I got lost in the sneak-like street in the Mellah of Fez the other day hoping to just find the few left-over families of Jewish origins in the old ghetto of the city, but all I could find were cats and more cats apart from a small, 17th century rundown synagogue ran by a Moroccan non-Jew who could not really tell me where to find the remaining part of the people of the Torah.
But, thanks to the fact that my friends were determined to help me, I ran into a still-undefined man, who later took me to the Jewish Cemetery and old synagogue *(now a Jewish Museum). Here is where I met Edmond Gabay. The man who changed my day.
He is the director of it all, a part from being one of the only religious Jews left over in Fez. He listen to me and my real, poor French for a good half an hour and then told me I was going to be meeting his daughter soon and we were all going to have dinner together. And if I needed it, I had a place to sleep as well.
And that we did.
Just a bit after he closed the cemetery, we stopped by the seamstress to adjust some bottom-down shirts he got as a present from Geneva. Later we visited the main Rabbi to find a blessing for his daughter, Alice, to get pregnant after her many attempts. And lastly we set by his plastic-cover Moroccan table on comfy couches and ate cous cous until we were full and happy.
I felt immediately at home with these people. Such private manners I took part in for having met them for about four hours. But, I guess there is some angels up there directing me one way or another…right?