I was walking around Rabat, when a water seller arose from nowhere.
He was either good, or lucky, as I was very thirsty. Maybe he was both.
He was standing next to me, smiling, shimmering in the sun from the bowls covered in gold that surrounded him.
The sun rays made my eyes water, and my mouth got jealous.
“Water, please.” I mumbled.
“10 dirhams.” He retorted.
“Here, have five and give me half of that bowl.”
The water man produced a goat skin water bag from behind his back. Then he lifted it up high and started pouring clear water into the bowl from his chest line. After a twitch of his moustache the man was done, and he gave me my dose.
I took a sip.
Its warm temperature opened a world of aromas. The taste was full of character.
What hit you first was pure. The matter that drives your body. You cannot get a taste more raw than that. The essence of life. The lingering aftertaste of goat skin only made it more interesting.
“This is good.” I commented.
I did not hear an answer. When I looked up from the water bowl to the water seller’s eyes, I saw they were blue. Just like water. The man smiled from under his moustache.
“It is life. My life.” He said.
“What do you mean?” I was intrigued.
He turned around and walked off. The sun played with his each step.
I never found out who the man was.
Maybe just a regular vendor.
Or maybe god.
Teo Gregg