COMMUNITY

Travel Writers: Tea with the Owls of Fez by Mark Bergsma

Two market traders in Fez, Morocco

When I first arrive in Fez, Morocco I see men sitting on the outside patios.
Some patios, complete with plastic table and chairs are spilling over to the streets. I think to myself, "here they sit, sipping mint tea, because they have nothing better to do." Then I think - "I am here too with nothing better to do either."

I sip one glass of tea and look at the chaos that is the streets of Fez. Donkeys pulling carts, hundreds of mopeds and hundreds of people shopping for clothes and fruit and all competing for space on the narrow streets. To find one of these places is easy - just look for a congregation of people sitting and doing an imitation of a flock of owls. All the noise of them squawking away. You will never find a person with their back to the crowd.

When I proceed to find a chair facing the bustling market, or whatever event seems to be on that evening, a few seconds later a man takes my order. Like the doesn't know it will be tea. With one glass of tea you can watch two 7-year old girls, one with her head against the pastel yellow wall counting - nothing in particular mind you; the other with big brown eyes and a Nike shirt, her little legs carrying her frantically around the corner. She races to a mere 6 feet away, behind an old wooden door that has more paint chips on the ground than on the door.

All calm and civilized life comes to a halt as soon as I am startled by a high pitch horn, whereas the patio-sitting Fez citizens don't even bother to look. They know where its coming from and all street persons shift their direction to the sides of the street to let the machine pass through. All the owls sitting with their tea watch the moped scoot by in a trail of blue smoke. They all look intently at it, like they haven't seen one before.

But the action of this film comes to a head when there is a raising of voices. A disagreement develops when a merchant tries to bring his donkey and cart through the crowd causing the ant-like flow of people to stop. It doesn't take long for someone to speak up, and sometimes it is from the patio area - just to get things going to a ruckus.

The merchant, who is just trying to make a buck, snaps back at them. From there, all the owls' heads whip to the commotion of the street yelling and just watch. Then, almost like it was rehearsed, simultaneously, they all bring the glass of tea to their lips and sip. Tea was never so interesting.