house. Up a flight of stairs and we're into a veritable emporium of pottery, jewellery, lanterns, some percussion instruments and glassware. There were no signs outside the shop and when I enquired of Hassan he explained that his business was partly wholesale to retailers and the retail trade he enjoyed arrived by word of mouth, the odd tour bus and, of course, folk like Mohamed. Hassan explained the significance and origins of the, almost exclusively, silver jewellery he had. Some of it he bought in but a lot of it was made by family members or Berber or Tuareg craftsmen. It was some of the best silver work we had seen and although we had no intention of buying anything when we were first invited in, inevitably we did. Hassan said that he didn't negotiate on price, "We'll, maybe just a little bit" but, to be fair the first prices he quoted on the things we picked up were more than reasonable. Phil bought a beautiful tiger stone set in a silver ring and I bought a silver "living man" which I will wear with pride to remind me of the wonderful people we have met so far here in Morocco. After "negotiation" I think everybody was satisfied with the price we paid. Paul and Chris wanted to buy a lantern, they've been looking for the ideal one for a few days now but Hassan didn't have any that took their fancy but offered to take us to a friend of his who had a wider selection. Up another flight of stairs to another exit from the house and we entered a carpet weaving room with some fabulous examples of the work hanging on the walls. We'd been keeping an eye out for a small rug for the side of our bed in the van and although there wasn't a rug the right size we eventually bought an "antique?" cushion cover which is just the right size, is beautiful and will be another memory for us.

Off to the lantern shop through another maze of alleys, guided by Hassan, and sure enough Paul and Chris found one they liked. Unfortunately, on examination, it wasn't as well made as they would have liked. In fact a piece dropped off while they were looking at it! So, we exit the shop and Hassan offers to take us back to our Motorhomes as, by now, we were completely lost. Phil mentioned that she needed to but some yoghurt so we are taken to three shops before Hassan is satisfied that we have the right yoghurt. Chris wanted some oranges from a stall and started loading her basket. "No" says Hassan, "not those ones, these ones." All the time the conversation flowed, we were as interested in him as he was about us and our travels and we laughed and joked until we reached the road where we were parked, albeit a mile or so down the road. He called us sun nomads, "Most nomads look for water, you look for the sun"

Ok, so Hassan had made a sale but we were never pressurised to buy anything and he didn't drag us off the street into his shop. It seems so much more relaxed here in these small to medium sized towns and villages than in the cities and if you take people at face value instead of thinking that they're out to rip you off the whole experience is just so much more rewarding.

We stopped for lunch at a cafe just next to the market before heading off to our vans and considered how a chance encounter outside a supermarket this morning developed into a fascinating tour of Tinghir and a further insight into the culture and personality of the Berber people.

Finally, a big thank you to Paul. I hadn't been to the bank and had very little cash (I'd spent it all on beer!) but he kindly lent me the money for our purchases today at an extremely low interest rate.

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