Jasmine in Tunis

It was a warm July night in 1973. I was sitting at a sidewalk cafe enjoying a Turkish coffee in the Medina Djedid( modern French built part of the city) of Tunis,on Rue habib Boureguiba, the main drag. The scent of jasmine filled the air as a soft breeze wafted off the Mediterranian. Boys had assembled small jasmine blooms, with wire, into bouquets and were selling them to passersby for a pittance. Two men stood out. One, a wealthy Tunisian, dressed in a gold trimmed gandoura(tunisian long robe) of a beautiful burgundy shade, smoked a hookah and enjoyed his coffee. Behind his ear ,below his blood red fez,was a jasmine bouquet, worn like most men wore theirs. From time to time, he removed the flowers and inhaled the heady perfume with a look of exquiste sensual satisfaction. On the curb as another man, beggar, dressed in ragged cast off western clothes. He obviously couldn't afford a seat at the trendy cafe, yet behind his ear too, was a jasmine blossom. He too, removed it occasionally to savor the fragrence. The look on his face was equally satisfying. Perhaps the rich traditionally dressed man bought it for him, but I think, rather, that it was such an inexpensive yet important pleasure, that he too, was drawn to this wonderful custom. Perhaps he had sacrificed his meal, but to him it was worth it.