Mohammed Mrabet - M'Hashish

His grandfather had made a pool in the garden, and it was beside the pool that the young man liked to sit. He would stay without moving for long periods of time, so that the birds would come and light near him. He had spent many months trying to become their friend. It took patience and intelligence, and a good deal of kif besides, to learn how to sit as he did, waiting for the birds to come. But usually they came, and sometimes they even perched on his shoulder. And it seemed to him that they were trying to talk to him, as if they believed he understood what they were saying with their chirping.

One day a group of relatives from another part of the country arrived to call on Si Qaddour and his family. Among them there was a young mute girl. She sat with the rest of the family for a while, and then, growing restless, she got up and wandered outside. The orchards were beautiful, and so she took a walk. After a while she came to the grove of trees, and the path led her to the small house by the river.

As she went into the garden she saw the youth sitting by the pool with two birds on the ground in front of him. He seemed to be talking to them. The girl stood still, and her mouth opened in astonishment. The birds were chirping very loud. The young man listened, and appeared to be saying something to them. He raised his arms and the two birds flew away. Then he began to laugh. At that moment he looked up and saw the girl watching him from the other end of the garden. It seemed to him that he had never seen such a beautiful face.

He called to her: Who are you?

The girl put her hand in front of her mouth and shrugged her shoulders, to say that she could not speak. He went over to her and made gestures, and she showed that she understood.

What are you doing way out here in the woods? he wanted to know.

She made signs to say that her family were visiting at a big house beyond the orchards, and he told her it was his father's house.

He led the girl to the pool and told her to sit down. Then he made her some tea. As she drank he filled his pipe with kif and lighted it. He poured himself a glass of tea and sat smoking and looking at her.

The girl was making a great effort to say something to him, but he raised his hand and said: No. Don't try to talk. I want to dream a little.

They were both silent for a while, as the kif climbed into the young man's head and he listened to the sound of the river flowing by.

After a time he rose and said to the girl: Come with me. I'll show you the way back to my father's house.

They started to walk through the woods. He talked to her, and she answered by moving her hands. Suddenly a snake rose up in the middle of the path, as if it were going to strike at them. The girl saw it, and her fear was so great that she opened her mouth and screamed with all her force. The fear had loosened her voice.

The snake went to one side, and lay among the leaves by the edge of the path.

I speak now, said the girl. The youth looked at her, but he did not understand.

Soon he told her: Now we're out of the grove. And you can see the house up there. Just keep going.

Yes, she said, and she went on to the house, thinking: Now I can speak.

The young man turned around and went back to where the snake was waiting for him. He stopped and ran his hand along its back two or three times, and it slid away. Then he walked on to his garden and sat smoking kif by the pool.

Hassan was not married. He was a kif-smoker, and liked freedom. His closest friend was an old man named Si Mokhtar, whom he had known since boyhood.

One day Si Mokhtar stopped at Hassan's house to see him. Hassan had him sit down on the mattress, and he made a fire so he could invite him to dinner. While the food was cooking, they smoked a few pipes of kif.

After they had eaten, they drank tea and smoked more kif. As they were talking, Hassan said: Si Mokhtar, it's hard to believe you're seventy-five years old. You're strong. You seem a lot younger. Look at me. I'm thirty-five, and I'm no good for anything.

People aren't all alike, you know, my son. You're you and I'm me, and each one is himself.

Yes, of course, said Hassan.

I'm me and I take care of myself, the old man said. You don't take care of yourself at all.

That's true, Si Mokhtar. I've never bothered, and now it's too late. Last night I had a girl with me. I spent the whole night with her, waiting. I couldn't do anything. She kissed me. She hugged me. She did everything. But nothing could wake it up. It went right on sleeping.

Si Mokhtar began to laugh. This must be the first time it's happened to you, or you wouldn't be so worried, he told Hassan. That happens to everybody. You just take a little aghrebia.

Aghrebia? Have you got some?

No. I don't need it, said the old man, and he winked at Hassan.

Where do I buy it?

Si Mokhtar shook his head. They don't sell it, my son.

Hassan looked unhappy.

If you want some, I can tell you how to make it yourself, Si Mokhtar went on. And when you've made it, you bring it here to me, and I'll tell you what to do with it.

Of course I want some. What do I do?

First you get some kharouah beans and boil them until the water's black. Then you dry them out in a skillet over the fire. Don't throw the black water out. You've got to have a lot of other things ready, like flour and eggs and sugar and nuts and spices.

And Si Mokhtar went on to explain to Hassan how to make aghrebia. When you take it to the bakery, tell the maallem not to leave it in the oven more than a half hour, he said.

Tomorrow, incha'Allah, I'll make the medicine, and you can come and see it.

Si Mokhtar agreed. Presently he got up and went out.

Early in the morning Hassan got up and gathered the kharouah beans from a plant along the road. He took them home and put them on to boil. After that he went out and bought all the other things he needed. He made the dough into pellets, as Si Mokhtar had told him to do, and took them out to the oven. Then he waited a half hour while they were being baked.

He found Si Mokhtar sitting in the cafe where he always sat. He sat down and ordered a glass of coffee. They began to smoke their kif pipes.

I've made the medicine, said Hassan.

Good, said Si Mokhtar.

Soon they got up and went to Hassan's house. Hassan showed the old man the pellets, and Si Mokhtar said: Yes. That's the way they looked when I used to make them. And he took a knife and cut one of the pellets in half.

Eat this, he said. And now drink a glass of hot tea. Hassan did as he was told.

Half an hour or so later Hassan began to sweat. He shut his eyes, and it seemed to him that he heard sounds such as he had never heard. And things he had never before seen passed in front of his eyes. He was sure he was floating through the air.

Soon Si Mokhtar asked him how he felt. Ah, said Hassan. I don't believe in the world. There's another world where life is different. I told you, said Si Mokhtar.

I didn't think you were lying. Anyway, I feel wonderful.

A little later the blood began to fill Hassan's sex, and it awoke. Si Mokhtar noticed this. Again he asked him how he felt.

Still better, Hassan said. I must go, said Si Mokhtar, getting up.

Take some of the medicine with you, Hassan told him. The old man picked up three of the pellets and put them into the hood of his djellaba. Then he went out.

When Hassan went to bed that night, he did not feel at all sleepy. Soon he got up, put on his clothes, and went out to the Zoco Chico. As he walked by the Cafe Central he looked in and saw a young American girl sitting alone. He went in and sat down at the next table. Then he started to talk to the girl, and she answered him.