Ghosts of Rabat
After watching ‘The Sixth Sense,’ I’m feeling a little nervous. After all, one of the key plot points in the movie is that the little boy lives in Philadelphia, one of the oldest cities in the U.S. - with lots of history hovering around every corner.
Well, I got your history right here, buddy. Founded in 1682, hah, Philadelphia is a mere pup! Try the 3rd Century B.C.! What if I look out the window and see a Christian slave from 1626? Or a ticked off Roman from 200 AD? Or Yaqub Al Mansur, who’s probably still mad that he never got to finish his mosque? Or a Moroccan who’s a little annoyed that he was bombed to pieces when Austria shelled the city in 1829?
With all these potential ghosts swirling around me, I looked up a few “ghost prevention” tips. I’ve seen ghosts exactly twice in my life (more on that another time) and I don’t plan on repeating the experience here, especially since I probably wouldn’t understand the ghost anyway. I mean, my darija only goes so far, and my Latin is almost nil, except for a few common phrases. (like the most appropriate one for this post - “Tempus fugit.”)
Tip 1 : Brass is used to repel evil spirits.
- Check, brass ‘Hand of Fatima’ doorknocker in place.
Tip 2 : Salt carried in your pocket will keep ghosts at bay.
- Well, OK, first thing tomorrow.
Tip 3 : Water is regarded as the best protection against ghosts, and holy water is superior to all other forms.
- I guess I need to visit St. Pius X here in Rabat, and…er, borrow a little. I’m Catholic, so I don’t think God will strike me with a bolt of lightning, but I’ve never actually taken any water. Like other parishioners, I dip my fingers in the bowl and make the sign of the cross, but I don’t splash it like aftershave.
April 10th, 2006 at 10:18 pm
Hi -
Just wanted to tell everyone that I am back blogging, albeit a bit slowly and sometimes a bit painfully. It is amazing what one can do with only one non-dominant hand on a keyboard!
So I’m inviting you to come visit with me at BlogginThe Maghreb
hale
April 11th, 2006 at 1:42 am
Hi,
I lived in Morocco (Ifrane) a couple of years ago, and walked down the streets of Rabat past midnight. I was the only one around, except for a few cops and newspaper vendors. Lo and behold, in front of me walked this amazing charater - a woman in an traditional long Moroccan coat, with a transistor radio in hand, singing the most beautiful of melodies, at the top of her voice. No one bothered to look at her, and I wondered if I was the only one seeing or listening to her.
Her voice still haunts me when I think of Rabat…
April 11th, 2006 at 5:32 am
I’ll be there in Rabat and Sale end of next week, I’ll wave as I get to town. Any thoughts?
April 14th, 2006 at 11:09 pm
Sadly, my brass Fatima was stolen from my door. Maybe I’ll hang some garlic up.