So, this is where it happened. Where they divided us into an organized rack. It happened here in the Egyptian (Spice) Bazaar. We have to go way back, all the way back to Constantinopulous. An entrepôts, with 7 doors, the first entrance a hallway to the Malabar Coast. Lucky Seven, for the monopolists, the cartels, the Mega-corporations, Syndicates, Trusts and Guilds. As these dried seeds, fruit, bark and vegetable were as good as gold. Seriously, you could buy and pay for things in Pepper. Pass the shaker with five holes, pretty please. The Visigoths, to cease and desist with their siege of Rome in 408AD, demanded a bounty in gold, silver and pepper. The Venetians, called it a Muslim Curtain, and they did what all entitled rich men do.... They lied. For Christ's sake. No, really, apparently the J Man was on their side, so they'd like to pretend. Kings versus Sultans. Trump. Okay, let's agree to disagree and tell everyone that it's Christ versus Allah in a Battle Royal. Oh, for the love of God, the West was so greedy squabbling amongst themselves, they even called in Pope Alexander IV to settle the score. A treaty of Tordesillas... you get Nutmeg and you get Cinnamon. And, so it went... Big Buisness, the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, or VOC for short, was the richest company in the world, long before Exxon pumped you for gas. "Black Gold, Texas Tea" the original Black Gold, was Pepper, but I still have a crush on you Elly May. Islam, Christianity, Judaism,,,, they were all just fronts, as that is what spice is used for, to hide taste, flavored excuses for very entitled men, to make more money. I chew you up and spit you out Jan Pieterszoon Coen, no zest can cover the loathsome smell of you.
It's in this market you will discover the real savoriness for life. As you are pinned together with merchants and shoppers diverse as the lands of which these spices took root. It is here, where I found a small boy. A lost one. I knew and know that look, I wore it on my face once, shopping with my mother at Kings Soopers. Although, getting lost in a florescent lit grocery store seems like easy time compared to being misplaced among the throngs and crowds exploring the stalls. He didn't have to utter a word, not that I would have understood a syllable or two. So, with a ummmmppph, a lift, an airplane ride to my shoulders.... young Maverick and old Goose set off to find some lost parents. Silly parents, Trix are for kids. Clean up on aisle 4, reveals no parents. Maverick, pointed left, off we went to aisle 6, then moonlight special happened on aisle 8, where the billboard sign on my shoulders, reading 'lost adorable child" was picked up by a very distressed mother. I stand about 7 inches taller than most shoppers, the pair of us together was hard to miss. Tears of joy, when Maverick landed in the aircraft carrier of his mother’s arms. As the only true tears… is your mothers tears. Salted eye drops, was the most valuable spice on this day. So, go home tonight, open your pantry door, pull out all your spices, prepare a meal, invite family and friends, hopefully a mix-mash of different colors and creeds. As we are at our best served together, undivided by the oligopoly.