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فنانة الحناء | The Henna Artist of Marrakech

by Yasmine Benali|2 min read|
"A henna artist discovers passion while decorating the hands of a tourist who seeks more than art in the medina."

فنانة الحناء

The Henna Artist of Marrakech


الفصل الأول | Chapter One

أَرْسُمُ الحِنَّاءَ فِي سَاحَةِ جَامِعِ الفَنَّا.

I draw henna in Jemaa el-Fna square.

جَاءَ رَجُلٌ أَجْنَبِيٌّ يُرِيدُ رَسْمًا لِأُمِّهِ.

A foreign man came wanting a drawing for his mother.

لَكِنَّ عُيُونَهُ كَانَتْ تَنْظُرُ إِلَيَّ.

But his eyes were looking at me.


الفصل الثاني | Chapter Two

"أُمِّي تُحِبُّ الفَنَّ المَغْرِبِيَّ،" قَالَ.

"My mother loves Moroccan art," he said.

كَانَ فِي الخَمْسِينَ، وَسِيمًا، بِشَعْرٍ رَمَادِيٍّ.

He was in his fifties, handsome, with gray hair.

"وَأَنْتَ؟ مَاذَا تُحِبُّ؟" سَأَلْتُهُ.

"And you? What do you like?" I asked him.


الفصل الثالث | Chapter Three

"أُحِبُّ الجَمَالَ..." قَالَ وَهُوَ يَنْظُرُ إِلَى يَدَيَّ.

"I love beauty..." he said looking at my hands.

"يَدَاكِ سَاحِرَتَانِ."

"Your hands are magical."

"الحِنَّاءُ فَنٌّ قَدِيمٌ... يَحْتَاجُ لَمْسَةً نَاعِمَةً."

"Henna is ancient art... it needs a soft touch."


الفصل الرابع | Chapter Four

"هَلْ يُمْكِنُكِ أَنْ تُعَلِّمِينِي؟" سَأَلَ.

"Can you teach me?" he asked.

"الحِنَّاءُ لَيْسَ لِلرِّجَالِ عَادَةً."

"Henna is not usually for men."

"أُرِيدُ أَنْ أَتَعَلَّمَ مِنْكِ... كُلَّ شَيْءٍ."

"I want to learn from you... everything."


الفصل الخامس | Chapter Five

دَعَوْتُهُ إِلَى دُكَّانِي فِي المَدِينَةِ القَدِيمَةِ.

I invited him to my shop in the old medina.

"هُنَا أَصْنَعُ الحِنَّاءَ بِيَدِي."

"Here I make henna with my hands."

"وَهُنَا سَأَتَعَلَّمُ سِرَّكِ."

"And here I will learn your secret."


الفصل السادس | Chapter Six

وَضَعْتُ الحِنَّاءَ عَلَى يَدِهِ.

I put henna on his hand.

أَصَابِعِي تَلْمُسُ جِلْدَهُ بِبُطْءٍ.

My fingers touching his skin slowly.

"أَشْعُرُ بِحَرَارَةٍ..." قَالَ.

"I feel heat..." he said.


الفصل السابع | Chapter Seven

"هَذَا لَيْسَ مِنَ الحِنَّاءِ،" هَمَسْتُ.

"That's not from the henna," I whispered.

تِلْكَ اللَّيْلَةَ، رَسَمْتُ عَلَى جَسَدِهِ بِأَصَابِعِي.

That night, I drew on his body with my fingers.

"جَسَدُكَ لَوْحَتِي المُفَضَّلَةُ."

"Your body is my favorite canvas."


الفصل الثامن | Chapter Eight

بَقِيَ فِي مَرَّاكُشَ أُسْبُوعَيْنِ.

He stayed in Marrakech two weeks.

كُلَّ لَيْلَةٍ نَرْسُمُ فَنًّا جَدِيدًا.

Every night we drew new art.

"سَأَعُودُ..." وَعَدَ عِنْدَ الوَدَاعِ.

"I will return..." he promised at farewell.


الخاتمة | Conclusion

الحِنَّاءُ يَخْتَفِي مَعَ الوَقْتِ.

Henna fades with time.

لَكِنَّ أَثَرَهُ فِي القَلْبِ يَبْقَى.

But its mark on the heart remains.

وَهُوَ يَعُودُ كُلَّ صَيْفٍ لِيُجَدِّدَ الرَّسْمَ.

And he returns every summer to renew the drawing.


من حكايات مراكش From the Tales of Marrakech

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