Mohamed Choukri - For Bread Alone

He turned and called out: Where’s the sebsi , Sallafa?

She was in the kitchen. I don’t know, she shouted. Look for it.

She’s getting even with him, I thought. I suddenly remembered that we had smoked a little kif while we had been in the bedroom; nevertheless I pretended to look for the pipe along with him there in the sala . Then he went into the bedroom and called out: Here it is! I’ve found it!

I went and put on a record. It was Mohamed Abd el Wahab singing ‘When Afternoon Comes’.

I got into the car with the three other young cargadores and the old man who was driving. I was the youngest. In spite of the strong smell of wine that came from the driver, he drove carefully. The speedometer never showed more than seventy kilometres an hour, and on curves and inclines it dropped to forty or thirty. We got to Cape Spartel about two in the morning, and drew up behind a large black sedan that stood there.

The door of the other car opened, and a tall, powerful-looking man got out. I guessed that he was about forty-five years old. He came casually over to our car.

How’s the road? he asked the driver.

Fine. We didn’t see anybody.

We all got out, with the exception of the driver. From their conversation I understood that they were referring to the police and Customs men. And I realized that this tall man was Qaabil’s partner.

Now’s the time to be men, he told us. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and looked intently at me. What part of the Rif are you from? he said.

Beni Chiker. My name is Choukri.

I know the Chikriyine. The Riffians are tough.

He removed his hand. I know the Riffians, he said again.

I was with them in the Civil War in Spain. I hope you’re a real Riffian like the others.

I smiled.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held it out to each of us in turn. It’s a good beginning, I thought. He looks like a good man to deal with. Compared to him, Qaabil seems like a boy. He too may be a good man, but you sense his weakness. Whereas it would be easy to feel loyalty to this man.

Are you ready? he asked us, and we all said: Yes.

The path downward was hard to negotiate. We squeezed between trees, crashed through bushes, and clambered over boulders. Are we going to try to carry the stuff back up this same path? I wondered.

Call me Kandoussi if you want to call me anything, said Qaabil’s partner.

I decided that this was probably not his real name. It might be only his business name. The path went on being difficult. Several times I stumbled into holes and scraped myself on the sharp rocks.

You’ve got to be very careful not to fall once you’ve got the stuff on your back, he said. What we’re carrying is fragile.

What could be in the cartons? I thought. Something breakable. What could that be?

When we reached the strip of beach at the bottom of the cliffs he pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and began to make signals with it in the direction of the water. The signals came back from the darkness out there.

We found Qaabil sitting alone on the sand. Beside him lay a pile of sacks and a coil of rope. Ah, you got here! he cried. Everything ready?

Everything’s perfect so far, replied Kandoussi.

Soon we heard the sound of a motor. More messages flashed from the water. Kandoussi sent back the same succession of flashes. The sea was rough. The motor came nearer.

Get ready, said Kandoussi.

The sound of the motor stopped.

After a quarter of an hour of silence, there were more signals, which Kandoussi answered.

The rowboat’s on the way, he said. Get down to the edge of the water.

Two of the cargadores took off their trousers and sandals. The rowboat hove into view, rising and falling with the movement of the waves. The two cargadores waded into the water and guided the craft inward, one on each side of it. Kandoussi ran down to the water, and they pulled the boat up onto the beach. There were nine cartons. We began to carry them to a spot not far from the edge of the water, where we stacked them on the sand. The cartons were not as big and heavy as I had expected. Whatever was in them must be very valuable. Watches, perhaps? Rapidly we emptied the boat.

Can you get back to the ship all right? Kandoussi was saying to el Kebdani. It’s not too rough?

It’s all right.

If you think there’s any danger, we’ll leave the boat beached here until the morning and take it back then.

No. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble.

Look out for those rocks.

I know, said el Kebdani. I know the whole place.

See you soon, I said to him.

Ah, Mohamed? B’slemah . I’ll see you back at the shack in an hour.

The two cargadores began to pull the rowboat back out into the water, with el Kebdani plying the oars. I watched him disappear into the darkness, riding up and down on the waves.

Working quickly, we put two cartons into each sack. When we had tied up the openings, Kandoussi came up to me and said: Can you carry two cartons, or is one enough for you?

I can carry three if you want, I said with great confidence.

Probably he doesn’t believe me. My body is very thin. But I had my pride. I was thinking: This is better than begging or stealing. And better too than letting an old man suck on me, or selling harira and fried fish to the Djebala in the Zoco de Fuera. Better than any of the work I’ve had. It’s an adventure, and I feel like a man. In any case, I am seventeen. I feel on this early morning that I am entering into a new phase of my life.

We loaded the sacks on our backs, and started up the same path we had come down. Kandoussi went first, and Qaabil, empty-handed, brought up the rear. Each one of us cargadores was carrying a sack with two cartons in it. Kandoussi carried the ninth carton, also wrapped in its sack.

It was not long before my load began to weigh more and more heavily on me. The pain hit my spine and the nape of my neck. I must have placed the sack in the wrong position when I took it onto my back. But now I did not dare stop and shift it for fear that Kandoussi would think I was tired, and we were still only about halfway up the path. If I show signs of weakness now, very likely he will not hire me the next time he needs a cargador . As for Qaabil, at the moment he seems as unnecessary to the scene as he is ineffective in his daily life. Should I even obey his orders if he gives them? Then I wondered why I should be thinking such things about him. Up to now he has treated me very well. I must try and get rid of these feelings. I must fight against them, even while my shoulders shoot pains in every direction and the bones at the back of my neck go on cracking. I was breathing heavily through my mouth, and my throat was getting dry. I suppose the trouble came from having smoked too much Virginia tobacco and kif . But Sallafa also had a part in my weakness. During the past day I had made love with her four times. And here I was, thinking of doing it again. Yes, I’m going to make love with her. There’s no doubt about that, if only everything goes well here and I manage to get to the shack before Qaabil and el Kebdani.

But the key? Will Qaabil give it to me when we’ve finished here, if for instance he finds that for some reason he has to stay on longer than he thought, or if he can’t get back until morning? The idea of getting into bed with Sallafa at this hour of the morning excites me, and that helps me forget the pain of the load on my shoulders and the burning shortness of breath. The money I was going to get for this work meant nothing compared with what I should find in the shack. Money was only for the world outside the shack. I wish Sallafa were with us now, just walking ahead of us without carrying anything. Am I myself beginning to fall in love with her? Merely to think of her makes my heart beat harder. Then I feel a wave of hostility towards her. I imagine myself insulting her, slapping her, trying to work up her temper. Maybe I like her better angry than calm, better sad than happy. Maybe she means more to me when she is being crazy than when she is sensible. I like the way she behaves when she is with Qaabil. Yes, I like to watch her fight with him. I can imagine myself in Qaabil’s place when she disappears, losing control like him and waiting desperately for her return. Thus at this point I learn a new truth about my feelings for Sallafa.