Pictures that stay

07.02.23 Taliouine - Taroudannt There is an image that I can't get out of my head... We were at the market in Taliouine. There was a little lamb lying on the ground. It was tied up. And a few men were standing around chatting and joking. One of them had a long knife hanging from his waistband. At first, I thought the animal was dead, but upon closer inspection, I noticed its belly rising and falling. It was breathing. Quickly. In its wide open eyes, I recognized the fear.

Irmi next to me said, "I can't watch this. I have to leave." Then it became clear to me: The lamb is waiting for its death. It is not being sold alive. It is being slaughtered, killed with a deep cut to the underside of its throat. It was just lying there, almost motionless. And waiting. Waiting for a customer, for a buyer who wanted kosher lamb meat.

I felt hot. A shiver ran down my spine. What could I do? I briefly considered buying the little animal. I had enough money with me. And then? Maybe give it to the poor farmer that Birgit, Udo, and Martin had met. What would she do with the little animal? Probably sell it. Or slaughter it herself? I don't know. I turned around and looked for Irmi.

Today I think differently. I should have followed my initial instinct. As so often, it pointed in the right direction. I should have saved this lamb's life, which had looked at me so desperately. Maybe it would have died soon after anyway, I don't know. But it would have been a symbol for life, for the sacred in life that we often overlook as willingly. Here at the market in Taliouine, life called for help through this lamb. I heard it. And didn't help. I fear that this image will stay with me for a long time...

Just like many other images that fortunately will be associated with positive feelings and memories. Like the 10, 15 stray dogs that I discovered on a small green area during the journey here, playing, joking, and frolicking together - out of pure joy of life. It was just before the 50-kilometer mark, which is important to me. Every 50 kilometers, I allow myself a big sip of coffee from the thermos and a biscuit or a small piece of cake. A reward must be!

Today I also noticed this sign "Forest fire hazard" again. A triangle with a red border and a tree behind a burning match. All good, but I don't see a forest far and wide. The few blades of grass that peek out here from the desert are so old that they are probably fossilized. It's a mystery what is supposed to burn here in case of emergency.

Speaking of mysteries. A dear greeting to my brother-in-law Makram, who explained to me after my diesel mishap that in such cases, the complete renewal of the water system, including the tank, pump, and hoses, is necessary to eliminate the diesel smell. Dear Makram, it's all gone. Thanks to Ricci's recipe with lots of vinegar and dish soap. Gone without a trace. I even brush my teeth with the water now. Ricci might not expect a bow - for once - but a few humble words, such as: "Yes, you were right and I was wrong," would be appropriate, I think. And Ricci, of course...