Ahmed the Philosopher: Thirty-Four Short Plays for Children and Everyone Else

I ran into the awful Moustache, and he forgot to tell me that I, Ahmed, am unwelcome in Sarges-les-Corneilles.² And that the Arabs should go back where they came from on the next boat. He didn’t say anything. I even think he may have nodded at me. A nod from Moustache to Ahmed! It surpasses human understanding.

I ran into my friend Rhubarb. He forgot to tell me that he respected my difference. That my culture isn’t his culture, but that all communities, whether cultural, religious, sexual, racial, cigarette smoking, or vituperating, should respect one another. That they ought to turn the right cheek when the other person kicks them in the left sternum. He even forgot to talk to me about human rights, Rhubarb did! Not a single word about ethics! Nothing about democracy! He was incredibly weird.

I ran into my girlfriend Fenda, the black girl in the sky-blue and gold robe, who came from Africa to Sarges-les-Corneilles to put some real splendor and delight into all this bland whiteness. And she was weird! She forgot to tell me that we Arabs, as far as women are concerned, need to grow up someday. That if we think we’re going to get any peace or security by locking beauty up in the home and covering it with a veil when it goes out, this only shows what children we are. That, with just one eye and three stray hairs, any woman can express her desire to whomever she wants. And even more radiantly than when she’s naked. No, she didn’t say anything like that, Fenda didn’t. I even think she may have murmured, “Take care, Ahmed!” Incredible!

Even me, I’m weird. I got up this morning, and I didn’t have any brilliant ideas. Stealing a meter maid’s hat? Who cares? Sabotaging the elections at the chamber of commerce by filling the ballot box with dishwater? Why bother? Emptying out the supermarket four times by phoning in bomb threats? Just thinking about it bores me. Sending around pictures of naked women during the city hall meeting? I’ve done it a hundred times already. A poster campaign with the police chief’s photo, and “Wanted” written underneath it? What a drag. No, nothing tempts me; today, I’m happy, I’m exhausted. I’m waiting.

You yourselves, down there, in front of me, you’re weird. What the hell are you doing, sitting there, lined up on chairs, looking at me? Huh? You’re saying to yourselves: something’s going to happen. Otherwise you’d just be doing your thing, like me. We’re here to wait together. So let’s wait.

But where’s it going to happen? That’s what’s bugging me. It’s going to happen, I’d swear to it. But where? Up above? To the right? In back, all the way in back? It’s hard not knowing where. When you know where it’s going to happen, you get ready, you secure the place, you build a platform, or a barricade. Or a booby trap. But if you don’t have a clue where it’s going to happen, you’re nervous, you look around everywhere, you take big risks. ‘Cause there are big risks. I’m warning you. You’d better look around, you too. While we’re waiting.

Hey! On the left, over there! Get ready! Protect your ears!

No, that’s not it. It’s nothing. It’s a false alarm. I find false alarms worse than anything, when you know it’s going to happen. We’re all nervous enough already, we’re tired of waiting, and then there’s this false alarm, over on the left side, which really puts us on edge. If there’s going to be an alarm, at least it could be a true one! A false alarm is one of life’s biggest misfortunes. Anyway! Let’s wait.

Mind you, sometimes a false alarm is a relief. It’s a relief from the waiting. Of course, nothing happens in a false alarm. You think it’s going to happen, but it doesn’t. But at least what happens is that you think it’s happening. There’s always that. Otherwise, you just wait, and the waiting wears down our belief. You could end up not even thinking it’s going to happen anymore. Fortunately, we’re sure about it. But even with something you’re sure about, if you wait for it too long, you believe in it less and less. And then a false alarm, which, granted, is exasperating, is a bit of a relief. But wrongly! Since nothing happened. But sometimes, you have to admit, being wrong is a relief. When being right means waiting forever, you end up wondering if it isn’t better to be wrong. A good false alarm, a true false alarm, it exasperates you, but it’s also a relief. At least for a minute or two. Because afterward, once you’ve seen that the true false alarm was absolutely false, that nothing happened, you have to go back to waiting for it to happen. And without knowing where it’s going to happen, besides.

Something’s wrong. It should have happened. Or else maybe it happened someplace else? Did we have the wrong place? I’m really tired, today. Nothing’s going the way it was expected to. We’re just going to wait a little bit longer, but I don’t believe in it anymore.

OK, too bad. Sorry for making you wait. It’s still weird … Too bad. We’ll try to find out if it’s happened someplace else. Even though someplace else, that covers a fair amount of territory. Verifying it won’t be easy. But I’ll let you know. Sorry.

Ahmed shuffles off the stage, looking behind himself often. Finally, he disappears. Brief silence. Then there is a huge explosion, which ought to startle everyone in the audience. After the explosion, a big red feather slowly comes down from the flies, floating as if carried along by the wind. The feather ends up landing on the stage. Ahmed reenters from the rear, looks around, then picks up the feather, and shows it to the audience.

It’s no use. Even though we’d taken all precautions. We’d inspected the whole place. You saw, right? We took all the time we needed. But it’s always the same story. It always happens when you’re not waiting for it any more. Sometimes, even, it happens when you’re not waiting for it yet. That’s the worst. I’ve never seen it happen when anyone was waiting for it, the event. Before waiting, sure, it happens. After waiting, it often happens. But while you’re waiting, forget about it! At the end of the day, when you’re waiting for the event, you’re wasting your time. It’s better to be surprised. OK, it’s always a little hard, the surprise of the event, but since it’s inevitable … Let’s not wait anymore. Starting today, we won’t wait for anything anymore. At least we’ve learned that. OK, so, see ya next time. Next time it happens. By surprise.³