They were able to laugh at him, the Arab romanticist, whose presence brought a whole new way of looking at things. “People like you are long extinct here,” said one of the regulars who had studied literature. “A long time ago they were found in these parts. They combined a clear mind with an unyielding assertiveness. They travelled a lot. Oddly enough, they all headed in the direction of where you come from. As if this is where they would find the Holy Grail and assuage their unrest.”
He visits the local library. He has a good rapport with the librarian (hair in a bun, threads of grey here and there, reading glasses on a cord). She has a fascination for his country, fuelled by romantic travel literature of French writers. She was quite open about this. When she heard that he came from one of the lands of Arabia Felix, a big smile appeared on her already cheerful face. The sort of emotional smile that appears when people are reminded of a place they secretly dream of. “Do you long to go back?” “Of course. It’s my country. But what I will find there is no longer my country. If I stay here, then it’s my country. At such a distance I feel connected. If I go to it, then it becomes someone else’s country. A country of millions.” The lady seemed to understand. “You say it all so beautifully,” she sighed. There was nothing beautiful about his grief. “When you yearn the whole world grieves. If we yearn, then it rains on wet newspapers”, she said sadly. He regretted that he had drawn her into his melancholy, melancholy that followed him like a crippled dog. He did not understand what she was trying to say. He did not like his country to be described as a dark place full of corruption, dictatorship and poverty. Even if this is true, your country is your country. It also annoyed him when people extolled his country for its atmosphere, the national cuisine and the beauty of men and women. For him yearning was the same everywhere on earth.
Abdelkader Benali
Perhaps she was referring to a mood that changed when the climate changed. To comfort her, he said: “Even moods are subject to climate changes. When the sea level rises here and the dry sirocco starts to blow, you too will start to long for autumn.” “Let us meet sometime for a cup of coffee and talk about it.” The Arab shrugged. In his country this meant: yes, let’s do that. But not for her. A shrug expressed indifference so nothing would come of the coffee. Yet she meant a lot to him. She was attentive, curious and helpful.
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