“Which of us is the shampoo? And which is the conditioner?” Fadoua asks him.
“To be honest, I am still not sure. When I decide you’re the shampoo, I’ll let you know.”
Qamar ad-Dine knows all the stories of Marrakech Star because Fadoua and Samira always bring their correspondence in English to him so he can explain to them what they don’t understand, and correct their answers so that their messages are sent with fewer mistakes.
Qamar ad-Dine’s English is good and so is his French. But he always says that his Arabic is unfortunately not so good. He doesn’t show any regret as he repeats this confession; on the contrary, a wicked pride appears on his face. Does he say this to spite his father, Shihab ad-Dine, the teacher of Arabic who switched to teaching Islamic education not for love of religion, but out of laziness and a desire to rid himself of grammar and syntax? Islamic education class is for both students of science and those in the humanities. Two hours a week for each group. Many students consider the session a break to be spent on the playing fields in front of the school, or at Rahal’s, for those who can afford it, especially because al-Sayouti does not take attendance.
In reality, Qamar ad-Dine doesn’t hate his father, but he does hate talking about him. He prefers the company of students not from Lycée Zerktouni, those who know nothing about al-Sayouti, who have never heard the jokes at his father’s expense. Fadoua and Samira are exceptions. Despite the fact that they are his father’s students, their relationship with Qamar ad-Dine is predicated upon the café and has nothing to do with the institution. He is a handsome young man who speaks different languages well. Therefore their relationship has been a real advantage for Marrakech Star.
Qamar ad-Dine is always available in the café, to the point that Rahal leaves him in charge when he has some errands to run. In exchange Rahal is lenient with him when it comes to payment. Qamar ad-Dine will sometimes pay for three hours and get five. Rahal makes him an unofficial assistant, even though Qamar ad-Dine is not aware of his secret promotion.
Qamar ad-Dine has begun to enjoy the adventures of Marrakech Star and their international e-conquests. This one is serious, that one chaste, and the other shows promise. This one wants to come to Marrakech to visit an eye doctor, and inquires about the best hotel and airlines. The other suggests that she come visit London; he would take care of the flight and she is welcome to stay in his apartment for a week, or even a month — if she can, of course. Another suggests, with suspicious reverence, that she come for a minor pilgrimage to holy Mecca.
When Amelia the Nigerian arrives at the cybercafé, Marrakech Star fades away. Fadoua notices that Qamar ad-Dine is totally distracted whenever she shows up. Sometimes Amelia comes alone. Other times her friend Flora accompanies her. Yakabo always joins them later. Maybe it’s a trick so that Rahal won’t tell them not to share one computer. The cybercafé’s regulations are clear: two people maximum per computer.
No one knows how Yakabo is related to Amelia and Flora. Is he a brother? Some other relative? A lover? With Africans it can be difficult to guess. In any case, they are lucky: apartment owners don’t ask them about their documents. They don’t scrutinize them as they would Moroccans. Young Moroccan men find it hard to live with their female friends without marriage documents. But with the Africans no one cares. Even if they are Muslims from Mali or Senegal. That’s why they live together. They can pile between five and ten people into a small two-bedroom apartment. Qamar ad-Dine doesn’t pay attention to these details. He is not in love with Amelia. He is just glad to see her. She makes him happy and her smile delights him, and that’s all he can ask for. It is also a chance for him to practice English with her. However, there is another dynamic at play — a somewhat sensitive one. And it is better to keep it to himself, especially in front of Fadoua and Samira.
Qamar ad-Dine wants to leave the country in any way possible. He is tired of Shihab ad-Dine and the boring life he has at home and at school. And even this damned cybercafé he seems to be addicted to. He is fed up with Rahal’s snooping. Whenever he looks up he finds him staring at his screen. He is tired of the small talk of history teachers at school. They come in groups to the café, as if they’re going to the mosque. They hog the computers and instead of surfing the net they begin to talk as if they’re in the teachers’ lounge. They say that life under Hassan II was abominable and that the country’s conditions have improved a lot with the coming of the new king.
Expanded freedom, new vitality, and initiatives for change. Qamar ad-Dine does not pay attention to the tales of his father’s friends. He doesn’t see any change at all. Who cares what they think about life under Hassan II? He was a young kid back then. And now he feels he has grown up and that he doesn’t want to regress. He doesn’t have any time to waste on such conversations.
Qamar ad-Dine longs for another life, the life he sees in movies and on TV. Life as lived by God’s chosen people in the north. Qamar ad-Dine wants to escape from here. Emigration is a sacred right. He doesn’t want to stay in a place that chokes him with creatures he doesn’t like. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have the right to eject this entire boring world from his days and nights, from his life, from his future, and move on.
“Of course I’m Christian. Why do you want to know?” Amelia asks.
“Just an innocent question. Can we talk outside?”
She leaves Flora staring at the screen alone. She apologizes to her in a Nigerian dialect; Qamar ad-Dine only picks up the name Yakabo, which was repeated three times. Outside he invites her to Milano, a café across the street. He discovers she smokes. As soon as Asma the server puts a cup of coffee in front of her, she takes out a pack of cigarettes: Marquise. She lights one and hands the pack to Qamar ad-Dine.
“Thanks, but I don’t smoke. I’ll be quick. I want to learn about Christianity from you. I mean: I want to know more. I read online about the Holy Trinity and Unitarianism. About Christ’s humanity. About the differences between the Eastern Orthodox Church and Catholicism and also between Lutheranism and Anglicanism. I also read the Sermon on the Mount ten times and I learned part of it in Arabic, French, and English,” Qamar rambles. “Want proof? Here’s a quote: You have heard that it was said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also... and whoever wants to... whoever wants to... Wait, I forget. Here’s another quote: You have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. There is also, Ask and it will be given to you. I memorized them. Listen—”
“No! You listen, Qamar—” she interrupts.
“Abd al-Massih, the Servant of Christ... My new name is Abd al-Massih... You’re the first person I’ve confessed this to. You must keep it between us.”
“Listen, Abd al-Massih, there seems to be some confusion here. When I told you I was Christian, I was talking about the family religion. Believe me, I am not as Christian as you imagine. I don’t go to church, I don’t read the Bible, and I don’t know the Sermon on the Mount. I’m Christian and that’s all. Take it as it is. Let’s get back to the cybercafé, please. Flora is waiting for me.”