(1)
«These lonely men!
Where do they come from?
Where do they belong to? »
A wonderer he was…messy hair…dirty clothes…a skeletal body…a dead living…a semi-man. He hadno purpose at all. He was not willing to do anything. He looked around. He looked up and down. He looked at the walking people and those sitting in their cars. He was trying to find one specific thing.
He hated himself. People hated him, too. He did not care for that. He had one ultimate purpose for which he would live or die. He was scratching his body while walking in Mexico street in Tangier, where the number of walkers, shoppers, and gadabouts decreased as midnight was approaching. He took in a deep breath from between his teeth that he clenches involuntarily.
Money… Money… He needed nothing but money. It was the only thing that could cease this agony. With money he would be able to buy ‘dust’ (heroin). Sniffing dust would stop the suffering, and his blood would stop increasingly wanting more of it.
The suitable victim is there. She is talking on her phone so confidently and about to get into her car. She is another naïve person acting as if she is being guarded by a security unit. He looks left and right to find a gap. The gap is actually big because the place was almost empty. He tried to act naturally and casually. She has turned her back to him and continues her conversation leaning on the door of her car. He has few seconds to do it.
Zap!!!
He has snatched the mobile. She stretches her hand spontaneously as if in an attempt to restore it after she was shocked. Words chocked in her throat. He knows well how those people who are not used nor ready to misfortunes would react… silence …sadness…then tears stuck in their eyes…she is one of this type as he thought.
She kept looking at him when he ran towards Musala neighborhood where it would be impossible for her to follow him in her car.
There were a small number of passers-by. Some of them, who noticed the theft, displayed some little movements that they would follow him, but, being an expert, he was pointing a sharp knife.
His body language indicated, ‘Come close, and you will rest in your graves cheaply.’
This was how he won his loot that night which he would sell in exchange for a few dirhams for the first buyer.
(2)
Has anybody ever said that letters in Belgium carry good news? Nobody did, and nobody will ever do it. Whenever one receives an envelope, it should be a misfortune: a tax, a warning, a fine… Abdulhaq was used to that, so he was not shocked when he opened the envelope and found a reminder that his sister should visit the concerned authorities as soon as possible to renew her medical leave. The soonest time was unfortunately the following day.
Having got used to surprises, Abdulhaq acted fast. Got went to his computer to praying God to find a ticket from Tangier to any nearby airport. There were two available seats in the 7-oclock journey from Tangier to Charleroi Airport. It was not a problem. He would pick her up from there straight away to the concerned department to finish her business and the problem quickly.
He spent a very long time trying to reach her before she finally took his call.
He couldn’t hear anything excepts for the sound of panting then the call disconnected. Was it yet another one of mobile phones’ awesome issues? It was not a big deal. He told her all the important things.
(3)
Huda was pacing Mexico street trying to find the suitable present for Khaled. Khaled was not a typical man; he was not a traditional man to give him a regular gift, so she was hectically trying to find a specific present.
After searching for the proper present drained her, she could find her long-sought present. She put the present in the trunk and took her mobile phone from her bag to check if there was anything new. Huda completely did not trust technology, and she had serious doubts towards all new innovations.
Her doubt came true, and her phone was on the silent mood. It was actually ringing at that moment, and the number was from Belgium. She took the call while opining her car door. She kept talking until she realized the phone was no longer held to her ear. Somebody snatched it, and he was running as fast the Jamaican athlete Bolt could run. The worst yet was that he was holding a knife and branding with it as he was running.
She simply looked at him vanishing.
She sat in her car frustrated. Misfortunes always befall successively. She tried to overcome the shock while driving her car to her house in Baranes neighborhood. In light of what her brother had informed her, the first thing she should do was cancelling her rendezvous with Khaled the following day in Villa Josephine Café and to say bye at least on Facebook.
When she reached her house and was about to unlock the door, the neighborhood guard drew close to her and said,
Dizziness… strong dizziness. She held the doorknob and was thinking of a way to tell Khaled. There was no one solution whatsoever; Internet cafes closed and even if there was one open, she would have found another person to rob her something else at this late time.
She thought her brother paid the bills, and her brother thought that her father did. Nevertheless, the power company thought they should pay or it would launch ‘Electricity for Money’ war. The truth was that the power company was the only party that ‘did not think’; it was certain.
She considered going to the Espanyol neighborhood to find his apartment, but it would definitely be an amazing present for inhabitants of the neighborhood to gossip about his behavior for months. He probably would not approve of that taking into consideration his reserved character.
She realized that Si Abdulsalam was still standing by her as an expression of silent sympathy.
She entered the house and lit a candle. She hastily collected her stuff in her luggage. She pinched herself to ensure that she was not really dreaming. Was everything happening this fast!
In the airport, Huda tried to find a way to send Khaled a Facebook message, but all services were fast asleep. There was not unfortunately a public computer, and it was not possible for her to call him because she could not remember his phone number.
Technology has taught her as it did to her generation that there is no need for memory at all. There is some technology that would do the job for you, so why bother your grey matter? Technology would do everything for you, and you can rest.
According to her surprising, busy schedule, she would not be able to communicate with Khaled tillnight when she would have finished her administrative business.
Huda took her seat in the plane and looked at the long golden, beach of Tangier that was quickly getting smaller. She wondered, “Oh Khaled! What are you going to think of me?”