Chapter Three – Magesa

The bustling market space boomed with life. Brimming carts, heavily laden with exotic fruits, fine clothes and rare goods lined the huge market square in the heart of Jeclahay, capitol of the south. The air was filling up with all kinds of tempting smells that would make even the driest of mouths run with water. Food stalls boasting a vast array of spicy hot and cold dishes lined the busy walkways. Each country of the continent was represented by their own local speciality, and of course, street boys at every corner shouting the special offers of their own food stalls. Spicy fish and rice, stewed meat and banana, baked chicken and pineapplepies, vegetable soups, beanpastes, grilled kebabs, cumin breadrolls and much more. Choices were many. And the sounds. Drums and flutes carried lively tunes that echoed between the tall buildingwalls that framed the vast market. Snaketamers, jugglers, dancers and performers fought with unbridled zest and energy for the attention and good patronage of the visiting crowd. This was the beating heart of the city. A place full of possibility. One could spend an entire day here, and it would not feel wasted. A place to explore the richness of the southern continent while soaking oneself in new impressions, ideas and limitless energy.

The market and the stalls were always changing, giving even the most frequent of local visitors a hard time keeping up with what was available where and at what price. They'd say that it was quite a feat should a stall survive for even a month in this place, for the fierce competition here would make even the most fiery of rat-races seem dull and friendly. Needless to say, pick-pockets, thieves and many shady figures of the city too gathered and thrived in this place.

Even this early in the morning, making one's way through the bustling crowds in a hurry was no easy feat, even for Magesa. With all the confidence and agility of an athletic young man born and raised in the heart of the city, he zigzagged across the humming space, tangoing gracefully between moving carts and ducking under any camels and donkeys blocking his path as he went along. After all, he had a job to do, and the sooner he'd finish, the sooner he'd be free to work on his project.

Finally, having left the vibrant market space behind, he slipped into a narrow side alley and made a dash for the equally busy harbour, somewhere ahead. The surrounding city landscape was a true maze of dark and narrow alleyways, one that Magesa knew only too well. Running errands for tailor Samin ever since he was little, he had learned the ways and the many habits of Jeclahay, little by little. To Magesa, Jeclahay was something like a living thing. It pulsed with energy. Breathed. Lived. It was his city, yet more than a city. His home and a friend. He had heard of other great cities in the north and east, that were supposed to be far more wealthy and organized than his own, yet the things he had heard about them didn't really impress him much. Sure, they might have more money, prettier streets and taller buildings, but Jeclahay was rich in so many other ways. Rich in culture, people and energy. Most of the people here were friendly and outgoing, easy to share good moments with and talk with about most anything. Sure the city could also be made better, but whatever it was, it was his home.

It wasn't long before he reached a small and worn down looking house. He knocked firmly on the door and took a step back as he waited.

Within seconds, an old man appeared in the doorway, holding a cane and a small pouch. In silence he eyed the young man in front of him carefully. He was of medium height and seemed to have noticeably well-developed shoulders and calves for someone his age. Probably someone whose spent his youth running errands around the city for somebody.

'Hello Sir. Here's the festival shirt you ordered from tailor Samin.' Magesa announced formally, and handed a neatly wrapped paper bundle to the old man. Upon having inspected the content, the man smiled satisfied and withdrew two large coins from the small pouch. He handed them to Magesa who thanked the man and quickly wrapped them into a small handkerchief and put it in his pocket. He was always careful when receiving payments on the street, seeing as curious bypassers were many. As much as he loved the vibrant energy and teeming life of his city, he just had to come to peace with that thieves were many and eyes everywhere.

Although Magesa would have liked to pass by the harbour on his way back and see the many visiting ships docked there, he knew better than to linger around with two largos in his pocket. He so made haste back to Samin in light and nimble steps, his dusty sandals barely making contact with the sandy pavement. By the time he finally made it back to Samin's little shop, his short dark curls were glistening with sweat from the exertion.

He habitually ducked under the drape-covered opening to the little shop that had been home to him his whole life. Samin was at his desk, at work on some garment, making careful stitches on its long collar. When the old tailor was working on something, he would notice nothing else, for such was the extent of his focus and love for quality. He used to tell Magesa: "Either do it well, or not at all. Do nothing half heartedly or halfway."

Magesa loved to stand sometimes and just watch him work, his thick rimmed spectacles so far down his lumpy nose that it was a wonder they didn't fall off completely. The old tailor also had the habit of breathing through his nose when he focused, and the soft whistle sound it brought had come to mean peace to Magesa.

Feeling relaxed and quiet again, Magesa walked up to Samin and withdrew the handkerchief, placing it on the desk, and only then did Samin seem notice Magesa. He looked up and smiled with genuine affection.

'Back so soon Magesa. Well thank you. That was the last order to be delivered today, hope it wasn't too difficult. I know the city is even busier than usual lately with the festival and all coming up. Feel free to go work on your project if you like. It's been a busy week, hasn't it? You've been amazing help, as always.'

Magesa nodded, smiled and received the praise without fuss. Finally he could do what he really wanted to do.

He so sat down at a small table in the corner of the shop and opened a large basket. Inside were long thin reeds he had collected by the river bank the evening before. He then took up a fistful of reeds and slowly began braiding them into shape. At the moment, all he could make was simple sandals, but he hoped to also be able to make some baskets and hats in time. It was a skill he had learned from Samin a few months ago.

At first he had felt completely lost and hopeless with such detailed handicraft, almost giving up trying all together, but Samin wouldn't let him.

“Oh, but it's hopeless.” Magesa would say when the long reeds formed a messy tangle of a knot, rather than a neat symmetric pattern. Samin would then place his gentle hand on Magesa's shoulder and tell him with a warm smile:

“Nothing's ever hopeless Magesa. Don't you ever let anybody make you believe that it is. It's just not straightforward, that's all. 'Hopeless' is one of those words it's better to forget you ever knew. Learning a new skill like this may not be straightforward at all, for sure, it takes time and dedication, but it's never hopeless.”

Magesa was happy he had taken Samin's advice to heart that time and stuck to the endeavour, for before long, he was surprising himself, making perfectly usable sandals. It's not that he loved making sandals or braiding reeds that much, it's just that he knew, that to survive and make a living in this world he needed a skill. He needed money. For Magesa had a dream. He wished to someday make it as crew on a large ship and see the world. Sure, he loved his city, but he was also curious and hungered for something more at times. Still, he would need to save up money for such a long journey, and also, he hoped to be able to buy land in a foreign country and open a guesthouse of some sort. He loved to meet new people and talk about all kinds of things, so he figured, running a guesthouse would be just perfect. Therefore, making sandals was for Magesa simply the very first step in his long term world-journey plan. Samin had kindly let Magesa have a basket with finished sandals on display next to the register for purchase. Although it wasn't that often, every once in a while a customer would come in and buy a pair together with some of Samin's garments. It wasn't a lot of money, but it was a start, and the feeling of earning his own money with something he had made with his own hands was simply unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. He had even thought about getting a job as a waiter at one of the city's many busy restaurants to speed things up a little, but for now, he was more than happy to be helping Samin out in anyway he could. After all, Samin was getting old, and would be having a hard time with nobody around to help him out. The waiter-job, sailor and guesthouse dream could surely wait a little a longer. There was no rush. Days were good, and besides, if he sailed off anytime soon, he knew he'd come to miss old Samin an awful lot. Just the thought gave him a lump in the stomach and made him feel sad. The old tailor and his little shop was his world, his home, and he felt that his place was here for now.

Such were the quiet thoughts of Magesa as he carefully braided out yet another pair of reed sandals to the soothing sound of Samin's soft whistle.

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