There are three types of beggars in Fez that I can work out. Now the presence of any type of beggar is a sad reflection on any society but in some societies it’s also a sad fact of life.
So in the medina of Fez (and old parts of towns all over the developing world) there are variously afflicted people who rely on the charity of others (in many cases their organised crime handlers) to survive.
Outside on the roads there are those for whom it’s a spare time job. They hang around intersections trying to scam pocket money from naive tourists. These guys with their jeans and branded t-shirts and back-packs look like they’re competing in a best dressed beggar competition.
Then there are the refugees on the outskirts of town. They are from sub-Saharan Africa and are on their way to Europe. You can feel sorry for their plight or you can feel sorry for the people who will have to accommodate their everyday needs when they get to their ultimate destination – Germany, France, Sweden, U.K., take your pick.
One thing’s for sure, after seeing this, it’s hard to feel sorry for beggars in Australia and other western countries who have access to a range of welfare safety nets that are amongst the main attractions for those begging to get there. I’m reminded of a reasonably dressed bloke who regularly sat on a bench in Brisbane city with a hat on the ground in front of him. His “act” was to rhythmically tap on a tambourine. I remember thinking “when you can play Hotel California on that thing I’ll consider it”. Callous I know but you had to be there.
But back to the Bash and the reason we are here. Economic Tourism. Actually no, that’s not the main reason we are here although I did my best to support a t-shirt driven recovery in Spain. It’s the reason the Moroccans think we’re here. And good for them. I’d do the same thing. Incidentally what I’m about to describe doesn’t just happen here. The CB and I have experienced it in China and Turkey and even Italy (Murano glass and Burano linen anybody?).
Economic tourism is when you are taken to various workshops and factories, with shops attached, ostensibly to marvel at the ancient techniques and brilliant craftsmanship on display (I’m not being cynical here, I mean it) but the real expectation is that you will buy something. I’m awake to this and have only ever been duped into buying things in China (jade), Turkey (carpets) and Italy (Murano glass and Burano linen). So they’re not going to take me for a Moroccan mule ride. I really did want to buy that leather saffron coloured bag and those silver earrings for the CB. I’m nobody’s fool.
In my own defence the bag man thrust two bags at us that the CB had surreptitiously (she thought) glanced at. He wanted 1500 dirhams for one (the one she really wanted) and 800 dirhams for the other. I said I’d give him 800 for the 1500 bag. Long story short, after checking with the boss, he agreed. And I immediately felt uneasy. But at 10 dirhams to the euro if I left a few on the table, so be it.
But that wasn’t the main tannery story. Any economic activity was ruthlessly overwhelmed by the smell. The leather is prepared and coloured in about an acre of pots which can fit a man who stomps on the hides in the preparatory and colouring solutions. The solutions contain natural colouring ingredients like saffron, geranium leaves, poppies and mint and others contain urine and pigeon shit, the combination of which rivals dog shit in its potency. Hence the smell. Notwithstanding, we have a bag which withstands fire (as demonstrated with a cigarette lighter) and can be washed and I have a shirt I can never wear again (an almost brand-new Rodd and Gunn polo). The sprigs of mint they gave us prior to observing the process prevented that morning’s breakfast being added to the tanning process.
It’s a similar story with the earrings (the bargaining, not the smell). While a little old man engraved the most intricate pattern on a brass plate with various sized hammers and chisels (no dentist drills for these guys) his henchman went to work with the big sell. Long story short (again) we got the 550 dirham earrings for 300, in hindsight a little too easily I thought. Oh well, let’s support the local economy.