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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Are you Talib enough to read those signs?" exclaimed the old Moor. "They are letters of the accursed Jews; this is their mearrah, as they call it, and here they inter their dead. Fools, they trust in Muza, when they might believe in Mohammed, and therefore their dead shall burn everlastingly in Jehinnim. See, my sultan, how fat is the soil of this mearrah of the Jews; see what kermous grow here.
The banks on either side are covered with the tree which bears the prickly fig, called in Moorish, Kermous del Inde. There is something wild and grotesque in the appearance of this tree or plant, for I know not which to call it.
When I was a boy I often came to the mearrah of the Jews to eat kermous in the season of their ripeness. The Moslem boys of Tangier love the kermous of the mearrah of the Jews; but the Jews will not gather them. They say that the waters of the springs which nourish the roots of these trees, pass among the bodies of their dead, and for that reason it is an abomination to taste of these fruits.
My sultan tells me he likes the look of Dar Sinah at the present day; truly I know not why, especially as the kermous are not yet in their ripeness nor fit to eat. If he likes Dar Sinah now, how would my sultan have liked it in the olden time, when it was filled with gold and silver, and iron and tin, and was noisy with the hammers, and the masters and the cunning men?
Be this true, or be it not, one thing is certain, in whatever manner nourished, good are the kermous which grow in the mearrah of the Jews." You will ask me why it bears that name, as you see neither house nor man, neither Moslem, Nazarene, nor Jew, only our two selves; I will tell you, my sultan, for who can tell you better than myself?
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