Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Tangiers
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100 DAYS IN THE SUN
dry and stifling off the desert; one swears by Allah on
the market place; one prays to Allah in the mosque.
I crossed the straits in the little steamer, anchored
a bit up along the shore, got into a smaller boat, from
which I transferred to straddle the back of a naked
negro who carried me ashore.
My official entrance into Tangiers was the one
familiar in all southern cities. A band of burnous-clad
bandits tugged at my garments from all sides and
fastened themselves on my hand baggage. I dragged
my body from the landing-dock up through the gloomy
crevice in the walls where the customs agent was
nodding sleepily, his lance in his lap, and then on
through the strange streets. Each of the bandits was
trying to drag me to his own hotel, promising me gold
and the ownership of earth if I should go with him.
“Come with me, sir, take no notice of these loafers;
I shall lead you to the best hotel in the whole town,”
said an elderly one-eyed rascal. “Its easy for him
to make such promises; he has just been to the market
and bought potatoes!” grins another. ‘See for your-
self, sir, how he still has the skins in his beard!”
“Filthy dog,” the first screams back, “I suppose you
eat of a roast to-night! Did I not see you myself
bearing home a dead dog from the riverside!” Their
poor English leaves them in the lurch. They drop
back into their native Arabic, and I can pursue their
quarrels no further. Suddenly one of them spits in
the other’s eyes, and is answered by his adversary in
the same coin, and when this harmless ammunition
had been used up, they turned to fistic blows and
kicks. I took my advantage, disappeared into a side
street and turned at every corner, in order that
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