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

particularly fond of me. And all the others who are jealous of my wealth. Luck
has continued to smile on me and turn her back on them. How can I be sure that
none of these envious people will take advantage of the situation to destroy me?
My God, I ask for your protection. Dear God, have mercy on me!"
Hedonists, they had always taken their pleasure where they found it,
stepping on bodies if they had to, caring little for their fellow citizens' fate or that
of their own brothers. Following in the footsteps of the colonists, they crushed
under foot their own demeaned people who were not base but debased and
enslaved.
Their wives cried around them, calling on the saints they had served for
years to guard against such catastrophes. They barricaded the doors and closed all
exits. They showered attention on husbands who had become suddenly as
compliant as newborn babes, hiding at home in hopes of being forgotten by the
nationalists and the colonial forces.
Those who lived in the besieged city meditated in silence. Police
investigations found only the empty eyes of people in prayer who seemed not to
understand their questions.
Soldiers had climbed onto the rooftops of public buildings and aimed their
machine guns at people passing in the street. Whoever tried to cross a river or a
street was shot down in cold blood and fell face to the ground with the sound of a
cracking nut.
A twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy with steel-blue eyes and a shaved head
appeared on the Tarafine Bridge. He was determined to reach Nakhaline Street at
whatever cost. He made his way through the tight haggard crowd, pushing aside
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