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

FATIMA. I don’t remember any more. No matter how much I twist my brain like a washrag, it’s as dark as the night that falls suddenly on the casbah, not a thing!

AHMED. Keep trying, dear Mother … It’s important to me. If I don’t manage to relate it properly, they’re going to make fun of your son.

FATIMA. There are lots of reasons to make fun of you, my little philosopher of the housing project! But if anybody makes fun of you, just show him to me, so he can have fun getting his ears tickled by my broom! The only one who’s entitled to make fun of her Ahmed, who’s in her hair every day, is his mother, God console her for having a good-for-nothing as her favorite, who’s too fond of flapping his gums, so that one day he’ll end up flapping in the wind once all the female and male authorities of Sarges-les-Corneilles get done stringing him up. But I just don’t remember at all, that’s all there is to it.

AHMED. The one time I ask you something, I’m out of luck.

FATIMA. What are you talking about, the one time? This Ahmed always has a bee in his bonnet! For months now you’ve constantly been asking me to nourish your life as a good-for-nothing-but-mooching-all-over-Sarges-les-Corneilles-with-your-philosophical-shaggy-dog-stories! Even if most of the time I know so well what you’re going to ask me that it’s just like if it’s me who’d asked you to ask me! But as for the thing that’s the nub of what you’re asking, sorry, it’s no longer in my memory.

AHMED. But it is! It’s there! Everything stays in the memory, everything! It’s just that you’re not managing to find it. Because memory is total, the problem is sometimes how to recover what’s in it. The entire past accompanies the present, the past of the entire universe accompanies the smallest present. There’s a philosopher who demonstrated this brilliantly. Bergson was his name.

FATIMA. A Jew, I’m sure.

AHMED. Mother! I’ve forbidden you to mention that someone is Jewish. What does that mean, “Jewish”? You yourself hate it when someone says you’re an Arab.

FATIMA. Fine. As soon as no one says that I’m an Arab, I won’t say that anyone is a Jew.

AHMED. And then you’ll be as stupid as those who insult you by calling you an Arab.

FATIMA. And you, Ahmed, have the nerve to say right to the face of your mother, who brought you into the world and brought you up as far as your damn philosophy, that she’s as stupid as a fascist?

AHMED. Oh, Mother! I wouldn’t dream of it! But don’t you see, this is also about memory. Because in the minuscule present of each of us, there’s the whole past universe, which means that it’s a serious stupidity to say things today like “Arab” or “Jew,” since any Arab has in his past all the Jews of the earth, and all the Jews any Arab, and so on.

Therefore, also, what we’re talking about is in your immense universal memory. Here, I’m going to help you. Was it there (he points to the audience) or was it here (he points to the stage)?

FATIMA (making a great effort). Neither one nor the other, for all that I remember, but I don’t remember at all. Is it so important that you’ve got to keep battering my eardrums about this?

AHMED. It’s essential. Otherwise, your son is going to be the laughingstock of the whole town. OK. So, it was back there (he points to the wings), since it was neither here, nor out in front. Was it a long time before you and my beloved father the worker, may he be happy wherever he is, if he’s anywhere, conceived me? Or was it a long time after?

FATIMA. Neither one nor the other, at least in my recollection, which is almost as dark and as confused as the brain of that poor Moustache.

AHMED. So then it was around the time of my conception, since it was neither clearly after nor clearly before. Did it happen closer to the evening or closer to the morning?

FATIMA. Neither one nor the other, somewhere in between, it seems to me, if I’m not confusing this story with another one, in my unfortunate memory, which is as tidy as a package of spaghetti spilled all over the floor.

AHMED. Good! Now we’re getting somewhere! It was nighttime, then, because it was between the evening and the morning. And was it neutral, or was it unpleasant?

FATIMA. Neither one nor the other. I’m almost sure of it. Wait for me to look around at all the packages stored in the shop inside my head from the beginning in the casbah of my too long life, may God make it last as long as he wants. Yes, yes! It’s in the jumble of all the folds of all the packages of existence, but as for neutral or unpleasant, it was neither one.

AHMED. Fantastic! Thank you, Mother! We’re moving through universal memory with the compass of your friendship! Therefore, it was pleasant, since it was neither neutral nor unpleasant. And was it very, very short, or just kind of brief?

FATIMA. Wait for me to pull things together … very, very short, or kind of brief … I see it in the mist, this story, it was a long time ago … I’ve got it! Or else it’s just that your old mother can go from one thing to another in her memory without the error light going on brightly enough. I’d say it was neither one nor the other, neither very, very short, nor kind of brief.

AHMED. Then it was long, necessarily!

FATIMA. Yes! Yes! It was long! It was wonderfully long!

AHMED. I sense that we’re close! Let me just remind you of all that you’ve found in your memory of everything: it was back there; it was around the time of my conception; it was at night; it was pleasant; and it was long … Come, Mother, make one last effort! Was it motionless, or did it move a lot?

FATIMA. Let me see! Between the two, maybe?

AHMED. So, neither really motionless, nor really moving a lot … A sort of very calm movement or a just a slightly agitated rest?

FATIMA. No, not at all. That’s not it at all. In fact, I’m remembering all of this better and better. I feel it stirring somewhere in the immense circumlocutions of memory, my dear son! It’s like when you don’t come home at night, and I keep tossing and turning thinking of all the possible ways for the philosopher to spend the time between evening and morning, and then there’s one way that I know is the right one, and if it’s good for you I fall asleep immediately. No, it’s not between very motionless and moving a lot. It’s both at once.

AHMED. Whatever you do, just don’t fall asleep! We’re approaching the goal! It was a mixture of great movement and motionlessness, night, back there, around the time of my conception, and it was as long as it was pleasant …

FATIMA. By almighty Lord Allah! I’ve got it! I’ve got it! As if it were before my very eyes! I see the whole story!

AHMED. You see! You see that with the compass of Bergson and the help of one who loves you, you can go anywhere in memory! So then! Tell it to me, this memory!

FATIMA. In front of all these people? Who gave you permission to be so shameless in your chattering with your own mother who completely nourished you from the muscle of your buttocks to the philosophical glottis that dangles behind your teeth?

AHMED. All right, then, whisper it into my ear.

So there it is! It’s wonderful! Your son no longer runs the risk of being made fun of! And I’m sure you enjoyed remembering this whole story.