Marrakech is a city close to my heart. My husband proposed there and, if I close my eyes, I can clearly see the smoke rising over the snake charmers in J'ma El Fna and smell the heady scent of kebabs cooking over hot coals. It is, quite simply, a magical place and the birthplace of many a mystical tale.
Long before I was lucky enough to visit Marrakech, I discovered 'Hideous Kinky', an autobiographical novel by Esther Freud (Hamish Hamilton, 1992).
I was probably in my late teens the first time I read Hideous Kinky and I have read it many times since. No other book I have read has evoked such clear images of time and place. I probably fell in love with Marrakech a decade before I even travelled there. In fact it is sometimes difficult to separate the memories I have of my time there and the scenes I have created in my mind from Freud's vivid tale.
Hideous Kinky is based around Freud's hippy childhood travels in Morocco in the 1960's with her mother and sister, Bea. The family arrives in Marrakech in a van from Spain with only a few possessions and body lice.
Sometimes it's unclear if this is a happy tale, Freud's mother (Julia) was certainly disillusioned by her London life. This persual for meaning is a recurring theme and, although Julia obviously cares for her girls, there is a sense that she is searching ceaselessly for a happiness she will never find.
Aside from the evocative images of Morocco, Freud introduces us to a collection of quite marvellous characters. From the mysterious Luigi Mancini and his disappearing palace to the downright alluring Bilal, you can't help but be sucked into Julia's desperation to be looked after whilst steadfastly maintaining her independence to the last. Bilal, Julia's recurrent lover, is weaved through the story, always illuminated by Freud's child-like prose. He is the clown, the protector and the magic cure for sadness but when life gets too serious Bilal runs. We are almost constantly reminded of the cultural contrasts between Julia and Bilal. This is illustrated by Bilal's reaction to his young sister's beating at the hands of his brothers. Bilal suggests that Fatima must be shown how to be good to find a good marriage. It is only too obvious that Julia cannot reconcile this inequality and eventually begins to investigate fulfillment elsewhere, in the closed and eerie world of Sufism.
It is at this point in the story that Julia leaves Bea, her oldest child, with a friend and makes across the desert in search of Sheikh Bentounes and the path to enlightenment. A mini-adventure in itself, this is a dark and uncertain time for Freud which sees her suffering night terrors and the fear that she might lose her mother to the dark and silent world of the Sufi's forever.
Freud brilliantly tells a very adult story whilst never letting us forget that this is the voice of a child. Through all the upheavals, broken relationships, illness and even poverty you know that Freud herself would have sold her right arm for some mashed potato or a bowl of cornflakes. She is a child and able to see what could seem to some as her mother's superficial and often selfish behaviour in a way that makes it almost acceptable. After all, what could be more brilliant to a child than not having to brush your teeth or wear shoes?
I wouldn't wish to spoil this beautiful story for you by giving away its conclusion. In fact if you haven't yet read it then I envy you because I would give anything to open this book on the first page and be bathed in the sights and sounds of Morocco just as I was the first time.
Sarah
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