When The Herald Tells It All

Ouled Taima, Morocco

Omar EL MOUZ is a high school teacher of  English. He got his BA from the department of  English at Ibno Zohr university, Agadir. He is interested in writing articles and stories, translating written works from English to Arabic or Arabic to English.

In an unwelcoming morning I woke up late. The light had already penetrated the hall of my grandfather’s house. I walked towards a pot of water seeking to remove the residues of sleep out of my face. I managed to use cold water for ablution. Recognizing myself in the mirror, I made sure that I lost Fajr prayer time. What a shameful ignorance! The sun started covering the horizon. My eyes had not yet been so ready to examine what was around. I opened the front door and heard one of passers-by screaming for having been robbed, a herald of a very good morning indeed. In the far corner of the street, there sat a friend of mine awaiting me. Not until that moment did I remember that I had made a deal to meet him for a day outdoor.

We went straight to the nearest bus station to start our long unbearable waiting for the bus that seemed as if it would never come. The idea of waiting for Godot popped into my mind. However, I would see no such possible association because even if Godot didn’t come, at least we benefited from the waiting time span we devoted to reading the well structured and profoundly felt smooth style of Samuel Becket. Once I got into the usually full bus, I spotted strange gazes from a group of youngsters standing next to the exit gate. They usually started their work very early; otherwise they would run a chance of letting people’s pockets out of reach. I stepped into the back of the bus where I finally could find a place of a half meter square to stand with no chance to have a seat.

The view of the outside from within was always fine. We could be amused by the scene of people moving to and fro and also by the different sorts of vehicles passing by. Moreover, we could have an idea about people’s intersected views about different common issues often discussed in public. One of them, a fisherman I guessed, was keen to address his arrows to the government leader. He was in a rage-like-state when he recognised that the price of fuel was in a continuous rise. An old woman from the other side was seeking a free seat in hope for a short rest. To her fortune, a young man was decent enough to let her have a seat. It was not until a quarter of an hour had passed did I hear a woman screaming because her smart phone had been stolen. She was not aware of the reluctant young man with suspicious eyes standing beside her.  As to my personal modest acquaintance with such events, I soon recognised the thief to be one member of those youngsters.

Soon after half an hour time span, the bus already marked its final stop. We descended and headed to a nearby traditionally built cafe where we had our unique breakfast. The menu was so naturally based. Argan oil, butter, olive oil, and instantly prepared pieces of bread were the major components. The taste of breakfast was mixed with some pleasant smells coming from a nearby boutique. The cafe assistant seemed so happy and energetic. He smiled so often and showed a high sense of welcome and hospitality. We were eager to know more about him as he ventured to share a cup of tea and some bread. His words were so full of wisdom that we gazed at his lips and kept our minds focused on his golden tips about life.

The weather was so welcoming. We agreed to take a short run beside the beach. The waves kept moving smoothly, and we soon became bewitched by their break against our feet. The sun was rising shyly to keep the odour of the early morning unspoilt. After a while, we strolled to a small park where we had a short rest. We discussed different issues and topics that kept our minds moving from past to present events. We soon recalled some of the golden days of childhood. Each of us had his own unique experience. Still, there were many things in common. The social status contributed a great deal to confining the scope of our thinking and frame of reference.

My friend received a call from one of his family members. He went pale and was about to lose his reason. The call made a great change in his smile, and he kept staring at a small panel beside. I sensed that some unpleasant incident must have happened. I ventured to ask him what was wrong. The answer was shocking. His mother had passed away!

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