Yesterday we pitched our tent on Stinksea beach, true, tent a little dirty, but the not-ugly girls who smoke with Aïdid an me, they love it. An then, the other wild hoods an the shiftas, they know right away we still military without fear an pity like Janaleh, the dry lawman (that his nickname) who comes to drink beer with us. Janaleh he laughing all the time cause in his pocket-there he got a big stock of pink pills (Excedrin, melatonin, Valium, Vicodin…label say that). Janaleh real wild. Everything he don't sell, it for him. Life always like that. Some people laugh; others cry like mamas without babies. Others nervous like a khat-grazer with no khat.
35. ALICE
WHEN A WIFE IS CROSS with her husband or neglected by him, she goes back to her father's household and can't come back unless she's accompanied by a delegation that includes the members of his family laden with gifts. Before that, the husband has been summoned, sermonized, and returned to the straight and narrow if need be. A ram is slaughtered and the quarrel drowned in the family celebration. If, for one reason or another, the wife is not brought back at the end of a few days, she is considered divorced from her husband. At least, that's how things went in the time when the importance of a family was calculated more by the number of its neighbors than by the size of its flock. In the same way, one did not marry inside the clan but allied oneself with another clan from the great tribal family. Today, it's all going to the devil, he mumbles.
That just shows that my father-in-law has remained the only member of the family I enjoy seeing again. When he has nothing personal to tell me, he instructs me in the customs of the country; it's his way of breaking the ice and being useful.
“My dear Alice, you can't imagine how clever our Bedouins are, the very ones those travelers or researchers of yours describe as ignorant. Believe it or not, when a baby camel happened to die, it was immediately replaced by a straw dummy so that the mother would continue to give milk. The same technique was used for a cow deprived of her calf. The dummy was made from the hide of the dead baby camel stuffed with straw; it was disposed of after five months, which is how long lactation lasts. Ingenious, isn't it? But — for there is always a but with human activities — the dummy had no effect on the she-goat and the ewe.”
I can sense that he hasn't come just to teach me these inert things marinating in oblivion. He hovers around me; I leave him to his little game, and this man, whose shreds of words are usually so parsimonious at this time of day, turns into my confidant. He knows that words spoken in a confidential tone have more impact than words proclaimed loud and clear. I throw him a line: you've never told me the meaning of your name Awaleh. “Oh, that means ‘the lucky one’ or more precisely ‘He will live’; at times of great pandemics or famines it was given to newborn babies to ward off fate. You know, Alice, your six-month-old son and thus my grandson, by the grace of the Majestic One, you know that he was born on the night of destiny, the night of Miraj, al leyl'al miraj as Muslims say the world over.” And what does that imply — destiny? I stammer, trying to look natural. “Your husband told you nothing about this? That doesn't surprise me at all; that's the way he is — too westernized; I can see how far the son has moved away from his father. Other days, other ways. Luckily I'm here to connect the threads of spiritual and temporal things, the visible and the invisible, my dear Alice. Miraj is the night of the ascent to heaven of our prophet Mohammed, may his name be praised to all eternity! who reached the spiritual world of celestial Jerusalem by riding the winged horse Bouraq, led by the angel Djibril. The steed of the Prophet — may his name be praised by all tiny creatures like us! — was described by the chroniclers as an animal having wings on his thighs pushing his legs forward so hard he could attain the speed of light.”
What is going to happen to my baby? I say, holding back a tear. “Nothing but good; all mothers pray to deliver their children from evil on the night of destiny. Your baby is blessed, blessed three times over. We're lucky, you know? A baby like this one at the first try, bravo, girl!”
I wanted to point out that my baby was also just as old as Independence (independence is above all the power of utopia — it is all the battles dreamt and fought, and their catastrophic future) — but he had already turned away. He left as surreptitiously as he had come.
36. BASHIR BINLADEN
THE GOVERMENT STILL got no money. So I say we gotta start vitaminized job tomorrow. I woke up Aïdid; he was too-too floppy cause of the pills Janaleh gave out. We set up front of American embassy. Lot of poor jerks there with blankets lying down on sidewalks all the way up to the École de la Nativité. Then, we kick an punch everybody an take up position two yards away from the gate. But they still there, some of em snoring loud like inside their mama's belly. Some of em look like they already in the grave. We stamp our feet; c'mon get out of there, we here to work. We brought empty folders an files to look serious. Course we also brought our little weapons like Yemenite knives, box cutters an all for dissuasion (that military language, very correct even). After, we smoked, but real-real Camel cigarettes with camel on the pack. We like Camels cause of camel, cause that, animal of nomads, right? When sun began to get too hot, we saw lot of people coming in by bus, by taxi, an even on foot, the ones who're broke. An even good-looking girls who got lot-lot of nice perfume psst! psst! on the neck an arms. Their perfume, it smell good from French Consulate to far-far away Aïdid said, cause don't forget, real vitaminized job is tomorrow front of French Consulate. One day it cowboy embassy, another day blue-white-an-red consulate. That way everybody happy. An then, blue-white-an-red consulate also give visa for Belgium, Holland, Sweden, etc. My idea-there real good, don't you think? Hey, that was my secret, got it now, you smarties out there? That way, people don't send out to look for us saying: where they go, those two hoods without pity?
So, one day it this way, next day that way. Friday rest, weekend here at home cause everything closed. Ah! two customers walking up to me with fresh face an toothpaste smile like commercials on DRT (that, Radio TV in our country, you didn't forget that, right?). The two customers, one pay one thousand francs, other pay one thousand francs. They don't cause no problems or else watch out. Anyways, they real happy. They sneak in the line-there center-forward an they think they gonna get visa for New York or Washimton right away. My job, real classy cause number one, it real easy job: you push away the little weak guys, you get in center-forward position in the long-long line, an after that you give your place to the customer who pay right away, an number two, cause there many-many customers; everybody wanna leave this shitty country. Everybody, they yelclass="underline" I got a brother in Paris, I got uncle in America, I want a job in Australia, I got refugee family in Canada. Visa, money-transfer, certificate, consulate…It ten past ten, job over for today. But hey, it not illegal to pick up money somewhere else. Lessee if there French or German soldiers in town, to scrounge money. Visa, transfer, consular, tralala…Visa, transfer, tralala…