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Moroccan Literature Written In English

The theme of these short stories of a serialized fiction is the denial of basic human rights

Journalist's Journal: What a journalist can see is not the same as a common man can see. The common man will describe the fact to you, as it is. The journalist will also describe the fact to you, the difference is that the journalist can go beyond the fact, he can do, what we call READING BETWEEN THE LINE. It is interesting to see how a journalist lives his life and detect the contradictions, nonsense and illogic happenings, and how these absurd things can affect a human's life, leaving too many victims but no one is guilty

The ordeal of a Moroccan journalist in an Arab country

Journalist's Journal

Part One :

Do you know Lolita?

By: H. B. Qounin

After more than thirty hours in police custody in a foul smelling cell I heard someone shout my name and then the rusted metal door of the cell was opened with a loud noise.

I found myself face to face with a fat Arab guard who reeked of garlic and sweat. He told me to follow him and we walked along the corridor to an office where he barked at me to sit in a chair.

Grabbing my arms from behind he then ordered me to put my hands behind my back whilst he handcuffed me with some rusty old handcuffs, fixing then so tightly that I thought that my arms would drop off.

Grabbing a file from the desk he then led me out into the corridor and up some stairs to the first floor. I kept asking him what was going but all he did was tell me to shut up.

Upstairs we stopped in front of an office where he knocked on the door and without waiting for an answer pushed it open and shoved me inside ahead of him.

Inside was another policeman with sergeant’s stripes who told me to sit before dismissing the fat policeman and telling me to wait whilst he took the file to the office next door.

After a few minutes the sergeant returned and asked me to follow him into the office where I was told to sit on an old revolving wooden chair. At the desk was a major who was reading a file, my file I guessed.

I sat there swinging my legs back and forth till the major shouted at me to sit still and then ordered the sergeant to handcuff me to the chair to stop me from moving around.

I sat there nervously whilst the sergeant removed the handcuffs from my right hand fixing the cuff to the chair. The major told the sergeant to leave and then started reading the file.

Finally the major got round to business and after spending five minutes or so in silence, reading the file he fixed me with a stare from cold dark eyes which made me shiver with fear and said,

“Do you know Lolita?” 

.. To be continued ..

Readers' Comments:

Niels hay, poet, Copenhage:Your story "Do you know Lolita?" is a strong first chapter, we are curious: why do the major ask this question...? - And: Do you know Lolita? We are waiting for chapter 2...

A Moroccan journalist installed in an Arab country. He was living there since 1996. In 1998, He started living real nightmare.All ingredients for a rocambolesque, truffled history of awkwardness and backwardnesand a story full of contradictions and illogical facts.

The Moroccan journalist has been accused of adultery, to have put pregnant a Russian citizen, by the name of Lolita. He was in escape to prove his innocence.

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