They tell me
that no sustained attempt is made to deal medically with the disease,
though many nasty concoctions are taken by a few True Believers, whose
faith, I fear, has not made them whole.[46]
When it became necessary for us to leave Marrakesh the young shareef went
to the city's fandaks and inquired if they held muleteers bound for
Mogador. The Maalem had taken his team home along the northern road, our
path lay to the south, through the province of the Son of Lions (Oulad bou
Sba), and thence through Shiadma and Haha to the coast. We were fortunate
in finding the men we sought without any delay. A certain kaid of the Sus
country, none other than El Arbi bel Hadj ben Haida, who rules over
Tiensiert, had sent six muleteers to Marrakesh to sell his oil, in what is
the best southern market, and he had worked out their expenses on a scale
that could hardly be expected to satisfy anybody but himself.
[Illustration: IN THE FANDAK]
"From Tiensiert to Marrakesh is three days journey," he had said, and,
though it is five, no man contradicted him, perhaps because five is
regarded as an unfortunate number, not to be mentioned in polite or
religious society.
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