A Night in Casablanca

It was a dark night. The rain was coming down hard, so you could hardly glimpse the sea. Cars were speeding by, weaving erratically because their drivers were drunk. There had been a lot of accidents at this spot. The police always showed up late and conducted their routine procedures, questioning the nosey types who always crowded around such accidents.

“Was the driver drunk?” they’d ask.

The ambulance might arrive late too. The crowd would disperse. Some of the nosey folks might get either a slap on the face or a kick on the shins and be put inside the police jeep. They’d be dropped off later in the middle of the road once they’d paid a fine.

The roar of the sea could be clearly heard. The thunderclaps were even louder, and rain pounded on the tops of cars parked near hotels and bars.

Music came roaring out of the Oklahoma nightclub. Close by was a bar with people staggering in and out. They’d be making a lot of noise; often there would be fights involving fists or razors. When someone was stabbed, people who were not involved would gather around, but the victim would be left bleeding on the curb. Later on, they would have nothing to say to the police, who would make their usual kind of statement: “That’s what happens to prostitutes. They suck men’s blood, and theirs flows all over the sidewalk.”

Now the sea was still roaring in the dark, but the rain was tapering off. Su‘ad burst out of the Oklahoma’s narrow entryway, as the bolt slammed shut behind her. She was trying to button up her coat as she approached a small area encircled by big clay flower-vases. Now out came Sa‘id too, talking to the elegant doorman, whom he knew very well.

“You’re drunk tonight,” the doorman said. “Can you drive?”

“I’m not drunk. That whore drank the whole bottle. Of course, she’ll have to pay for it.”

“Are you going to have some more fun tonight? Be sensible, Sa‘id.”

“I’ll do what I do every night,” he replied with a laugh as he slipped the doorman ten dirhams. “I’m King Shahriyar!”

“We’re friends,” he said, taking the tip. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Ouf!” said Sa‘id, looking over at Su‘ad, who was still waiting in the small circle, looking utterly exhausted. He went over to her, put his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her toward him.

“The car’s close by,” he said.

“What?!”

“The car’s close by.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you like. Other places are still open. Tonight’s our night.”

Once inside the car she had a struggle getting the makings for a kif-cigarette out of her purse. She started rolling it between her fingers.

“Sa‘id, let’s swing by one of my friends. Poor woman, she may not have had anything to smoke tonight.”

“Why can’t she get some? Dealers are everywhere along the Corniche.”

“If she doesn’t get some, she’ll die or kill herself. She’s a very close friend. She has lots of problems with her stepfather. Her boyfriend’s the father of her beautiful little daughter, but he’s from a big family and won’t acknowledge her.”

“I know those large families,” he said. “But you still love them.”

“Me? I don’t love them, but I do like to live.”

As she spoke drowsily, he was driving through empty streets that separated colorfully lit villas from each other. She lit the kif-cigarette.

“Do you want a drag?” she asked, her eyes half closed.

He inhaled, then handed it back.

“What are you saying? Where’s my friend?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s somewhere in this world.”

“Where are we?”

“Among those people . . .”

“Which people?”

“The ones you love.”

“I don’t love anyone. I used to love Al-Mu‘ti, but I left him. He wasn’t rich and used to take all the money I made at night. He smoked a lot of kif too. When we didn’t have it, he’d go crazy and threaten to kill me. We went to the same high school and were both expelled. His father tried to kill his mother several times. I don’t know his father, but Al-Mu‘ti told me about him. He’s certainly like his father. If I’d married him, he would’ve tried to kill me. I don’t want to die. I love life too much.”

Inside the slowly moving car the music was loud. The windows were closed because it was so cold and rainy outside. The car was like a closed can. The kif smoke was stifling, but Sai‘d still didn’t want to roll down the windows. A speeding motorcycle cut in front of him. He shivered and wiped the front windshield with his hand.

“I wish I had a big motorcycle like that one,” Su‘ad said.

“And when you got high, you’d be crashing through all the trees, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh! Don’t exaggerate. Everyone who rides motorcycles like that gets high.”

He drove through the villas neighborhood. In the light of the street-lamps and the gently falling rain, the city seemed tranquil. Small puddles gleamed in the light. From time to time a patrol car cruised by with its lights off. It kept skirting the curb as it continued its hunt for homeless human dogs.

By now Su‘ad was warming up inside her overcoat. She leaned her head back; once she’d closed her eyes, she had a hard time opening them again. She was talking nonsense, but Sa‘id understood that she wanted something to eat. He felt hungry, too, even though on nights like this he’d rarely eat; sometimes he’d go to bed in his clothes and shoes.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Let’s get some harira.”

“Harira’s sour, and the chick-peas and lentils are as hard as rocks.”

“Kif makes you hungry.”

“Very true! I once managed to eat a whole kas’a of couscous by myself.”

“Don’t exaggerate!”

“I swear on my honor.”

“Do you have any honor, you . . . ?”

“You can shut your mouth! I’m more honorable than the daughters of those villa-owners. I know them well; I’ve smoked kif with a lot of them.”

“Okay. Forget it. You’re sure you don’t want some harira?”

“No, I’d rather have a hamburger with kofta, eggs, and salsa. At Tangaoui’s, near Cincinnati Ice-Cream, it’s cheaper than harira.”

“But it’s always crowded there, and drunkards keep fighting over girls in the middle of the night. Police patrols usually come by and ask for IDs. Do you have an ID?”

“Do you think I’m from another planet? I’m Moroccan too, and I’ve a mother and father just like everyone else. Do you despise me just because you got to know me so easily? If I didn’t like you, I’d never have talked to you. I can smell men a mile away. Don’t think that I was attracted by your clothes or tie. There is something else about you; maybe you don’t realize it yourself. People who know themselves really well are rare enough.”

With that, she closed her eyes completely, but didn’t fall asleep. She was listening to music and seeing different colors, little twittering birds, and other things as well, all jumbled up. They included a beach with small palm-trees, naked people swimming and sunbathing, and women with beautiful flowers in their hair, glistening in the sunshine.

Sa‘id looked over at her. She had a dreamy, innocent expression on her face like that of a little girl. He lit a cigarette. After a while he managed to find somewhere to park. Su‘ad opened her eyes and asked him to light a cigarette for her. By now it was only drizzling, but when Sa‘id stared up at the sky, it still looked pitch black. In a few minutes it would be pouring for sure, and the next day and the next. The earth needs rain, he told himself. Everyone’s been complaining about the drought, including his father who owned lands in Mdakra. They had not dug any canals there yet because the digging had stopped at the property-line of a local notable who was related to a senior government official.

Deep in his heart he wanted it to rain, but not for him. He already owned a house and had a car for himself and another for his wife. He had a bank account, too, something not easily acquired by people of his age.

Su‘ad got out of the car after him and closed the door indifferently, trying at the same time to pull up her coat collar.

“Slam the door hard,” Sa‘id told her. “It’s not cold, and it’s stopped raining.”

She opened the door again, slammed it, and checked to make sure it was locked. They walked toward Tangaoui’s restaurant. Stevie Wonder’s voice wafted softly out into the early morning sky. The place was small but very colorful. Some girls were perched on stools in front of the stone counter, but there were more men in the place than women. The staff, in clean uniforms, moved around the room with an acrobatic agility. One of the cooks kept flipping burgers while dancing to Stevie Wonder’s song. A girl looked up from the counter where she’d been resting her head. She was beautiful, but a lack of sleep and too much drinking made her look exhausted. She seemed to be alone. She spoke to the waiter who was dancing, but it was the other one, who was not dancing, that came over.

“A glass of cold water,” she said.

“You’ve drunk a lot of cold water. What’s wrong with you? Did you smoke too much weed?”

“Mind your own business, or I’ll go upstairs and complain to Tangaoui.”

“Go up if you want. He doesn’t like your type!”

“Bring me a glass of cold water and mind your own business.”

He brought her a glass of cold water and put some ice in it. She drank it down, then went back to her previous perch.

“If you want to find a bed,” he said, “go somewhere else.”

She paid no attention. Sa‘id and Su‘ad ordered two sandwiches and waited in line behind the crowd. Some people were wolfing their food down as they stood there. Sa‘id took the wrapped sandwiches, and they both went outside to eat them in the car. A few isolated raindrops, lost in the air, were falling here and there. Su‘ad opened her sandwich and began to eat ravenously.

“Didn’t you have any lunch today?” Sai‘d asked as he chewed his own sandwich. “Why are you eating it like that?”

She didn’t reply, but kept on eating the same way. A piece of tomato fell on her coat. She picked it up quickly and put it back in her mouth. Just then he sensed a shadow to his left and turned to look. The policeman was knocking on the window. Sa‘id rolled it down.

“Your ID,” the policeman demanded after greeting him.

The policeman peered inside the car and looked at the back seats. He stared closely at Su‘ad’s face but didn’t ask for her ID.

“Who’s she?”

“A friend.”

“Go home and get some sleep. It’s late. Unless you want to spend the night at the station.”

With that, the policeman gave him his document back and left.

“Tfou!” Su‘ad said, “They are just like flies.”

“Shut up or get out of my car. He was nice, but you’re insulting him. If you weren’t with me, you would be spending the night at the station.”

“What did I do? Did I kill Bouhmara or something?”

“And what are you doing so late at night? They’re conducting a cleanup. There are a lot of thieves around these days and too many crimes.”

“I’m just a . . . the real thieves are sleeping quietly in their homes.”

“Don’t talk about things that are none of your business.”

“If you weren’t with me now, I’d think you were one of them.”

He lit her cigarette. When she threw the cigarette butt out of the car, she tapped his right leg with a laugh. Even though the butt was round, it only rolled a short way on the wet sidewalk.

“I always love to smoke after I’ve eaten,” she said. “The cigarette has a special taste to it. Tell me where we’re going? Don’t tell me the hotel. I’m scared of the police. Do you have an apartment?”

“No.”

“I know an empty place near the Great Belt.”

“The Great Belt’s a long way away.”

“But it’s safe. The air’s so fresh. Everybody goes there to get fresh air.”

“Do you always go there to get fresh air?”

“Only with your type, of course, when there’s no apartment available. I’ve a girlfriend who owns an apartment in Verdun, but her friend spends four nights a week there. We don’t want to cause her any problems.”

The car took off toward the Great Belt. By now Eros had been transformed into a human being behind the wheel of a car, proud as a peacock as he drove through the city streets. He stopped at a gas station to fill up. Urged on by Eros, the attendant roused himself with some difficulty. Sa‘id could have woken up the entire neighborhood with his horn. The attendant filled up the car, then rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before going back to sleep. Once the car had left, he turned off the gas station’s lights so he wouldn’t be disturbed again.

By now the car was making its way through completely empty streets. Some street-lamps were still on, which was unusual since they’re normally turned off at midnight. The road turned dark. Some isolated buildings were just visible, while others had lights on; and there were probably still others that he couldn’t make out in the dark.

“Turn right here,” Su‘ad said after a while. “There’s the spot where we can get some fresh air. Have you been here before?”

“No.”

“It’s a beautiful place. You should get to know it. Everybody who loves fresh air comes here.”

“This air is certainly different.”

“Exactly. You can discover that for yourself.”

The car was moving slowly along a dark road. In the dark everything seemed empty. Sa‘id could feel his heart beating. He took out a small bottle of Black Label from under his seat and handed it to Su‘ad. She opened it, took a swig, then handed it back to him. He took a swig as well so as to bolster his courage and rid himself of his worries about this empty road.

“We must stop,” he told her. “Aren’t there police patrols or Garde Mobile jeeps around?”

“No, I know this place very well.”

The car stopped.

“I’m feeling very cold,” Su‘ad said. “Hand me the bottle again. I’m going to get out for some fresh air.”

She had another big swig, then opened the door and got out.

“She’s certainly no normal girl,” he thought to himself. “Maybe it’s the hashish. She certainly smokes it with relish.”

After a while he became aware that there were four people around him. One of them wore a hat and had covered his face and neck.

“Don’t hurt him, ‘Abdelqader,” he heard Su‘ad say from a distance. “He’s a nice, kind person. Just take everything and leave him his ID. Don’t behave the way you did on that foul night with that other stupid man. And don’t forget: if you want to get warm, he has a bottle of whiskey.”