Keys to Tetouan

by Mois Benarroch

  David pressed the button and Moshe shouted again, then they heard Arab people shouting and knocking on a door, “Ftah el bab!” that was probably in much earlier times, there were no cars or electricity there, “Ftah el bab!” the shouting continued.

  And then they broke down the door shouting “Itbah el Yahud!” and then “Allah u akbar” and then again “Muhammad, Muhammad”, a boy was running and hiding under his bed. His father fell next to him. He pulled a key out of his pocket, handed it to the boy and died.

  Moshe couldn’t watch that, that boy looked just like his brother. He pressed the button. He cried.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “That’s a relative, that man that died, it could have been dad.”

  “That guy? Did you see what he was wearing? Did you see those silly clothes?”

  “What does his clothes got to do with it?”

  It showed some kind of a jungle, they spoke Portuguese probably, seasoned with Spanish. Somebody wanted to meet the chief. They took him to see him, and he took out gold, and money. He wanted the key, they argued for hours, finally the man with the suit paid and took the key.

  “The key was in the jungle” said David, “It is getting even more interesting. Maybe it will get here too, to Louisiana, to Zemerville.”

  “Yes, I thought I will find it in Spain or in Israel, but not in the jungle!”

  “Look, look.”

  “That’s Tetouan, it is busy there. A lot of people walk back and forth on Muhammad the Fifth Street, a road blocked for cars. This endless walking lasts hours. Mimon Benzimra is walking down the street, he is talking with a leather dealer, and he buys a bag, probably as a present for one of his sons. His hair is white, baldy, and he is properly shaved, it seems like everybody knows him there, they greet him with hello, he enters a bar. He asks for wine, wine that is served for non-Muslims only. One of the last Christians of the city sits next to him and drinks wine as well. They talk about Malaga, and about a meal they had with Chanquetes, very small and tasty fish. They ask for some potatoes, and then for fish again.

  “Enough! Stop it, this is really boring” David said.

  But then Mimon said hello to David, his son.

  “How are you? Do you want some wine.”

  “Not wine, beer maybe.”

  “What have you been up to?”

  “I walked the streets, you know, the hole on Muhammad Torres Street is still there, just like it was twenty years ago, when we left.”

  “That gives me some kind of security, you know. The streets in Israel used to change all the time, the view used to change, things here, once built, don’t change for years, all the cafes I left, stayed the same, they didn’t even change the names, there are more people, that is true, a lot more people, but they all look familiar, they all look like my worker Ibrahim, that used to come to work stoned, smoking pot early in the morning, with his eyes that used to come out of his face, but he was always nice. Maybe pot is not such a bad thing after all, here everybody smokes and some of them get to live for more than a hundred years... Ah! Sorry, this is my son David, and this is Garcia Marks, who is not related to the famous writer in any way, he has lived here since the thirties, since the Spaniards were here, my son lives in London"

  "Nice to meet you" David said.

  "I begin to understand why you choose to live here. You have your beach, your friends, your language, your places, your fish, who knows maybe one day I'll come here to spend my final days too"

  "Why did you change it? Why did you change it?" David shouted this time, "I wanted to see what happened to David, who has the same name I have, why did you change it."

  He cried and yelled and hit. Their parents came to calm things down again. They were not allowed to use the computer for the next three days.

  At night, David saw a twelve year old boy frightened inside a movie theater, he saw a movie about the holocaust, he didn't know about the holocaust beforehand. This boy is looking for his parents that are not there with him, he is anxious, he wants to go back home, I want to go home, to Tetouan, he shouts, a big woman silences him and tells him to sit down again and watch the movie, "What's wrong with you, it's a movie about the Holocaust, so you will know what your people went through! Stop acting crazy kid!"

  "But I want my mom! Where is my dad! Where is my house! Where are my trees! Where are my cherries! I don’t want to watch children suffer" the boy sat down on the chair again, closed his eyes, cried, and did everything he could so he won't see the horrors on the screen.

  David cried too. He went to bed and dreamt he was in the Holocaust running away from the Germans. A big dog is chasing him, and he can't make it stop barking, he goes under the fence, but the dog won't stop barking, he suddenly realized the dog can't hurt him, that calmed him down.

  Moshe woke up later and in front of him stood a man who was definitely named Yossiko, he argued with an Arab lady about the price of a chicken. When the Arab lady turned around he put some powder on the chicken's eyes and the chicken started to act crazy. Then he said he doesn’t want it anymore, that this chicken is no good, it is sick and about to die. After a long negotiation in which Yossiko got the price lower and lower he paid and took the chicken.

  Together they watched a young bearded man walking the streets of Paris. He didn’t speak with people, he sits in the park from time to time, opening a notebook and writing a poem, he walks along, goes into the toilets in MacDonald, or in Burger King, then he enters a vegan shop, buys a red drink and drinks it, he seems pleased. Later he walks into the Segafredo Café at Boulevard des Capucines, he smokes a small cigar. He opens his notebook again and writes a poem. He walks the streets again and again, talking to nobody, what is he waiting for. They got quite bored with that.

  Moshe pressed the button. They found themselves in the eighteenth century. Tetouan was a small village. Jews lived apart from the Arabs, a guy goes to an important Rabbi, his name is Rabbi Benwalid, he asks him something about Passover. Rabbi Benwalid answers. He goes back to a small shop, where he fixes shoes, and pulls teeth out of hurting people. An interesting combination.

  "Dad found out about it!" Said Moshe to David, "I don’t know how, I hope for your sake you didn't tell him about it! He wants us to come to one of his talks."

  "I didn't, I swear. But another one of his talks, in which he just talks and we listen."

  "You know that what you did was very inappropriate, you shouldn’t invade people's privacy, peek into their lives, it is very inappropriate, where will we get to if people kept minding other people's businesses"

  "That's not other people's businesses, it's our family."

  "Don't interrupt me when I speak."

  "But they are already dead." This time it was David.

  "You too David? You are usually quiet."

  "Yes but this time they are dead."

  "That is my family, and what happens if you find me there, if you watch me in my privacy"

  "We'll press the button, like we do with porn on the Supernet, we just move along, and we're not very interested in what you and mom do in bed."

  "You're being rude. I'm taking your Scanner."

  "You can't, that's not right, it's a present from grandpa"

  "And from grandma" dad emphasized.

  "That's our present. You can take the key, which is yours."

  "But I suggest you join us and watch" David laughed "It will be much more interesting."

  The father wasn’t persuaded, but he also realized his arguments were not too rational, besides, the key was always in the attic, and didn't watch him or his life, that's why he didn't understand what was he mad about, he could have stayed firm, but instead he said: "Well, for the meanwhile do as Moshe said, if you see anybody you know, go on to the next memory, but I still need to think this over."

  Nighttime, a big house is waking up, the lights are turned on. The mother tells her kids to wake up.

  "Don’t forget the key" says the father

  She wa
kes her five children.

  We're going!

  Everybody understands the word and get out of bed in a hurry.

  "I know what this is" Moshe says "I know, grandpa told me about this, this is his grandpa, they're going to Israel. They're leaving Morocco and going to Israel, that's so cool!"

  Everybody gets in a small crowded car and drive for an hour along the beach. A beautiful beach you can only see in movies these days. They reach a checkpoint, the father comes out, talks to one of the police officers, and then they drive through it. They get to the city early in the morning. They go to a hotel booked in advance.

  The family stays there. The father takes the car back to Tetouan.

  The kids laugh, they say the word Israel freely, they are a bit tensed but happy, the mother is worried.

  "When will dad be back" one of the boys asked.

  "This evening" says the mother.

  "Leave it on, we'll come back to it tomorrow after school and see what happened."

  They come back from school. They see the kids and their mother walking around town and buying watches and other strange things. The father didn't come back, the mother looks worried. Night comes down.

  "Kids, go to bed."

  The mother sits and waits, for hours. She looks at the clock, doesn’t know what to think anymore, will he get here?

  He eventually does. She hugs him. They're both the same height. He is bald, she has brown hair.

  He sheds a few tears.

  "It's good to be alive! We lost a thousand dollars. he decided he is going to pay me less at the last minute. And that's not the end of it, he pulled a kitchen knife too, I was sure he was about to kill me, I eventually said OK, OK, and he transferred the money to the bank. We'll take the money out of the bank tomorrow."

  "And what if he didn’t transfer it."

  "I believe he did."

  "Finally, we are going to Israel."

  "Wow, this is really cool, probably one of the kids is waking up now and hearing this."

  "How do you know that?"

  "That’s what happens in the movies,"

  "You are making fun of them, this is not a movie, this is reality. This really happened, you’re enjoying their suffering."

  "They are already dead, dead don't suffer."

  And one of the kids did sit in the room, staring, he heard the whole conversation, he went to the toilet and hugged his mom and dad on his way there.

  The next morning they were seen boarding a ship in Gibraltar Bay, went to Spain, they hired a big taxi there, which will take all of them to Marseille two weeks later, as Moshe already knew, and then they will take a flight to Israel.

  “And this is how they came to Israel” Moshe explained to David.

  “I miss Israel, I’m tired of this Louisiana, when are we going back?”

  “I really don’t know, when dad finishes his research, and every year he prolongs it for another year. I hope this year he will go back.”

  “I really don’t understand why is he so interested in a country that disappeared such a long time ago.”

  “That country was called France. It was a very important country once, and that is why it is so interesting”

  “Was interesting, the past doesn’t matter at all. I find it more important to go back to my country.”

  David cried.

  A sixty year old man sits in front of his TV. He sees himself giving an interview. The man says in a strong guttural accent: “what you did to us is what the gentiles did to you in Europe. You treated us like this country didn’t belong to us, like we don’t belong...” there was a long silence. “And you know what, we understand, we are ready to forgive, if you just ask for forgiveness, we beg you to ask for forgiveness so we can forgive, if you will just speak the truth, examine yourselves, fix things, we are ready. But there is one thing we won’t do... we won’t turn the other check.”

  A father and son are talking.

  “I’m not Zemer anymore dad, that’s it, I changed my name to Benzimra, the fifties are over.”

  “Very nice son, I congratulate you for your new way, a new name is a new way.”

  “I expect you to change your name to your father’s name too, a proper Hebrew name, a real name, not like all those plastic names.”

  “I congratulate you but I have been a Zemer for the last forty five years, and this will be my name till the day I die, I can’t change it, I live with all of its and my contradictions. I expect you to understand that.”

  “I don’t and I won’t accept your answer”

  “What are those two talking about” Moshe said

  “Press the button” said David.

  A man walks in Jerusalem, he stops next to the trees, there are a lot of cars making a lot of noise in the street.

  “Where does all this noise come from?”

  “Cars used to burn fuel and make a lot of noise back then.”

  He walks the streets, stops at the post office. He gets some envelopes out of his mailbox.

  "Tell me something, why did all these people carry keys everywhere. What did they use the key for in the streets?"

  "I really don't know."

  "We will soon see them with their keys in the toilets."

  And indeed, that person left the Post Office and walked in a hurry across some alleys, got to the office and went straight to the toilets.

  "OK, enough, this is boring. Press the button."

  A family in a big house, in a huge room, with a very high ceiling, and a boy in the center, he is blond and has big brown eyes. He is laying on a sofa, staring at the walls, everybody looks at him, and their look is full of merci. The mom hugs him and shouts unclear words at the other kids. Everybody knows he's about to die, maybe today, maybe in a week, Moshe and David look at him and cry, the kids laugh occasionally but it’s a sad laughter, they know he is dying, they know that this house is not a home, that this house will be very different when he dies, they know the walls will change, that the plaster will come off, that the ceiling will grow all kinds of greens, mold, because a house a little boy dies in doesn’t stay the same, it holds no security, no peace, it only holds the wish for a different house, another house that had never been and never will be, a house where fathers don't burry their sons. Moshe and David look at this family, at this house with no phone and no computer and see great love and big emotions in it, the kind no one feels anymore, even though it’s a machine that shows pain and crying, disappointment and hope.

  But David and Moshe are just kids, and as such they want to play, so they turn off the computer and go to play football, the computer got too sad, it's not a game anymore, it presents grown-up's world, a world where nothing is safe, a world little boys die in.

  "I don't want to use this machine again" David said "I want to play Tito Martin now, it's a beautiful game and all we've been doing lately is using your scanner, I've had enough of it"

  "OK, I understand" Moshe says "You are still too young for that, Cholera plagues, sick children, people in bathrooms, get back to your games, I'll play it when you're not around."

  "No Moshe, it's not just me who is too young for this, you are too young as well."

  A school, in Marrakesh. The teacher speaks French. He writes in big letters on the board: "Why we mustn’t leave Indochina."

  And tells the children: "That's a very important connection. All job opportunities will be lost to Paris. You need to beautifully explain why France should keep holding Indochina’s territories. The best work will grant it's writer a trip to Paris and a one year scholarship to the Sorbonne University. So, good luck."

  Silence.

  A man sits and writes, he uses an old computer.

  Prologue (and a response to all of my critics): this book is ethnic, because it was written with a pen while the writer shouted Ni, Ni, Ni, this book is Moroccan because all the characters in it eat couscous, this book is post-post-modern because it was sent to you by mail, this book is a book of protest, because it has a lot of
butter in it, this book falls in between especially if you sit between chairs and don't hold it strong enough, this book has a lot of grammar mistakes because it's author is very strict with Don't Do deeds only, this book is for Middle Eastern readers because it was written by a man of the Maghreb, this book is written in bad Hebrew because you didn't read it in Serbian, this book is elitist, analytic and covered with spikes, this book is for readers with good digestion and with no constipation, this book is not for vegetarians, this book is completely different from the next book.

  "Look at him, he looks just like me" Moshe said,

  And we really do see Moshe Benzimra walking on Orense St. in Madrid on the screen, early in the morning, he walks into a café with his cousin David and orders Calamari, David says he doesn’t understand how can he eat Calamari this early, and orders café latte. They are both fifteen years old, just like Moshe.

  "And what do you want to do in life?"

  "I want to be a Psychiatrist, and you?"

  "A writer, I want to be a writer."

  "OK... but I think a writer should be more sensitive to what happens around him."

  Moshe orders more Calamari while feeding frenzy on those fried rings. People in the bar look at him.

  David: he looks just like you, and he has the same name as you.

  Moshe: Stop it! Turn it off, I don't want to know there was someone that looked just like me and wanted to be a writer when he was fifteen, just like I do.

  They leave the café, get on a minibus and head to the center of town, they are looking for a record store, stop at a lot of them, David tells Moshe about all kinds of singers, they enter this or that store, leave, David buys a lot of records, Moshe says he will buy some too before he goes back to Israel, they talk about music all this time.

  Moshe comes back from school one day, only to find out that everything in the house was stolen. The neighbors thought they were moving out, because the house was for sale. Moshe cried.