I have a story in a new anthology called X-24: Unclassified, edited by Tash Aw and Nii Ayikwei Parkes. It’s a slightly older piece; I haven’t written any new short fiction this year since I’m trying to focus on finishing the novel. But the book includes fantastic contributions by people like Naomi Alderman, Daniel Alarcón, Mohammed Naseehu Ali, Sefi Atta, and many others, so check it out.
I was relieved when I had to travel to Rabat for the Fulbright Symposium because it meant I would get away from the news coverage of the foiled terrorist attack in Casablanca. Last week, As Sabah published a color picture of the torn body of Abdelfettah Raydi, the 24-year-old man who blew himself up inside a cyber cafe in Sidi Moumen on March 11. Al Massae showed the second terrorist, 17-year-old Youssef Khoudri, while he was transported to Ibn Rochd Hospital. An Nass, meanwhile, printed a photo of him being stitched up. Not to be outdone, La Vie Economique did a dossier on the events, and included a photo of the severed head of Raydi.
Despite the sensationalism, the articles accompanying the photos were, for the most part, well researched and interesting. They included interviews with the man who had alerted police, with witnesses and survivors, and with the terrorists’ family and neighbors. Many journalists asked why nothing had been done about the shantytowns in Sidi Moumen since the attacks of May 2003, and cautioned that more attacks remain possible so long as there is fertile ground for them. But a columnist for Aujourd’hui le Maroc fumed that “barbarians should not be pitied.” (You’d think you were reading Max Boot.)
The details that have emerged certainly give pause: the seizure of 200 kg of explosives in Sidi Moumen; the fact that Raydi had already served two years of prison for suspected Salafi activities before being released in an amnesty in 2005; the claim that it took only two weeks to convince Youssef Khoudri–an illiterate mint seller and sometime drug user who lived in a one-room house with his five siblings and parents–to take part in the attack; the suggestion that the targets included the police headquarters on Zerktouni; and so on.
All this took me back to my work. Large parts of my novel are set in Sidi Moumen and it is difficult to write about something knowing not only that it could happen, but that it does happen. It’s not easy to use one’s imagination while at the same time grappling with a similar reality. In the end, I had to shut off the real in order to focus on the fictional; I had to stop reading the papers–at least until coverage subsides–so I can finish my novel. The symposium came at the right time.
Posting will be light to non-existent for the next three days while I travel to Rabat for the annual Fulbright Symposium. Come again soon.
I’ve been invited by the Moroccan American Circle to do a reading from Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits. The event will take place tonight at the Churchill Club here in Casablanca. Details:
7:00 PM – 10:30 PM
Reading & Discussion to be followed by drinks and tapas
Churchill Club
1 rue de la Méditerannée
Aïn Diab, Casablanca
(Admission 100dh)
(The reading and discussion will be in English. ) Hope to see you there!
I have been following my good friend Mark Sarvas‘s progress as he wrote his novel, revised it, polished it, found an agent, and went into the submission process. And I am thrilled to share with you the happy news that he has just sold his novel, Harry, Revised to Bloomsbury. Having read the book a couple of months ago, I can tell you you’re in for a treat. Congratulations are in order!
At the time I was writing Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits, that is, between the spring of 2002 and the winter of 2004, I had not visited Tangier in more than fifteen years. I had spent several summers in the city as a child and teenager, and, perhaps presumptuously, I felt I still knew the place well enough to be able to describe it in a decent way. I wrote about streets and buildings and cafés, but I was working essentially from memory.
While in Tangier this past weekend, I decided to visit some of the places I wrote about in the book. I walked through the Gran Socco and the Socco Chico, and it was interesting to see how much they had changed (many of the historic buildings have been renovated), and also how little (there are still plenty of tourist guides, kif smokers, and vendors in sombreros.) The talk of the town was the city’s candidacy to host the 2012 World’s Fair. The train station has been moved to a new location, and the port now includes a free trade zone. Tangier felt like a city in motion, just as I remembered it.
In “Better Luck Tomorrow,” my character Murad spends time in a Café la Liberté, which was a fictional place, but as I was walking down one of the streets that led to the socco, I discovered there really was a Café La Liberté. I sat down for a cup of coffee there, and there really was a football match playing on the screen, and deals being made at the tables.
In the story, Murad meets some tourists who are curious to find the famous Café Central, so of course I went there as well. It has been nicely renovated, and the outside tables were packed. I took a photo of the Pension Fuentes that sits across the lane. I walked into one of the antique shops where the action in “The Storyteller” takes place. I felt like I had stepped, once again since writing it, into my own book.