A Ride in Morocco Among Believers and Traders

The minaret of the Grand Mosque of Tangier (G. Cornwell)

Frances Macnab was the nom de plume of Agnes Fraser, a fairly well-published British author from Essex, who, at the turn of the century, traveled for several months throughout Morocco. Her reflections on the trip were quickly published in 1902 as A Ride in Morocco Among Believers and Traders (with a 1985 reprint by Darf Limited). There is little serious information to glean from her account save a few details here and there, but it is nonetheless an entertaining bit of travel literature and readers will note how infrequently she interacts with Moroccan women. Some highlights:

Discussing the geography of the countryside around Arzila (Asilah):

The scenery does not lend its to photography. Photography deals with facts. It stereotypes, it records. It never idealizes. It is like Mohammedanism. The landscape could only be painted in detail. A group of Moors and cattle, a mass of rocks and marvellous vegetation, or even a piece of the winding track itself, with a solitary hawk the only feature against the perfect blue of the sky. Each contained form, line, colour, and breathed a poetry all its own.

Visiting a prison in Laraiche (Larache):

At the far end of the marketplace there is an open space, clean and well kept; and close by is the kasbah, or residence of the Bashaw, and two prisons, which are generally full. One was empty when we were there, as it was undergoing repairs. I went inside, as nobody seemed to object. It was very bare, but there was a good water-supply; the courtyard was open to the sky; and through the sleeping accommodation was only a bare, dark recess, probably very damp, and the sanitary arrangements practically nil, I did not see any evidence of close confinement or dark dungeons. To an Englishman such conditions would be torture; but taking into consideration the state of most Moorish houses, I did not think the prison was bad. 

On selecting suitable guides and protection in Tangier:

Moors are capable of great fidelity. My Kaid El Hashmy, of a Sus tribe, was a remarkable instance; but he was not the only servant I had of proved fidelity. They will not trust a stranger, but their loyalty to people they know is striking.
The best and most faithful servants are the Riffs. They always carry arms, and I heard of households where as many as six Riffs were employed. They slept in the house, and the Europeans rested in security. The town Moor can never be depended upon, and even if he had arms given him would sooner open the door to a robber than risk his skin. Every house of the least importance is granted a soldier, or a even two soldiers, as guards, or a guarantee of protection from the Bashaw.

Describing a feast in Marrakesh:

The first day after my arrival in Marakish was one of feasting--for the entertainments provided for me were tremendous. I will give an account of one feast, and leave the reader to imagine the rest. We sat on cushions on the floor as usual, and, after water had been poured over our hands by a slave into a brazen dish, the courses opened by a large dish of fowl stewed in olive-oil garnished with olives. A loaf of bread was given to each person; our host, who sat by my side, tore up the fowl with his fingers; and we dipped pieces of bread in the oil and transferred it, or a morsel of chicken, to our mouths with our right hands. We also picked out olives, and my host soaked pieces of his own loaf in the oil, and held it up to my mouth, which I was obliged to open for the reception of the delicate attention. Then the fowl was dismissed, and another was brought, this time stewed with onions. In time this was replaced by mutton, boiled with almonds and apricot kernels. The inevitable kouskous was brought in, and I hoped this would finish the repast; but it was followed by the forequarter of lamb and potatoes. Then a compound of green vegetables, mashed together and boiled in oil, was set before us. And this was followed by several dishes of cakes, made of paste and honey, fried in oil, and a large bowl of orange marmalade made with cinnamon. Then fruits were set before us, and water was again brought to wash our hands, this time being greatly needed, for they were very greasy. Two rose-water sprinklers were set before the host, who went to work to make me wet through with the scent. Incense was then brought in, and handed round, so that each guest might hold his chin over it and let it curl up his face. I found it too strong to be pleasant for my nose. Then the host stood up, and held his trailing draperies over the censer--a practice very desirable as a disinfectant, I feel sure. Tea was then served to us, and I was particularly pleased to eat a most choice delicacy--a rare and curious thing--which proved to be a small biscuit with 'Huntley and Palmer' stamped on it! The Moors called these biscuits 'cakes,' and appeared to find them delicious. Tea was followed by coffee; and then I took my leave.