Ali's Emporium

Ali's Emporium

Every day, whilst I rest and re-build after our epic journey, Lorenzo hares off to the supermarket in Essaouira in our hotly negotiated hire-car. We had initially hoped we might have escaped the hefty extra expense of a car whilst we were out here.  The area has an efficient cab service, and there was, we were informed on booking, a village shop for ‘all the basics’.

‘Perfect’, I thought, as I skipped precariously along the rocky, dirt track, inches deep in water after the violent storms, to Ali’s village store on our first morning. Melons, chocolate, milk and olive oil - we might even find fresh eggs for breakfast!

Chicago Mohammed gestured towards a brightly painted door. Ali’s welcoming smile as we crossed the threshold to a most unlikely looking mud-shack could not have been broader. “Salam” we practised bashfully, as we surveyed the scene within. In one corner of the otherwise totally deserted, tumble-down room was a small television set. Electricity, we recalled, had only been available to the village for a couple of years. Huddled around this, feet immersed in a large muddy puddle were a similarly cheery group of locals.

Nodding encouragingly at us, Chicago Mohammed inched us over to the opposite corner, guiding us deftly around the pools of mud to a small hole in the wall. Beaming widely, Ali darted into the hole, pulled down a narrow serving shelf in front of himself and looked at us expectantly.

Three minutes later, having all but cleaned out Ali’s entire stock, we were  meandering back down the ‘high street’ with our purchases; three tins of canned fish, one black banana and a packet of cigarettes.

“So”, Lorenzo threw out casually to Chicago Mohammed, as we reached the gates to our Arabian Palace, “about that hire-car...”.