In the mazes with the narrow aisles of the fabric market passes the tea waiter with his tray carrying no less than fifteen glasses, like a contortionist.
He knows these alleys by heart, their turns, their width, their steep steps, not a drop of tea escapes from his glasses Allahouma baarek.
He chants along his route “to the sellers who are so numerous that they cannot be counted. Distributing to anyone who asks for a glass of black mint tea. And the sellers answer his call, some even offering themselves the luxury of choosing their glass among all those remaining, despite the crowd bothered by this unexpected stop preventing him to continue his adventure in this souk of a thousand colors.
I’ve often wondered, “Where does he make his tea?” Well today I caught him heating his kettles and washing his glasses in this little nook hidden between two fabric stores.
I like to see this sharing between these traders, sharing a common work and a common passion for this local drink bringing them even closer…
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