Raïhanyat,

Moroccan Writer Mohamed Saïd Raïhani’s Website

THE SEASON OF MIGRATION TO ANYWHERE

(A Collection of Short Stories)

HIS EXCELLENCY THE PRESIDENT

BELOVED ETERNALSON

"Last night, Professor Evan Beloved Eternalson was awarded the Grand Prize By His Excellence The President Beloved Eternalson Himself at a colorful feast in the presence of His Eminence Adolph Beloved Eternalson, Ambassador Benito Beloved Eternalson and the official spokesman Mr. Franco Beloved Eternalson".

The grand prize was awarded to Professor Evan Beloved Eternalson in a storm of applause from the audience and fans among great dignitaries of the state, which has greatly touched grand-prize winner, Professor Evan Beloved Eternalson, during his speech concerning his being selected for the prize thanks to his pioneering research entitled: "The blessing of His Excellency Mr. President is a necessity for economic development and territorial integrity" before bursting into tears, with his hands raised to heaven, imploring God to protect His Excellency Mr. President Beloved Eternalson of all kinds of mischief and danger that threatens both Him and homeland.

The foreign customer put on the table the newspaper written in his own native language. He sipped his coffee and called the waiter to slip a few coins in his hand and walk away leaving the waiter behind making his customers hear the kindness of strangers and the avarice of fellow-citizens.

At the turning-point of the street, the stranger asked a young pedestrian:

- Please, where can I find His Excellency The President Beloved Eternalson Institute For Culture?

The homeboy paused, scratched his forehead with his forefinger and suddenly caught the code:

- Carry on this very street, Avenue Caligula. Then, turn left to Boulevard Nero. Then, right to Avenue Holako. Then left to Boulevard Evan The Terrible. Then, right to Avenue Mosolini. Then, left to Boulevard Stalin. Then, right to Avenue Bocassa. Then, left ... Then, right ... Then, left ... Then, right…

The stranger, both confused and lost within this surge of names of emperors, sultans, princes, presidents, leaders, governors and policy professionals:

- Sorry, I couldn’t grasp your directions because of the disproportionate number of names and streets ...

- Don’t bother about it. Our city is large and its streets are plentiful...

- Have you not, in your country, other people like scientists, thinkers, artists, writers and athletes of higher rank?

The homeboy took no pleasure in the question and replied by asking another question:

- Why, then?

After a brief moment, the stranger, himself, added to the series of unanswered questions another one:

- Do you have brothers, children or relatives?

- Yes.

- What are their names?

- Franco, Evan, Adolph, Benito...

The stranger, thunderstruck:

- Even in your dreams, down deep in your lives and inside your home?!...

The homeboy understood that the stranger is a suspicious type, an intelligence agent who wants to spy on him and who has no intention of seeking a street or a square. Then, his face grew pale and fear overwhelmed him thoroughly. Suddenly, he jumped so frightened that he nearly fell down in such a soft race that reveals, to the naked eye, the burden of the big names on the exhausted bodies in their march towards Emancipation.

CONTENTS

SPRINGTIME BIRD

FOR EVERYBODY HIS OWN SKY

THE THREE KEYS

DANCING PARTY

Al-HAJJAJ CITY

HIS EXCELLENCY MR. THE PRESIDENT

DEVELOPMENT

A FUTILE MISE-EN-ECENE

OLD AGE

JEAN GENET

RABBIT MAN