воскресенье, 16 сентября 2012 г.

Rachida: Letters from Algeria.(Poem) - College Literature

 Rachida: Letters from Algeria       My country's future is uncertain.       From day to day, nobody knows             what will happen.          I've even begun to wish         for a terrible earthquake     so people will look to themselves      instead of killing one another,           they'll work together           to save human lives,            to help the people         who have been afflicted.              God forgive me,            I'm praying for it.                In Algeria,        no one dares say anything.        Rachida was scared but felt           she had to speak up.          'Show how we live now'         she told me when I left,               'I'll write.'           Algiers, 10 November.         There's a water shortage.    Not a single drop for 10 days now. I have to go 8 km in a taxi to get water.        People are dying every day,           especially the young.     So when a kid isn't home by 8pm,           we are worried sick.      Mohamed's trial is in December.   We still haven't got the exact date.          Rachida married at 14.                  At 15,      she had her first son, Mohamed.            She became a nurse,     divorced, and took responsibility            for her 7 children,           I've always stood up    for the freedom of the individual.        People live as they choose.             I've had setbacks            because of the way           I brought my kids up.     Since they were little I let them             go their own way.       Whether they wanted to play,        be a footballer, a judoka,         an Islamist, a policeman,             or be unemployed.          Mohamed, the Islamist.           Samir, the policeman.          Abdelkader, unemployed.            Salima, the judoka.              Tarek and Amel,        both addicted to TV series.    They all live under the same roof.       Tarek and Amel struggle along            with their studies.          Samir is madly in love.   Salima left for Canada this morning,        with hopes of a gold medal.            World championship.              Hamilton 1993.        The best judokas have come       for this big event in Canada.          Algeria's judo hopefuls              are warming up,             some of them with     well-founded medal expectations.       The hopes of the female team           rest on Salima alone.            A double challenge           for this Muslim girl,       whose religion forbids sport             and whose country      the West watches with concern.        Her first fight is against            a young Bulgarian.           At 18, Salima is used          to world competitions.           In 90, in Mauritius,          she won the gold medal           in the African Games,             the bronze medal       in the 91 World championship,               and came 5th     in the Barcelona Olympics in 92.       Salima began her career here,        in this suburb of Algiers.     Not many other young girls dared      stand against family pressures.    Mothers rarely let their daughters             practise a sport.          I had lots of problems            because of Salima.    It's only because she was a success         that Salima was accepted.    If she'd failed, even her brothers           would've avoided her.              I still manage         to make the kids obey me.     Particularly now, it's very hard.      The boys find it very difficult         not to raise their voices           against their mother.               But I manage.        I think this is because of          their basic education.           I taught them respect             and love for God            and their parents.            Only a few seconds       before the end of the fight.   The Bulgarian is ahead in this heat.          The Bulgarian has made              a decisive move           and with this defeat   Algeria loses its chance of a medal.        No one in the Algerian team      has got past the first series.          A setback for the team        whose spirit is undermined        by the political atmosphere          prevailing in Algeria.        Reportedly, three athletes        defected during the games.     We don't know yet if they'll ask       Canada for political asylum.      To be 20 on the housing estate         means living in poverty,       boredom and lack of privacy.     At 20, your life is at a dead-end            if there's no work,           housing or marriage.        To be 20 is to be rejected,           a victim of politics,          trapped by two forces.  Here, bullets, whistle past your ears.     Everyone of us has been affected,               each family.      And the sportsmen and women...   suffer from our political situation,           men and women alike.           They can't ignore it.              It's impossible         not to be affected by it.        Well, now she is in Canada;        she'll come back tomorrow.          and she'll want to know     what happened while she was away            and she'll be told.           We had a moment of...               weakness....             Now she will have           to go though it too.     Because her country has changed,           and they're too young            to know about war.         My opinion as a coach is     that she was tough with the boys.              She hurt them.          She hurt the champions            who were with her.              She really did.          They were the same age.            And she hurt them.        Because she was aggressive.            She made them cry.            They are champions          and she made them cry.        He thinks she's not as good        since she has been in love.          She is with her fiance        and she's not as flexible.               Not as before      when she was a boisterous girl.             Is she so fixed?            --She's dependent.             --She's changed.          --She just sits there.         --He won't let her move.          She's not like before.       If she makes a mistake or....     She can't make decisions anymore,          she can't decide alone.        For instance, if she wants            to come back here,       to train here in Borjekipen,             Meziane says no.         His training's in Algiers             so she has to go              and train where          her future husband is.    Why did I encourage her to do judo?           I couldn't encourage           the boys and not her.            The boys ran away,        because Salima was one girl              among all boys.        For them, here in Algeria,            this was too much.     She wasn't supposed to do sport.           But Salima resisted.          Samir was here one day,           with a fractured leg.    He broke his plaster and went out.               'I can't stay                with Salima       fighting boys. I'm not a man     anymore. I have lost my honour.'                Her Future?        First, I wanted her to have           what I couldn't have.         I asked her to persevere.       To win the World championship          and her Olympic thing.          She could have received             social benefits.    Maybe she would have had a reward,         enough money to help her         to get out of this hole.                 Hurry up!              Go and get her.             They always wait           for Salima to return,      she's the only girl to travel.        It's through her eyes that      the local women see the world.          Tell me what happened.         I...in the first heat....        You lost the first series?                 You know,         I could have won easily.             I am very tired.       Salima's father lives nearby,            on the same estate.           He has always let her            decide for herself.         We stay up until midnight     but we don't even see you on TV.          I'm not a good Muslim.           If I was, I would do              what God says.                  I mean,      I pray regularly and all that,       but I don't wear the veil....      It's a requirement, I have to.                --Will you?             Sooner or later.   What stops me is my sporting career.                Otherwise,      I would have done it years ago.         My eldest brother Mohamed          is a great Muslim now.     Once, Mohamed gave me some books          and I decided to stop.           I thought, that's it,               I must quit.            Then I met Meziane     and one thing led to another....        Meziane is a strict Muslim.              A good Muslim.         For instance, when abroad,         he only eats clean meat.         He is a faithful Muslim.            If I wear the veil,        I'll do it out of love....        Inchallah, sooner or later.       In fact, even Meziane agrees             I should wear it.  Salima has such strength of character.    It's wonderful but she's weakening,       because of her married life.    Because Desmani is little by little             getting a hold on      my daughter's way of thinking.          He's the one in command          and she depends on him.            She has no say and      this is a disappointment to me.          A great disappointment.             I don't like it.       Desmani is very nice though.      But it's a question of honour.              A man's honour.       And here, a man's honour....            You've got no idea.             Quite something!          Muslims make you think    Islam wants to shut women away....            But that's not it.         Muslim women are normally                very happy.         Especially married women.         What more can I ask for?           I am with my husband.            I have my children,        I follow the Muslim faith,    I do everything to give my children             a good education,          that's my only concern.       My problem is not being free                 to go out          and wear nice clothes.           What I want is to be       a good mother and housewife.           He says he's dreaming            of a large family,              a family of 7:          5 boys, myself and him    sitting at the table, having a meal           talking together....            5 good Muslim boys.           Yes, he's always said          that's what he wanted.     Good Muslims, brought up my way,               well behaved.        Isn't Salima a good Muslim?     She's the almost perfect Muslim.              Almost perfect.       Because she prays and behaves           like a Muslim woman.          She does all the things          a Muslim woman must do.      There are still a few thin....            I love my religion.        She loves Islam, very much.  In fact, she's going to wear the veil,           very soon, she will.   Then, she'll quit sports. It's over.          Are you happy about it?                   Very.        I'm looking forward to it.            If I'd had my say,       she'd have done it long ago.         Meziane has a principle,           he doesn't force you             to wear the veil.   But you must wear it with conviction,                with love.        He could force his sister,          me or his mother maybe.     But he knows that when he's away,        his sister can take it off,   she can put make up on with the veil               and so can I,       I'm not asking much ftom her                as a woman.         I ask her to comply with           her duties as a woman         who respects her husband.          What are these duties?          I mean, when dressing,        to wear the proper clothes.       For instance when going out,           to walk in the street            in the proper way.           To obey her husband.             Does Salima obey?         I don't have to ask her,          she does automatically.           She knows her limits        and her rights towards me.                And if not?        I throw her on the judo mat              and I beat her.                That's all.           If Salima has decided     she'll wear the veil, let her be.       Amel also made the decision.                 And then,      when she realised she could not       go swimming, she took it off.                I told her:    'You can't wear the veil in winter            and not in summer.             It's impossible.'  She thought hard about it for two days,             and she'd worn it         without asking my advice.             I was against it.         For me, wearing the veil                is sacred.     You can't take it off afterwards.          You must follow the Way          and reach towards God.         At one stage in the 90s,             the Islamic Front             was very popular.     Wearing the djilbel and the veil              was in fashion.              And now in 93,   I think 50% of those wearing the veil            have taken it off.       They walk like this, like me.   The use of the veil or the headscarf       is one of God's commandments.         I must say it is strict.             But I can't abide    by this commandment. I just can't.        I can't see the difference      between a veiled woman and me.     Islamic Salvation Front Congress.          Algiers, November 1990.          God grants you success         and leads you to the way,     He gives you a home in Paradise.   Prayer helps you solve your problems           and protect yourself            from your enemies.             In it you'll find            your soul's repose.              In January 92,    the Front was credited with 80% of            voting intentions.               February 92,    a state of emergency was declared.                 March 92,           the Front was banned.      Today, possessing this document         incurs the death penalty       for breaching State security.               In 10 years,   10,000 mosques were built in Algeria.            There are 3 mosques           on Rachida's estate.         Mohamed has been an Imam            for nearly 5 years.         He was saying his prayers             at the age of 3.             But this change,          this drastic change....    He no longer wanted to watch films            or listen to music.        I think this is because of            his study of Islam,           because of the books             I gave him myself         when he dedicated himself             to his religion.         I had to help him because            he wanted to follow   the way to salvation, the way to God.     These books were quite expensive              but I got them      for the love of God as well as          for the love of my son.              This is Mohamed  before he became a religious integrist          I'm stroking his beard          and mocking him gently.                  I said:      'Your beard doesn't look nice.'               This is him.      He's always had these sad eyes.     Everyone's having fun except him.          Mohamed, the holy man.           Samir, the policeman.       Rachida forbade the brothers             to talk politics,       to have peace in the family.   Samir and Mohamed led separate lives            ignoring each other            in this tiny space.     Then came the political division.          Rachida threw them out      and told them to be responsible          for their own beliefs.          Yes, I asked my mother             for her opinion.             What did she say?         She said it was my life,             it was up to me.          I told her I'd decided            to be a policeman.   She told me not to. ... I don't know.        She helped me, that's all.          When I want something,            nobody can stop me,          or tell me what to do.     But I'll accept the consequences.            She let Mohamed go             his own way too.        She said: 'Do as you wish.'            Well, Mohamed. ...          When he grows his beard             or when he prays,             that's all right.           You have a good wage?                   Yes.       That's why he married early.     You're getting married in August?                Inchallah.         On the 13th or the 14th.                Inchallah.           Where will you live?               I don't know.   Perhaps they'll give me a tied house.      It depends on what's available.    They give priority to the policemen          living in a 'hot zone.'             Did you get one?      We are 8th on the waiting list.       We all love Islam. All of us.         And they're all faithful,          those who are dying now             are all faithful.       They are the integrists. ...        Mainly policemen are dying        and they are all faithful.       In their own way, of course.         You fear for your family?                  Oh yes!            Samir the policeman         and Mohamed the holy man        are 22 and 23 respectively.      Now to survive, you must choose           which side you're on  and expose yourself on the front line.              Somebody rang.                They said:     'Tell Rachida that in the crowd,       her son got a stray bullet.'          I went to the hospital.   I thought they wouldn't do anything.           My son was in a coma.             I stayed with him,          in my nurse's uniform.           I was allowed to stay          because I was a member          of the Health Service.             When Mohamed came       he said: 'Don't worry' He was      so pale I thought he was dying.        I thought I could have him      back home after the operation.   In fact I didn't get him back at all.     Mohamed the Imam has been in jail       for one year without a trial.         Samir heard that Mohamed      had been tortured for 13 days.          He paid the legal fees             for his defence.      I talked to his lawyer who said     he would be released, inchallah.                  Because    there's no evidence to suspect him.      He's got notbing to do with it.         They just want him to say           he saw what happened,           he saw the terrorists     when they shot the policemen....              That's enough.                   Stop.        Can we change the subject?        He was very true to himself            and to the others.              He hated lies.         That's why he's in jail.            I think that's why.      When he was wounded, he got up                 and said:          'I am a true follower.'               It's because        the people think that those   who are for the religion are killers,      that he had to go through this.            But it's not true.           Well, I'm not saying           there are no killers,             but nobody knows       who the killers are. No one.    No one can be so certain and point                at people,   integrists or government supporters,             nobody can tell.     Mohamed has always respected me.     He's always shown his affection.            He wasn't ashamed.          He's nearly 6 foot tall      and when I met him on the bus,     with his beard and his djellaba,      he kissed me, and I didn't wear         a djilbel or a headscarf.         He wasn't ashamed of me.        At the mosque, with people,          in professional circles             where he studied,            whenever I visited,    he kissed me in front of everybody.             I was his mother         and he loved me as I was.        He never forced me to wear           a hijab or a djilbel.         He never tried to stop me             from watching TV        or listen to music, never.          He was making his point             little by little.               Very slowly.           He's ever so patient.           He had a way with us.        Once I mentioned his wife:   'I'm not sure she has got the faith.'                 He said:      'She hasn't got a strong faith,             but with my love,               I'll breathe   a faith as strong as mine into her.'                And I think        he succeeded with his wife.     He had a little conflict with me              because I can't          come to terms with....           It's not a headscarf         that will make me believe             or give me faith.      Because I've got faith already.               God is in me.         I believe, very strongly.    And it's not by my wearing a scarf,           a hijab or a djilbel  that people will see me as a believer.              It's not true.            In the name of God         this dress is considered           as the Islamic dress.        It's a Muslim woman's duty    to wear this garment, the djilbel,     as well as gloves and stockings.        This is the Sheria's rule.            Since the age of 11         I have followed the rules            and worn the hijab.              I've finished!    I can see Mohamed every two weeks.         It's very painful for me         when I go to the prison.            I wait all day long      to see him for just 5 minutes.     We are happy for those 5 minutes.           When the bell rings,              I go to pieces.         We speak about our baby,          trying to guess whether           it's a girl or a boy.       To be honest, I prefer girls        but my husband wants a boy.          So....I want a boy too.                 Actually,      the little soul who will come,               God willing,      will automatically be educated      according to the Sheria's rule.           I will not allow him            to listen to music.          The Sheria forbids it.           It's a sin to listen            to music or songs.          Algiers, 15th November.    The baby was born at home at 17.40.        He is absolutely beautiful.          3 days after his birth,           Amel and I took Mouad      to visit Mohamed in the prison.          I asked him how he was        and then I unwrapped Mound.           What a shock it was!       Mohamed opened his eyes wide          and cried Mouad's name.      Then he threw himself face down    on the ground in front of everybody        and praised Allah 3 times.       He stood up, crying with joy,       banging the glass between us.        He was like a baby himself.        Soon Mohamed and I fell out              over his baby.      Moharned said he'd educate him                 his way.          I said: 'In that case,       he won't visit his grandma.'                Of course.     But, if he comes to his grandma,      he'll see another way of life.                  Mother,          --Do I look all right?     --Yes, you look as you should do.        What's going to happen now          is that I'll let him do           all sorts of things.         I'll bring him up my way.             What's your way?    My way is to love God and religion,             it's to be free.               For example,        not to renounce the world.   To see what's happening in the world,     watch TV and listen to the radio.      So that come the 21st century,          you're not left behind.            Mohamed, a Muslim,            Samir, a policeman,     Tarek will soon be a pop singer.         If I stop studying, yes.     I'll go away, if I stop studying,       If I don't pass my A levels,      Because there's nothing for me         in this town, in Algeria.             I'll do nothing,     I'll sit at home like a good boy.           And if I go out, then           I'll become a yobbo.         A man is nearly a sultan,           a king in his house.       He can say whatever he wants,          whether right or wrong.        He must say what he likes,                even if....     And the woman must not complain,          she must shut her mouth          and stay in her place,     otherwise, she'll get a beating.      A single woman here in Algeria               is easy prey.     I hide from my kids I'm at risk,          because a single woman          must show she's strong.    If I'm short of money to buy food,          I don't tell the kids.              I borrow money        and I prepare a real feast.         Then I watch them eating          and I feel so relieved.            Fatima was abrupt.           She used to storm out   of her room and switch the radio off.         She's stopped doing this         because Mohamed told her:       'If you don't want the music,              go to your room              or the kitchen        and let them listen to it.'         He's flirting with Agnes              like a maniac!         What makes you think so?         It's as plain as the nose               on your face.      He's putting on his great act.          And you're not jealous?    Good evening ladies and gentlemen.        Following Mustapha Abada's               assassination             the president of    the State High Committee, Ali Kafi        offers his deepest sympathy               to the press.    Mustapha Abada was shot in the head         and died from his wound.          The murderer ran away.   Mustapha Abada is the 7th journalist              to be murdered.      It used to be a paradise here.            We were not afraid        to stay out until midnight,     there was nothing to worry about.    That was in the past unfortunately.      Now I'm always scared at night.       Since the curfew, the police            have come at night       to check if there are people              on the streets.           They can hurt people.    They entered the neighbour's house,          they searched the place   for weapons. I could hear their steps              in the walkway.  It's the way they walk, their shoes....              It's so noisy.           It's dangerous here,             really dangerous.           It's risky at night.           Maybe a stray bullet.   I could be killed by a stray bullet.              So I'm scared.           Algiers, 20 November.          The clock rings at 5 am           but I can't wake up.            Prayer. Breakfast.      My neighbours and Fatima heard       the racket the soldiers made.      Around 2 am, there was a raid.            People are crying.          They say that all those              who were taken             have been killed    and the bodies left for all to see.            I can't believe it.             I put up with it          and go down for a walk.               I must suffer       the people's tears and cries.      These people do nothing wrong.             I mean, they have      no real political involvement.    They hear the rumours and watch TV.                That's all.           They're just workers,     they sweat 8 or 10 hours at work               and go home.    These men and women are exhausted.         At night they just sleep.            And they're scared.               Scared stiff.     No one knows why they're scared.       That night, 11 men aged 15-35           were taken at random.     They were woken up and executed.    Their bodies were left in the road.         The army's justification:         Reprisals against people    suspected of supporting terrorists.          I saw them, one by one.              At the morgue,         I identified them myself       because there were no names.        As they were all neighbours            I recognised them.         They'd been given numbers           and I gave them back             their full names.            I was like a robot.               I felt empty.      It was raining and I was numb.   I was too depressed to feel anything.       That day was marked by grief.       I don't know why this country        has gone downhill so much.            Nobody expected it.            Absolutely no one.       We were building our future.     The young were eager for success,      they wanted to become doctors,                engineers,        astronauts and scientists.            We strived for it.           And all of a sudden,           everything collapsed           and nobody knows why.         Nobody knew who was what.          It was total confusion.          Sometimes I think that          behind an angelic face         something vicious lurks.        When walking in the street,              I get worried.             If a car stopped,       I didn't use to give a damn,               I ignored it.                 But now,    if a car stops behind or beside me        I take a quick look at it,         in case it's come for me.      I was hoping for a steady life.          Not to be rich but rise            above the average,              and above all,           I wanted to be loved.             It was my dream.         But it didn't come true.           I'm capable of love.       But with my pigheaded nature       people find me hard to love.              That's a fact.        That's why I love Mohamed.       I think he's the only one who     loved me and made sure I knew it.              I miss my boy.               I swear I do.         It's a dog's life because   I cry alone and must console myself.         My children find comfort            with their father.          So if I happen to make          a comment or reproach,              they run away.          They know where to hide              and get a meal.          They're taken care of.              If not for him,              they would have          to face my reproaches.       We wouldn't be in this mess.    That's particularly true for Abdel                 who is 21        and doesn't do a damn thing               all day long.         I wish I was a rich guy.                  A car,          and a flat for myself.            Everything I need.         We've nothing in Algeria.          It's sports or nothing.    Here, the young Algerians go under.     Most of them become drug addicts,       and they've got nothing to do    and they drop out of school early.   They're idle and start messing about.              I've got no job        because I have no diploma.   I did a course in electra-mechanics.         But it went over my head         because it was in French.   I didn't understand Maths in Arabic,      so in French, you can imagine!             Electric circuits           and Physics in Arabic             were bad enough.          In French it was hell.              That's no good.        I like speaking in Arabic.        Here, people mix languages.       Instead of saying 'el mara,'          I'll say 'el batiment,'          I don't say 'seldolieu'            but 'Ia pharmacie.'          Sometimes I don't know      the Arabic word for something.         I can't say the word....          So I say it in French.               It's strange,        I don't know it in Arabic.          Many doors are closed.      For us, there are few openings.           There's only one door            that's open to us,           that's the barracks.        Barracks, where you enrol.        The barracks or the mosque.           There's nothing left,               no universe,                no opening.                 Nothing.      Everything has been burnt down         and devastated for ever.         For ever, ever and ever.          We must mourn the dead.              They all died.       There are no living anymore.          We must mourn the dead.           Millions and millions      of silent kisses for the dead.     It's the depression. The crisis.             There's no work.       It's tough on the young now.            I ignore politics.            I don't like them.          Before the revolution,             I was interested.       Now I only try to feed myself           and find some sleep.                 Survive.           That's all I can do.        It's nice but it lacks....         What's 'nana' in French?                   Mint.             I work at night.           My job requires this.        I work nights and mornings,       I have no regular timetable.           I work all the time.         Because here in Algeria,             it's a bit tough.   I'm a policeman and here in Algeria,             I don't know....    Most policemen don't live at home.          They are afraid because      there are many terrorists here.            You're not afraid?           No, on the contrary.        I'm proud to be a policeman             here in Algeria.         Because I love my country           and I must defend it.            Algiers, Sunday 12.        The assassination of Samir,    my child, 22 years and 4 months old      took place on the 4th December,                at 2.15 am.          Men dressed as soldiers            banged at the door.               In the dark,        I woke Fatima, the children              and Samir also,          to reassure everybody.    After peering through the windows,               Samir told me             to open the door:            'They're soldiers,             don't be afraid.'                 I opened.       They grabbed Samir violently.        One man went to Samir's bed             and took the gun          from under the pillow.         They took him barefooted     to the cemetery, 500 yards away.          with another policeman        and a mentally ill person.          I didn't scream because    one of the false soldiers told me:   'Don't be afraid, we'll send him back        after the identity check.'        I thought I was in a dream        but Samir's bed was empty.    At 5, I went to the police station.            A woman was crying,       waiting to be told bad news.            I prayed and hoped         although I knew very well         that Samir had been shot             with his own gun.                  At 6.40    The ambulances brought the bodies.       The first body wasn't Samir.          In the second ambulance          I saw 2 pairs of feet.         They opened the main door              of the vehicle.      Samir was in there, still warm.      He looked as if he was asleep.         He was shot in the chest               and the head.             His white sweater          was stained with blood.       I stroked his face and said:             'This is my boy.' 

Rachida is a mother. She lives in Algiers. Eliza McDonald and Jo Thomas are film directors. They live in Arles, France.

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