The Medina

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‘Hey Mister, I have the best carpet for you, look, this carpet is lovely … you like it?’ The shop owner’s eyes and tone of voice told me that if I didn’t buy his carpet, his children would go hungry.

‘I don't have any money,’ I said, trying to move away,  ‘and I don’t need a carpet.’ But the man had hold of my hand and was not about to let go. The grip was two-handed, firm and strong; I felt it might even be leaving a red mark on my arm.

The medina was crowded and noisy, western pop tunes clashing with Arabic music over competing stereo systems. There were tired, overloaded horses being goaded through the narrow streets. While locals did their thing and tourists like me looked lost, hot and bothered by the attention of the vendors. I wondered how many tourists would be leaving with carpets, lamps or robes that they didn’t really want and then wondering how they’d get them back on the plane.

‘Come have a look, no money, no problem, come look,’ The shop owner wasn’t giving up, so I gave in. I went into the man’s bazaar, secretly pleased to escape the hustle and bustle.

Inside the shop was an oasis of calm, the salesman’s assistant produced a pot of tea and poured me a cup and I took the seat I was offered.

‘He’ll be here in about 5 minutes,’ the salesman said to me. He was calmer now that there was no need for a show for the passers-by.  I nodded and took a mouthful of tea burning the roof of my mouth. I winced

‘Every time my friend, every time,’ the shopkeeper said and smiled at me, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘And every time you leave me with bruises,’ I said, rolling up my sleeve revealing the welt on my arm.

‘Sorry my friend, I have to make it look real,’ he said, but there was no way he was really sorry.

‘How about this robe?’ He was good, his ability to go back into character at a drop of a fez was impressive. ‘I’ll give you special price and, if you like, I get you something nice to model it. You like male of female? I think you look like a lady kind of guy.’ He smiled at me, not the friendly smile of moments ago, but a smile that sent a shiver down my spine.I nodded like I might be interested in his special extras. 
The words were designed to put whoever had just come into the shop at ease, to tell the newcomer that I was of like mind, not a threat. I’d recognised the new customer, of course I’d recognised him, any of you would; he’s been in your living rooms often enough.

‘Ah my friend,’ the shopkeeper had turned his attentions to the newcomer, while I stared at the material of the robe. ‘I have what you want.’ The shopkeeper clapped his hands theatrically, and a small boy stepped forward from out from the shadows. Of all of us the boy was the best actor, the calmest or maybe, he just didn’t really know what was going on.

‘He’s pretty boy? Do you like him?’

I took a sneak peak at the customer, his face was contorted with lust.

The man nodded, ‘How much?’ he growled, that voice so distinctive - the one-time nation’s favourite.

‘What we agreed,’ the shopkeeper said.

I watched the man get his money out and hand over a wad of dollars and then step forward to take the boy by the hand.

That was my cue.

‘I’m arresting you for the solicitation of minors.’ I said, standing up, stepping forward and grabbing the man’s hands before he could reach the boy.

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