During a recent buying trip to Morocco I had another, long-awaited opportunity to have henna done by a real Moroccan neqasha. (henna artist). In Marrakesh, visiting family, I decided to have my feet hennaed with Marrakshi designs.

The family's favorite neqasha was called and as soon as she arrived, preparations began, various people buzzing around collecting ingredients and materials. One of the young boys of the house went out for the henna powder and a lemon, an aunt heated up water, another found some garlic and orange blossom water...the neqasha set up her little tray as the ingredients arrived. She prepared both the henna paste and the lemon-sugar fixative. The henna paste was made of henna powder (of course), freshly squeezed lemon juice, hot water, sugar and orange blossom water (this last ingredient is only used for brides, and being a newlywed - sort of - an exception was made for me). What an indescribable smell! On the same scale of intensity of smell, the lemon sugar fixative included freshly crushed garlic and pepper, ingredients valued for their warming properties.

The henna paste was mixed in a bowl and then the neqasha squeezed the paste through a knee-hi stocking to filter out any lumps. This smooth paste was put into a tea glass and the neqasha, using a special henna syringe, sucked up the henna paste and got ready to begin her design. Keeping her face close to the syringe, she began by laying down long parallel lines as the basis of the design, and from there she drew triangles, filling them in with designs, ornamenting them with flourishes. She worked with incredible speed, making the design more and more complex until there was no space left to fill.

The entire process, covering each foot entirely, except for the soles, took about and hour and a half. Now the waiting began. The neqasha collected her payment, her coat and copious compliments as I sat with my feet in the air while the paste dried. It seemed to take an extraordinarily long time to dry, perhaps due to the sugar in the paste. Once it started to dry, the lemon-sugar fixative was dabbed onto the design using a piece of sheep's wool. The flowery smell of the paste was instantly transformed by the odor of the garlic. I continued to sit there as the life of a Moroccan family went on around me, uninterrupted. Every person who came into the house wished me good heath (saha! or bisowraha!) to which I responded, as custom dictates, alatik saha (to your health). This little interchange was repeated countless times throughout the rest of my trip, the only variation being that some people wanted to look more closely at the artistry of the neqasha, studying my feet carefully and admiring the skill.

Henna Hustling in the Place of the Dead

In contrast to my relaxing and cozy experience, there are the henna hustlers of Djemma al Fna, the main square in the Marrakesh medina. Translated literally, the square's name means "the Place of the Dead", so called because of its past role as an execution ground for the Sultan of Marrakesh. Things have livened up considerably since then; Djemma al Fna is the perfect reflection of the many contradictory aspects of Marrakesh, from the snake charmers to the groups of tourists trooping through. The square has not become a theme park, but retains its original quality of the mysterious North Africa, featuring fortune tellers, magicians, acrobats, musicians, storytellers, sellers of herbal remedies and henna hustlers. These spectacles appeal to both tourist and Moroccan, both of which can be found watching in morbid fascination as a wild-haired man, naked to the waist, drinks boiling water from a copper tea kettle. As dusk falls, gas lights start to illuminate the square and food vendors begin setting up their stalls where they sell a wide variety of Moroccan specialties: harira (thick lamb and chickpea soup), tagines (a kind of Moroccan stew), kebab, salads, steamed snails in garlic broth and even the ever popular roasted sheep's head.

Winding in and out of all this activity are the henna hustlers dressed in a jellaba (a Moroccan hooded robe, worn by both men and women) with the hood up and a veil covering everything but their eyes. The henna hustler wanders around grasping her henna syringe on one hand and her book of henna photos in her other hand, looking for a likely client. She is more likely to swoop down upon a tourist but can also distinguish a native Moroccan from a Moroccan just here on vacation from his or her home in Europe or the US. Either target can be a fruitful catch for the henna hustler. Her sales chatter can be given any almost any major European language depending on the target. She thrusts her book of photos enticingly under your nose, quoting outrageous prices begging you to acquiesce. If the target gives in and agrees to a price, the henna work is done on the spot, standing in the middle of the hustle and bustle of this Place of the Dead. Prices are low and you definitely get what you pay for in the skill of the artist. You will notice that there are no photos of these hustlers and that is because they all asked outrageous prices of me to take a photo of them. This kind of mild extortion is relatively rare in Morocco so I chose not to encourage it.

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