On the way to work I saw three women sitting on the street, positioned strategically in front of a chi-chi home decorating store. One wore a kaftan of robin's egg blue, the other of yellow, the last orange. Even from a distance I knew them to be beggars. I briefly contemplated changing my path but decided to brave their supplications - never an easy thing to ignore. As I approached, they ceased their conversation and asked me in a mixture of Arabic & French for spare change. Morocco is a hard country for women but more so for those who resort to begging, so I dug into my purse and gave them each a coin. Their faces - all tattooed & wizzened with age and a lifetime of care - beamed with gratitude. As I continued on they fell in among themselves, continuing their chatter.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Three Weird Sisters
On the way to work I saw three women sitting on the street, positioned strategically in front of a chi-chi home decorating store. One wore a kaftan of robin's egg blue, the other of yellow, the last orange. Even from a distance I knew them to be beggars. I briefly contemplated changing my path but decided to brave their supplications - never an easy thing to ignore. As I approached, they ceased their conversation and asked me in a mixture of Arabic & French for spare change. Morocco is a hard country for women but more so for those who resort to begging, so I dug into my purse and gave them each a coin. Their faces - all tattooed & wizzened with age and a lifetime of care - beamed with gratitude. As I continued on they fell in among themselves, continuing their chatter.
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