We decided to run errands and sight see and so we headed first for the Sultan's Palace. On the way we did a little shopping and we noticed a boy across the street who had been in the shop. He came over and told us that the palace was the other way and he would show us. We told him that we were sorry, but we had no money. It turned out that he didn’t want money. He was a student and only wanted to practice his English. So off we went. We didn’t see much of the palace because it was closed but we did get to see a snake charmer.
Along the way we asked him about the Moroccan marijuana rumor. He told us that it was called Kif in Morocco and it was forbidden by law. But he said that he knew a place where we could go and try some that evening and also have Morrocan tea - all for nothing because his friend worked there and we could borrow their pipes. We didn’t anticipate it to be true but we said we would go. Reading this now – 48 years later – I am appalled at how foolish we were. Three young girls going into a Moraccan souk after dark to some random shop to smoke an illegal substance. What were we thinking?!!! Did you read Midnight Express? That could have been us! It was then 2 pm and he had to go back to school. At 7:15, we met him at our hotel and went into the medina quarter of the city to the shop. There were three men there - a man between 50 -60 who owned the shop, another who just sat there and smoked and a younger man. Mohammad took us in, got some chairs for us and left. We were really nervous. The owner spoke English and told us of all the famous people he had done business with – Anthony Quinn and President Kennedy’s father to mention a few. Then Mohammed came back with the Kif and proceeded to show us how it was done. Each of us bought a pipe and a package of Kif – all for 5 DH $1.00. The stuff looked like ground up hay and even smelled like it. We smoked it in cigarettes by taking part of the tobacco out and replacing it with the kif. The shop owner informed us that our eyes were changing color and that he could see it happening. We told him that he had smoked too much and was seeing things. At that point, Mohammad decided to take us to another shop where he brought out some Hashish which is eaten rather than smoked. It was moist and in a lump like chewing tobacco. It had a very strong odor like gingerbread and even tasted like it. Then we started home. We were sure that none of this had had much of an effect on us. But we did notice that our feet felt very heavy – we walked all the way home in slow motion.
Along the way we asked him about the Moroccan marijuana rumor. He told us that it was called Kif in Morocco and it was forbidden by law. But he said that he knew a place where we could go and try some that evening and also have Morrocan tea - all for nothing because his friend worked there and we could borrow their pipes. We didn’t anticipate it to be true but we said we would go. Reading this now – 48 years later – I am appalled at how foolish we were. Three young girls going into a Moraccan souk after dark to some random shop to smoke an illegal substance. What were we thinking?!!! Did you read Midnight Express? That could have been us! It was then 2 pm and he had to go back to school. At 7:15, we met him at our hotel and went into the medina quarter of the city to the shop. There were three men there - a man between 50 -60 who owned the shop, another who just sat there and smoked and a younger man. Mohammad took us in, got some chairs for us and left. We were really nervous. The owner spoke English and told us of all the famous people he had done business with – Anthony Quinn and President Kennedy’s father to mention a few. Then Mohammed came back with the Kif and proceeded to show us how it was done. Each of us bought a pipe and a package of Kif – all for 5 DH $1.00. The stuff looked like ground up hay and even smelled like it. We smoked it in cigarettes by taking part of the tobacco out and replacing it with the kif. The shop owner informed us that our eyes were changing color and that he could see it happening. We told him that he had smoked too much and was seeing things. At that point, Mohammad decided to take us to another shop where he brought out some Hashish which is eaten rather than smoked. It was moist and in a lump like chewing tobacco. It had a very strong odor like gingerbread and even tasted like it. Then we started home. We were sure that none of this had had much of an effect on us. But we did notice that our feet felt very heavy – we walked all the way home in slow motion.
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