J.K. Pikkujämsä

Vagabond. 

From late Latin vagabundus, classic Latin vagus, ‘vagabond’; A person who has no fixed abode, means of support or occupation; Constantly travelling, constantly on the move, wandering here and there; Who is wandering; Wandering cats.

How did this happen? Last Friday I read Amal Dengel’s Nile poem, in which a vagabond and a king talk about the river Nile. The king asks questions about the river and it is the vagabond who has all the answers. The word moylay, meaning king or lord, that appeared in the poem, vaguely associated in my mind with the name Idriss, sent warm vibrations through my being. Of course! I had been to Moulay Driss Zerhoun in 1983 and had buried it in the memories of my youth. That place and the people I met there opened my eyes to the world of hospitality when I boarded a train and travelled as far south as my ticket would take me. I ended up criss-crossing Morocco and have not recovered since.

I wonder when the seed was planted to leave and ‘go as far as I can’? My first encounters with the vagabond lifestyle were with the Roma, who, with their horses and caravans, were the epitome of suspicious activity and a different way of life. As a young boy, I completely ignored whether they had a permanent address or not, and I often sat on their laps and listened to them practise for tango singing competitions 

It was not only the Roma who had the honour of representing people on the move in our hoods. A hundred years before my travels in Moulay Driss Zerhoun, a journalist described the traders who went from market to market as “itinerant Jews and Tatars, a bunch of trash and acrobats”. What was the big deal?

أمل دنقل: قصيدة النيل* 

You have just read a new entry in my exophonic lexicon.