The wedding was going strong and sleep was impossible so we walked the fifty metres to Place Lahdim, a large square not unlike Big Square in Marrakech. When we walked through in the afternoon the square was all but deserted but tonight it was buzzing with thousands of people shopping, eating, strolling and socialising.
A blue robed man shoved a black snake in my face while another played a tune to a coiled cobra.
“Photo? Take a photo.”
A mother perched her small son on the back of an ostrich and he gripped its neck as the handler took him on a circuit of the market past another small boy on a tall white horse.
Two small suited monkeys, collared and chained, sat on a high box. The handler eyed my camera and gave me a pleading look. I pleaded poverty.
Young men stood on tables and shouted encouragement to shoppers to buy jeans, t shirts, shoes, dresses and underwear they held aloft. One yelled and another yelled louder.
We wandered down a packed side street where mostly women’s clothing was shouted at us.
The flow of shoppers drew us down the hill past dresses, shoes, underwear, and robes.
Eventually we reached the relative safety of the fresh fruit market.
It was time for eating and hawkers outside restaurants thrust their menus at us.
“Targine? Cous cous? Pastella? Mint tea?
On wheeled carts men roasted corn cobs on hot coals, vendors hid behind piles of round loaves, a man sat in amongst his bags of spices.
Salma, the pretty receptionist from our riad, somehow recognised us amongst the thousands of locals!
She was happy to see us and announced the wedding was over and we could return to sleep when we wished.
“Do you like the market? It is like this every night!”
