In Marrakesh, even thieves have a sense of humour

Posted Wednesday, April 11, 2007, 7:40 PM by Lonely Planet

Dov experiences some night-time mischief...

Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, I'd spent much of my youth trying to stay out of trouble, but as most New Yorkers will claim, trouble has a way of finding you. Up until my last night in Morocco, I had been successful in avoiding Marrakesh's less desirable characters.

However, after some last-minute haggling for gifts, a quick peak into a few drum circles, and of course a few kebabs, I left the Djemaa el-Fna for the final time and walked bravely back into the maze of alleys on the way back to our riad, only to have a brief encounter with the dark side of the Medina. It was a few ticks shy of midnight, and the dimly lit narrow streets looked just a little bit emptier than usual. I imagine that natives to Marrakesh's old city can navigate the labyrinth of alleys and markets with their eyes closed, but I was not yet that skilled.



Perhaps looking a little lost, as I turned around what I hoped was the correct corner, I suddenly became surrounded by a group of five kids, all probably between the ages of ten and fourteen. Everywhere we had travelled in Morocco, after taking a picture of someone, especially children, it was impossible to escape a demand for a few dirham. However, once in a while, the more audacious young ones would ask for money without providing any sort of service at all. The kids on this last night in Marrakesh were of the latter group, surrounding and pestering me in French, Spanish and English, fishing for a response and a few coins. I kept trudging on, ignoring their persistent hustling, and as I passed through a darker and narrower section of the street, I felt a slight tugging from behind me, and realized that the rascals had snatched my sunglasses out of the water bottle pouch on the side of my backpack.

They surrounded me now, smiling, laughing, and playfully demanding money to give back my stolen sunglasses. I snatched the sunglasses from one of their taunting hands, as they still demanded money, 'Masseur, Money, Please!'. I placed my sunglasses on the ground, and with an equally taunting laugh and a smile, I brought down my boot, stopping an inch short of smashing the cheap sunglasses to bits.

Astonished at my actions, the young troublemakers stretched out their hands and yelled 'Masseur, No No!'. I picked up my sunglasses, still intact, and walked away. The boys then strolled the other way back down the alley, giggling in respect of their slightly cleverer elder.

On my last night in Morocco, I had no intention of being a victim of petty thievery, and those kids had no intention of leaving their nightly mischief without a few extra coins in their pockets. But as we parted ways in that dark Marrakesh alley, we shared a laugh and a story which for me was worth more than my sunglasses, and I hope for the them, worth more than a few dirham. I'd also like to think that we both learned an important lesson from that encounter. My lesson: Keep your eyes, ears, mind, and heart open when you travel, especially in a place like Marrakesh. You might just have an experience that will alter the way you see yourself and the world, and you might just foil the scheme of some young pickpockets. And the lesson for those young pickpockets: Don't mess with the boy from Brooklyn.

Labels: Africa, Bluelist Winners 2007

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