Zahraliza by Abdelouahid stitou - HTML preview

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4

He pulled his jacket tightly around his chest while looking attentively at the gulls that were playing near him and exchanging shrieks. The coast of Tangier was almost empty. The cold weather discouraged people from going out. He wanted to pass by the coast to speak to it, as he usually did, before turning to the Boulevard street to meet Huda in the Champs-Élysées Café.

His night was distressing; he considered and reconsidered a lot of thoughts. Meeting a woman with whom he had a lot of ideas in common seemed really interesting; however, he was not ready for any beginnings at the moment. The ship of his life was floating on a sea whose surface was calm, but its bottom was in turmoil. He did not need the waves to reach the surface at least at that time. He had taken his decision and made up his mind. He kept a crucial weapon in a pocket in his emotions— reservation.

What Huda was not aware of is that the rendezvous would cost him some money which he did not have. Therefore, he phoned in the morning his friend Munir.

Awful morning.
To you, too.
Tell me. How much do you have?
350 dirhams is everything I have. Why?
Well. Bring me 300 dirhams. I need it urgently.
But I’ll only have 50 dirhams! I want to…
I’ll be waiting for you at home at 1 pm.

Munir pushed the door that was ajar and entered. He and Khaled punched each other as a greeting. After that, Munir started complaining about how badly he needed the money. Khaled remained silent and continued shaving his beard.

Finished?
Yes.
Ok. Put the 300 dirhams on the table. You can leave or stay with me if you like.
I’d rather leave. I have a lot of things to do.
Ok. Go then.
I will. May God damn the friendship with mean people like you.

Khaled roared in laughter. Munir shrugged his shoulders in surrender and put the money on the table.

Are you sure you don’t need more?
Yea. This would do.

As Munir left the apartment, Khaled released a deep breath and murmured, “May Allah place me with those poor people on the Day of Resurrection”.

Munir was his childhood friend. He was a carpenter who knew nothing about Arabic literature, on which Khaled had a degree, or about anything else. Although his education was modest, he embodied every aspect of goodness from his society, and he had always been his best friend. The rich people he got to know for short times constantly let him down. There is a strange connection between meanness and richness. The problem was that most of those rich people he knew rarely sopped talking about piety and good doing. Once they were approached for help, they would flinch away and try to hide themselves in their clothing, whereas the simple people would always surprise him with their generosity and morals. When he was addressing Munir, he did not need to fake or pretend anything; he behaved normally. He knew very well that even when Munir was broke, he would borrow money for Khaled. He would never let his friend down in a trouble.

“May Allah place me with those poor people on the Day of Resurrection”, he repeated.

He was pondering about that while coming closer to the Champs-Élysées Café. It was 5:55 pm. Did she come before him?

He took a deep breath and entered. He examined the faces of the customers, and he could not find her in the first floor. He climbed the stairs to the second floor which was empty except for one person sitting in a semi-dark corner. Was it her?

When he drew closer and could see the face, he found that it was really her. Apparently she did not notice him while she was fixing something in her handbag. It occurred to him to retreat, but she raised her head at that same moment. Their eyes met. There was no way out of the rendezvous.