“Do not push me away, for our Law is clear: Every man has the right to pick What he himself has planted. I had from that time a court poet, fond of my wine and of my servant girls, greedy for my gold, ready to sing the praises of my visitors and above all of myself, at each feast, each time a caravan returned, sometimes even simply at meal times, when friends, relations, attentive employees, busy merchants, passing ulama, and masons engaged in the construction of my palace were gathered around m...e. Since my journey to Tafza my fortune had multiplied, my agents were travelling all over Africa, from Badis to Sijilmassa, from Tlemcen to Marrakesh, laden with dates, indigo, henna, oil and textiles; I took part myself only in the larger caravans. The rest of the time I ran my business from my diwan, and used to supervise, a cane in my hand, the construction of my new residence, on a hill not far from my uncle’s house, where I had settled as master after the birth of my daughter, but which day by day seemed more confined, more modest, more unworthy of my fortune.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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