Raïhanyat,

Moroccan Writer Mohamed Saïd Raïhani’s Website

WAITING FOR THE MORNING

(A Collection of Short Stories)

(Stories versus Songs)

TEXT 9:

IDENTITY

Oh, life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight, I'm
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try.

"Losing my religion ", a song by R.E.M

The police-officer handed me my duplicate identity card and kept looking suspiciously at me then he mumbled out threateningly:

- Watch out! This is the third duplicate. No more stupidity. Is it clear, man?

Watch out!

Outside the police–station, additional magnetic attraction sticks me to the ground making my paces heavier and heavier.

I take great delight in my weight…..

The spray of the square-fountain caresses my face as I advance towards the market-gate.

The market is always crowded. Customers' hustle and bustle in very obvious boredom. The vegetable and sardine sellers, on both sides of the only passage-way inside the market, call the jostlers’ attention to the goods they have spread on the ground but they will spare no time to damn their mothers slapping them on their faces with parsley bundles for turning upside down their bean sacs or scattering their sardine boxes and treading them hysterically down as they hustle along:

Watch out!

A lateral push got me out of my abstraction and sent me swimming over the half-full bean sacs, rolling in a lake of bean grains seeking for a foothold among the hustlers…..

I feel light now that I am on my feet again.

The drop stole my weight off me.

It is as if I got rid of something, or as if I lost it.

I search in my trouser-pockets. The front pockets…. The back ones… I try searching again and again... My knees shiver ….the wallet? My knees fail me with every step… My card? I examine the faces around me: Everyone is hustling to and fro, back and forth, and no-one seems concerned in my dilemma.

Finally, the human flood threw us outside the market, to the other square. The spray of this square – fountain showers us all with its spittle.

My knees tremble. The least puff of air alter my hesitating attitude.

I am now without weight, lighter than a feather.

It is as if Mother Earth's magnetic attraction got rid of me, all at once.

With this consternation of mine, I am probably now the laughing-stock of my robbers. they may be sipping their cups of coffee somewhere around here in these cafés and making fun of my stupidity….

A friend of mine showed me to the chief of the staff in charge of the snatching operations in this market: a stylish man wearing a grey suit, sipping his coffee all alone under a sunshade on the terrace of “The Beautiful View” café in front of the market gate.

The chieftain asked me when I finished my story:

-Where were you stolen?

I answered:

-In the market.

However, the chieftain, apparently, takes great care after details :

-Where? At the entrance? At the exit?

-The exit.

The chieftain leaned on my friend and whispered audibly:

-Your friend is unlucky. The exit is not under my control.

Then, he turned round to me again :

-What was there in your wallet?

-My identity card.

The chieftain remained quiet for a while and said with fake sorrow:

-You are victim of foreign thieves who steal anything from anyone. Some of them specialize only in stealing documents and selling them to smugglers, criminals and prostitutes….

The chieftain sipped his coffee and added:

-Watch out!

I said nothing.

What is the use of caution, now?!

The chieftain carried on his advices and his eyes focused right on the market gate:

-Those who stole your card will chase after you more than ever before in order to get more documents: Your passport, check-book, signature… Your card is being sold on public sale somewhere. Whoever buys it will cause you so much trouble because he will be yourself by the force of law with the same name, profession, address and dates… Documents, my country-fellow, make personality. The more documents are complete and coherent, the more personality is real and legal.

Then, he turned to me saying:

-Do you remember any of the suspicious faces around you at the exit?

I recapitulate the events and the faces on my memory’s screen:

the hustling, the jostling, the damning,

people’s breath inside my shirt collar,

The careless faces flowing by...

The chieftain is waiting for an answer.

I said:

-No.

The chieftain fidgeted and declined any more cooperation.

I never know the reason of this awe which submerges me whenever I set foot on the first stair-case stepping up to the police-station gateway. Even the highly-raised flags give me such a fright when the wind shakes it above my head!

I laid my documents down on the police-officer’s desk:

-These are the new documents for my newer identity card, and here is the loss attestation…

The policeman turned bewildered:

-Loss of what? Aren’t you the one who took this very morning his third identity card duplicate?!

He remained gazing at me in amazement, his eyes in mine searching for the ruse that I was weaving for him.

He gazes at me…..

At last, he pounded at his desk and stood up, astonished:

-Wait, there. I’ll go upstairs to consider your case.

CONTENTS

PREFACE

FEAST

A PAIR OF SCISSORS