Fes part 2

I left the riad around 5pm and caught the first taxi I could find. I had no idea where I wanted to go, so I started naming random tourist attractions but the cabbie said it was impossible to get to any of those by taxi. They are all in the old city and only pedestrians and motorcycles are allowed into the medina. I told him to just take me to the opposite end of the old city, outside the gates. I started off exploring the southwest end and wandered around for hours until reaching the northeast corner, somewhat close to my riad. I have no idea where I went within the medina. The alleys are intricate and nearly impossible to navigate even for native Fassis, or so said Abderrazzak, the owner of the riad.

While wandering around I was hoping to come across the Fes tanneries-- where they dye the leather that Fes is so famous for. While stuck in a crowded alley, a young man approached me saying he would lead me to the tanneries for free. Of course, if the first thing someone says is that something is free, it's probably not. I told him I'll give him only 5dh. He almost lost me a few times along the way but finally we reached a nondescript building and walked up a few flights of stairs to a terrace.

Not surprisingly, all of those steaming dyes smell really bad. Most tourists are provided a spring of mint to hold in front of their noses. All kinds of gross stuff are used for the dying process, the least bothersome of which is cow manure.

I explored the maze of alleys and stairways until I got dizzy and found a taxi to take me to my riad. The driver had no idea where it was and it seemed miraculous to me that I finally recognized an area as being close to the riad... just in time, too. The driver had started to talk about how much his wife hates him and if me and him got married, he would be able to move to the U.S.

When I got back to the riad, I found Abderrazzak sitting on the stoop, looking intently at a notepad. He told me that I was welcome to eat futoor with him and his family if I wanted. It was the typical Moroccan Ramadan meal: Harira, shbekia, dates. The only difference was that they served all of this with delicious chocolate cake that their daughter made. Most of the meal we spent watching hidden camera shows, which are wildly popular in Morocco. Aberrazzak started talking about his previous jobs. He taught Arabic all over Morocco but gave it up to be the caretaker at the riad. He also works for an organization that advocates for the rights of the elderly. His wife is an expert of Arabic literature, especially Iraqi poetry. A short while later he mentioned that he had been writing a poem earlier that day about the crisis in Egypt. I asked him to read it to me and he did. Not that I am any judge, but it sounded amazing. The underlying message in the poem is that Egypt does not have a clear enemy. Or if it does, no one knows who it is... the Muslim Brotherhood? Morsi? The military? Is the enemy inside or outside the country? While Egyptians try to figure this out they are killing each other, creating deeper divisions and it was clear from Abderrazzak's poem that the lack of unity among Arabs is deeply disturbing to him. I was hesitant to ask him at first, but I got him to write down the rough draft of the poem in my notebook so that I have my own copy. I'm excited to go back and translate the parts I didn't understand.

He had mentioned to me during dinner that I should see the view from the roof of the riad at night. We climbed a few flights of stairs and walked outside. There was a cool breeze and it was the perfect summer night. After looking over the old city and the tanneries, we turned to go back inside when we both noticed a pigeon sitting on the wall only about a foot away from us. Abderrazzak's arm shot out and he grabbed the bird before it had a chance to get away. We stood there looking at it and petting it for a little while. Then he headed to the door, bird in hand. I asked him what he was doing. 

"What do you mean?"

"What are you doing with the pigeon?"

"I'm going to cook it!" He said.

"No..."

He said he was just kidding so we headed downstairs. I figured he probably wanted to show the pigeon to his daughters, especially since he managed to catch it with his bare hands.  In the stairway, he said something else about putting it in a tagine and I stopped him on the stairs.

"You're not actually going to eat it, right?" I asked.

"No, no." He said.

"Do you swear by Allah?"

"By Allah." He said.

That satisfied me. Swearing for devout Muslims is normally taken seriously. When we got to the living room the family was clearly unimpressed with what we brought back. The older daughter didn't want anything to do with the pigeon. We then noticed that the bird was banded... it clearly belonged to someone and that's probably why it was comfortable being close to us on the roof. Moroccans often keep pigeons, as far as I understand, as pets or may sell them in the souq. They are semi-domesticated. From the limited knowledge I have about domestic pigeons, I think they are allowed to fly free but usually return home to roost.

Abderrazak's wife looked at the pigeon and said it was a good size. They could keep it and eat it later.

Of course, I objected and said it was too small to eat. I said we should go back to the roof and let him go. Abderrazzak could see how upset I was getting so he asked me, "Don't you eat chicken?" I told him yes, I do.

"Then what's the difference?" He said.

"There is no difference. I just feel bad for this pigeon."

"We eat pigeon's all the time."

"I know. I know. But I'm not talking about pigeons in general, I'm talking about this pigeon." I said.

"But this is natural."

"I don't know if this is natural. You can't kill it. It's someone else's pigeon!"

"So what?" He said.

It went on like this for a while. I said he shouldn't steal someone else's pigeon. I then asked him how much a pigeon costs in the souq. He didn't understand why I wanted to know. He teased me by saying they cost $1,000 each. I offered him 30dh (a few dollars) for the pigeon if he would let it go. Of course he and his wife cracked up laughing.

"Why do you care so much??" She asked. Now I had to try to explain.

"I feel guilty because I'm the one who wanted to go up on the roof just now. We found the pigeon sitting there, enjoying the nice weather when you grabbed him and now he's obviously really scared."

Abderrazzak said he just wanted to keep it for the night because the pigeon would get lost trying to find its way home. He said they can't see well in the dark. I responded by saying that pigeons have a very good sense of direction and don't depend on their eyesight as much as whatever mysterious thing is in their brain that allows them to find home. It was interesting trying to explain homing instincts and magnetite in Arabic. 

The frustrating thing is that I couldn't tell if they were teasing me or if they were seriously considering keeping the bird to slaughter. They found a wicker basket and put the pigeon inside. He said we would release it in the morning when I woke up. At this point I was really suspicious of what they were going to do with it. I reminded him that he swore to God that he would not kill it... I was really playing every card I had. I may have even implied that since I was their guest they should do what I want (especially since I was offering compensation!). I told Abderrazzak that I thought he was lying to me about releasing the pigeon. Again, like promises, the term liar carries a lot more weight in the Arab world. But he just laughed it off. I told him to not release it until I woke up so I could go with him. I was worried the basket would be empty in the morning with the excuse that the bird had been released when it had actually been killed or sold.

"I could tell from the moment we saw the pigeon that you were scared for it. Now we know a little bit more about who Hannah is."

I went to bed and woke up in the late morning. I went into the living room and saw the wicker basket in the same spot. I asked them if the pigeon was still in it. It was. I wanted to release it immediately but they insisted I finish my tea first. Halfway through my glass I insisted that Abderrazzak and I go to the roof and let the bird go. He obliged.

He let the pigeon go and it promptly flew right back to where he had caught it the night before.

After returning to Meknes, I got a message from Abderrazzak saying he was really impressed with my Arabic and he was touched by my love of birds. He said he's planning on writing a poem about the pigeon whose life I saved and he'll be sure to mention me by name in it.

Oh, and here are some pictures of the view, my room, and the train: