Махи Бинбин - Marrakech Noir

“Hello, Fatima.”

“Hello, Lhaj.”

“Hello, Lhajjah.”

“Hello, cutie.”

“Hi, love.”

“Hello. Hello! Hello? You hung up on me, you bitch. Wait until I get my hands on you! Wait and see.”

Endless conversations. You provide coins for the customers, as you enjoy spying on their conversations and lives. But things began to change. With cell phones, the customers waned and the téléboutique income deteriorated, and life in this small place became boring. Things have gotten better now. The space has more potential than what you had been dreaming about. The screens now spread all around this place you have built, Rahal. The new mission you have been engaged in is to open doors for your customers on their midnight journeys to a refuge, toward morning lights and ports of virtual blue ether — a mission filling your heart with great pride.

Congratulations! Computers crammed deep to allow the customers to navigate, spellbound, to the screens anchored to the walls. Rahal, you’re able to spy on them all from your own computer. You are the only one with your back to the wall, so you can control the room and watch what goes on. And whenever you get tired of spying on the screens of others, you find your private computer in front of you. You can open your Hotmail account and up pops your happy virtual life, just like those of your customers. Life is better on the Internet, Rahal. Life is more beautiful and bright.

New cybercafés have proliferated along Dakhla Avenue and all over the streets of Hay el-Massira, an area that the government launched as a huge residential project in the mideighties. In the beginning, they were intended as houses for the middle class. Later, more economical apartment buildings spread like mushrooms — instead of the green spaces that were planned — bringing a great number of low-level employees before el-Massira was able to assimilate people from the neighboring villages. Provincial villages whose inhabitants practiced agriculture and shepherding in the lands west of Marrakech alongside the road to Essaouira. The lands that were turned into subdivisions and housing developments. Restructuring projects will eventually succeed in integrating these small villages whose children have mixed with those of the middle-class employees at Lycée Zerktouni to become, in turn, the “kids of the sector.” These kids are so proud of belonging to Hay el-Massira and patronizing the cybercafés on Dakhla Avenue.

Customers come and go. But a small group slowly begins to form around Rahal. Salim, a high school student spellbound by the new virtual world, has two e-mail accounts so far: a Hotmail and a Yahoo. He sometimes comes with his father and at other times with his little sister Lamya. Salim was the first to point out to Rahal that he should have a printer. He always looks for new sources of information on the Internet and needs to print his findings daily, which he uses to brag to his friends at school.

Samira and Fadoua always arrive, sit, and leave together. Their specialty: chat rooms. Together they merge into one virtual personality. They love to chat with young men in Arabic, French, and English. Their handle: Marrakech Star . Two in one: like shampoo and conditioner. Qamar ad-Dine al-Sayouti picks on them whenever they show up at the café. Qamar ad-Dine, the son of Shihab ad-Dine al-Sayouti, the most famous of Islamic education teachers at Lycée Zerktouni, and the one the students tell the most jokes about.

“Which of us is the shampoo? And which is the conditioner?” Fadoua asks him.

“To be honest, I am still not sure. When I decide you’re the shampoo, I’ll let you know.”

Qamar ad-Dine knows all the stories of Marrakech Star because Fadoua and Samira always bring their correspondence in English to him so he can explain to them what they don’t understand, and correct their answers so that their messages are sent with fewer mistakes.

Qamar ad-Dine’s English is good and so is his French. But he always says that his Arabic is unfortunately not so good. He doesn’t show any regret as he repeats this confession; on the contrary, a wicked pride appears on his face. Does he say this to spite his father, Shihab ad-Dine, the teacher of Arabic who switched to teaching Islamic education not for love of religion, but out of laziness and a desire to rid himself of grammar and syntax? Islamic education class is for both students of science and those in the humanities. Two hours a week for each group. Many students consider the session a break to be spent on the playing fields in front of the school, or at Rahal’s, for those who can afford it, especially because al-Sayouti does not take attendance.

In reality, Qamar ad-Dine doesn’t hate his father, but he does hate talking about him. He prefers the company of students not from Lycée Zerktouni, those who know nothing about al-Sayouti, who have never heard the jokes at his father’s expense. Fadoua and Samira are exceptions. Despite the fact that they are his father’s students, their relationship with Qamar ad-Dine is predicated upon the café and has nothing to do with the institution. He is a handsome young man who speaks different languages well. Therefore their relationship has been a real advantage for Marrakech Star.

Qamar ad-Dine is always available in the café, to the point that Rahal leaves him in charge when he has some errands to run. In exchange Rahal is lenient with him when it comes to payment. Qamar ad-Dine will sometimes pay for three hours and get five. Rahal makes him an unofficial assistant, even though Qamar ad-Dine is not aware of his secret promotion.

Qamar ad-Dine has begun to enjoy the adventures of Marrakech Star and their international e-conquests. This one is serious, that one chaste, and the other shows promise. This one wants to come to Marrakech to visit an eye doctor, and inquires about the best hotel and airlines. The other suggests that she come visit London; he would take care of the flight and she is welcome to stay in his apartment for a week, or even a month — if she can, of course. Another suggests, with suspicious reverence, that she come for a minor pilgrimage to holy Mecca.

When Amelia the Nigerian arrives at the cybercafé, Marrakech Star fades away. Fadoua notices that Qamar ad-Dine is totally distracted whenever she shows up. Sometimes Amelia comes alone. Other times her friend Flora accompanies her. Yakabo always joins them later. Maybe it’s a trick so that Rahal won’t tell them not to share one computer. The cybercafé’s regulations are clear: two people maximum per computer.

No one knows how Yakabo is related to Amelia and Flora. Is he a brother? Some other relative? A lover? With Africans it can be difficult to guess. In any case, they are lucky: apartment owners don’t ask them about their documents. They don’t scrutinize them as they would Moroccans. Young Moroccan men find it hard to live with their female friends without marriage documents. But with the Africans no one cares. Even if they are Muslims from Mali or Senegal. That’s why they live together. They can pile between five and ten people into a small two-bedroom apartment. Qamar ad-Dine doesn’t pay attention to these details. He is not in love with Amelia. He is just glad to see her. She makes him happy and her smile delights him, and that’s all he can ask for. It is also a chance for him to practice English with her. However, there is another dynamic at play — a somewhat sensitive one. And it is better to keep it to himself, especially in front of Fadoua and Samira.

Qamar ad-Dine wants to leave the country in any way possible. He is tired of Shihab ad-Dine and the boring life he has at home and at school. And even this damned cybercafé he seems to be addicted to. He is fed up with Rahal’s snooping. Whenever he looks up he finds him staring at his screen. He is tired of the small talk of history teachers at school. They come in groups to the café, as if they’re going to the mosque. They hog the computers and instead of surfing the net they begin to talk as if they’re in the teachers’ lounge. They say that life under Hassan II was abominable and that the country’s conditions have improved a lot with the coming of the new king.