I see color
            -red of spices and woven carpets
            -grey-green of henna leaves
            -orange of fruit hanging in the trees
            -golden saffron piled high in the markets
            -purple of decoration and embroidery
            -black shrouds of fundamental Moslem women
            -coral, amber and silver of heavy Berber adornments
            -dark blue arms of small boys working in the dye vats
            -green and red rock of mountain sides

I see a whole canopy of color formed by dripping, freshly dyed yarn
framed against the dark passageways of a medieval souk, the soft green
of cactus enclosures stopping the movement of the sand, the dark brown
of small bundles of bark for cleaning teeth.

I see faces
          -eyes of veiled women, curious yet passive
          -unmoving staring eyes of men with black hair and tawny skin
          -bright inquisitive eyes of children
          -vacant unseeing eyes of blind beggars
          -mysterious sensual eyes dark with Kohl
          -angry accusing eyes of a young boy whose fossils I did not buy

I see donkeys blanketed with heavy laden baskets, camels adorned with
tassels and bells, tall desert Taureg men, regal in their blue robes and
turbans, a white bearded old man with filthy brown torn jellabah, horse
drawn carts, mountain women dressed in colorful Berber finery showing
silver teeth as they smile, oases of dark green palms and lush gardens,
austere mountains of rock and scrub, sheep, everywhere sheep, guarded
by lonely shepherds, aggressive boys who guide the uninitiated through
dark alleyways of medieval souks, the delicate curve of sharp dagger,
camels plowing fields, ancient casbahs once inhabited by a powerful people, small children carried in shawls on the back of strong women, sunbaked tan villages against the tan earth.

I hear
-the Berber names of old caravan route towns..Shall we go or
not? (Rissani), Wake Up, Let's Go (Kranzou), Not Safe
Here, Go Away (Marrekech), Leaving Without
Problems (Ouazarzate), Place of Rest (Agdz)
-the sharp wit of an intelligent guide

I feel
          -the warm friendliness of gentle curious women who finally,
                     overcoming their shyness, smile and return my greeting
          -the chill of mountain passes in early morning
          -the icy cold sand on my feet in the dunes at pre-dawn
          -a soft blue Taureg scarf wound around my neck and head in
                     Berber fashion
          -the jerk of brakes to avoid the pot holes in the scarred road


I smell
          -the dripping blood of skinned sheep's heads to be devoured
                     as table delicacies
          -the couscous offered with gracious hospitality in an Arabic home
          -hot tea, strong with fresh mint
          -the curious odors of the ever changing tajines
          -musk, olives, dung, sand and sea
          -river washed clothes drying on the rocks or in tree branches.

These memories, these odors and colors, these people have all melded
together and decorated my life with warm remembrances.

E.A.D. '91