Hypnotised

‘Snakes?' I ask, wiggling my hand vertically, mimicking the moves of a cobra.
‘Snakes finished,' replied the tall, skinny Moroccan beckoning me to sit down on a plastic stool. Disappointed, I sit and wait for the evening entertainment.

The sun has set on Jemaa el Fna, Marrakech's famous tourist square. Gone are the snake charmers and tourist touts and the locals are out in force.

The music begins and I fall into a trance, sat in a circle with transfixed locals, clapping to the beat of the  drums. Morocco's version of Brian May is crooning on a guitar and the crowd looks on in awe. I have no idea what's going on. The music stops and ‘Brian' struts around the circle in his cowboy boots, shouting something I cannot understand. Others nod furiously and repeat his last word like a mantra.

Is this another weird cult I've stumbled across, a religious circle perhaps?

I want to leave but people are watching. Then the music begins again, and I too am transfixed by the vibe and the hypnotic beats. I only came here to see the snake charmer and as the music lifts me even higher, it crosses my mind that I am now the snake that I came to see.

Instead the souks of Marrakesh

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