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ENGLISH COMMITTEE
FOR DIALOGUE & COMMUNICATION
Presents
By
Abdelouahed OULGOUT
Middle school teacher of English
Copyright 2011 ©
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By
Abdelouahed OULGOUT
Middle school teacher
Copyright 2011 ©
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To my wife,
I dedicate this humble work of literature.
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One Saturday, Bilal sat in front of the school door waiting for the
girl as usual. At twelve o’clock, the bell rang, and the students started
leaving. Bilal decided to talk to her no matter what it might cost him.
“But what would I tell her?” thought Bilal.
Before he decided on what to say and how to say it, Bilal, surprised
by the girl’s prettiness, traced her in the hope of talking to her. While on
the road, the girl felt she was being chased.
- “Who’re you? Why are you chasing me?” asked the girl, roughly.
- “I’m Bilal. What’s your name?” said Bilal in a terrified tone.
- “What for?” replied she.
- “I just want to know,” said he.
- “I’m Hanan. Any more question?” replied Hanan vexedly.
At this moment, Bilal was rooted speechlessly to the spot with his
heart broken. When she saw tears rolling down his cheeks, Hanan took
out a white handkerchief and started wiping the tears from his face.
Fortunately, this action eased Bilal’s discomfort and saved him from sure
death.
“I’m so sorry, khuya. I was just kidding,” said Hanan passionately.
“Come on with me!”
Together on the road, Hanan held Bilal’s dry hand and took him
home. As a way of ensuring that he wasn’t a all hurt by the way she
treated him, Hanan added, “I didn’t know you’re so sensitive, Khuya.
Please forget about it!”
When they arrived home, Hanan rushed in and cheerfully brought a
sack containing some fruits and vegetables, three loaves of bread, and
some sugar.
“Take!” said she.
Surprisingly, Bilal’s eyes began filling with tears again.
- “What’s up?”Hanan wondered. “Why are you weeping?”
- “I’m here wishing to feed my heart, not my stomach,” said Bilal
hopelessly and vanished in the wink of an eye.
The night fell and a shooting star dived into the heart of the
darkness.
“What a shame! How could such a lad cope with such a night? If
only I could grab his hand and hug him close to my chest,” I wish.
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Seven nights passed and Bilal went back to the drawing board,
seeking a new destiny. His mission had been to keep away from the past,
experience the present, and confront an unknown future. Now that he
had lost his heart, Bilal had to roll up his sleeves and buckle down.
It was a Sunday morning. Bilal got out of a sewer beside the Sunday
Market hearing people unloading goods from trucks, and taxi drivers
quarrelling for clients. When he cast an eye towards the crowd, he
noticed many boys in his age with two-wheeled carts, transporting
goods into the market square. He could see the boys being paid two to
five dirhams after each trip. He could also spot a wide smile on their
nameless faces when their fingers grabbed the coins in their palms. Bilal
rolled up his sleeves and got near a truck.
- “I want to work; I need money,” Bilal requested.
- “Are you prepared to work like a dog? Where is your cart?”
replied the truck owner in a mocking tone.
- “I haven’t got one, but I’ll carry the boxes, one by one, on my
shoulders,” argued Bilal.
- “Fat chance! Get away; I’ve no time to waste,” the man retorted in
an apparently irritated tone.
- “Please let me give it a shot, please,” begged Bilal.
Moved to sympathy by his determination, the truck owner allowed
Bilal to transport the boxes from the truck to a tent inside the market. He
put the heavy boxes, one by one, onto his shoulders and took them into
the tent. Drop by drop, Bilal finished the task and got his first instant
wage.
- “Thank you so much, sir. I won’t forget your favour,” Bilal said
gratefully.
- “Don’t mention it; it’s business,” said the man.
- “You know?” Bilal continues. “I hope I can help you unload the
truck again and again. I’ve no one to take care of me. I need to
work; I need money.”
- “I’ve no objection, but I guess your shoulders are not mature
enough to keep lifting more than your weight every Sunday. Are
they?” said the man.
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- “I can go on doing that initially, and then I’ll buy my own cart,”
suggested the boy confidently.
- “Good thinking! See you then,” said the truck owner.
The man paid the boy a good compliment and pursued his
bargaining.
On the following Sunday, before the sun rose, the boy was already
there. When the truck arrived, the man was surprised to see the boy
awake and well prepared. “If only I had a child as mature as he,” said
the man under his breath and kept thinking as the boy jumped into the
truck, unloading goods.
The man, whose name was El-hajj Olkhir, was a well-known
merchant and widower in the city. His lovely wife had been a barren
woman; and because of her failure to bear a child for so many years, she
died of sorrow and despair, leaving her life partner alone in a big house
in the heart of Al-hamria. Though still in his forties, Olkhir had never
thought to remarry; his mind was filled with memories of his first love
and kept his heart busy thinking about her. Olkhir was rich enough to sit
folded arms and let his men run his business as he used to do, but,
surprisingly, Olkhir fired most of his employees to take charge of the
business himself. He was surely willing to be free of his former love, yet,
no matter what he did, he couldn’t fully get rid of it.
The boy finished emptying the truck and turned back to leave.
- “Where are you off to?” asked Olkhir.
- “Where time takes me,” answered Bilal.
- “Stay with me; I still need you,” said the man pleasantly, “You can
help me sell the goods and get more money. It’s not that hard.”
- “What can I do?” Bilal wondered.
- “You can do a lot. Do what you know and what you don’t know,”
the man said to boost the boy’s enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter if it
doesn’t make sense. Just get people’s attention here. Show me how
able you’re to go into trade, boy!”
Little by little, Bilal’s clapping and shouting gathered the customers
around and, soon, the goods sold out in no more than an hour.
Year after year, Bilal, Olkhir’s right-hand man, made a fortune
selling and bargaining. He no longer needs to purchase a cart or exhaust
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- “I’m not sure. People don’t dare ask him such questions because, as
they say, he’s protected by the king,” said Lahssen.
- “What for?” asked Bilal.
- “Because both are shurafa; they both belong to the royal family, I
guess,” Lahssen said thoughtfully.
- “I see now how such an old man can make such a bundle doing
nothing,” said Bilal under his breath.
- “Well, you’ve bombarded me with questions about the girl. What’s
it all about? Why did you burst out when you knew her name is
Hanan?” asked Lahssen.
- “Um, I don’t feel like telling you the story right now. Please don’t
ask me to say anything before I’m sure,” said Bilal hesitantly.
- “No need to plead. Feel free to talk any time you want to,” said
Lahssen while preparing to leave for lunch.
Bilal went back home to break the news to Olkhir. Lahssen didn’t
realize his friend has fallen in love with the girl in black, but he was sure
something secretary was going on, something his friend didn’t like to
give away.
- “As-salam alaykum, uncle,” Bilal greeted.
- “Wa-alaykum as-salam wa rahmatu L-lah wa baraakatuh, son. Any
news?” asked Olkhir eagerly.
- “Sure. I think I’ve found the right person. I’m dying to talk to her
father,” said Bilal enthusiastically.
- “What I’m hearing!” said Olkhir with curiosity. “Is that love at first
sight?”
- “I don’t think it’s the first sight. The girl isn’t that strange. I now
remember where and when I first saw her,” said Bilal. “I was a
beggar at that time.”
- “And you’re still begging to feed your soul,” Olkhir interrupted.
- “You’re right,” Bilal continues. “At that time, I was chasing her
because I loved her; but she didn’t realize that. She thought I was
begging for a loaf of bread to satisfy my hunger. If only she knew
that I love her.”
- “Why just wish? You’re still alive. Let’s call her on and tie the
knot,” suggested Olkhir. “Do you know where she lives?”
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- “No, no, you can’t say that again,” said Al-alawi, nodding his
disapproval.
Sheikh Al-alawi winked at the maidservant beside him to bring
something. Few minutes later, the servant came with a tea tray and a
large plate of cakes on his palm.
- “Well, I thought your wife, may Allah bless her, hadn’t had such a
handsome guy. It’s a great grace from him to have granted you this
gift,” said Al-alawi while clapping lightly on Bilal’s back.
Being unable to confess that Bilal wasn’t his son, Olkhir kept silent;
he didn’t dare to utter a word, for this might be offending to Bilal’s face
and feelings. However, Bilal intervened and spoke the truth.
- “I’m a foundling; I’ve no one but Allah and this generous man
whom I call uncle,” Bilal revealed nervously.
Olkhir turned his head away, unable to bear the truth of this
miserable creature that time had cast away and turned his luck upside-
down.
- “Well, is that what you’re here for?” asked Sheikh Al-alawi to keep
the ball rolling.
- “Not at all. We are here to get him married with your daughter, by
the Sunah of Allah and his Prophet, salla Llahu alayhi wa sallam,”
Olkhir stated right away.
- “Salla Llahu alayhi wa sallam,” repeated Sheikh Al-alawi.
- “Bilal is a wise guy; he’s suffered a lot to make a living and stand
on his feet. He’s no longer a beggar; he’s now my sole son and
successor,” argued Olkhir.
- “Well,” whispered Sheikh Al-alawi with close attention. “Hanan
isn’t my daughter,”
- “What?” Bilal and Olkhir exclaimed.
- “This is the fact. She was a beggar. She used to spend most of her
time in bus stations, pleading passengers to lend her a hand,”
Sheikh Al-alawi took a deep breath and continued. “She suffered a
lot, too, before I took her in to cover her up.”
- “What a coincidence!” Bilal wondered. “She’s just like me. I went
through such humiliation, too.”
- “Your eyes look like hers, too,” said Sheikh A-alawi for fun.
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