I am Glad Scalia is Dead

I am so glad that Antonin Scalia is dead. The man was a fascist in all the decisions he took to influence the way the court operated. The time is ripe for Obama to surprise White America with a human nomination to the highest court in the land. In this sense, Scalia’s sudden death is a gift from Heaven. What a way to end his second term in office. It is now or never Mr. Obama, if you please.

The US Presidential Election

A crazy system only the very wealthy and indeed insane can aspire to be part of. Otherwise, how can we explain the tons of money that goes into changing the guards every four years. We may as well have a president for life and put all that money into education, building roads and hospitals, caring for the have-nots and the list goes on. I may be a dreamer but I hope I am not the only one.

Night is Falling on Kalâa-Djerda

Night is Falling on Kalâa-Djerda

As night falls on Kalâa-Djerda, the small town where I was first introduced to modernity through the French school I attended, I give free reign to remembrances of things past while KD (as we used to call it) takes its eyes to slumber away the days in order to doze off again all night. A pure creation of the French, the town was born when our ‘masters’ discovered phosphate in the region in 1903. In order to extract the precious commodity, they built a town, French in taste and Gallic in architecture: wide boulevards planted with pine trees on either side hence the idea of promenade late in the afternoon, in the summer in particular; manicured gardens where one, if allowed to enter them, could indulge in daydreaming; well-maintained schools where discipline was observed all day and part of the night; a state-of-arts hospital with French doctors from La Métropole; a theater equipped with the latest technology to host the latest fashion and show films fresh from la Belle Fouance; soccer, handball, basketball, and volleyball fields where one could learn how to play the game of their choice; a supermarket where all goods, including designer clothes, could be found as long one could afford to buy them. In point of fact, KD was then called ‘Le Petit Paris’—a way perhaps for the French to fantasize about a world they left behind.
Today, the town is ghost-like, a specter of itself. Even the cemetery where the Europeans buried their loved ones was robbed and desecrated during the 2011-so-called revolution, needless to add that the church, a beautiful building in the colonial style with visible beams on the inside, was turned into a café and then to a stable for horses. There is no respect for history, oppressive history in particular, in the colony.
In appearance, the town was French, but in reality it felt European. There were Italians who lived in the Village des Italiens, Maltese, Corsicans, Kabyle, Jews, and us (natives) at the bottom of the social ladder. There were, of course, the French. They held the major and most important posts. At my school the headmaster was French and so were all the teachers. The curriculum was rigorous. No one was permitted to slacken or fall to looseness. We all spoke French. There was no regard for our different backgrounds. Sunday was the most impressive and perhaps most intimidating day of the week because most Europeans would go out beautifully attired whether to church or to the cinema. They also played soccer with the neighboring teams who came from afar. The team from Djérissa (another mine (iron) in another Petit Paris) was the most talented.
As for us, natives, we always sat on the side and watched with envy, wondering to ourselves how could these ‘foreigners,’ who came from distant lands, rule us in the most orderly way. There was almost a mystique to the way they conducted their affairs. Some of them were kind to us, others were nasty, to say the least.

À suivre…

Playing Chess with Adus

Playing Chess with Adus

Adus is my helper. She is young, kind, and above all, generous. Although she comes from a modest family, she has labored to better herself. All the work she has done so far makes her stand out in relation to those around her. ‘There is a wound,’ she once told me, ‘that will never heal as long as I live.’ When I asked her what she meant by ‘wound,’ she blamed her father who interrupted her schooling when she was only 12.
A stout man, dark in complexion, her father is a short man with an unpleasant face to look at. According to her, he is also an ignorant, cruel, and utterly selfish man, who decided one day that Adus must stay at home, not to cook or clean the house, but to look after his flock of sheep for free until someone came to ask for her hand in marriage. She shepherded for five years in a row without pay of any kind. She would leave home around three in the morning and come home after sunset.
Adus used to spend the entire day alone in the woods or near the neighboring hills without food or drink keeping wolves away from the flock. None of her sisters (six of them) would bring her a snack or a drink. ‘Loin des yeux, loin du coeur,’ you might say. One day she had an argument with her mother in my presence and spoke of slavery: ‘You have kept me in bondage all these years,’ she said angrily. ‘You treated me worse than your sheep. If only I could leave you, it will be forever. I shall never look upon your ugly faces again. That will be my blessing. I prey to Allah to give me the strength to carry on until I break away from your bleak house.’ It was painful to hear her complaint, which was, it seemed to me at the time, true. I could see that this young and intelligent woman was wronged in so many ways.
I realized then and still do today that Adus loathes her family, her father in particular. She would poison him if she could.
One day, Adus looked at my chess board (a classic one) and asked what it was. I told her that it was a chess board and that playing chess (a royal game) can be gratifying in that the player has to adopt a strategy every time he plays and that no matter how good he is, he can always be defeated in a surprising attack. She asked whether I could teach her how to play, which I did, and low and behold, she check-mated me the other day. I must admit I was happily surprised because I never expected Adus to learn so fast as well as to defeat me in a game that was full of anticipation. I was also pleased because I knew that she has the potential to do very well if she had the chance.
It is odd how mysterious life can be. Here is a young woman who was degraded by her own family yet she has turned out to be a pleasant person. She is optimistic, hopeful, and decent. One would have thought the opposite after the savage treatment she endured for years. On the contrary, she gives comfort to those who are in need of it. I have already learned a great deal from her humanity and I know there is still plenty to impart. I have also found myself more than once leaning my ear to the sounds of the wise words she utters every now and then.

À suivre…