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

Great," which Sharif took as a welcome addressed directly to him. He fell to the
ground and rolled in the dust, making a sharp, high sound, a cry of joy.
The kindly old man had suggested he go straight to the sanctuary of
Moulay Idris as soon as he got to Fez. "When you get there, my son, go to the
sanctuary of the patron saint of the city. There, they welcome and honor
strangers."
After that, he had lived on charity. He quickly changed his manner of
dressing. He learned to wrap a heavy turban on his head. He wore clean clothes
and walked with a dignified bearing. He managed to get invited to marriages and
he attended funerals. He was a member of that class of individuals who were
always present and never useful, nonetheless tolerated in deference to the
principle of never refusing one's hospitality to a "guest of God."
Sharif was not ashamed of his parasitic lifestyle. He did not consider
himself responsible for it. "May the makers of my misfortune be blamed for it,"
he told himself. He blamed the events of the century for his failure. He added it to
the list of colonial abuses.
His life, like so many others, was tied to the ever-turning wheel of history,
attached to a Machiavellian gear that was breaking his ribs with each cycle.
His better instincts had committed collective suicide when he had left his
village and his family, the firm earth beneath his feet, and the section of sky
where he recognized his lot of stars. Only the virtues likely to please his masters
had survived in his heart: servility, humility, a spirit of subordination, and a talent
for mimicking the ways of those he had to consider from then on as his
benefactors, a complicated hierarchy of benefactors.
166