Attack of the Killer Figs

After pleasing my hunger for meats, I turned my attention to goal number 2 of my trip: dates, figs and other goodies. I was sure that goal number 1—to eat a goat whole roasted under ground—was impossible, so once I met my guide MoMo in the old city of Fes, I set out to find my fruits.

MoMo assured me that the dates from the street vendors were safe to eat, but he promised to find me a good vendor with fresh product. Whether or not this was just his way to give his friends business I am still unsure, but once MoMo brought me to this stand I was content.


After explaining to me the difference in date varieties, MoMo asked me how much I wanted. I purchased 100 Dirhams—about 10 Euro—or assorted treats and the vender started giving me free samples of his items. I was ecstatic. After eating handful of freebies, people in my group started to warm up to the idea of the street vendor. Despite a few incredulous “Justin, are you really eating that???” a few of my friends proceeded to purchase their own satchels of delight. While I don’t blame them—the dates were absolutely delicious, plump, sugary and full of flavor—I do want to point out that I came to Morocco with the intent of getting dysentery. I wouldn’t have followed me.

On the way back to the hotel I bought some street candies. A box full of colorful sweets cost me only 10 Dirham. There were colorful turron, sesame candies and an almond brittle thing. Although I’d never tried any of these before, they all had a familiar taste. After unsuccessfully haggling for a huge brick of sesame candy I headed back to the hotel.

The night went well and I had no stomach problems. Also, the next morning, most everyone seemed fine. Unfortunately, by the end of that day people were going down like flies. Morocco is a funny place; you learn about every bowel movement your friends have. You congratulate them when things are normal, and you understand their pain when things are—literally—in the toilet.

People had tummy troubles until 5 days after we returned to Spain. A few turned a blaming eye to me, but before they could open their mouths I reminded them of the dangerous of following the lead of the guy who wants dysentery. Either way, mostly everyone is better now. I’ve been fine the whole time, and while I consider myself lucky, I like to think that I’ve been training my stomach of steel for the trip for all of my life. I look forward to my next trip to Africa although I know it won’t be for a long time. As for now, I’m eating some of the deadly figs and contemplating the closest places I need to go for whole roasted goat.