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Today, Azemmour is a quiet town, a few miles North of the greater El Jedida. Off the tourist or even the 'Moroccan' track, the city still boasts a few curious monuments, including the ruins of the Portuguese citadel and walls. We followed children through the crumbling ruins, up narrow, wall-less stairs, along sky-high passages, fearing for lives as we watched medina life unravel below us. From these rooftops, the view on the Oum Rabieh river is stunning, and you can easily imagine being on the look out for enemy ships. It also made it easy to imagine the populations panic, 5 centuries ago, when the Portuguese fleet was spotted in the horizon: the river flows gently into calm Atlantic waters, and it seems a child's game to steer a war galley into the river and up to the city walls!
I have since adopted this as my strategy for scaring improvised beggars away!
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As
we left the sleepy town, a few children mocked us from atop the walls,
where they stood waving good-bye. A few others asked for remuneration
for having showing us around (their tour consisted in pointing at the
Ocean and saying "Atlantic" , then pointing at the river and
saying "Oum Rabieh"). I laughed and offered no money. When they
grew more insisting, I turned around and asked for my own remuneration-
had I not engaged in a lengthy conversation with them? Where was my Dirham
[Moroccan currency]? The children giggled and ran away.