! لص

By Aundreah Alcantar

Wrapping a burgundy shawl around my curls loosely, I admire my outfit to make sure the color matches. It does perfectly, the embroidery on my tunic almost the exact hue. That couldn’t have worked out any better. The lady who sold it to me wasn’t kidding; it did suit me. 

The rest of the tunic, along with my pants, were a creamy, sandy color that somehow blended me into the architecture and atmosphere of the Medina of Fez. I had hoped to look like I belonged. This was my home country after all.

I was adopted into an American family and was aware of it from the start. There was no surprise, no secret to be later revealed in my life. My mother had the complete opposite features as me, so that probably encouraged her to be honest. I would’ve definitely questioned my wild, brown curls and darker complexion. The only thing I was ever told about my birthplace, however, was that it was somewhere in Africa and similar to the movie Aladdin. As one could imagine, I needed to know more than that.

Which brought me to the Université Cadi Ayyad in Marrakech after graduating high school, and years of learning how to speak Arabic and a little French. I found that I was dedicated to it. Every adopted child is curious at some point. For me, even though my family was caring beyond belief, I’ve been curious my whole life.

“Very nice.” Sayed, being above and beyond as he is, throws out a hand as if presenting me to the city. I roll my eyes and motion for him to continue walking. There is a crowd beginning to gather as the sun rises higher in the sky. An hour ago, we were practically alone walking through the stalls and stores of the medina on a weekday, but the longer we stayed, the slower we moved as the narrow walkways filled with tourists and locals alike.

“The purchase is justified.” I smile and run a hand along the thin material of the scarf. Somehow, it stops the sun from beating onto the top of my head.

“Check this out.” Sayed rounds the corner, expecting me to follow quickly behind. The walkway grows ever more narrow as both sides are stocked with golden trinkets and colorfully embroidered purses. The street glows like a treasure trove with the soft, yellow lighting of intricately designed lamps. In this section, a makeshift roof runs from one end to the other, but I still feel safe in my scarf and flowy pants. 

“Oh, wow.” The words are breathless on my tongue. It’s a beautiful sight. 

“I wanted you to see these.” Leading me by the elbow, Sayed takes me to a stall filled with lamps of all shapes and sizes. I have to have one. 

“Too many choices. I need your help.” We spend the next five minutes searching for the perfect one. I’m a bit worried about the price, but once I settle on one, it’s time to ask. “Excuse me? How much for this one?” I say in Arabic first, my American accent coming in a little too hard at the end there. 

The lady inside her stall has her back facing us. I am about to call for her attention again, but she slowly turns, bringing the lamp that had her focus with her. 

The scarf around her head is made of a thicker material, her tunic longer to cover more of herself. Her face is framed by it, hair not in sight, and when her eyes meet mine, I see they are a light hazel that glows against her tan skin… just like mine.

“Woah.” Sayed notices it before I do. He points his finger back and forth between the woman and I. 

“The lamp-” The woman responds in Arabic, but stops short when she notices it too.

She looks exactly like me.

Before I can even say anything, not that I have anything to say because of how rendered speechless I am, another much older woman comes up to us from the back of the stall. She is fast, outside of the slow-motion scene happening between this doppelganger and I, staring at each other as if staring at a ghost, as if staring into a mirror.

I am not registering what the old woman is saying, not registering what she is yelling at all, but once I do, I stumble backward into Sayed’s chest. 

“…out of here! If you will not buy anything, continue on your way!”

“Hold on, wait.” I speak in English by accident, everything suddenly quickening in pace. My words make the old woman’s eyes grow five times wider. 

As if triggering a switch, her yells became loud and unrelenting. Spittle flies from her lips as she hurls insults at me in Arabic and gets into my face. 

“Come on, we have to go.” Sayed grabs my arm and pulls me away, but my attention is back on the doppelganger. Her eyes are worried, pleading. I realize she agrees with Sayed; I have to get out of here.

“What is she saying!?” 

The older lady repeats the same word over and over again, a word I’ve never heard before. “Saariqa! Saariqa!”

“We have to go.” Sayed brings me back the way we came. My eyes do not leave the doppelganger’s until we are around the corner once again. “She’s calling you a thief.”

“What!?” I shrug Sayed’s hand off of me and turn to go back. He catches me again.

“Woah, woah, no. Don’t.” He holds me in front of him to stop me. “Don’t. No one will sell to you now. We need to get out of here before they remember your face-”

“Sayed, you saw that. I know you did. That girl-”

“I know.” Sayed gives me a sad smile, “Maybe another day. Right now, we have to go.”

I can’t even think straight as we trudge our way out of the medina. We’re only in this town for the remainder of spring break until we have to return to the university at the end of the week. If I can’t come back to the medina to see that girl again, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else I’ve already worked so hard for.

Author Bio

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