Write From Home Anthology

An anthology

Write From Home Stories by young writers in Morocco around the COVID-19 pandemic.

www.olivewriters.org

Write From Home Anthology Copyright Š 2020 by The Olive Writers, and respective contributors.

Editor: Haytham Chhilif English Copy-editor: Haytham Chhilif Arabic Copy-editor: Mohammed El Wahabi

For information contact: information@olivewriters.org www.olivewriters.org

Foreword As members of the civil society, the olive writers association in collaboration with the American language center of Casablanca launched a creative writing competition with the main objective of raising awareness around the current covid-19 pandemic, its restrictions, and the necessary procedures that we must all follow as a global community.

The response to this call was massive and we have received an impressive amount of applications that exceeded our expectations not only in terms of quantity, but quality as well. This competition has shown us that the youth of morocco truly do have something to say, and that they are as passionate about their future and their communities as everyone else.

The top 10 stories- chosen by our judges from over 60 applications both in English and Arabic- were subjected to a public vote through our Facebook page, resulting in over 7000 votes, with 2408 comments, and 1425 Shares in two weeks only. This goes to show that our goal of raising awareness and starting a conversation among the youth of morocco about COVID-19 was achieved-in fact, the results have far exceeded our expectations, which would have not been possible If it wasn’t for the talented writers that took part in this journey.

Congratulations to our three winners: 1st place with 1400 votes: YASMINE IHOURANE-Khemisset; 2nd place with 1200 votes: ROMAYSSAE EL IDRISSI-Casablanca; 3rd place with 1100 votes: GHIZLANE ELGUIL-Benslimane.

This anthology holds within its pages a finely chosen selection of stories picked from the very submissions we have received from our wonderful applicants. All of the stories we received were exquisite, each providing a unique perspective in its own way. It is, therefore, our greatest honor to share with you our top ten submissions, in addition to some of our judges’ honorary mentions. With this, we would like to direct our heartfelt gratitude to all the magnificent participants who had been willing to contribute to our virtual venture.

Thank you for our judges, Hiba Arram, Mouad Mellouk, Soukaina Habiballah, and Rachid Benharrous for their immense efforts and great help.

We hope that you will enjoy the stories as much as we enjoyed organizing this virtual competition and we look forward to many more.

Hiba Bikisse, Project Coordinator

TABLE OF CONTENTS

English ............................................................................................................................................ 4

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Assia Gamar, Ben Msik....................................................................................................................... 5 Chaibi Khadija, Oujda. ........................................................................................................................ 8 Chaymae Sassi, Tangier. ................................................................................................................... 11 Daifi Fatima Zahrae, Fes. .................................................................................................................. 15 Ghizlane Elguil, Benslimane. ............................................................................................................ 17 Hannah Le Poidevin, Laattaouia. ...................................................................................................... 20 Hind Jendara, Meknes. ...................................................................................................................... 22 Idriss Loudiyi, Kenitra. ..................................................................................................................... 24 Ihourane Yasmine, Khemisset. .......................................................................................................... 27 Romayssae El Idrissi, Casablanca. .................................................................................................... 30 Sahar Chalabi, Meknes. ..................................................................................................................... 33 Sanou Niapégué, Tetouan.................................................................................................................. 35 II-

Arabic ....................................................................................................................................... 39 ‫ الريصاني‬،‫بلغيت أمين‬............................................................................................................................... 40

‫ مراكش‬،‫ وفاء باسيوني‬............................................................................................................................... 43 ‫الدار البيضاء‬،‫خديجة فتحي‬.......................................................................................................................... 46 ‫ فاس‬،‫ هواري خيري ضحى‬......................................................................................................................... 49

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English

Assia Gamar, Ben Msik.

Corona Virus Have you ever thought that the world may simply disappear? Life as we know it, the people around us and the things that we love could be destroyed. While delaying your work, have you ever thought you may not be able to do it tomorrow?

It all started when Basil’s family gathered to discuss the theme of the party that Sarah -the mother- was to hold in two weeks. Ahmed –the father- realized that an outbreak was reported in the news; a virus called Covid-19 is spreading in Yuhan, China.

‘They will control it, right? Well, the distance between China and Morocco is too long anyway, so it is impossible to be contaminated anyway’ said Ali -the son- .

In the corner, and despite Ali’s words, Sarah kept thinking of the virus, even if her family seemed to be persuaded that the situation wasn’t that dangerous, it didn’t stop her from searching. Spread risks, symptoms and results, they are all things that made Sarah feel afraid.

She knew that it was her responsibility to convince her family of the seriousness of the situation and to protect them.

The virus arrived to Morocco, and as she expected, her son’s theory was wrong, despite the long distance, the virus managed to get there.

Sarah persuaded her family to stay at home and stay away from gatherings, even if the people outside did not care about the virus. She urged them to resist external temptations and succeeded in dissuade her family from going out; she even convinced her mother to cancel her party.

The situation outside began to deteriorate; the number of people infected has significantly increased. As a result, the country began spreading awareness among citizens.

Study, work and travel stopped, the state imposed quarantine on the entire population, and going out was allowed only for need.

At the beginning, people started acting crazy, racing to buy food and necessary items.

Sarah’s husband was worried because he thought that he won’t be able to buy enough for his family, but his wife suggested that they don’t have to buy more than they need because the prime minister reassured them that the country was to provide enough food and necessary

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items for the next 6 months, also getting out is permitted in case of buying food or any other essential needs.

Sarah’s family complied with the instructions and worked to spread them among people through social networking applications.

A few weeks later, the streets were empty and people started stayed at home for a long time.

Among all that darkness, a bright light appeared, a positive point had resulted from the virus.

The environment began to gain its beautiful green outlook once again. The grass, the flowers and the trees, previously ravished by humans, slowly grew back. Pollution rates decreased thanks to the abrupt halt of factories and public transportation. Crime rates also decreased and people even began to acquire new healthy habits which they stuck to, therefore contributing to the progress of things for the better.

After a few weeks, everything started to change, people abided by the instructions imposed by the state and started staying at home as much as possible, the attack on food stores stopped, and the state started receiving donations to help those people who stopped working get essential needs.

The doctors and scientists around the world tried so hard to discover an antidote, while relentlessly trying to manage the daily waves of infected cases.

Even if the number of deaths kept growing for a long time, continuing to rise, people didn’t give up and kept protecting themselves and their families.

Until the day came when a group of atomic scientists in the Middle East activated an antagonist that was able to permanently eliminate the virus from the infected body.

The Middle Eastern countries started exporting the antidote to the rest of the word, and it worked for all the infected cases.

The death rates decreased, followed by a decrease in the number of infections, a decrease in the speed of the virus’ spread, trapping the virus, and, finally, eliminating it.

A few days later, the virus had become from the past. Children returned to their schools and adults to work, and the life returned to normal with one major difference.

People became more aware and eager to stay healthy. Now they know the importance of their lives.

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Sarah’s family and millions of people survived the catastrophe just because of their sacrifice and commitment. After everything became normal, Sarah held her party with a clear conscience.

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Chaibi Khadija, Oujda.

To The Living Ones Uncompleted stories and unfinished poems, my notebook is open on a page full of ideas and scratch. It’s been a long time since I’ve grabbed a pen but I have decided to start writing again, not because I feel pity for all what I have never had the courage to complete but for a reason that is greater than my sense of guilt; I’m done playing hide and seek, it is the end of the game!

I believe in the power of two things; love and death. They’re both powerful enough to change a person, his beliefs and his actions. When in love, I got inspired and my words run smoothly along my emotions. I would write thousands of pages spellbound by my own feelings.

Little did I know that one day I would open my laptop, start a new page and run my fingers on the cold dusty keyboard? My fear is translating through my tap on the buttons and boldly reflecting on the white screen. It’s scary but I’m still in control, and I would control myself until I finish this piece, Because today I’m diagnosed with the most famous disease and this is a story that deserves to be told.

13 March 2020: 9 cases 7:45 pm: “Coronavirus School closing” was the title on every national news headline and in every exchanged sentence.

7:50 pm: Different reactions, our dorm got swayed between those who happily perceive the short term joy of stopping their studies and the concern of others whose lives depend on it.

A system is being shut down until an unknown date.

8:00 pm: Terror portrayed in a wave of panic-buying.

8:10 pm: We were told to leave the dorm in the very next day.

14 March 2020: 17 cases 7:30 am: My roommate is leaving and I still have time to sleep but I can’t.

8:00 am: My eyes are fixed on the roof and my head is heavy with so many thoughts, the future just proved it again “we cannot predict it” 4:00 pm: “I can’t believe that I’m on the train going home.”

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10:30 pm: Running from the unknown to the unknown!

14 April 2020: 1838 cases Under their mocking jokes, their buzzes and their sneers, she climbed right out of the bottomless pit.

They underestimated her will and never believed in her potency, but little by little she grew her shadow devouring their greed.

Under their shining lights she liked the sudden fame; she succeeded and turned the scales.

Covid-19 One month ago, my life was stable, my wishes were shallow and my dreams were big. It’s funny how in that period of time I’d forget to call my family, get envious over clothes I don’t have, refuse a going out with my friends because I want to stay inside, or even get mad because a café doesn’t have my favorite flavor crepe.

It’s also funny how I have worked hard on my studies for fifteen years, planned and planned then planned for every day and for every week, deprived myself of sleep for times, and suppressed my desire for fun and rest, only because I believed in a future I could create with diligence and perseverance. My heart pains me to sum these years in a few words, and now I can’t even mourn them in my final weeks.

I don’t want to have regrets and this letter isn’t about a dying girl, rather I wrote it for the living ones who have the privilege of time.

In this period, the sky might not be blue and the shining sun might not be warm. But this crisis is going to end and things are going to be okay again.

And then, it’s okay not to be ambitious, it’s okay to fall behind; it’s okay to get rest.

It’s okay to throw your phone and everything holding you away, because you can simply take a break.

Eating well and sleeping well are such common things that we forget how crucial they are.

Make a coffee and hold a book, or turn on the music and dance like a crazy person. Cry with the saddest movie or laugh over a funny vlog. Cook and mess everything then order your favorite food, or just go out and discover a new restaurant.

When this is over, may the pain be a lesson for everyone and may you never take the things you have for granted again.

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To the living ones, take care of yourself and stay home until the darkness fades and the sun shines.

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Chaymae Sassi, Tangier.

Doomed Escape Eris was the greatest warrior in the kingdom. She was finally rewarded for her service by a trophy of honor from Colonel Bori— “Eris.”

Boris’s voice interrupted her fantasy. Eris tore her eyes away from the window to look at the masked face standing at the door. “Yes, Colonel—uh...Doctor?”

Of course, she wasn’t really a warrior. But that didn’t keep her from imagining herself somewhere else, far from where she was.

Boris crossed her arms. “Were you listening?”

Eris’s cheeks flamed. She shook her head. Boris sighed. “There’s evidence that the developed vaccine may be working. We’re transferring you to another room.”

Eris spent years in this room. Her home. Her prison. She never looked forward to seeing Boris. Coming up to her room only meant one thing; blood collection. But now the doctor’s arrival has brought other news. Eris tried to suppress the churning in her stomach. But she couldn’t stop her lips from smiling.

Eris stepped forward. Boris stepped back instinctively, adjusting her gloves.

“Put this on.” Boris threw her a long coat and retrieved back into the hallway. “Follow me.”

Eris quickly put on the defensive layer between her and the world. She ran to the door. With one step, she was, for the first time in a very long time, outside the quarantine room.

She followed Boris down the empty hall. The elevator’s sensors chimed and the doors opened. “Fifth floor, please.” Requested Boris once they were inside, keeping a safe distance away from plastic-covered Eris. The elevator went down.

Eris was getting excited and her grin widened when the elevator opened and she could see the contrast. Fifth floor was busy with life. Doctors and scientists rushed around, clutching their monitors and talking. Nobody paid any attention as she followed Boris, but Eris stared, mesmerized by every frown, every focused gaze, every talking mouth. So many people yet nobody was afraid of her. She wasn’t the monster Boris made her believe she was. She wasn’t a threat that would kill anyone close enough. She was just another person.

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“Eris!” she hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking. “Here!”

They both stepped in and Eris froze. It was exactly like her room.

“Here?” she whispered.

Boris’s gaze softened. “You’re still quarantined, just closer to the lab so we can monitor your progress with the new vaccine.”

“How long?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Until we’re sure you’re cured.” Boris frowned, “Of course, when you’re no longer a threat, we can discuss introducing you as a full citizen of the Kingdom.”

There it was. A threat; she was dangerous. She was never a full citizen since the day she’d been born with the incurable epidemic that killed her entire family.

“Now, sit and give me your arm.” Eris complied, tears clouding her vision. She swallowed, attempting to ease the lump in her throat and held her arm up. She was trembling; her body never got used to the needles despite all the withdrawals.

But this time, Boris injected a clear solution into her vein. Eris gasped in pain.

“Alright!” The doctor stood after a while and gathered her tools. “I’ll check later. See how it’s working.”

Eris lay and watched her leave. Her lips quivered, tears stinging at her eyes threateningly.

The door slammed and Boris was gone.

Alone. Again.

She shouldn’t have hoped.

Eris sat up, a card catching her eye. She stood and swiftly picked it up. Boris’s ID. She looked around the room. She was horrified but determined.

Walking to the door, she waved the ID at the sensor. It gleamed and opened. Heart hammering against her chest, she moved in long strides down the hallway.

Nobody looked at her. She wasn’t showing any of the epidemic’s symptoms.

Of course, Boris explained that she’d managed to keep her at the incubation stage in the quarantine room. But Eris couldn’t help but think what if she wasn’t sick and Boris was just harvesting blood for some research? What if she meant to keep her quarantined forever?

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Eris boarded the elevator and went down. Then, she ran as far away as she could. Until she was deep into the forest and her feet hurt. She felt the air enveloping her body, the grass cold below her bare feet. Flowers, alive and colorful.

The day grew colder as night fell. She looked up to see the stars, the moon...everything looked different from here.

“Everything is beautifu-” Eris fell backwards as she bumped into someone.

“Sorry.” The man smiled and offered his arm.

Eris was scared but she took his hand and stood. “I’m Mors” His gaze went from her face to her worn-out gown to her bare feet. “Need any help?”

When she stayed silent, he added, “A warm meal? We’re setting a camp. Come on.”

Mors led the way to the clearing and introduced his camp to her.

Eris was mortified, but also thankful that people were kind; much kinder than Boris.

She started to feel safe. She shook hands with everyone, introducing herself.

They sat around the warm fire as Mors talked about their adventures and she ate. And in that moment, she felt contempt. She was completely free.

But then she noticed something –a yellow rash on his arm. He seemed to notice it at the same moment, his smile turning into a horrified gasp.

A scream filled Eris’s ears before she realized it was coming from her own throat. Everyone gasped and stepped back. She stood shaking, not knowing what to do.

He cried, rubbing his yellowing crumbling skin; the second stage of the epidemic. He stepped back “Run! You’ll catch it!”

Boris’s words echoed through her thoughts. She was dangerous. She was a healthy carrier.

She made people sick by being close. She killed her entire family.

Goosebumps covered her. Her stomach was knotted. Her breaths turned to gasps.

She should’ve stayed in that lab.

She should’ve never left her room.

She was a threat.

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That was all what kept repeating as the tears came rushing, drowning her out.

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Daifi Fatima Zahrae, Fes. The Secret Party I was walking alone in the streets and suddenly I saw people running and screaming as if there was a ghost or a typhoon coming from behind. At first, I started running blindly without recognizing the reason behind all this fear. I stopped for a while to see what was happening, but to my surprise, I found nothing. All I saw was people running and wearing masks to protect themselves from what I could only conclude as an invisible ghost. So I started running again and screaming as I gradually felt suffocated. Suddenly, I heard the voice of my mother calling me “Sara wake up�. I stared at her and then I hugged her because I could not realize what was happening because I thought that everything was real, but fortunately, it was just a dream.

The next day, I was having lunch with my parents when we heard news on TV that were hard to believe. They said that there is a very dangerous virus spreading too fast among people called COVID-19 and that people should stay at home for an indefinite time in order to protect themselves. At first, I could not believe what I had heard because I could not imagine myself staying at home twenty-four hours at home, and worst of all, because of this virus I will not be able to attend my best friend’s party that was organized for the end of this week.

Thus, I walked upstairs to my room, and I called my best friend Anna to tell her about this virus.

Anna was very sad because she had already organized everything for her party to be the best party of the year. That is why we started thinking about a solution that could help us go outside secretly. So I suggested that we can call our friends and arrange a place where we can gather to make the party and have fun, some of our friends did not accept the idea, but others were very satisfied because we thought that this was just a rumor since the virus was found in China.

The next day, I was sitting at the table with my parents and I pretended that I am tired, so I kissed them and I told them that I am going to watch a movie in my room, but in fact, I was going to prepare myself for the secret party. Thus, I wore my red dress, my black heels, and I put my makeup on, and I waited for my parents to go to their room so that I can go out safely.

My boyfriend was waiting for me in the next street in his car, I kissed him and he drove the car until we reached the place of the party.

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I found almost all our friends there and absolutely all of them were coming secretly without the permission of their parents because if they told them about the party, they will absolutely reject because our parents do not understand us and they think that everything they say is true and everything we say is a mistake. That is why we forgot about our parents and we just had a fun time together and we played many games. However, we agreed that we have to reach home before midnight in order not to be in trouble so that our parents will not notice our absence and especially me. My mother used to come at night to kiss my head and see if I am sleeping well.

After we finished our party, my boyfriend drove me home, and I tried my best to open the door without making any sound so that my mother will not hear me because her sleep is not deep like my father, she can easily hear sounds at night. When I reached my room, I quickly took off my clothes, and I slept deeply because I was exhausted.

In the morning, I felt suffocated and I heard my mother waking me up again, but this time I was not dreaming, and the feeling was true. I could not wake up and I thought that this is just because of the party, but suddenly my condition was getting worst and my temperature was getting high. My mother gave me some medicaments and I felt better and everything was going great, I kissed my mother to thank her and I drove downstairs to sit next to my father and watch TV with him. But, after fourteen days, I had the same symptoms of the day after the party, so I thought it was just a simple fever, but this time my condition was getting worst.

That is why my father called the ambulance to come and drive me to the hospital, and the shock was that they found that I have the Coronavirus that is why, they decided to check my parents as well, and unfortunately they had a coronavirus too. I could not believe what I have heard and especially because I knew that I was the one behind my parents’ illness. That is why I decided to tell them about the secret party, and they understood the situation but I cannot deny that they were angry at me because I did not take the warning of the news seriously. Unfortunately, when I was in the hospital, I heard that my best friend Anna died because of this coronavirus because her condition was very dangerous and her body could not handle the virus.

I could not forgive myself because I was the one who suggested making that party and I was the one behind the contamination of my parents too. T b he lesson I learned from this experience is that our parents are wiser and know better than we do and that we should take such things seriously in order not to hurt ourselves and other people as well.

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Ghizlane Elguil, Benslimane.

A Stranger in Foreign Lands My journey has come to its end. I have come so far, searching for the meaning of life, yet I am not quite certain, whether I should label this quest a noble one.

It all started on a cold, rainy day of December, when I first have seen the light of the day. My first impressions of this world were by no means congenial. The inclement weather made my fragile bones shiver in an uncontrolled motion. The fumes that emanated from cars hang above my head like giant mosquitos, trying to suck the blood out of me. I tripped on my knee, as I was endeavoring to dismount from what seemed exactly like a grey heap of fur. I suppose, that’s where my parents left me. Despicable! I knew I wasn’t born for any good, for the very people that brought me to this life, had renounced me long before I could make sense of my surroundings.

Knowing that I had been abandoned adds no fun to being alive. It cuts deeply into my heart, when all I have ever wanted was to meet a human, to feel their warmth and to be closest to their hearts than anybody else. I wanted to be sheltered from the sun, the rain and the ugly, goblin-like fumes that made my heart so weak.

I had been traveling all around the world, seeking their sympathy, and asking for shelter. My supplications went unheard; they evaporated in the murky air, and came down again as thunder, upon their heads. Humans are such selfish, and arrogant creatures, they only care for themselves. Yes, of that I am certain.

Behold! I am no wise man; I know nothing about climate change, or about the poor that perished in hunger, whilst others slept on floating beds. These people harvested the wreck they have sowed.

I am the harbinger of joy and misery. When the earth saw what good I had brought to the oceans and trees, it beamed in anticipation. The salubrious morning breeze caressed my bare skin, and its mild warmth engulfed my heart like a magical mantle, while the birds fluttered and tweeted in merriment. The very sky above chanted in tandem with the snow-white clouds.

I knew I was loved, and I cherished all the elements of nature.

Humans mistook me. They took me for a fiend and closed their doors in the face of my deplorable state. Yet if they loved their families, why did they go out every day, unprotected while they fought for stupid toilet papers? At this point, I cannot decide who is more stupid. If 17 | P a g e

they could not love those with whom they shared blood and flesh, enough to renounce their vanity, how would they love me? What a fool I was, to suppose that a greedy man, whose sheer aim in the world was to fill his stomach and quench his gluttony from the grail of the Last Supper, would care for me!

In few months, the two-legged creatures were no more seen roaming in the streets. Serenity filled the air as few people would emerge from their dens, feigning ignorance of the perils that surrounded every step they treaded on earth. In the morning, they would leave the house muzzled in cheap masks, and in evenings, they would all disperse and the streets would wear on a post-apocalyptic air.

The dismal winds that howled from the East, carried me to a small village. Men were everywhere in the streets. They idled around in corners and made jokes about some deadly virus that had killed hundreds of people in the country. “I have had enough of this humbug!” shouted an old, haggard-looking man, as he threw a burning cigarette on a bush of brassica and small buds of poppies. “Do you think that this bloody virus would beat a man like me?” he stopped for a second, and before the other men opened their mouths, he cut them short. “I have endured all sorts of diseases; Malaria, Leprosy, Tuberculosis, you name it!” With this, he wiped his thick moustache in triumph and let out a proud croaky choking sound. They all halted and looked at his moustache in bewilderment. It somehow gave the impression that he had not laid a blade on his upper lip for more than a month.

I admired the man’s courage. When the hour struck six, I followed him to his house. It was so different from the other houses that I visited before in the city. As soon as he stepped on the threshold of his front door, a left pair of sandals came waving at him in the air, followed by an angry, sharp feminine voice: “What do I say every time? Wipe your dirty shoes on the mat before you enter, you idle, useless man!” The man made no effort to start a new quarrel with his wife. He wiped his shoes and made his way towards the living room. As he sat with his wife, they started talking excitedly about how the danger was soon to be over. In every house I visited afterwards, I heard people repeating the same story.

Humans have paid too much high a price for their rapacity. Pitiful! They never learn a lesson, until they too shall die when the very forests and trees they have neglected, turn into vengeful flames that no amount of ocean water can pacify.

The death knell is ringing at my door, as I lay here, paralyzed and grief-stricken. Hot weather makes my lungs very weak. The air has become unbearably stifling that I started losing sight 18 | P a g e

and hearing simultaneously. Despite the searing pain that is tearing my lungs apart, I have come to accept death, over a disgraceful life. After all, isn’t the world already on the verge of destruction? I do not claim to be a fair judge of this matter. I am a mere onlooker, waiting for my own impending doom.

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Hannah Le Poidevin, Laattaouia.

He sat low, crouched between an old building and two wooden poles supporting a half collapsed, cheap plastic sheet, like the kind erected every week for the souk. Behind the high wall at his back, he could hear the sounds of life, or what was left of it, after coronavirus had plucked out some in its greedy fingers and fear had removed the rest. If he twisted his head a fraction to the right, he could peer into the window of the building opposite him and see the figures of the family that lived there playing games and doing homework, scolding the children for taking food, gathered together around the tagine. But he didn’t bother looking.

This was a habit he had long since stopped. The pain at seeing them together in there whilst he was alone out here ripped his heart apart.

A dog ran up to him and began to nuzzle its small head under his chin affectionately. He rubbed its stomach and it whined happily before curling up on his legs.

“At least I have you, yeh mongrel. You’ll never leave me, will yeh? You’ll always talk with me, won’ yeh? Not like them lot in their posh buildings with their TVs and running water and food to last then into the next century.”

As if it understood, the dog let out a high pitched yelp before lowering its head once again, closing its eyes.

It started to rain.

He moved further under the collapsing plastic sheet. A raindrop landed on his uncovered head, sending a cold shock through him. He began coughing. The dog whined again and buried deeper into him, sharing precious body heat. He wanted to get away from this stinking pit, but he could hear the police sirens behind the wall. He didn’t want to be arrested. Not today. He had been once before and didn’t fancy another trip. That pit was worse than this one. He laughed manically at his joke, the strange sound grating on his ears. Although now he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure that counted as a joke. It had been so long since he last joked with another person that he couldn’t quite remember. His laugh turned to a racking cough.

The plastic sheet collapsed sending the water level rising above his ankles, soaking his feet as the rain cascaded down like pin pricks all over his body. The dog yelped and ran away. He shuffled after it out on to the street, deciding it was better to risk the police. He didn’t have a mask. He couldn’t even afford bread. He trudged slowly onwards, past the mosque singing its “Allahu Akbar”. A big, warm, dry building all locked up; a wasted building for worshipping 20 | P a g e

their god. Not his god. He had no god. Not anymore. He refused to bow down to something that left him to die in this way: alone, cold, hungry.

Forgotten.

“Being punished.” They whispered. “He’s a sinner.” they reasoned. Just what he was being punished for he would like to know. He would repent on hands and knees, or spread eagled with his belly against the cold, hard, wet ground to whoever would listen. Only two more weeks till Ramadan when their god would relent, and they might throw him a coin or two as they passed.

He stumbled ownards.

A few people were hurrying around outside, masks stretched over their faces, hiding their expressions. Clinical, uncaring, emotionless. They crossed the street to avoid him. “Social distancing” they would explain, “leave two meters around you…” But he knew they were lying. He was unwashed, unholy and now he was diseased. They were told the outside was dangerous, to be treated with caution, and he came from the outside, it was his home and so he was to be feared. But, he thought, he would rather be from the outside than suffocating behind a mask like an actor from some strange dystopian play, directed by fear itself.

One partially concealed being offered him bread. He took it.

Winding a path through the deserted market, he crouched under a shelter, ravenously devouring the bread, tearing off stale pieces and throwing them to the dog. He watched the masked creatures scuttling about, like puppets on a string. His breathing slowed suddenly. He began to wheeze, a great racking cough rising from his chest. It could be the flu. It could pass.

He did not care. He had water, no warm clothes, no shelter. He was not old, but he was weak from hunger. He could not fight it. He coughed again. He knew that soon he would become just another static, another preventable death on the streets He kept coughing.

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Hind Jendara, Meknes.

When the night falls, it brings with it the misfortunes, the sorrows, and the dreary memories which leave their dungeons to metamorphose in sky’s darkness. It was almost 4 am, and at that time it was impossible to go back, abandon or stop this bloody story that will start in a few moments. Nightmare! And everything mingles between the chopped waves of sleep.

Brutally torn from the dream by the deafening roar of her cry, Alice opened her eyes and jumped from her bed, on the bedside table, she saw a small piece of paper on which was written words she could not decipher. She rubbed her eyes, wiped the sweat from her face and read in terror: “don’t tell mommy” Awake this time, Alice realized that she was re-reading the same sentence for the first time, and then the paper suddenly disappeared. Vaguely uncomfortable, she got up, slid the window open, these little words still floating in her head and the fresh air of spring caressed her flesh. She turned back to her bed, but the images that lurked in her head haunted her and prevented her from gaining the few hours of sleep that remained before her workday started.

Alice put down the pencil and slammed the laptop shut, her hand holding her baby bump; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It is time to go back home, today was full and dull, and stress is not good for neither her nor her baby. Along the way, they listened to the vigorous radio preaching at a low volume, one route to saving our species, the prime minister has declared a month-long state of emergency in response to the pandemic spreading all over the country. One month to go, get some rest Alice, get some. The aromas wafting in the kitchen filled the air of a cozy feeling and apparently filled her ribs too. She knew for sure that by this time, the course of her life and her baby’s will drastically change.

The only sound she remembered after calling the coronavirus hotline was the ambulance siren on its long journey to the downtown hospital. There were a couple of hours where she was within a whisper of a dark place. There, loads of tests were being carried out and swabs were being taken, waiting for her PCR test result, Alice thought “maybe my time is up “. The next day she was the added number of the infected cases. Laying on her bed in an isolated hospital room, she was literally gasping for air, no one was allowed to see her, she would buzz for help and would have to wait for staff to get their protective equipment on before they could attend to her, this young desperate woman was a warrior in a double battle, she was fighting for every single breath. She was fighting for hers and her baby's life. A week later, the boatman of the River Styx suddenly opened the hospital door, firmly destined to Alice’s

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room, transformed the floor into a big dirty lake, took the corpse holding a crossbow bolt and ran away.

Everything in the sickbay got back to normal, doctors walking along, and patients wheeled to this red zone. Down the hall, at the end of the corridor, the hospital rooms are juxtaposed, multiplied, lengthened and condensed into one, that of Alice. Once you enter, only you and I can hear Alice’s baby screaming; only you and I can read the writing on the wall “this is the place where death rejoices in teaching the living”. By this moment, Alice was taken away to a land where she was drawing any unlucky passersby into a ghoulish dance of death, leaving her baby alive, alone in the dark telling you the rest of the story. “Mommy is dead, but don’t worry, I am here.”

I never had an actual interaction with my mom; I’m still an unborn piece of human, right. But I somehow know how loving she is, I also know about my older sister, her name is Anny.

When mom left the home that night, Anny stayed with mom’s grandma, she was crying so hard that her throat probably started hurting, granny is old and sick, no one would take care of them, that’s for sure. I am just a little fetus, but I know that pans are so hot, and Anny will get her fingers burned if she tries to cook. I want you to look around you, the children are always screaming, the men always cussing and women are always yelling about something. While you are now ready to feel about the miserable situation you and all your friends and acquaintances are going through, I see that one little tear of my sister, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture pouring on the pan and boiling.

O human race, o doomed destiny. Hours fly... Friends die.

Mom dancing outside, humans you must collide. Get away from each other today or you’ll flow till doomsday. Don’t tell mommy, don’t tell her I am thrown away. Rub a dub, voices howling, the tone got intense, people dancing, mom’s crawling. Don’t tell mommy, don’t tell her baby is thrown away. Don’t tell her, her sadness won’t fade away. In a panic, she began to crawl toward the front door: “ what a nightmare”, she mumbled. It was, five past eight, the feeling of crisp, cold air on her face and the breeze felt amazing. She showered, changed into her new outfit and went to check on her grandma. She snuck downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Alice brought a bottle of kvass to the table while telling her grandma about the nasty dream she had. “During the bubonic plague, my mother had the same nightmare, your message came up to the surface honey”, said granny. Alice spent the rest of the month with her family admiring the beauty of the smallest things.

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Idriss Loudiyi, Kenitra.

10 am. Leila wakes up on her fiancé's text "Good morning lover, I hope you're doing alright.

This quarantine can’t make me stop thinking about us." Because of her blurry vision and usual morning headache, she couldn't well process what she had read. She took a shower, made her bed, got dressed for the day and went down, as usual, to have breakfast with her parents.

Walking downstairs, her parents sighted her school clothes, "Sweety, I don't think you got the news," said her father while eating his breakfast.

"What happened?" said Leila, sipping her morning coffee. "No work for today my dear," replied her mother while turning on the TV for her, "Such good news sweety isn’t it?" she added. Leila, instantly, saw the breaking news scrolling bar on the screen saying the government had declared a state of medical emergency, therefore, lockdown for the country because of an emerging epidemic. "So, no work for how many days?" desperately asking her parents, her eyes fixated on the screen, "Nobody knows" replied her dad. Back at the table, "You didn’t answer me, Leila," her mother said, "isn’t it good news?" she asked her daughter once again. "Yeah," mumbled Leila, casting her mind back to the text she had got earlier that day.

She immediately took her phone, "I just got the news, I can’t believe it happened on our anniversary, " she texted him, "Me neither, " he instantly replied.

She grabbed her laptop, closed the door and headed back upstairs to her bed. Up there, she could talk with her fiancé freely.

After a bit, the video call sound rang. "Hey" both said at the same time in a soft indistinct utterance.

"You seem sick Idris!" She said.

"I woke up with a sore throat -he coughs- maybe I got the flu," he replied.

"Nothing serious?" Leila reluctantly asked. He nodded, "Don’t worry".

"So, you heard about the lockdown?" He shook his head yes "The flu that was killing people in China got to our country" he replied.

“You took any medicines, didn’t you?” She asked.

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“Yes, I did. Trust me it is nothing serious” “Okay, I have to go now, they are calling me” she said right before closing her laptop’s lid.

Once the laptop is shut, her emotions spiral and she goes into deep tears and mourning. “What if I never see him again” “What if he’s infected” she kept asking herself between the tears.

Her mom, who was walking by the door, heard the tears, she entered, “Why are you crying?!” startled, asked the mom.

“It’s just Idris” Leila with a hurt throat.

Leila’s mom immediately understood what her daughter was aiming to say and hugged her intensely. “You miss him, don’t you?” the mom asked, her daughter still intertwined between her arms.

“Our anniversary is today,” her daughter, no longer able to bear the tears, replied.

“Don’t worry. You are meant to be together. Nothing bad will ever happen to you.” said the mom struggling with her emotions.

“Okay” Leila mumbled.

“Let’s make some crepes as we used to last summer” the mom desperately trying to improve her daughter’s mood.

“I have no energy, I have to sleep,” Leila right before taking her mom’s arms off and leaning back on her bedside.

Leila wakes up from her nap in the middle of the night. She had a nightmare about her fiancé passing away and her never being able to see him again. Eyes snap open, covered in a cold sweat, shaking, heart pounding, looking around the room suspicious and paranoid, gets up cautiously, shivering, she immediately calls him in the middle of the night, “Are you alright?” she slowly asked, “Yes I am!” he answered in surprise, Leila rubs her head and eyes and tries to fully awaken. She then tells him the nightmare she had. He chuckles and says “don’t worry, we are going to stay forever and ever,” she shook her head yes while crying, and finishes the call. As she hung up, she kept wondering about him.

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The sun shines bright through the window, washing away the vestiges of the nightmare, leaving Leila relieved to return to her mundane existence and morning routine. Her intuition is telling her that better days are coming.

The day after, Leila wakes up, does her morning routine and then comes the usual hour when they talk on the phone. She calls him, no answer. “Maybe he is still sleeping” she said to herself, her breathing now getting slightly faster. Stressing, she calls him a second time, still no answer. She becomes paranoid. “What if something bad happened to him?” Leila kept asking herself. She prayed for his safety and well-being.

Four days passed since their last call; time had gone by so quickly.

She misses him.

She misses how, when they first started dating, he had this way of looking at her like she was something delicate and fragile that needed to be handled with care. It was the first time she had ever seen herself as anything other than hard-edged and mostly broken.

She misses the way they could sit across a table in a dimly lit restaurant and talk for hours.

They could talk about everything and nothing at all. It would feel like time had stopped and the universe had shrunk down to just the two.

I just wish he would call me right now. I need him.

No sooner does her request appear as a thought in her mind than her cell phone rings. Her fingers are maddeningly slow in retrieving it from her pocket. She’s worried she’ll miss the call.

“Hi. How are you doing? It’s Idris’s wife,” Relief washes over her in the first part of the text but once she heard the word “wife” she jumps from her place and says: “Hey! Uhm.” She cringes inwardly at the hint of desperation in her voice.

“Is he okay? What’s going on? Can I talk to him?” She goes on alert.

“Idris told us to call if anything bad happened to him, although I don’t know who you are.”

His wife said.

“He’s dead.” She goes on as Leila collapses.

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Ihourane Yasmine, Khemisset.

Amani walked down the cobblestone pavement, looking straight ahead, even though her squinted eyes begged her to avert her gaze from the blazing sun. But Amani wouldn’t, because the sight of the nearly empty street sent shivers through her spine.

It was the first time she left her grandparents’ apartment ever since quarantine was announced because of the coronavirus, but deep down, she wished she could be like her friends, wishing to not carry the weight of her grandparents’ lives on her shoulders.

She shook her head and pushed the thought in a far corner of her mind, focusing on the grocery store that was getting closer and closer. Making her legs and hands shake. She realized that if somebody took a look at her petrified figure, they’d wonder what a sixteen year old girl, with a strong immune system was so scared of. Only they couldn’t know the same girl would go back home to a diabetic grandmother and an asthmatic grandfather for whom it could be deadly.

It hit her as soon as she crossed the door, the fear radiating from everybody, how someone would warily glance behind him every now and then to make sure nobody was too close, the shopping carts overflowing with food. And even as she left the store, the scene of an old woman covering her mouth with a scarf, rummaging through the empty racks, followed her all the way home.

And it was those thoughts that lingered in the air, daring her to keep thinking, as if the dread that was making her heart explode through her skin wasn’t enough. As if crossing the apartment’s door wasn’t a challenge in itself.

Her grandparents were seated in front of the tv, watching the news that only seemed to get worse day after day. So when she was asked how it went, she nodded her head and faked a smile; too scared to recall the hollow streets, the void that stripped their neighborhood from any sign of life, and made her way to the kitchen.

As Amani returned to the living room, after thoroughly disinfecting everything she could have touched, she silently sat across from her grandmother, who was engrossed in her thread and needle, absorbed by her little world of hoops, beads, and fabric.

“Grandma, I’m scared. I’m so scared” Amani let out, as if whispering the words would make them any less true.

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The wise woman chuckled at first, but then reached out for her granddaughter’s hands.

“It’s okay to be scared, we can’t control fear, but we can embrace it, find the peace in the turmoil, and the light in the darkness, okay?”

So Amani nodded and her grandmother smiled. A real smile, the kind that reached the corner of the eyes, a contagious smile that draw beautiful creases around her cheeks. And maybe if Amani knew that it was the last genuine smile she would ever see on her grandmother’s face, she would've turned back and and contemplated it a while longer. Maybe she would’ve waited to go look out the window. But maybe then, she would have never seen what just happened in the apartment facing there’s, and three people would have never found neither the peace in the turmoil nor the light in the darkness.

On the other end of the street, Nora tried to convince herself it would end soon, but her mind knew better. She knew it was only going to get worse because of quarantine, knew that her father’s demons, the monster in him would eventually resurface. And as she hugged her little brother in her arms, she closed her eyes, waiting for it to end, waiting for the screams to stop. But they didn’t, they got louder, and as Nora opened her eyes, she wasn’t ready for what she saw.

It was the fifth time it happened during the quarantine. And each time, her father swore he’d never do it again. He said he’d change. He looked her in the eyes and promised he would never lay hands on her mother again. But he broke his promise right in front of her, and as she ran to shield her mother from his raging arms, she turned around to face him, hoping he could read in her eyes what her mouth failed to say.

She saw the first word the same day of the incident. As she opened the window to clear her mind, straight ahead was a single paper stuck to a window, where was written to call a number. Nora knew very well what the number meant, it was the one destined to domestic violence victims during quarantine. She also knew the girl who was smiling at her encouragingly from the other side.

Amani wasn’t her friend, just a girl she’d see at school from time to time. So Nora stared at her, understanding that she has seen what happened, and that she was trying to help.

But she couldn’t understand how hard it was, Nora wanted to say, didn’t feel the weight of that decision on her shoulders. And even though she didn’t, the words didn’t stop. Every day, at the same hour, Amani would stick a new paper to her window, encouraging words.

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Words that reminded Nora she wasn’t alone, words that reminded her that it was nothing to be ashamed of words that made a difference.

The news of the death of Amani’s grandmother spread fast, and on the other end of the street, weeks later, she would come back home. It would hurt at first. She missed her grandmother, missed her so much. She hated the coronavirus, hated how the world always took her loved ones from her. But she healed. Her grandfather helped her find the peace and the light. And as she looked out of the window on a Friday afternoon, she read on a single paper stuck on the window opposite of hers: “I called” And for the first time in weeks, she smiled.

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Romayssae El Idrissi, Casablanca.

A soft, golden ray penetrated the isolated room, caressed the young child’s cheeks, and awakened the silence that was whispering on the void. The child opened their eyes slowly, looked around the room, and contemplated the beauty of the light that tickled, purely, the walls around them. They left their bed, walked towards the window, took a look at the empty and calm streets, then closed their eyes and listened to the birds that chirped innocently, they could feel the depth of the purity which enlightened a new morning and a new beginning, where silence was playing on the strings of life the melody of humanity.

Gently, the child’s family opened the door and entered the room: -“How are you?” the mother asked, worried.

-“Don’t you feel bored in this isolated room, all by yourself?” the father interrogated.

The family kept their distance to protect themselves; they put the meal they brought with them and other necessities in the corner.

- “I am fighting, mom! I am trying my best, my hope will never die. I feel bored at times, but I cannot do anything about it. I kill boredom by writing. If I stay alive, I will publish a book about my experience with the COVID-19 pandemic, and who knows? It may help others.” the child replied.

- “That’s my lion!” the father affirmed.

- “Now, you should stay at home and make sure you apply the hygienic criteria for your safety. In this way, you will protect yourselves and others. We all know that unity makes strength, together, we can make it; we will conquer all obstacles!” the child advised.

- “Can’t we visit you?” the mother asked.

-“You should not, mom! It is for your own good. And don’t worry about me, I will fight until the end, there is always hope.” the young child said.

Tears rolled down the mother’s face, she tried not to show them, but her child could see them.

- “Mom, do not cry! If only I could hug you, but I can’t touch you. Know one thing: I will forever love you and everything will be okay.” the child insisted.

- “Take care of you!” the parents said.

-“Stay safe!” the child replied, bravely.

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The parents left the room, closed the door after them, the young child took their pen and started writing another chapter.

In another room, a different story was told: the story of an old woman who was fighting COVID-19 with all strength. She was a great fighter!

She took a brush and started painting her canvas, the colors intertwined artistically showing the strong connection between the shapes she dimensioned amazingly, the lines that intersect wisely emphasized her state of mind, it was an abstract painting that told an untold truth: the one that vibrated in that woman’s room, the truth of fighting illness with courage, the truth that hope enlightened that woman’s heart constantly.

She felt the need to sleep, she recalled her old memories back when she sat around one table with her husband and children and talked about everything and nothing at the same time, when she did not think about anything and did not care that much about how things would happen in her life.

She had her husband with her, maybe not too close for his own security, but he was there for her. He knew that his wife could not sleep without listening to him telling her a bedtime story; she had in her that little girl that she used to be, that little girl who never grew up and who would always be there to entertain her.

He told her the usual story, made sure she had fallen asleep, then turned the lights off and left the room: the one where that woman’s heart kept beating, where hope was painted in a unique painting and where life moved on as it always did.

Since its beginning, humanity faced obstacles. The story of humanity had always been marked by triumphant successes that shaped the ongoing life of all of us. Today, the COVID-19 disease outbreak, has definitely made changes and had huge influences on the social life of humanity, especially the healthcare industry, which has also impacted the global economics of the world and may lead, in a possible way, to a historic crisis. Moreover, this pandemic has undoubtedly had big effects on the environment, with the fewer use of factories and the calmer activity of worldwide institutions.

Today, united, we can fight COVID-19, as the young child and the old woman did, one at the morning and the other at night, one waking up and the other going to sleep: Hope does not have a specific time. Our heroes, with different ages, never lost hope and focused on taking in consideration the possible preventions to stand and fight the virus. They are us and we are them. We are one, we speak one language: Humanity! Let us take action together, from our 31 | P a g e

homes, we can do a lot, because the power of words is limitless, we can write to spread awareness about this dangerous pandemic‌ Together, by staying at home, we can fight COVID-19! We can make it!

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Sahar Chalabi, Meknes.

Final Hour Today is the fourth of April, the year 2020. Today is the day I die, and the day I am born again.

I hope it will be late at night when I finish writing this little story of mine; I wish to see the stars. The stars make me feel small, but in no way petty.

I thought and thought about where to start, I think I’ll stick to the beginning. I don’t know where it all started, but to me, it started in this hotel room. I was brought here because I am ill; because too many of us are ill. That same nurse who handed me this paper with the mark of her tear she failed to notice was the one who announced to me, a few days ago, that I had caught the virus of our time… Then a lot happened so fast, and so hectic that I almost have no record of it, and no record of my physical condition either… All I remember was thinking about how I was now lethal. For once, I was glad my children rarely visited, and I was glad my greatest love had died a couple years ago, a death more comfortable than mine was probably going to be, less hectic, free of guilt and worry. I was glad, on one hand, but worried, on another. I worried about the grocery worker and the cashier I had seen more than once this past couple of weeks. I worried about the pharmacist and his sweet three years old who isn’t afraid of smiling at strangers, and the neighbor who helps me with my groceries and whose smile is warmer and gentler than these last few rays of sunshine of this day and of my life, coming into my room through the tiny window. I worried about the nurses and the doctors putting their lives and more on the line for mine… And I’m only human, before the first day of my ending was over, and as the bed next to mine went empty –only to be filled again–, I worried about myself too. I worried about whether I was going to die, I worried about the way I was going to die, what I had become and how I had lived. I worried about what I was going to realize too late, about whether I was going to drown in regrets or reminiscent joy in my final hour, and I worried about my worries, and how they seemed to be consuming what I was sure were my last days.

It didn’t take me long to take shelter in the sweet handful of memories my memory was still hanging onto; reality around me was so bitter. Reality around me was dying alone, gasping for air, lack of resources, fear, regret and guilt brought about by the intertwining of our lives and beings and so much more atrocity… Reality around me was also sacrifice and compassion, solidarity and kindness, and closure despite distance… but amidst all the catastrophe and chaos, these things were almost unrecognizable to me.

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I took refuge in the remembrance of the people of my neighborhood a few days ago, singing together in their balcony, in the remembrance of kissing my lover and friend in front of the tiny and cheering crowd, of holding life I had given in my arms for the first time, of reading my favorite books and poems and listening to my favorite songs for the first time, in the remembrance of breaking in my mother’s arms each time anger would leave me, in the remembrance of laughing with my brother when we were not supposed to… I took refuge in more than I can write in this piece of paper they gave me.

It was soothing to know that I have been alive for most of my life. It has been a beautiful fight, and enough. I thought about my life for hours, and thought what I lived was enough for me. I thought I’d rather give my place in this bed to somebody younger who would be more likely to live; after all, this was not the end. It might be the end of my life, but my life is small –but not petty– in front of life broadly.

I thought of babyhood, since it is the only part of my life I don’t have memories of… we start our lives with no idea of ourselves as an entity separate from the world; and as time passes and pain and unmet desires find their way through to our minds, the line between our beings and the rest of the world, slowly but surely, begins to draw itself… Tonight, under the stars, I will erase that illusory line, and I will be born again, this time as one with the universe, forever… My anger due to being robbed of what seems normal and serene from my tiny bubble of experience will leave me, and this time I will break in the arms of Mother Nature. I will dive in awe into what is sublime and vast beyond calculation.

Once I finish this letter – destined to whoever cares, but mostly to the few who love me – by which I want to be remembered for as long as I will be remembered, these machines will be taken off of me. I asked for it. I hope the eyes of these doctors and nurses don’t hold as much pity as they do now when they smile at me for the last time. I don’t want pity, not today. I want joy. No, I need joy, today. I need everyone to look at me with eyes tearing from joy, and bittersweet mixed emotions, the way they would look at a newborn. It doesn’t matter how old I am today, I am a newborn.

Author’s note: In tribute to souls as pure as this one I imagined, who everywhere, stay at home.

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Sanou Niapégué, Tetouan.

The Diurnal Wind and the Homeless “Yesterday,” said the young man, “our leader announced in the national television that, next week, there will be a curfew in all the cities. He said there are difficult days to come.”

Another man had a camera connected to the microphone the young man was holding and standing to my friend and me, sitting on an old mat, and waiting for the charitable people of the day. It was there we were also living, in the big street near the big market in the capital.

People were coming and going and some of them who passed would still keep looking back as if having lost something.

“Everyone,” the young man continued, “will have to stay home from dawn to dusk, for a new diurnal wind is spreading and may arrive here in a month, which means people without protection will not be able to go out during the daytime. Only the rich, employed by our leader, will be able to do so, being protected then, while the rest of the people will have to wait till sunset be able to see the outside, and this, only to look for what is necessary as food. I think you have heard of this.”

“Yes,” I affirmed. I explained to the young man that when I was begging in the market, I had heard people complain about some passengers who had come from the country of the white man, fleeing the diurnal wind. This wind, they said, was killing people by just blowing during the daytime, the time of activities. Some whispered that the wind was invented or, more plausibly, intoxicated by a yellow man; they whispered because some yellow men were present and listening. Others said it was a divine punishment to warn, test and then purify the believers. Yet others maintained it was neither invented nor divine but the very consequence of a transgression against animals. They said our leader and all his friends were no longer wearing business suits but were now attired in some strange elastic clothes to prevent the deadly wind from penetrating their skin. I also saw some rich dressed in the same clothes. As for the poor, they were afraid, for they would have to stay home, close doors and windows from the penetration the wind and cover themselves from the feet to the head with what they had, that is, blankets. They said they could not digest how people could come from the country of the white man though our leader himself had already declared the borders of the country were closed and no international flight was to be allowed anymore. Perhaps, some opined, it was to import the wind which will replace the police to stop the poor from demonstrating.

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Upon mentioning demonstration, my friend went on: “Perhaps our leader doesn't know anymore how to stop demonstrations.”

“Yeah!” I corroborated. “I heard in the market that in the country of the white man and that of the yellow man where the wind started most people now never go out. They said that if wind spreads here in our country, people will ultimately have to stop everything, including even going to market, for not everyone can afford a simple condom here and they said the elastic protective clothes our leader, his friends, and the rich have are condoms in the form of robes covering the whole body.”

“Ah!” my friend exclaimed. "I think this wind is political. If the wind arrives here, only politicians and rich will see the sun? But in this country if you don’t fight, you’ll never be given your right, but how can one fight when one is starving? I was fighting before, but I stopped since have I started starving. I have the strength and time only to beg and not to fight for my rights. Starvation is not good. The wind is a political weapon, I swear. And the consequences of any political instrument are either more advantageous or more dangerous than the instrument itself. Thus, the consequences of this wind are more dangerous than the wind itself. With this wind, the country will then be a cake and shared between a small group who will tell the majority that the cake was spent on preventing the wind. This is what I can understand, power and starvation.”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “They will be the benefactors from the wind if they survive.

But you know, we may also be benefactors somehow if we survive. In the big market, I was also very happy to hear that thanks to the wind, in the country of the white man, they have brought the homeless and beggars to hotels and are providing them with food and anything for free. I wish the same could happen here. Yes! The same will happen here. Thus, we'll be living as the friends of our leader. We will revive.”

The young man laughed and said, “Aren't you afraid that you may die of the disease?”

He was looking at me while the cameraman was filming.

“Why should I?” I said. “I'm already dead, buried and forgotten and maybe the wind will revive me as I said. We are dead in the street, for worms eat us when we are asleep as they eat the dead. A dead man is but garbage and we are garbage, living in garbage, on garbage, with garbage, for garbage and by garbage.”

“Anyway, you have to think of how to leave this street as soon as possible, for you are here at night and daytime when the wind blows. You should know that the wind is too 36 | P a g e

dangerous and spreads faster than a wildfire, from the country of the yellow man to that of the white man and soon here. To die out of the wind is to suffer the greatest humiliation and misfortune. Even in the country of the white man, poor children cannot see their dead parents and poor parents cannot see their dead children in hospitals, not to mention kissing them. To just see a person dead out of the diurnal wind blow is enough to result in the death of the seer unless the latter has the elastic protective dress. This means if the wind touches you, no one, even your wife or son, will be allowed to see you. And the wind can touch you if only you are outside; therefore, the best piece of advice I give you is to avoid staying outside. Otherwise, you will be the very first victims and no one will see your corpse nor wash it or pray on it and you, though pure and devout, will be buried by sinning prisoners in a collective grave with other sinning and pervert victims without any consideration.”

“Ah! It is really serious. To be buried with perverts, by perverts? Ah? We pray the wind never arrives here."

“It will. You see that the rich and our leader’s friends have started using the protective dress; this means there are some suspected cases from abroad, though they will not announce it now. The wind starts from the smell of infected people, but hopefully, the blow of the wind is not dangerous at night thanks to the trees and animals. You see now how much nature is important? It is not science, it is nature that is the unique condition of our survival. And yet people are daily cutting trees and killing animals without purpose. To avoid such kinds of disasters, we should protect our ecosystem. This wind is one of the very consequences of over-pollution and violation of animal rights. It is thanks only to animals and plants we will be able to go out at night if the wind spreads here. In the evening, the breath of animals contains a chemical substance that renders the wind un-toxic; the strange thing here is that, though man is another animal, man does not have this substance. Trees detoxicate the wind in the evening because they take oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Indeed, this carbon dioxide is very very dangerous for us; that is why we are advised not to sleep under trees at night.

However, the strangest thing is that it has been proven that the same carbon dioxide detoxicates the wind at night. Still, I remind you not to sleep under trees fearing the wind; sleeping under trees at night is still as dangerous as the coming wind. So, stay at home.”

“Have you forgotten?” my friend asked. “We have no home.”

“But where are you from?”

37 | P a g e

"I am from a village," my friend responded and I told the young man that I also came from a village.

"Then the best piece of advice I have for you is that you go to your respective villages," the young man said. "This is even very good since, in villages, there are many trees and animals. You can even sleep among your cattle to be better protected by the chemical substance they breathe. And who knows, bullshit may be a remedy for those who are touched by the wind. I may even go to the country.”

My friend and I had rejected the advice on the spot, but we changed our minds later on as the wind finally started spreading in the cities and only poor were dying because of not accepting the proposal of our leader. At the beginning of the wind, we had found a very good cave to hide in at night near the big market, but one night, we were officially told not to come there anymore since we had also refused the proposal of our leader. We finally went to our villages where the wind did not reach, not because we were afraid of death since we were not given any elastic protective dress or brought to hotels as I had expected but despite the fact that we wanted to die. We just were afraid of suicide and being buried with perverts, for staying in the city would have ended up by accepting suicide which is forbidden by God. Also, in the city, as we noticed, we were obliged to worship our leader and the rich to obey God, which we didn't like. Our leader was indeed helping the poor with food and elastic protective clothes, but the poor were bound to solemnly swear by signing an official document and declaring what follows: “I ACCEPT THIS DRESS AND FOOD, THEREBY PROCLAIMING THAT I SHALL DIE IN YOUR SERVICE AND SO WILL MY SONS IN YOUR SONS' SERVICE AND SO WILL THEIR SONS SINCE YOU SAVED OUR LIVES FROM THE WIND.”

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II-

39 | P a g e

Arabic

‫بلغيت أمين‪ ،‬الريصاني‪.‬‬ ‫ال عاطفة مع الكورونا‬ ‫بعدما أن استقبل والدي بعضا من أصدقائه في البلدة‪ ،‬بال موعد‪ ،‬اللعنة عليهم‪ ،‬اضطر وفي ظل هذا الوضع‪ ،‬والرعب الذي تعيشه‬ ‫البالد‪ ،‬أن يقوم بكرم الضيافة‪ ،‬فرحب بهم‪ ،‬واستقبلهم في بيت المعيشة‪ .‬أما أنا فقد كنت مقررا في نفسي أال أرى أحدا‪ ،‬كان من كان‪،‬‬ ‫كما أ ني قد أوصيت أبي من قبل بأال يصافح أحدا‪ ،‬وأن يترك مسافة األمان بين كل شخص يصادفه‪ .‬أبي‪ ،‬طبعا‪ ،‬وعى بخطورة‬ ‫كورونا‪ ،‬وقرر أن يسير وفقا لما يناشد به اإلعالم‪ ،‬وبما أناشد به أنا‪ ،‬صباح مساء‪.‬‬ ‫لكن على الرغم من أنني كنت مصرا على عدم رؤية أحد‪ ،‬فقد أتاني األمر من السلطات العليا بأن أحضر الشاي‪ ،‬والحلوى‪ ،‬وشيئا من‬ ‫المملحات‪ .‬طبعا أخدت أشتم وأتمتم في سري بكل ما وعى صدري من صنوف الشتائم الجائزة‪ ،‬وألعن هؤالء الضيوف‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫ألم يجدوا وقتا آخر للزيارة إال هذا‪ ،‬اللعنة عليكم يا أوغاد كورونا‪.‬‬

‫أخذت الصينية بما فيها‪ ،‬على مضض‪ ،‬ثم دخلت الغرفة وقلت‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫السالم عليكم‪.‬‬

‫لم أزد عنها شيئا‪ ،‬ثم جلست‪ .‬حينها أرسل الضيفان طرفيهما في غرابة يحملقان بي‪ ،‬بشراهة ونهم‪ ،‬وكأني أكلت لهم رزق جدهم‪ ،‬كنت‬ ‫أعلم أنهم مستغربان ألنني لم أقم بمصافحتهما‪ ،‬وأخذا ينظران في بعضهما البعض‪ ،‬في ذهول ووجم‪ ،‬دون أن يتكلما‪ ،‬لكنني كنت‬ ‫أعرف فيما كانا يفكران‪ .‬كان األول يقول في سره‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫أرأيت قليل األدب هذا‪ ،‬دخل ولم يسلم‪.‬‬

‫فيجيب اآلخر في سره كذلك‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫رأيته‪( ،‬البرهوش ربا كتيفات وعجبو راسو‪ ،‬قليل الحيا)‪.‬‬

‫وفي الوقت الذي كانا يتحاوران فيه بأعينهما‪ ،‬كنت أنظر إلى كأس من نوع (حياتي) أمامي‪ ،‬وأفكر هل آخذه وأكسره فوق رأس‬ ‫أحدهما‪ ،‬فأكون بذلك قد خليت ملة أبيه وجده‪ ،‬لكن سرعان ما تمالكت أعصابي‪ ،‬هذا من قلة األدب‪ ،‬فأرسلت كليمات تترنحن عبر‬ ‫األثير‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫معذرة‪ ،‬لم أسلم عليكما‪ ،‬ألنه كما تعرفان‪ ،‬كورونا تغزو العالم‪.‬‬

‫لكنني فوجئت بابتسامة شمطاء صدرت منهما‪ ،‬حتى بدت أسنانهما كملقاط‪ ،‬وكأني بذلك دغدغت مؤخرتيهما‪ ،‬فقال أحدهما‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫شرب الحريرة‪ ،‬وكول التمر‪ ،‬وراه مايقيسك حتاش‪ ،‬راه صحراوا معروف عليهم الرجلة‪ .‬في تلك اللحظة بدأت أستشيط‬ ‫غضبا من هذا الجهل الدي يخيم على عقولهم الصماء‪ ،‬حتى تمنيت أن أمسك رأسيهما‪ ،‬كل في يد‪ ،‬وألصق جباههم بقوة‪،‬‬ ‫حتى يعلمون ما معنى‪ :‬التمر والحريرة‪ ،‬وأطفئ غليل صدري‪.‬‬

‫لكنني ارتأيت أن أحتفظ بذلك الغضب في قلبي‪ ،‬ريتما أرجعه في وقت الحق‪ ،‬وأصير الصاع صاعين‪ .‬وقفت‪ ،‬لمحتهما بخفة‪ .‬الزاال‬ ‫ينظران إلي في سخرية‪ ،‬عقدت بين حاجبي‪ ،‬ثم تنهدت فخرجت‪.‬‬ ‫أخدت أدور كالمجنون أمام المنزل‪ ،‬يدي خلف ظهري‪ ،‬ورأسي منغرس في األرض‪ ،‬نظرت إلى السماء‪ .‬صافية‪ ،‬اللهم بعض الغيوم‬ ‫التي تعانق بعضها في غير مباالت‪ .‬بدأت أفكر في طريقة ألقنع هؤالء بخطورة الكورونا‪ ،‬وأنها ال تمزح‪ ،‬كما أنها ال تقبل رشوة‪ ،‬أو‬ ‫تتغاضى ألنك فقط تعرف وزير الصحة أو المندوب الجهوي‪ ،‬وغيرها من األسامي التي قد تحتمي بها‪ .‬الكورونا تأتي على الرضيع‬

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‫والعجوز؛ فقط جرب أن تقف في طريقها وانظر ماذا ستفعله بك‪ .‬بكل بساطة الكورونا بالمصافحة والعناق‪ ،‬واالحتكاك وااللتصاق‬ ‫تتغذى وتنمو؛ مما يعني عيشا أكثر وحياة أطول‪ ،‬لكن‪ ،‬انقراضها يتوقف على عزلتك وانزوائك‪ ،‬المصافحة يا صاح‪ ،‬في هذه الفترة‬ ‫أصبحت من المحرمات‪ ،‬لم يحرمها هللا‪ ،‬بل حرمتها الظروف‪ ،‬حرمتها تلك الرغبة الجامحة في العيش‪ ،‬نعم‪ .‬أنا أريد أن أعيش‪ ،‬إذن‪،‬‬ ‫لن أصافحك‪ ،‬ولن أحتك بك كعاهرة أفل عليها الزمان‪ .‬أفضل أال نلتقي اآلن على أال نلتقي أبدا‪ ،‬هل فكرت في هذا‪ .‬اللعنة عليك‪ ،‬ال‬ ‫تحاول إقناعي بأنها حرب بيولوجية‪ ،‬فليكن‪ ،‬ولماذا تحشر أنفك‪ ،‬ما شأنك في ذلك‪ ،‬هل أنت جاحد؟‪ ،‬جاهل؟‪ ،..،‬مثل هذه الحرب ال‬ ‫تأتي إال على الذين يتسكعون في الشوارع جحودا‪ ،‬و‪...‬‬ ‫قطع نعيق غراب لعين تفكيري‪ .‬لكن مثل هذا الكالم لن يفهموه‪ ،‬أفكار ظالمية تعشش في عقولهم؛ اغسل يديك بالتراب‪ ،‬كل الخبز‬ ‫ممزوجا ببعض النمل األصهب‪( ،‬كل الملوخية واشرب الحريرة)‪ ،‬ويقولون كذلك التمر بدوده يقوي المناعة‪ .‬يا هللا‪ ،‬هؤالء تلزمهم‬ ‫فرق التدخل السريع‪ ،‬ليبقوا قائمين عليهم؛ مصافحة بركلة‪ ،‬مجامعة بلكمة وصفعة‪ ،‬هكذا سيردعون‪ .‬تأففت‪ ،‬سرت بخطوات متثاقلة‬ ‫أبتعد عن المنزل قليال‪ ،‬كنت أعلم في قرارات نفسي أن هذه الطريقة ليست صائبة‪ ،‬العنف يولد العنف‪ ،‬الحل أن أبحث عن طريقة‬ ‫أكثرا وعيا وسلما للتوعية‪ .‬جلست القرفصاء‪ ،‬وضعت يدي على خذي‪ ،‬وغصت في تفكير عميق‪ .‬فوجدت أن الحل الوحيد هو صديقي‬ ‫زياد‪ ،‬هو من يستطيع أن يفك معي هذا الحمل الثقيل‪ ،‬تحسست هاتفي الخلوي في جيبي‪ ،‬بحثت عنه ضمن القائمة‪ ،‬وجدته‪ .‬سألته عن‬ ‫حاله‪ .‬أجاب أن الكل على ما يرام‪ .‬ثم شرعت مباشرة في شرح الخطة التي ستنطلي على هؤالء الضيفين‪ ،‬وافق‪ ،‬شكرته‪ ،‬ثم شرعت‬ ‫في التنفيذ‪.‬‬ ‫أعدت هاتفي إلى جيبي حتى ال يشكوا في شيء‪ ،‬ثم دخلت‪ ،‬جلست فأخدت قطعة حلوى‪ .‬زياد سيتصل بعد خمس دقائق‪ ،‬حاولت أال‬ ‫أجعل األمر مصطنعا‪ ،‬سألتهم قليال عن الغابة وأوضاع الفالحة عندهم‪ ،‬أجابوني بكل أريحية‪ ،‬واألكثر من ذلك‪ ،‬فقد قام أحدهم ليشرح‬ ‫لي طريقة زرع الفلفل الحار‪ ،‬لكن‪ ،‬الهاتف يرن‪.‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫أهال صديقي‪ .‬تعمدت أال أذكر االسم‪ .‬كيف حالك؟‬

‫هما طبعا لم يكونا ليسمعا الطرف اآلخر‪ ،‬لذلك كان تفنني في الكالم سيد الموقف‪.‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫ماذا؟‪ ..‬هللا أكبر‪.‬‬

‫قلت هذه العبارة بنبرة مألوفة عندهم‪ ،‬جلس الشخص الذي كان قائما‪ ،‬واآلخر هضم ابتسامته التي ارتسمت على خديه‪ ،‬أما أبي فقد‬ ‫كان يعلم على ما ألوي‪ ،‬لذلك فقد كنت أرى في عينيه ابتسامة عريضة تقول‪ :‬واصل يا بني‪ .‬ثم أردفت واضعا يدي اليسرى على‬ ‫جبيني‪ ،‬وبين الفينة واألخرى أحرك رأسي يمينا‪ ،‬وأجيئ به شماال‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫ال إله إال هللا‪.‬‬

‫رأيتهم بنصف نظرة ينظران إلى بعضيهما في فزع‪ ،‬ثم واصلت‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫ال حول وال قوة إال باهلل‪ ،‬لم يغسلوه؟‪ ،‬لكن لماذا‪ ،‬ثم سكت برهة وكأني أنتظر من زياد أن ينهي كالمه‪:‬‬

‫‪-‬‬

‫الكورونا؟ فقط ألنه مات بهاذا الفيروس اللعين لم يغسلوه؟‬

‫لم يطيقا تلك العبارات‪ ،‬نهضا‪ ،‬اقتربا مني‪ ،‬وبدأت أردد بصوت خافت‪ :‬إنا هلل وإنا إليه راجعون‪ ،‬كما لو كنت أتحصر بحق‪ .‬الخطة‬ ‫بدأت تعطي ثمارها‪ ،‬واصلت حديثي مع زياد‪ ،‬أسأله عن االحترازات التي ناشدت بها السلطات‪ ،‬كنت طبعا أعيد الكالم لكي يسمعوه‪،‬‬ ‫حتى وصلت إلى السؤال الذي سيجعلهم يؤمنون أن الكورونا موجودة حقا‪:‬‬ ‫‪-‬‬

‫وكم وصل عدد الحاالت عندنا في المغرب إلى حد اآلن؟‬

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‫العدد ألف‪ ،‬نزل عليهم كالصاعة‪ ،‬بحثت عن تلك القهقهة في وجوههم‪ ،‬لم أجدها‪ ،‬فقط تمتمات وتعويذات‪ .‬رفعت يدي ألصافحهم‪،‬‬ ‫ألرى مفعول الخطة‪ ،‬لم أر أي يدا في الهواء ممتدة لتصافحني‪:‬‬ ‫الوقاية خير من العالج‪ ،..‬هكذا كان ردهم‪ ،‬تبسمت‪ ،‬وخرجت أردد أغنية "فين الفن البلدي‪".‬‬

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‫وفاء باسيوني‪ ،‬مراكش‪.‬‬ ‫و ال حتى طريق واحد لروما‬ ‫لم تفقد األمل أبدا! ظلت تنتظر سنين طويلة قدوم ذلك اليوم الذي ستطأ فيه قدماها أرضا غير موطنها‪ ،‬يوم تشتم فيه أريج انتصار حلم‬ ‫طفولتها الذي لم تيأس من تحقيقه ولو لبرهة‪ .‬ضحت بكل ما لديها‪ ،‬شاركت مرات عديدة في مباريات وبرامج دراسية ال تعد وال‬ ‫تحصى‪ ،‬عسى أن تفوز برحلة ألمريكا أو بضعة أيام سياحية في أوروبا‪ .‬لكن كلما اقتربت من المراتب األولى للفوز بكذا فرصة‪ ،‬تبخر‬ ‫الحلم في ثانية وتاه في سراديب النسيان‪.‬‬ ‫لكن ذلك اليوم الذي كرست من أجله كل طاقاتها وجل أحالمها‪ ،‬أضحى اآلن عبئا ثقيال تتحمله في صمت وإذعان‪ .‬إذعان لقدر يستهزئ‬ ‫من بر اءتها ويتالعب بمشاعرها‪ ،‬استسالم لرحلة مجهولة في ظروف غامضة ودت لو لم تتحقق أبدا‪ .‬أجل‪ ،‬فبعدما كانت تجري متلهفة‬ ‫وراء حلم من سراب يختفي كلما اقتربت منه‪ ،‬أصبحت اليوم تحاول الفرار من حقيقة قاسية تتجسد أمامها كأسوار إسمنتية تنبني أمامها‬ ‫كلما ابتعدت عنها‪.‬‬ ‫ها هي اآلن‪ ،‬حبيسة الغرفة ‪ ، 39‬طريق داكياردي‪ ،‬بيزا‪ ،‬إيطاليا‪ .‬وحيدة في بالد غريبة‪ ،‬سجينة بين جدران جديدة‪ .‬ال عائلة حاضرة‬ ‫لمواساتها‪ ،‬وال صديق قريب لمؤانستها‪ .‬عزاؤها الوحيد‪ ،‬مذكرة بنية اللون ذبلت أوراقها بمرارة عبراتها‪ ،‬و شحب غالفها آلالم‬ ‫خلجاتها‪ .‬مذكرة كان الغرض منها رواية سفريات ومغامرات تجوالها في إيطاليا‪ ،‬لينتهي بها المطاف مجرد سلة مهمالت تدون فيها‬ ‫تفاهات بالية تجري أحداثها الرئيسية بين جدران بيت معزول في أزقة بيزا الخالية‪.‬‬ ‫"‪ 30-‬مارس ‪ :2020‬إغالق جميع جمعيات ومدارس إيطاليا إلى حين بالغ جديد"‬ ‫"‪ 05-‬مارس ‪ 108 :2020‬يورو صرف نقد القتناء لوازم المنزل"‬ ‫"‪ 10-‬مارس ‪ : 2020‬دقيق‪ ،‬حليب‪ ،‬خبز‪ ،‬خبز‪،‬خبز‪ ،‬خخخخخخبززز كثيييير…قبل إقفال المحالت التجارية‪ .‬يلزم سكرر‪ ،‬سكر‬ ‫ضروري‪ ،‬للحرشة!!!!‬ ‫"‪ 20-‬مارس ‪ :2020‬آخر مرة أعمل حرشة!!! اليوم كاااارثة! لن أعيد الكرة مجددا‪ .‬بيض و زيت يكفيني لإلفطار‪..‬‬ ‫هكذا امتأل إذن ذلك الدفتر‪ ،‬كل يوم حكاية عن مصير فلس صغير من ادخاراتها‪ ،‬أو فشل في طبخها‪ ،‬أو تذكير صغير لتاريخ تسليم‬ ‫عمل بسيط ألساتذتها‪ .‬لم تكن لتتخيل أبدا أن سعادتها ستقتصر على إتقان وجبة غذاء شهية‪ ،‬أو حتى مجرد تنظيف و تطهير البيت‬ ‫من الجراثيم‪ .‬من كان ليخال أن مجرد استيقاظها صباحا بحال جيدة كفيل بأن يجعلها سعيدة لبيقة حياتها‪ .‬بعدما كان هدفها أن تسافر‬ ‫خارج الوطن لتنعم بلذات الحياة‪ ،‬أضحى اليوم رجاؤها الوحيد أن تحيا لتعود ألرض ذويها‪ ،‬أن تحيا لتضم بحرارة تلك الوجوه الوحيدة‬ ‫التي أحبتها بصدق‪ ،‬و أن تقابل و لو لمرة واحدة كل أولئك األشخاص الذين ساهموا في إسعادها و توفير كل سبل الدعم لها‪.‬‬ ‫اقتصرت كل أحالمها على أن تحيا و فقط‪.‬‬ ‫‪------‬‬‫ أمي‪ ،‬إنها مجرد سعلة صغيرة‪ ،‬ال تقلقي‪..‬‬‫ أريد أن أرى وجهك‪ ،‬اقفلي وسأكلمك عبر الفيديو‪..‬‬‫‪ -‬يا أماااه‪ ،‬إنها فقط نزلة برد صغيرة‪ ،‬أرجوك فأنا لم أخرج منذ شهر‪ ،‬كما أن األنترنت ضعيفة‪ ..‬أمي…‬

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‫ يا إلهي‪ ،‬وجهك شاحب‪ .‬ما هي هذه البقع الحمراء في وجهك‪ .‬هل تعلمين؟ لقد قالوا في اإلذاعة الوطنية أن ظهور بقع حمراء في‬‫الوجه من عالمات كورونا؟ قلت لك أال تخرجي؟ ألم أقل لك؟‬ ‫ أمي‪ ،‬إن لم تقتلني كورونا سيقتلني الجوع!! هل أموت من الجوع يا أمي ؟؟؟‬‫ أف من هذا المزاح؟ هل وضعت الكمامة و القفازات على األقل؟ و تذكري‪ ،‬الجهة البيضاء من‪..‬‬‫ الداخل!! أجل أعلم‪ .‬لم أعد صغيرة يا أمي‪ .‬كفى بربك من هذا الكالم… أنتم كذلك في خطر‪ ،‬فقد تفاقمت حاالت اإلصابات عندكم‪،‬‬‫مئة و أربعون في يوم واحد‪..‬‬ ‫ أجل يا بنتي‪ ،‬هل تذكرين سي احمد‪ ،‬مقدم الحي‪ ،‬لقد أصيب و عائلتَه بالوباء‪ .‬وضعوا في الحجر الصحي و منعوا من الخروج‪.‬‬‫ آه يا إلهي!! الوضع يدعي للقلق‪ ،‬أرجوكم انتبهوا ألنفسكم جيدا‪ ،‬أنتم كل ما لدي‪".‬‬‫كل المكالمات الهاتفية هكذا كانت تمضي‪ ،‬أسئلة أكاديمية مبرمجة لتلقى نفس األجوبة المطمئنة‪ ،‬سئمت من كل ذلك و من كل ميوعة‬ ‫الوضع‪ .‬و مع ذلك كانت دائمة الشرود و القلق‪ .‬أصبحت الكآبة أنيستها و أضحى التوتر قرين عزلتها‪ .‬تتمنى كل يوم بل كل ساعة بل‬ ‫كل ثانية لو انقشع ستار العزلة ليلم شملها بأهلها من جديد‪.‬‬ ‫كثيرون يشتكون من صعوبة الخروج كل مدة الحجر الصحي خارج بيوتهم‪ ،‬يندبون ليل نهار لعدم تمكنهم من رؤية أصحابهم‪ .‬لكنهم لم‬ ‫يذوقوا طعم األلم ولو للحظة‪ ،‬كونهم لم يجربوا قساوة العيش بعيدا عن آباءهم‪ .‬يستطيع اإلنسان العيش دون الغير لكن ال يمكنه العيش‬ ‫أبدا دون روحه و نفسه‪ .‬فكيف لها أن تعيش دون والديها‪ ،‬كانا و ال يزاالن جزءا ال يتجزء من كيانها‪ .‬و قد أقسمت بالتمسك بالحياة فقط‬ ‫حتى تستطيع رؤيتهم من جديد‪.‬‬ ‫لكن القدر مرة أخرى أبى إال أن يشقيها‪ .‬فقد تلقت للتو خبر وفاة واحدة من أعز صديقاتها‪ .‬حسناء‪ ،‬طالبة بمثل سنها اغتصب شبابها‬ ‫بسبب هذا الوحش القناص‪ .‬ها هي اآلن‪ ،‬منفية في أرض الغربة عاجزة عن حضور مراسم دفن زميلتها‪ .‬عاجزة حتى عن رؤية وجهها‬ ‫آلخر مرة و الحضور لتعزية والديها الذين طالما اعتبرتهما أفرادا من العائلة‪.‬‬ ‫ال يسعها حتى الوقوف تحسرا فوق قبرها ووضع زهر وخل فوق ترابها؟ لماذا يعاقبها القدر بشدة؟ لماذا؟ لماذا أينما ولت ال يكون ثمر‬ ‫صبرها سوى المزيد والمزيد من األلم والنكد والغم؟‬ ‫ألم ونكد ظال حارسيها طيلة فترة معيشتها في إيطاليا‪ .‬سافرت شوقا لتجوب طرق روما األسطورية لتجدها في نهاية المطاف كلها مقفلة‬ ‫موصدة في وجهها‪ .‬ال صور تذكارية و ال باستا محلية و ال دراسة مرضية‪ ،‬كل ما جنته من وراء تلك الرحلة ضياع أموال طائلة في‬ ‫مواد التنظيف والتعقيم اليومية ال أقل و ال أكثر‪.‬‬ ‫لكنها لن تنس أبدا كيف أحست حينما رأت ذلك الوجهين المالئكيين خلف شبابيك المطار اإلسمنتية‪ ،‬محييان تنيرهما البشاشة لتضيء‬ ‫بهما كل كربات الماضي المؤلمة‪.‬‬ ‫حملت حقيبتها بسرعة و اتجهت مهرولة نحو بوابة المغادرة بعدما وقعت آخر صفحة من جواز سفرها‪ ،‬إمضاء اشترت به سعادتها و‬ ‫ثمن حريتها في تربة وطنها التي فارقتها لستة شهور بالضبط‪.‬‬ ‫تربة أحبت شم رائحتها ووطن افتقدت دفء شمسه الساطعة‪.‬‬ ‫انطلقت إذن كالصاروخ لتعانق أبويها‪ .‬دفنت وجهها في حضنيهما و انفردت بحنانهما لدقائق طوال‪ .‬لم ينبس أي منهم بكلمة فقد عبرت‬ ‫دموعهم عن كل شيء و أفصحت عن كل األسرار‪ .‬عناق واحد فقط‪ ،‬كفيل بأن يحكي آالف القصص و كاف ليضمد كل الجروح‪.‬‬

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‫''‪ 08-‬غشت ‪ : 2020‬أول ابتسامة ارتسمت في وجهي منذ مدة وأول حلم جميل يتحقق بأدق تفاصيله‪ .‬أظن أن كورونا قد علمتني أن كل‬ ‫ما حلمت به كان دوما من حولي‪ ،‬عائلة وأهل يحبونني‪ ،‬ماذا عساي أطلب أكثر من هذا؟ أخيرا بوركت يا دفتري بأحلى المعجزات و‬ ‫أندرها ‪''....‬‬

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‫خديجة فتحي‪،‬الدار البيضاء‪.‬‬ ‫تحت سقف واحد‬ ‫جائحتنا واحدة وقصصنا مختلفة‪ ،‬بشكل أو بآخر هي مرتبطة بالحاجة مليكة‪ .‬نحن عاجزون بطرق مختلفة و لكننا نستمر‪ ،‬بعضنا‬ ‫لخيار واآلخر النعدام‪ .‬كلنا تحت سقف واحد‪. ..‬‬ ‫تجلس الحاجة مليكة حاملة ذيول سنينها السبعين بمكانها المعتاد مقابل الباب‪ ،‬على فراشها المبطن بزربيتين و بطانية‪ .‬تراقب من‬ ‫مكانها كل من يدخل الدار ويغادرها‪ .‬ال أحد يروح ويجيء هذه األيام‪ .‬وحده عبد العزيز ابنها الذي صار يطرق الباب اآلن بعدما‬ ‫أجبرت األبواب على أن تغلق ‪ .‬يتسوق عبد العزيز مرة في االسبوع‪ ،‬و كل ثالث أيام يخرج لجلب الحليب من عند مهدي الذي قل‬ ‫الطلب على حليبه هذه األيام ‪.‬‬ ‫يروح عبد العزيز للمسجد كل موعد صالة‪ ،‬يصعد الصومعة ويؤذن بصوته الشجي الذي اعتاده أهل الدوار‪ ،‬نفس الصوت الذي‬ ‫تكتسحه سحنة تنهيدة خافتة مع نهاية كل جملة أذان‪ .‬ينهي األذان ويدعوا في سره أن يفرج هللا هذه األزمة‪ .‬ومن ثم يعود لمنزله‬ ‫ليصلي بأهل داره‪ .‬أغلقت المساجد‪ ،‬والمدارس هي األخرى‪ ،‬انقلب العالم كله رأسا على عقب في غمضة عين‪.‬‬ ‫في الثالث عشر من مارس‪ ،‬اتخذت تدابير الحجر الصحي لمرض غريب‪ ،‬لم يكن قبل أيام ليصل وطننا‪ .‬فيروس عبر القارات يضع‬ ‫بصمته هنا‪ ،‬والمواجهة كانت فرض حالة الطوارئ الصحية‪ .‬مذ ذاك الحين تغير الكثير‪.‬‬ ‫أصاب السكري الحاد الحاجة مليكة منذ أزيد من عشر سنوات‪ ،‬ومنذ ثالث سنين فقدت قدرتها على المشي‪ ،‬وراحت ال تنعم بليال نوم‬ ‫مريحة وال نهارات هانئة‪ .‬الحاجة مليكة التي عرفت بقوتها في سنينها السابقة‪ ،‬بطابعها الهادئ والحكيم ووجهها البشوش‪ ،‬لم تستطع‬ ‫أن تتجاوز أبدا حقيقة فقدان قدميها‪ ،‬وأنها كلما أرادت قضاء حاجتها وجب أن تنادي ابنها عزيز أو حفيدتها "المرضية" مارية‪ .‬تجلس‬ ‫بمكانها المعتاد‪ ،‬الذي يسمح لها بعناء رؤية القادم والراحل دون أن تنخرط في المشهد‪.‬‬ ‫أتسائل‪ :‬أكانت كل قوة مليكة في قدميها فقط؟ كيف لشخص يفقد قدرته على المشي أن يصير يائسا هكذا! ال نستطيع أن نحكم على‬ ‫ضعف مليكة في مواجهة مصابها‪ .‬ولكن‪ ،‬ألقي برأيي هنا عبثا‪ :‬نحن ال نتحطم على ما لم نملكه‪ ،‬بل على كل ما امتلكناه سابقا وصار‬ ‫اآلن مرادا بعيدا‪ .‬لم تغادر مليكة المنزل منذ ثالث سنوات‪ ،‬إال في المرات التي أخذت فيها وهي فاقدة للوعي‪ ،‬بين الحياة و الموت‪،‬‬ ‫بعجلة عبر سيارة اإلسعاف‪ .‬ترملت ابنتها نجاة الشتاء الماضي ولم تستطع زيارتها للمواساة في فاجعتها‪ .‬نجاة غير المتعلمة وال‬ ‫العاملة تركت بمسؤولية طفلين‪ ،‬مواجهة وحدها صهرا ينخر المال قلبه‪ ،‬ليستفرد باإلرث وحده ‪.‬‬ ‫األسبوع االول من الحجر الصحي‪ :‬األمر اذا أكثر جدية‪ ،‬حاالت متزايدة والكل مضطرب من القادم الذي يبدو أنه أكثر سوء‪ .‬تحدث‬ ‫الحاجة مليكة ابنها البعيد عبر الهاتف‪" :‬والالهيال أ ولدي هاد كورونا رجعات كلشي شاد االرض فحالي" ‪.‬‬ ‫الجميع صار مثل مليكة‪ .‬بال قدمين‪ ،‬وبتجويفات كثيرة يظهرها التوتر والخوف‪ .‬الجميع صار يمشط بعينيه الحاالت المؤكدة كل يوم‪،‬‬ ‫دون أن يكون شريكا في األحداث‪ ،‬كما حال مليكة تماما منذ ثالث سنوات‪.‬‬ ‫في الجهة األخرى‪ ،‬يطلب األستاذ الذي يترك وراءه دوما أثرا فنيا جميال من طالبه‪ ،‬بعدما أقفلوا مناقشة فيلم وثائقي عبر منصة‬ ‫‪ ، Zoom‬أن يصوروا كثيرا‪ ،‬أن يمنحوا التفاصيل وقتا‪ ،‬حبا واهتماما‪ ،‬ألنه بعد انتهاء هذه الجائحة سيغدو كل شيء ذا معنى آخر غير‬ ‫الذي هو عليه اآلن‪ .‬تتفحص خديجة هذا الحث بتمحيص‪ ،‬تود لو تخبره أمام جموع الحاضرين عبر هواتفهم وحواسيبهم‪ :‬أستاذ أود لو‬ ‫أصور‪ ،‬ولكني ال أقدر‪ ،‬ال أجد أي معنى ألي شيء أمامي! ولكنها طبعا التستطيع قول ذلك أمام المأل‪ .‬النها اعتادت في كل مرة أن‬ ‫تدفن كل أحاسيسها بعيدا جدا‪ ،‬حتى تغمر عن آخرها فتطفح للسطح‪ ،‬مفقدة إياها السيطرة‪.‬‬ ‫أتساءل ‪:‬كيف يمكن العالم أن يكون مقلوبا رأسا على عقب بينما هؤالء الطالب يستمتعون بتحليل فيلم وثائقي ويطرحون بشغف‬ ‫مضامينه الفنية وأبعاده اإلنسانية ؟ "وهل لهم غير ذلك؟"‬ ‫‪46 | P a g e‬‬

‫استيقظت األرملة نجاة ذلك الصباح لتطعم دجاجاتها‪ ،‬فوجدت ظرفا أبيض يحمل ما يكفيها و طفليها لسد حاجياتهم البسيطة لخمسة‬ ‫أشهر‪ .‬من أين قدم ذلك الظرف؟ لم يكن مهما ‪.‬‬ ‫سلمى‪ ،‬طالبة في سنتها االخيرة‪ ،‬ال يزعزعها الوضع الصحي كثيرا‪ ،‬ألنها ال تخشى المرض‪ ،‬ولو أن الفيروس بؤرة بمسقط رأسها‪،‬‬ ‫مكناس ‪ .‬ما يؤرقها فعال هو أن يستمر الحجر أطول‪ ،‬أن يتأخر تخرجها‪ .‬هذا يعني معاناة أطول‪ .‬هي التي تنتظر بفارغ الصبر أن‬ ‫تلتحق فوريا بعمل يضمن لها أن تريح أسرتها الهشة وتخفف الثقل عن كاهل أم حاربت بضراوة لسنين بعد ترملها ‪.‬‬ ‫‪--------------------------------------------------‬‬‫مذكرات أمينة‬ ‫‪04/04/2020‬‬ ‫مازال لدينا أمل‪ ،‬مازلنا نملك أحالما حتى بعد فوات أوانها ‪ .‬اليوم هو العشرون منذ بداية بداية الحجر الصحي بسبب فيروس كورونا‪.‬‬ ‫صرنا جميعا تحت وطأة وضع جديد لم يسبق لنا أن عايشناه‪ ،‬وأظنني إذا ما عدت لهذه السطور بعد سنوات‪ ،‬فلن أتذكر مطلقا أني‬ ‫مررت من هذه التجربة‪ .‬كوفيد ‪ ،19‬المرض الغريب الذي ظهر فجأة وضرب بمخططاتنا عرض الحائط‪ ،‬وتركنا مكتوفي األيدي‪،‬‬ ‫معدمين من الرغبة‪ ،‬محملين بأمل أن تعود حياتنا يوما كما السابق‪ ،‬والشيء أكثر‪( .‬أبتسم بتهكم) سخرية الحياة! أي نعم‪ ،‬حياتنا نفسها‬ ‫التي كنا نتنكر لها على الدوام‪ ،‬متذمرين من العمل الروتيني‪ ،‬من زحام المدينة‪ ،‬من الدراسة‪ ،‬من الملل‪ ،‬من األصحاب والطقس‬ ‫والمشاكل والمرض‪ ،‬من كل شيء‪ .‬ال أحد يحب حياته بما هي عليه وال أحد راض تماما عما يعيشه‪( .‬تنهيدة) هي نفسها الحياة التي‬ ‫صرنا ننتظرها أن تعود بفارغ الصبر‪ ،‬حتى أننا صرنا نرى أتفه التفاصيل بمثابة نعمة كبيرة‪ ،‬نعمة لم يسبق لنا أن التفتنا إليها أو‬ ‫أدركنا أهميتها‪.‬‬ ‫يبدو الوضع أحيانا شاقا جدا‪ ،‬وبأن صبرنا قد بلغ مبلغه‪ .‬لكن أوقاتا أخرى يظهر أنه كان من الجيد لنا أن نعيش و نختبر هذا الوضع‪،‬‬ ‫كان لزاما علينا أن نأخذ 'استراحة '‪ ،‬أن نتوقف لبرهة من الزمن و نتأمل جيدا فيما نحن عليه وفيما نملك‪ ،‬أن نعرف قيمته وندرك‬ ‫أهمية كل ما يحيط بنا‪ ،‬كل ما اعتبرناه في وقت مضى بال قيمة‪ .‬وأن نتفقد أيضا كل ما لم نملك‪ ،‬في محاولة ربما تكون األخيرة لنفهم‬ ‫كيف لم نحز عليه‪.‬‬ ‫بعد مضي عشرين يوم أخرى سأعود لهذه المذكرة‪ .‬بيد أني ال أدري يومها كيف ستغدو األوضاع‪ ،‬إلى ذلك الحين سأترك للصفحة‬ ‫بقية‪...‬‬ ‫‪-------------------------------------------------‬‬‫‪19/04/2020‬‬ ‫الساعة الثانية و النصف‪..‬‬ ‫اليوم هو ما قبل األخير في مدة الحجر الصحي األولى‪ ،‬التي تم تمديدها لمرحلة أخرى حتى نهاية الشهر القادم‪ .‬بلغ عدد حاالت‬ ‫فيروس كورونا لحدود الساعة ‪ 2820‬حالة ‪ ،‬و توفي ‪ 138‬رحمهم هللا جميعا ‪.‬‬ ‫رغم جميع المحاوالت التي بذلتها منذ بداية الحجر الصحي في الحفاظ على توازني النفسي‪ ،‬إال أنه تغمرني أيام بوطئتها الثقيلة على‬ ‫روحي فال أجدني إال مستسلمة ليأس كبير‪ ،‬ال أستطيع معه االستمرار رغم أني ال أملك خيارا آخر‪.‬‬ ‫أتذكر بمرارة كل األيام" العادية" التي كنت أستعد فيها مرتدية فستاني الوردي األنيق على طراز فساتين الخمسينيات العتيقة‪ ،‬وأحمر‬ ‫الشفاه المتوسط الحمرة‪ .‬أقلب بتمعن كل الصور التي التقطت خارج البيت‪ ،‬و التي مضى على أغلبها قرابة العام‪ .‬أتأمل كيف غدت‬ ‫حياتنا غريبة إلى هذه الدرجة ‪ ،‬نحن الذين باألمس فقط لم نكن لنظن أننا سنعيش كل هذا‪ ،‬ولو أن أحدهم أخبرنا حينها أننا سنضطر أن‬

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‫نحشر داخل منازلنا وأن كل شيء سيتوقف‪ ،‬لضحكنا بشدة‪ .‬ولكنها لربما فرصة لنتعلم أننا ضعيفون جدا‪ ،‬بال حيلة وال نملك حتى أمر‬ ‫التصرف في حياتنا‪.‬‬ ‫عندما أتذكر كل األيام اللطيفة التي عشتها منذ عهد قريب جدا أو حتى القديم منه‪ ،‬أدرك متأخرة أن لكل شيء ثمن‪ .‬لكل شيء‪ .‬حتى‬ ‫أن ضحكة البطن العفوية التي انفجرت وسط لمة عائلية ال بد أن تؤدى عنها الكثير من الدموع والتحسر‪ .‬سوف تدفع ثمن كل نزهة‬ ‫قمت بها ذات وقت طيب‪ ،‬وكل لقاء سعيد‪ ،‬بكثير من المسافات والغياب والشوق‪ .‬وضجيج األصوات الذي لطالما تذمرنا من إزعاجه‬ ‫سكون غرفتنا‪ ،‬سيحل محله ضجيج من نوع آخر‪ ،‬ضجيج الذكريات‪ .‬ال ندري لحد اآلن ما ستؤول إليه األمور فيما بعد‪ ،‬رمضان بعد‬ ‫أقل من أسبوع‪ ،‬و نحن ال نعرف إن كنا سنبقى على هذه الحال‪ ،‬محشورين في منازلنا لشهور أخرى‪ ،‬هللا وحده يعلم‪ .‬كل ما نعيه حقا‬ ‫أننا ضعاف و نتضرع هلل بحرقة القلوب أن يفرج عنا‪ .‬إلى لقاء قريب ‪ ،‬ومذكرة أخرى ال أدري متى سيكون تاريخها‪.‬‬ ‫‪-------------------------------------------------‬‬‫خديجة مستلقية بسطح المنزل (أووه يجب أن أذكر أن سطوح المنازل شهدت نزوعا قوية في اآلونة األخيرة‪ ،‬صارت مالذا ألسر‬ ‫عديدة‪ .‬حسبي أن سكان كل منزل يكتشفون سطح بيتهم للمرة االولى‪ ،‬بعيون اخرى)‪ .‬تنظر للسحاب‪ ،‬هناك شيء ما بين السحب‪ ،‬تود‬ ‫أن تلتقطه ولكنه يبدو عصيا‪ .‬تخبرها السحابة شيئا ما‪ ،‬لكن ال يسعها أن تفطنه‪ .‬تفكر‪ ،‬لم ال أصور الغروب في محاولة لجر معنى ما!‬ ‫ولكن هذا المعنى ال يظهر‪ .‬تسرح خديجة مع ابتسامة السحابة‪ ،‬لحظتها فقط بدا كما لو أن معنى ما قد تجلى لها‪" :‬التجاوز"‪ ،‬تجاوز‬ ‫هذه الفاجعة يتطلب تحمل المسؤولية‪ ،‬ال طي الصفحة واللجوء إلى النسيان‪ .‬ال مجال أن كل هذا سيروح بعيدا‪ .‬غير أن إقامة الحداد‬ ‫واجبة‪ .‬ال بد للبشرية أن تعترف علنا بأن أمرا ما ذا طابع مأساوي قلب عالمها عن عقبه‪ ،‬ومن واجبها أن تعيد مراجعة أوراقها البيئية‬ ‫واالقتصادية و األهم اإلنسانية‪ .‬كوفيد ‪ 19‬هو فرصة لنكتشف إمكانيات إنسانيتنا من جديد‪ ،‬خديجة قررت أن تتوقف عن الهرع نحو‬ ‫الالشيء‪ .‬أن تأخذ نفسا و تكتب ربما‪ ،‬الحكايات المتفرقة التي تجمعنا‪.‬‬

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‫هواري خيري ضحى‪ ،‬فاس‪.‬‬ ‫ت بأربع جدران أقضي فترة الحجر الصحي هذه‪ ،‬واألصح قولي أني أقضيها رفقة ست إخوةٍ أصغر مني وأم وأب‪.‬‬ ‫في بي ٍ‬ ‫تعبير حقيقي يا سادة‪..‬أنا و ست إخوة آخرون وأم وأب‪ ،‬في غرف ٍة واحدة‪،‬‬ ‫"بيتٌ بأربع جدران" ذاك ليس تعبيرا ً مجازياً‪ ،‬ذاك‬ ‫ٌ‬ ‫بئيسة كبؤس عامنا هذا‪.‬‬ ‫المتوارثة عن جدي و اآليلة للسقوط‪ ،‬إال أن أوضاع هذا العام أشد وطأةً‬ ‫رغم أننا قضينا كل أعوامنا هناك في تلك الغرفة‬ ‫َ‬ ‫علينا جميعاً‪..‬حتى الرضيع ذو السبع شهور تخاله مدركا ً ما يجري من حوله فال يكف أبدا ً عن الصراخ و العويل‪ ،‬و هو الذي‬ ‫أحبه جيراننا في السابق‪ ،‬ال لشيء إال ألنه قليل البكاء‪.‬‬ ‫اآلن‪ ،‬مع الكورونا األوضاع تزداد سوءا يوما ً بعد اآلخر‪.‬‬ ‫أبي ال ُمياوم الذي كان يُلقي الطعام في فم أبناءه كما يفعل العصفور‪..‬أراه اليوم يُسند رأسه على وسادة النوم و قد تهدل جفنيه‬ ‫كثيرا ً حتى كادا يالمسان الحصيرة‪.‬‬ ‫حصيرة ٌ صفراء اللون توحي ِب ُ‬ ‫شح األيام و جفاف السنابل! َيعد األيام المتبقية بفارغ الصبر وهو ينظر إلى أبنائه‪..‬و يستثنيني‬ ‫أنا من النظر! فأنا البنت البكر التي تعودت اإليثار منذ الصغر‪ ،‬فأفعل كما يفعل اآلباء في القصص‪ ،‬أكذب و أقول أني شبعت‬ ‫وما شبعت‪ ،‬و أقول أني سعدت و ما سعدت‪..‬و أقول و أقول‪..‬و ما من أحد يصدقني‪..‬لكنهم يتجاهلونني في محاول ٍة منهم‬ ‫إلرضاء ضمائرهم و حاجاتهم‪.‬‬ ‫لم يضحك أبي منذ أن تأزمت هذه األوضاع‪ ،‬لكنه يوم سمع في التلفاز عن المساعدة المادية التي ستُمنح ألصحاب شهادة‬ ‫"الراميد" و وجهه متهلل كالقمر في يومه الرابع عشر‪..‬انتظرنا ساعتها جميعا ً يوم اإلثنين بفارغ الصبر‪ ،‬كي نتمكن من بعث‬ ‫الرسالة إلى الرقم ‪ ،1212‬يومين اثنين قضيناهما في العد و التخطيط‪.‬‬ ‫ت متذبذب‪":‬إنها خمس دراهم فقط‪،‬أرجو أال تكون الرسالة‬ ‫ثم جاء اليوم المنشود‪ ،‬أعطاني أبي بطاقة التعبئة‪،‬ثم قال لي بصو ٍ‬ ‫بع ْشرة دراهم‪.‬‬ ‫أخذتُ التعبئة و قطعةً معدنيةً من فئة األربع رياالت كي أتمكن من حكها‪ ،‬زجرني أبي كي أتوقف عن حكها بعنف حتى ال‬ ‫تختفي األرقام! امتثلت ألوامره‪ ،‬ثم بعثت الرسالة و أنا أرجو هللا أن تكفينا الخمسة دراهم تلك‪.‬‬ ‫وق َعت كل األعين علي لما أصدر الهاتف رنيناً‪ ،‬ثم تحولت أبصارهم إلى شفتي محاولين استشفاف ما سأنطقه‪ ،‬خرجت‬ ‫الكلمات متلعثمةً مني و أنا أردد‪":‬لقد أخبروني أنهم قد توصلوا بطلبنا"‪.‬‬ ‫انفرجت أسارير أبي ودعت أمي قائلة‪":‬يا رب"‬ ‫في يوم الغد‪ ،‬و بعد الساعة السادسة مساء و ثالث دقائق بالضبط عاد أبي متجهما ً و هو يقول‪":‬الرسالة مجانية‪،‬لم نكن نحتاج‬ ‫إلى تلك التعبئة من األساس‪.‬‬ ‫ثم استغل الفرصة واتصل بكل من عماتي األربع وعمي الوحيد‪ ،‬ليلعن بعدها شركة االتصاالت ألنها غشته ولم تمنحه‬ ‫الوقت الكافي إلتمام كالمه‪.‬‬ ‫‪49 | P a g e‬‬

‫شر علينا ال خير‪.‬‬ ‫مرت األيام‪ ،‬و استلم أبي ذلك المبلغ من المال‪،‬الذي كان فاتحة ٍ‬ ‫إذ أنه آثر تسديد ديونه أوال‪ ،‬الشيء الذي جعل أمي تخرج عن طوعها و تصرخ فيه طيلة اليوم ألنه حسب قولها يقضي‬ ‫حاجات الناس على حساب حاجات أبنائه‪.‬‬ ‫لم يستطع أبي الصبر أكثر‪ ،‬فصفعها للمرة األولى و التي حتما ً لن تكون األخيرة في ظل هذه الظروف أما عن السؤال الذي‬ ‫تبادر إلى ذهنكم لما قلت أننا نعيش جميعا ً في غرف ٍة واحدة‪ ،‬فدعوه سرا ً ال يعرفه إال أبناء الجدران األربعة!‬

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