Northern African: Morocco - The Lions on the Road: Cycling London to Cape Town - page 60

In return for my host's kindness, I offered to take him out for dinner. I changed out
of my cycling clothes and we hopped on his scooter to go to the market. There, we bought
some goat meat and bread and returned to his house where he proceeded to cook. He gave
me a pair of spare pyjamas (a one-piece pullover garment) and just asked me questions
about my job and family in Canada.
After dinner I had a craving for a Coke, so I offered to take him out again. He was
reluctant but then agreed. We walked out holding hands (this is customary among many
Arab men) and I met his friends at a local stall. One of which was a shepherd who started
to roll a joint (the stuff came from Afghanistan, I was told.) They were all getting high and
weretalkingaboutmeinArabic-notinFrench.Thankfully,IspeakMaltese(whichis60%
Semitic) and could understand many Arabic words. He then asked me about the expenses
of the tour. I played it safe and never let on that I had my travelers' cheques on me. I told
him that at each embassy I had money waiting (not true of course). The phrase that scared
me was when my host told them “ Huwa għandu il-flus ” (He has money.)
The soft candle-light lens that I originally saw my host through quickly changed.
I began to get worried about my safety and my belongings at his home. From that point
onward, I treaded very carefully during the rest of our conversations. When we returned to
the room, I gave him my Canadian address which was partially correct…the Canada part.
He insisted that he be able to come to Canada and live with my sister and then my brother.
I said of course, they would be more than happy to welcome him into their homes…as if.
I bid him a good night and slipped into my sleeping bag. I must admit that I was
veryuneasyandsleptagainstthewallwithmymoneyandpassportunderneathme.Atfirst
I couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the thought that once my eyes closed a knife would come
out. I then reasoned that I was more useful to him alive than dead- especially if he wanted
to immigrate to Canada. With this reasoning I managed to fall asleep.
I was awake before the rooster greeted the morning. I changed into my cycling
clothes, folded my pyjama and was preparing the bike for departure when my host awoke.
He was disappointed when he realized I was leaving for he thought that I'd spend the day
with him to visit his parents' farm and go horseback riding. I gave him two reasons why I
needed to leave (both were true.) First, unfortunately because of my illness in Casablanca I
was behind schedule and second, my left knee was worrying me and that I want to go to a
clinic in Marrakech.
Ididtake hisphotowithmybikeandpromised tosendacopytohim(whichIdid.)
I felt guilty that after he offered me to stay in his home, I lied to him. Maybe he was a
genuine guy and I misinterpreted everything he said the previous evening. But being on