The Slave-Market at Marrakésh
IN the bazars of the brass-workers and dealers in cotton goods, in the bazar of the saddlers and the bazar of the leather-sellers, in all the places where the retail trade of Marrakésh is carried on, the auctions of the afternoon are drawing to a close. The delals have carried the goods to and fro in the narrow path between two lines of True Believers, obtaining the best prices possible on behalf of the merchants who sit grave and dignified in their boxlike shops. No merchant worries customers; he leaves the auctioneers to sell for him on commission, while he sits at ease, beyond the reach of elation or disappointment, in the knowledge that the success or failure of the day's market is decreed by Allah the One. Many articles have changed hands, but there is a greater attraction for men with money outside the limited area of the bazars, and I think the traffic here passes before its time.
The hour of the sunset prayer is approaching, and the wealthier members of the native community, leaving many attractive bargains unpursued, and heedless of the delals' frenzied cries, are setting out for the Sok es Abd—wool-market in the morning and afternoon, slave-market in the two hours that precede the setting of the sun and the closing of the city gates.
We follow them through a very labyrinth of narrow, unpaved streets, roofed
Slave-Auctioneers
here and there with frayed and tattered palm-leaves that offer some protection, albeit a scanty one, against the blazing sun. At one of the corners, where the beggars congregate and call for alms in the name of Mulai Abd el Kader el Jilani, I catch a glimpse of the great Kutubieh Tower, and the pigeons circling round its golden dome, and then the maze of streets, shutting out the view, claims me again. The road is by way of shops with every kind of native goods, and stalls of fruit and vegetables whose scent is as refreshing as the sound of running water. And at a turning in the crowded thoroughfare, where all the southern tribesmen are assembled and heavily laden camels compel the pedestrians to walk warily, we see the gate of the slave-market.
A crowd of penniless idlers, to whom admittance is denied, clamors on this side of the heavy door, while the city "rats" fight for the privilege of holding the mules of wealthy citizens, who are arriving in large numbers in response to the report that the household of a great wazeer, recently disgraced, will be offered for sale. Pertly Moors from the city, wearing the blue cloth jellabias and selhams that bespeak wealth; country Moors, who boast less costly garments, but ride mules of easy pace and heavy price; one or two high officials of the Dar Maghzen—all classes
