Translating Nouzha Fassi Fihri's La Baroudeuse: A Case Study in ...

history. Now muzzled and wounded but not beaten, the city was planning her
revenge.
Nothing disclosed the hidden rebellion. The citizens seemed to be living
their daily routine. They appeared resigned, bent over their jobs, but sedition
fomented in their bald heads.
Moulay Ali saw very few changes in the ancient city. The same narrow
alleyways, the same decrepit walls, the same shops opening onto the street,
offering passers-by a view of the artisan in the same posture pilgrims had seen for
half a century, working with needle or hammer, surrounded by apprentices
resigned to their fate.
He stepped aside to give way to a fine, harnessed mule ridden by a
swaggering townsman wrapped in white muslin. The man was none other than
Hajj Hafid, the spice merchant who had made his fortune at the beginning of the
war. He had stockpiled merchandise and sold it for great profit on the black
market. Having recognized Moulay Ali as the nephew of Moulay Larbi, he got off
his mule and showed profuse signs of deference. Didn't social etiquette require
him, the converted Jew, to bow before an Arab of pure family line?
When they got to the Sharratene, the two pedestrians were suddenly
caught up in the animation they found there. After the calm of the small streets,
this commercial artery swarmed with a mixed crowd, people speaking loudly,
gesticulating, and elbowing their way from shop to shop where clients gathered in
the heat of bargaining. From time to time, one could hear a piercing shout or the
bray of a donkey whose back was bent under a heavy load.
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