Assembly Of The Dead
Marrakech’s world famous Djemaa el Fna

Throughout its history Marrakech has been famed as ‘the gateway to the desert.’
The swaying date-palms and soaring blood-red walls were said to bring a tear even to the eyes of the tough Tuareg traders as their caravans arrived from Timbuktu and Sudan with their cargos of salt, spices and slaves. Berber nomads came here to gaze in wonder at the thronging crowds in the great marketplace and in the remote villages of the High Atlas the elders still believe that he who sets eyes on the miracles of Marrakech will never be content to return to the valleys.
In recent decades romantically minded French tourists kept their former colony a closely guarded secret but this dazzlingly exotic city with its wonderful food, perfect climate and, of course, the warm Marrakchi welcome is now attracting wayfarers and nomads from farther afield than ever.
The heart of the city was always the Djemaa el Fna. It seems strange that this perpetually raucous, clamouring square should be known as ‘the Assembly of the Dead’ but throughout much of its existence the walls around Djemaa el Fna were decorated with the salted heads of rebels, bandits, criminals and…well, pretty much anyone that the sultan took a disliking to.
            While such gruesome adornments are a thing of the past the excitement and bustle live on undiminished and the Djemaa el Fna is still known as the greatest never-ending festival in Africa.
As the desert sun begins to loosen its grip the performance becomes more animated than ever. Jugglers, clowns and magicians prepare their props and a team of acrobats draws a crowd with a human pyramid. Contortionists and child boxers mark out their pitches alongside story-tellers, traditional healers and the artists who paint intricate henna designs on women’s hands. Snake charmers try to attract photographs alongside the hustlers who make their living from the young Barbary apes that, in a moment of lapsed concentration, you find clinging to your shoulder. Elderly water sellers in scarlet-and-gold shake hand-bells and chleuh boy dancers (who traditionally danced as an invitation to clients) shimmy forward to block your path.
Although some of this workforce exists largely from the contributions of tourists (both foreign and Moroccan), the Djemaa el Fna is clearly still geared to the entertainment of the city’s more traditional occupants. Just a cursory glance at the mysteriously shrouded figures who wander through this crowd will convince you that the Djemaa is still the authentic Moroccan meeting place. Despite the sensory overload – or perhaps because of it – the enduring images, for the wide-eyed visitor, are often things that the Marrakchi might regard as commonplace. An old man with a snowy beard cascading from the hood of his thick djellaba sits, with an aspect of timeless patience, in front of an exercise book. A fountain pen is poised above a jar of ink. Like the others in this ‘patch’ he is a professional scribe.
One corner of the square is occupied by quiet, reserved men sitting patiently behind folding card tables that are covered with what appears to be a pile of creamy-coloured flint. Picking up one of the larger ‘stones’ you realise that they are human teeth. The system is that you choose a dentist who seems to achieve the majority of his extractions without detaching unnecessarily large chunks of jawbone…and you choose carefully because any form of alcoholic anaesthetic is forbidden here in the old town.
In recent years the Djemaa el Fna earned a bad reputation as a hotbed for hustlers, pickpockets, conmen and the most voracious ‘guides’ in North Africa but the Brigade Tourisitique of the Moroccan police force has been at work to ensure that, while Marrakech will always remain an adventure, most visits to the city are now totally stress-free.
Many visitors choose to hire a guide for their first foray into the labyrinth of alleys and tunnels that make up the souks. But one of the great joys of Marrakech is to spend a day or two simply wandering - almost always hopelessly lost - through the tangle of souks that specialise in spices, baskets, wool, leather, slippers and, of course, carpets (though less than a hundred years ago this quarter was doing a lively trade in slaves).
For earlier generations of travellers there was little possibility of finding quality lodgings in the old medina and the sturdy cedar doors that line the alleys gave little clue to the havens of peace and tranquillity that lay behind them. Now there are said to be over a hundred fully-restored riads (noble palaces) in the old town and, with their sunny roof-terraces, tropical garden patios and exotic furnishings, they can provide everything from simple, homely comfort to the sort of luxury that is designed to make you feel like one of the central characters in 1001 Nights. The riads of Marrakech are the perfect answer to the exhausting and invigorating maelstrom of this most vibrant of African cities.
As the sky begins to blush the best thing to do is to climb to a rooftop table on one of the terraces above the Djemaa el Fna for a refreshing shot of ‘whisky Marocain’ (the ubiquitous mint tea). From here you can gaze past the minarets and over the storks’ nests on the citadel walls to snowy Atlas peaks that seem to bleed as they reflect the spectacular blood-orange desert sunsets. The evening prayer-call begins to wail and the shadow of the ancient Koutoubia minaret probes into the Djemaa el Fna like an accusing finger.
            According to Berber legend, when this greatest of Moorish minarets (the finest example in north Africa) was first built the city bled so much that the great walls that surround it were stained red.
            Street lamps flicker to life and, within a few minutes, Africa’s greatest festival has been transformed into the world’s biggest barbecue. Smoke flares around swinging lanterns, making the chain of orange-juice carts look like a wagon-train barricade. Dozens of groaning tables are piled high with couscous, fish, chicken, harirah (meat and egg soup), vegetables, rice, tajine stew, fresh bread and succulent kebabs. Because the cooking is so visible the standards of cleanliness are often higher than in many restaurant kitchens and the most common stomach complaint is likely to be from over-eating.
It is impossible to sample everything! You chose a little at a time, pointing at anything that you can vaguely identify. Some of the cuisine has been adapted from the French colonists but there are enough traditional Moroccan delicacies to test even the most intrepid of gourmands. The foreigner who orders spicy stewed snails is sure to catch appreciating glances from the Moroccan diners around him…while the ‘culinary adventurer’ who polishes off a bowl of fresh sheep’s brain is guaranteed to become an indelible part of Djemaa-lore.

The End