A Tale of Harira in Meknes
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The low concrete dwelling was as white as the line of old tombs to its right, sepulchres built into the tall medina wall which formed one boundary of the old cemetery. A young boy emerged from the dwelling and approached me, his body appearing to lope rather than walk, his eyes cast mostly downwards. Another child emerged from the white dwelling and made her way towards us. In contrast she walked straight up to me, looked me in the eye, and in a moment of young feminine purpose extended her arm palm open, smiled disarmingly and asked me without any shame whatsoever for ‘l’argent’.