The Things I Would Tell You

by Sabrina Mahfouz

  9. Street in Algiers (NOW)

  Yusuf is on his mobile phone.

  YUSUF: Hello?

  PAUL: Where are you? I’ve been sitting here like a—

  YUSUF: They won’t let me come up.

  PAUL: Who?

  YUSUF: The new guards. I’m not allowed in the building. They don’t even want me hanging outside.

  PAUL: Shit. So what then?

  YUSUF: Did you ask them?

  PAUL: Ask them what?

  YUSUF: About me. Did you tell them? That I didn’t know?

  PAUL: Sure.

  YUSUF: Because I haven’t heard.

  PAUL: I told them. I put in a good word for you.

  YUSUF: What did they say?

  PAUL: Look, can we talk about this— Where are you now?

  YUSUF: If they could give me a reference, even. I don’t want to— I’d rather not be doing what I’m doing.

  PAUL: I understand.

  YUSUF: Even for the money, you know.

  PAUL: Where can we meet?

  YUSUF: Uh…

  PAUL: Not on the street, okay? Can I come to your place?

  YUSUF: Well...

  PAUL: Think of somewhere. Call me back.

  YUSUF: Okay. Okay.

  10. The Flat (NOW)

  Fatima is dreaming. In the dream the telephone rings a few times. The answerphone clicks on.

  RAYMOND: Fifi.

  Fatima sleeps.

  PAUL: Fifi.

  FATIMA: Yes.

  RAYMOND: Come here.

  FATIMA: No.

  PAUL: Come to my place. I have a cadeau for you.

  FIFI: What is it?

  RAYMOND: What is it? That’s more like it.

  FATIMA: I won’t come.

  PAUL: A silver bracelet.

  FIFI: Faux?

  Paul (acting as Raymond). He is no longer on the phone, but close to her.

  PAUL: No. Here, put it on, take a good look at it before I close the shutters.

  FATIMA: Raymond, I’m leaving…

  RAYMOND: You think I still want you. Look at you, a hag now. Smelly like a dog… What’s this? (he grabs her thigh) like a piece of raw chicken.

  FIFI: Please…

  PAUL: Beg me, yes… You want it but I’ll spit in your face first. (He laughs.)

  Fatima enters another dream.

  PAUL: (as a TV presenter) Madame, you are live now on the nation’s French-speaking channel. One of the earliest attacks carried out by Algerian revolutionaries was officially recorded as an accident. Who got away with it?

  FATIMA: You want to talk about crime. Is that it? The earth is heavy enough with sin. My husband died in the war. He was a soldier in the Front de Libération Nationale.

  PAUL: I’m sorry for your loss. But if I can take you further back in time. Tell me, what was your relationship to Raymond Sintès?

  End of dream.

  FATIMA: He was a gangster and I was the special one he kept for himself. Not like the others. I was his Moorish pet. And I was proud of it.

  FIFI: Oh how they envied me… I would wrap the sheets around me and gloat…

  FATIMA: Above his bed there was a stucco angel—

  FIFI: Pink and white – just staring calmly at us.

  FATIMA: I took it down but he got angry. He hung it up again.

  FIFI: The angel made me feel soiled. It made me feel tired.

  FATIMA: You do everything with a man—

  FIFI: You strip naked, you kiss his feet and let him punch you, you let him knead you and push you and kick you – he was so strong—

  FATIMA: I would be covered in bruises…

  FIFI: …then cigarettes and more kisses…

  FATIMA: Before the next quarrel flared up. But still I don’t remember his face… or why he got angry when he found something in my bag…

  FIFI: It made him think I was cheating on him.

  FATIMA: What was it?

  FIFI: It certainly made him livid—

  FATIMA: Whatever it was. What I remember clearly are the pin-up pictures in his room. My favourite was the brunette in a bathing costume—

  FIFI: Her legs wide open on the sand, her mouth closed over a lolly.

  FATIMA: I remember that I could beat him in cards.

  FIFI: Raymond was such a sore loser.

  FATIMA: You do everything with a man…

  FIFI: Everything he wants and what he doesn’t know he wants…

  FATIMA: And then years later you don’t remember his face. Nothing. Good though. Like the washing powder advertisement on television. The stains are gone and the shirt is all clean and fresh. Look at me now. I walk down the street and people see a grandma dressed decent. Two years ago I went to Makkah, I went to the house of Allah and asked Him to forgive my sins. I am not proud of what I’ve done. I am only content when I forget. It is better to dwell on sweet thoughts like the mint I am growing on the balcony. Or gripping stories like the TV series I watch in the evening. Or even worries like my poor grandson.

  11. Living room in Algiers (NOW)

  Fatima is watching television. The babble of an Arabic TV soap in the background.

  YUSUF: Grandma. Grandma, put this down a little.

  FATIMA: What is it?

  YUSUF: I need something from you.

  FATIMA: And where am I going to get it from?

  YUSUF: We can pawn your bracelets till I find a job.

  FATIMA: No. They’re all the savings I’ve got.

  YUSUF: For my sake.

  FATIMA: No. Let’s wait a bit. You went out early this morning. Any luck?

  YUSUF: Nothing much. I’ll be putting on a boiler suit soon instead of a uniform.

  FATIMA: Nothing wrong with that. As long as it’s honest work. You just have to be patient.

  YUSUF: Patient, patient.

  FATIMA: Is that the phone ringing?

  YUSUF: Your mind is wandering.

  FATIMA: Who knows? I’m all ripe for the Angel of Death but he must be fooling around with someone else.

  YUSUF: You should go out more often. You haven’t been to the hammam in ages. Or anywhere else.

  FATIMA: You want me out of the way so that you can steal my bracelets?

  YUSUF: (getting up angrily and starting to walk away) Now you’re getting paranoid.

  FIFI: You never go out?

  FATIMA: I haven’t gone out in months. I live like a nun.

  FIFI: Even nuns go out.

  FATIMA: I get fresh air from the balcony, I get exercise cleaning up the flat. I sleep-pray, eat-pray, wash-pray, cook-pray, talk to Yusuf-pray, iron-pray, scrub the dishes-pray…

  FIFI: Enough. It’s clear enough… It’s also ‘Yusuf, we’ve run out of gas. Yusuf, we’ve run out of couscous.’

  FATIMA: He’s an angel. Though sometimes I have my doubts.

  FIFI: Is he like Joseph, soft in the head?

  FATIMA: Joseph was fine. There was nothing wrong with him.

  FIFI: He never asked where the money was coming from. The money for his apprenticeship.

  FATIMA: He knew well enough.

  FIFI: But he didn’t ask.

  FATIMA: I didn’t want him to ask. He knew.

  FIFI: But he wasn’t sure.

  FATIMA: It was there in the background. Something to be sensed but not spoken about. Something you would arrive at only by sitting down and really figuring it out.

  FIFI: Like a difficult sum.

  FATIMA: Yes, or a puzzle.

  FIFI: Joseph was useless at puzzles.

  FATIMA: Slow, not useless.

  FIFI: I told you, he was soft in the head.

  FATIMA: I remember him saying, ‘When I earn a wage you won’t need to work?’

  FIFI: As a waitress, he meant.

  FATIMA: Once he met me in town. I was walking out of a bar with Raymond.

  FIFI: He had his arm around my waist.

  FATIMA: He was drunk.

  FIFI: I was in my black jupe and red corsage. Unsteady in my chaussures à talon.

 
; FATIMA: And Joseph pretended he didn’t know me. He didn’t stop to say hello.

  FIFI: He didn’t nod. He didn’t smile. He just walked past.

  FATIMA: Crétin, Raymond said.

  FIFI: Why?

  FATIMA: Maybe Joseph stared at me for too long.

  FIFI: I copied him. Crétin. I was tipsy. I wanted to cry.

  FATIMA: We never spoke about it.

  FIFI: Like it was too late to question it.

  FATIMA: Like nothing could be done to change it. So why mention it.

  FIFI: But what does the Arab brother do when his sister loses her honour?

  FATIMA: ‘What’s that cut on your forehead?’ he’d say.

  12. (THEN)

  JOSEPH: Fifi, what happened to your head?

  FIFI: I walked into a door.

  JOSEPH: You walked into a door. Who told you to walk into doors?

  FIFI: No one did. Too much wine, that’s it.

  JOSEPH: I don’t believe you, Fifi. A door.

  FATIMA: Yes, love, a door. And you kissed it better for me.

  FIFI: Look, when an Arab woman loses her honour,

  what happens?

  FATIMA: Nothing good happens.

  FIFI: What does her father or brother do?

  FATIMA: They throw her out.

  FIFI: If she’s lucky.

  FATIMA: They beat her up.

  FIFI: Until they kill her and no one stops that shamed, heartbroken father and no one punishes that furious brother who is so driven by anger that he cannot think.

  FATIMA: Joseph was different.

  FIFI: But I started to goad him…

  FATIMA: No.

  FIFI: Remember.. I said to him…

  FATIMA: No! I don’t want to remember!

  13. Yusef’s Room (NOW)

  Bedroom door opens.

  FATIMA: Yusuf, wake up.

  YUSUF: (muffled) In a bit.

  FATIMA: It’s one in the afternoon.

  YUSUF: (rolls over) Leave me.

  FATIMA: You’re turning day into night, that’s what you’re doing. You’re out all night smoking what you shouldn’t be smoking with your friends and now you sleep in. Come on, get up.

  YUSUF: Go away.

  FATIMA: What’s this? (rustle of plastic bag) These trainers are brand new. And a blouson!

  YUSUF: Chic, right?

  FATIMA: How are you going to pay for all this?

  YUSUF: I’m getting paid soon.

  FATIMA: For what?

  YUSUF: Stop it. Get out of my room.

  She starts walking out of the room. Closes the door behind her. Stops dead.

  FATIMA: I remember now. What Raymond found in my bag that made him furious. It was the lottery ticket.

  YUSUF: (calling out from inside the room) Sorry, Grandma. I shouldn’t snap at you.

  FATIMA: Raymond saw the lottery ticket that Joseph had given me and said, ‘You’re cheating on me.’ Then a slap and I heard zinging in my ear.

  YUSUF: (Trying harder because he hasn’t had a response) Sorry if I made you cross. Just give me a moment.

  FATIMA: Then another slap. And another.

  FIFI: He gathered my things and threw them out the door. I took them and ran…

  14. Joseph’s room (THEN)

  Outside, Fifi hammers on the door. She’s distressed.

  FIFI: Joseph! Joseph! Open, it’s me. Please…

  Door opens. He looks at her. She breaks down in tears.

  FATIMA: That was when he knew.

  FIFI: I said to him, ‘You know, don’t you, what men need from women, what they pay them for? What they expect to do to a body that belongs to them?’

  Joseph kicks the door, shoves a little table against the wall.

  FIFI: That’s all you can do? Kick things around?

  JOSEPH: But I caught up with him. I followed him. I said, ‘If you’re really a man, you’ll get off this tram.’ The coward got off and started to talk to me as if I were a child. As if I was no one. ‘Don’t get all worked up’ he said. But then he punched me and I fell down. I wished that I had my knife. He was strong and he just kept hitting me. Then he asked, ‘Have you had enough?’ His hand was bleeding.

  15. The flat in Algiers (NOW & THEN)

  YUSUF: Grandma, I’ve got a visitor coming.

  FATIMA: What visitor?

  YUSUF: Paul Sintès. Remember, he lives in the building where I used to work.

  FATIMA: What’s bringing him here?

  YUSUF: It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just stay in your room. You don’t need to meet him.

  FATIMA: But it doesn’t make sense

  JOSEPH: Fifi, no. You can’t go back to him.

  FIFI: Raymond is sorry. That’s what his letter is about. He misses me.

  YUSUF: Why don’t you just go out, Grandma?

  FATIMA: You want me out of the way?

  YUSUF: Yes!

  JOSEPH: It’s wrong – what you’re doing is shameful.

  FIFI: Is that what your friends are teaching you? Shame and honour aren’t for people like us.

  JOSEPH: ‘Live with dignity,’ that’s what I’m learning. ‘Fear Allah Almighty but don’t fear Poverty.’

  FIFI: Shut up, Joseph.

  JOSEPH: You can be more than this, I know. I can help you change. Can’t you see that Allah forgives everything? If you just take the first step. He can set you free.

  FIFI: I am free.

  JOSEPH: Are you?

  FIFI: I’m free to be whoever I choose. I don’t want you to pray for me!

  JOSEPH: But I do and I will because I know that your soul is soft. I know you’re not happy…

  FIFI: I will be when I go back to him.

  JOSEPH: Will you?

  FIFI: Yes.

  JOSEPH: I don’t believe you. Sometimes you want another life, I’m sure. Not even sometimes, often.

  YUSUF: Grandma.

  FATIMA: It’s not right.

  YUSUF: Stop telling me what to do. We could do with the money.

  16. The beach (NOW)

  More populated than in the past. The sounds of traffic are closer. But still the sounds of the waves are strong. Fatima walks. A vendor calls to her as she passes, slowly and breathlessly.

  VENDOR: Do you want to rent a deck chair, Granny?

  FATIMA: No, thank you.

  VENDOR: Do you want some ice cream?

  FATIMA: I’m here to walk.

  VENDOR: You’re not going to get very far, are you?

  FATIMA: I used to run.

  VENDOR: That must have been a long long time ago.

  FIFI: I ran back to Raymond. The wind lifting up my skirt …

  FATIMA: He was waiting for me.

  17. Raymond’s apartment (THEN)

  They’re in bed.

  RAYMOND: (Very close) ‘You’re a chienne, Fifi. Even if you travel dozens of miles away you will come back to your maître.’

  FATIMA: And he spat on my face.

  Fifi lies quietly for a moment, then hits him with all her strength. He is surprised. Then goes for her wildly, punching and kicking, pulling her out of bed.

  RAYMOND: I’ll teach you to do that – I’ll teach you to cheat on me.

  FIFI: (Screaming) Not my face! Not my face!!

  FATIMA: I screamed until the neighbours came out, my hair all wild, my dress half–torn … Then someone called the police…

  Shouts in the landing. A dog barks. Police run up the stairs. Commotion.

  FIFI: He’s a pimp! He hit me! He’s a pimp, he’s a pimp!

  RAYMOND: Tell me, officer, isn’t it against the law to call a man a pimp?

  POLICEMAN: Shut your mouth.

  RAYMOND: (to Fifi) Just you wait, I haven’t finished with you yet! policeman: Shut it, will you? Mademoiselle, I suggest that you come with me down to the station and we’ll leave this gentleman to cool his heels….

  FIFI: (as she’s taken away) He calls himself a warehouse man but that’s not all he does. He’s a pimp. Take him and lock him up.


  FATIMA: But he got off with a warning and I was left with a broken rib, my face so bruised that it chilled me to look at myself.

  FIFI: …the fear of being good for nothing worried me even more than the pain.

  18. Outside the local hammam (NOW)

  Fatima at the entrance of the local hammam and then inside. The sounds of trickling water and other women’s voices in the background. (Note: Attendant is female)

  FATIMA: That’s not what I was charged last time.

  ATTENDANT: Inflation, Granny, everything’s gone up, even the hammam.

  FATIMA: I bring my own towels. I bring my own soap and loofah. It’s too much.

  ATTENDANT: Sorry, Granny, I’m just following orders.

  FATIMA: I used to work here. For years I carried buckets of cold water.

  ATTENDANT: When was that?

  FATIMA: Before you were born.

  ATTENDANT: Here’s your change.

  A group of women pass by speaking in French.

  FATIMA: And what are they doing here?

  ATTENDANT: Experiencing a Turkish bath is now part of every tour package.

  FATIMA: I came for a bit of peace and quiet.

  ATTENDANT: Don’t worry. They won’t stand the heat for too long. They’ll be out of here before you finish your scrub. Fatima makes her way into the hammam. Louder sounds of trickling water. A furnace blows, women shuffle around in wooden clogs. Fatima settles down and starts to scrub herself while muttering to herself.

  FATIMA: My skin has gone thinner.

  FIFI: I could rub myself all over with a pumice stone and not complain.

  FATIMA: Now a loofah is enough… In the old days my heart, my kidneys, my bowels were deep down inside me. Now it’s as if they’ve come up to the surface ready to complain…

  ATTENDANT: (calling out) Are you all right there?

  FATIMA: What? Yes…

  ATTENDANT: (calling out) I’ll come in a minute and give your back a scrub.

  FATIMA: Stay with the tourists and their fat tips. I have nothing to give you.

  ATTENDANT: (laughs) Just don’t scare them away, Granny.

  FATIMA: Scared of the naked hag, are they? I won’t bite.

  19. Joseph’s room (THEN)

  JOSEPH: They say honey is good for these cuts. Move your hair out of the way. I got the purest honey for you, see the bits of wax in it.