The spirit of the 1960s and 1970s Moroccan countryside was epitomized by a culture of selfless sharing and collective caring. Within this close-knit community, characterized by a profound sense of unity, cooperation, and genuine humanity, the prevailing sentiment was that someone else's children were, in essence, everyone's children—a sentiment vividly illustrated by the memories that follow.
Much like the typical experiences of youngsters in the
Moroccan countryside, my days revolved around both school and the
responsibility of tending to the family livestock, comprising sheep, goats, and
cows. During our leisure hours, my siblings, cousins, and I reveled in the
expansive grazing pastures, where abundant grass served as the backdrop for a
plethora of traditional games. From tag and hide-and-seek to catch, five
stones, skipping-rope, hopscotch, blind man’s bluff, racing, leapfrog,
wrestling, tug of war, sack race, sling games, congkak with sheep pellets and
beyond, our days were filled with joyous camaraderie.
The highlight of our week undoubtedly was Souk (open-air
marketplace) day. When the sun reached its zenith, we would herd our livestock toward
the main road leading to the Souk. This strategic and intentional move allowed
us to intercept the returning Souk-goers and partake in the distribution of
their delightful treats. These treats ranged from sweets, raisins, dry figs,
dates, and roasted chickpeas to an orange that we ceremoniously peeled and
portioned out among us segment by segment. Occasionally, those without such
treats to offer would present us with turnips, carrots, or other vegetables. In
return, we would express our gratitude with kisses on the hands of the generous
givers, acknowledging the sweetness of their offerings. Their blessings and
words of advice on good behavior and kindness echoed in our hearts.
Among the cherished treat-givers, Uncle Boujemaa held a
special place in every child's heart. Despite not enjoying economic prosperity,
Uncle Boujemaa unfailingly ensured that no child left empty-handed. His arrival
from the market, side-saddled on his big brown donkey, was a sight that filled
us with excitement. The donkey, accustomed to our greetings, would pause
without needing a command from Uncle Boujemaa. With a warm smile, he retrieved
a treasure trove of treats that he had already placed on the surface of his
panniers, ready to gift us with. We graciously accepted his treats before
politely requesting to express our gratitude by kissing his hand, as was the
custom with the elderly in our village at that time.
Uncle Boujemaa was familiar with the names of every child in
the village, both young and old. His knowledge extended to various aspects of
our lives - from those who had experienced illness to those boys who had
undergone circumcision, and even those who had just begun school or Quranic
School. He would playfully tease us about these details, but his advice was
always delivered in a more fatherly earnest tone.
Uncle Boujemaa's kindness was akin to the sweetness and
delight of the goodies he generously bestowed upon us. The warmth of his gentle
demeanor and the simple joy of those shared moments have left a lasting
impression in the memories of every child in the countryside.
The loss of Uncle Boujemaa cast a shadow of sadness that
resonated deeply with us during our idyllic childhood days. I vividly recall
the day when the echo of someone's voice, calling from the summit of a distant
mountain a couple of miles away, reached our ears, carrying the weight of
heart-rending news. It was as if the very earth beneath us hesitated to accept
such an unpleasant reality.
I stood frozen, unable to fully understand the depth of the
loss we had just encountered. How could the Souk days ever be the same without
Uncle Boujemaa's presence? The memories of his benevolence lingered like a
comforting embrace, but his departure left a void that seemed impossible to
fill. In those moments, disbelief gripped my senses, refusing to let go.
Uncle
Boujemaa was more than a family friend; he was every child's second father. His
generosity knew no bounds, his kindness a guiding light, and his unassuming
personality a source of comfort for all who knew him. May this man,
whose influence surpassed the confines of time and touched the very core of our
collective childhood, find eternal peace.
