‘One time, Mister Gus paid me to put a picnic for them in the cave of the drawings, like Yassine did for us. I helped them to be together. Momo said I’m a bad boy to help them, but I didn’t mind. I do what I like. They went everywhere in secret. Sometimes they went to the building of the olive oil. Always it was a secret. Hanane was a good Amazigh lady. She didn’t want people to say bad things. She was afraid of the evil eye.’
‘The evil eye seems to follow the Percivals everywhere.’
‘You have to be careful for it, darling. There is much bad stuff like that in the mountains. Jealousy. Bad feelings. People go to shawafas to make potions for badness. Many people come to my grandmother for this because she is a very powerful shawafa. But she never does badness, even though she can. She only makes good medicine for people. She teach my mother to do good medicine only. Some people say my grandmother have a djinni to do stuff for her.’ He shrugs. ‘But it’s just ladies talking.’ He taps the Polaroid in Addy’s hand. ‘I was the photographer of this picture.’
‘You took this picture?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s our fate to be together, Adi.’
Her reality slips. She’s in a space that aligns, but not in a way she’d ever considered possible.
‘What happened to Hanane? Mohammed said Amine’s mother died.’
Omar rubs his eyes. ‘It’s hard to talk about it, darling. It’s better I don’t tell you. It will hurt you.’
‘Tell me. I need to know what my father did. Maybe that’s why I’m here. Maybe I’m here to fix it.’
‘There’s no way to fix the situation, habibati.’ He sighs. ‘Okay, I will tell you the story.’
Chapter Fifty-One
Zitoune, Morocco – March 1984
The metal door swings open, blowing Gus into the room on a blast of wind and rain.
‘The bridge is washed out,’ he says in French. ‘The shops are all flooded.’
‘What about the houses by the shops?’ Hanane frowns. Omar’s family lived by the shops.
Gus shrugs out of Hanane’s father’s old brown wool djellaba. ‘They’re stuffing rugs by the doors, but that’s not going to help much. The water’s rising too fast. I’ve been telling people to leave for higher ground, but they won’t listen to me.’
‘Will we be all right here? We’re so close to the river.’
‘It’s high enough. We’ll be fine.’
Hanane lifts the kettle off the brazier and pours the steaming water into a teapot stuffed with green tea, fresh mint and lumps of sugar. As she pours the tea into tea glasses, the spicy freshness of the mint wafts through the room. She hands a glass to Gus.
‘Thank you, my darling.’
Hanane blushes. She sips at the steaming tea. ‘Marhaba.’
Gus grabs the stool from underneath the window and sets it down beside the brazier.
‘Please, sit down, Hanane. It’s more comfortable than squatting.’
Hanane dips her chin shyly. ‘Thank you.’
He settles cross-legged on the striped cushions and watches Hanane silently as she sips the tea.
‘I know something’s on your mind,’ he says. ‘You can tell me.’
How can she tell him of her guilt? Of the dishonour she’d bring upon herself and her family if her relationship with him was discovered. Even though he’d never touched her. They’d never believe her. Gus would never understand the way people were here.
She shakes her head. ‘It’s nothing.’
Gus sets down the tea glass and squeezes her hand. ‘I don’t believe that for a minute, Hanane.’
‘It’s just—’
A pounding on the door. ‘M-M-Mister Gus! Come quick!’ A boy’s voice.
The door jumps on its hinges as the boy jiggles the locked handle.
Gus throws open the door. ‘Yassine? What’s going on?’
‘A c-c-cow. They tried to r-r-rescue it.’ The boy shivers in his soaking ski jacket and jeans. ‘They’re in the river on the b-b-big rock. The one near the b-b-bridge.’
Hanane grabs a towel and wraps it around the boy’s quivering shoulders. ‘Who, Yassine? Who’s on the rock?’
‘It’s the c-c-cow of Momo and Omar’s m-m-mother. It ran away from the w-w-water. We tried to c-c-catch it but it went in the river. It got stuck on the r-r-rock. Omar said we must to r-r-rescue it. They went on a b-b-branch to get to the r-r-rock.’
Gus throws his brown djellaba over his head. ‘Who went on the branch?’
‘My brother and Omar and D-D-Driss.’
‘Holy Mother of God. Stay here with Hanane. I’ll get help.’
‘No, Mister Gus. I must come. It’s my b-b-brother. I don’t want him to go over the w-w-waterfalls.’
Hanane grabs her djellaba from the olive press. ‘I’m coming too.’
Gus and Hanane push through the villagers clustered in the thick red paste of the muddy riverbank, following Yassine as he dodges through the chattering crowd.
‘There, they’re there.’ Yassine points to the three boys clinging to a large rock in the middle of the swollen river.
The sodden cow is wedged in a crack in the rock, its tin bell clanging forlornly as it wrestles to free itself.
‘Mister Gus!’ Omar, Momo and Driss wave from the top of the wet rock as they struggle to keep hold of the cow’s rope.
Hanane slips in the slick mud and grabs onto Gus’s arm to steady herself. ‘Momo! Omar! Driss! Be careful. We’ll help you.’
‘Jesus Mother of God.’ Gus grasps hold of the branch the boys have used as a bridge to the rock and leans his full weight against it. ‘Hold on, boys. Stay where you are.’ He looks around at the men, their deep-lined faces shadowed by their hooded djellabas. ‘Come on, you have to help us.’ Gus spots the green plastic raincoat and peaked cap of the village’s new young policeman shrinking back through the wall of brown wool djellabas. ‘Monsieur Le Police. Help us! Get some rope.’
Hanane pushes through the men and grabs the arm of the policeman. ‘Please. You have to help them.’
The policeman thrusts Hanane’s hand away. ‘I’m not going to help the Irishman’s whore.’
Hanane gasps. ‘What did you say?’
The man’s eyes stare at Hanane in contempt. ‘I know you’re fucking the foreigner. I’ve been watching you. You came here today with him from the olive hut.’ He spits into the mud at Hanane’s feet. ‘You should do your family a favour and go spread your legs in Marrakech. At least you’ll make some money there instead of throwing yourself away on that filthy foreigner.’
The slap sends the policeman’s hat flying into the mud. Hanane stares at her smarting palm and clutches it to her chest.
‘I am a good woman. The day will come when you will regret this insult.’
The policeman picks up his hat and slaps it against his raincoat. ‘What are you going to do? You’ll be finished in Zitoune when I tell your family. How will you stop me? Send a djinni after me?’ He sweeps his flat brown eyes over her. ‘Maybe we can make a better arrangement.’
Anger spins through Hanane’s body. ‘A djinni? I will do much worse than that. Remember me. Because I will remember you.’
A hand grasps Hanane’s arm and yanks her around. ‘Hanane. What are you doing here?’
Her brother stands in front of her, his eyes flicking between her and the policeman.
‘Mohammed! You have to help. The boys are on the rock in the river. They tried to rescue Aicha’s cow. Mister Gu— the foreigner is trying to help them. Can you get a rope? Anything?’ She pulls at Mohammed’s arm. ‘Come, Mohammed. Please.’ Mohammed spies the policeman sliding into the screen of the olive grove. He looks at the frantic face of his sister. So what the police told him is true. He glances towards the river.
‘Please, Mohammed. I beg you. The rope from the washing line. We can use that. I’ll go with Yassine to get it. We have to hurry. The boys could drown.’
‘Yes. Fine. Bring the rope. I�
��ll help.’
Hanane grasps her brother’s hand and kisses it. ‘Thank you, Mohammed.’
He pulls his hand away. ‘We’ll talk later, Hanane. This situation is not finished.’
Gus tugs at the yellow nylon rope around his waist linking him to the thick trunk of an olive tree. Mohammed leans his weight onto the branch that rests precariously against the boys’ rock.
‘Hurry,’ he says to Gus in French. ‘The river is pushing the branch. We don’t have much time.’
Hanane scans the faces of the village men.
‘Anyone? Please. Help us. How can you just stand there? It’s not for me. It’s for the boys.’
‘Please,’ Yassine weeps as he runs from man to man, clutching at sleeves and the loose djellabas. ‘Help my brother.’
Hanane glares at the men. ‘May Allah forgive you all.’
Aicha pushes through the crowd. ‘Hanane, what’s happening? Jedda told me the boys are in trouble. She’s looking for her key to call her djinni to help.’
Hanane points to the river. ‘The boys …’
Aicha holds her hand up to her mouth. She screams and slides through the mud to the riverbank. ‘Boys! Momo! Omar! Hold on!’
‘The cow, Mama!’ Omar yells over the rushing water. ‘We have to save the cow. How will you sell milk and butter if she drowns?’
‘Never mind, Omar, hold on! We’re coming for you.’
Gus launches himself into the freezing current. The water pushes his feet out from under him and he fumbles for the branch.
‘Jesus wept,’ he curses under his breath.
Mohammed reaches over the branch and grabs hold of Gus’s hand, pulling him to his feet.
‘Be careful. I will hold the branch still.’
Hanane reaches her arms around Aicha and the shivering Yassine, hugging them to her as they watch. Clutching the branch to steady himself, Gus inches through the current towards the wailing boys until the rope jerks him to a halt halfway across.
Gus beckons to Omar. ‘Come on, Omar. Show them how easy it is.’
‘Go, Omar,’ Momo says to his brother. ‘You are the best climber. Go on the branch. Mister Gus will help you.’
‘But the cow.’
‘Never mind the cow. Go on the branch.’
Omar sits on the slick rock and inches over to the branch. He reaches over and grasps the grey trunk, then slowly shimmies across to Gus.
Gus holds out a hand. ‘I’ve got you, Omar. Grab hold.’
Omar reaches over and clutches Gus around his shoulders. Gus grasps hold of the boy’s small body and wades back to the riverbank. Mohammed grabs hold of Omar’s sodden ski jacket and pulls him over to safety. Aicha runs over to her son and wails as she presses him against her body.
‘I’m fine, Yamma,’ he says as he squirms out of her grasp. ‘It’s no problem. Yassine, come on.’
The two boys hurry to the riverbank and yell across to the others.
‘It’s easy, Momo! Driss! Come on. You can do it.’
Gus wades back out into the river.
‘Come on, Momo,’ he says, beckoning to the boy. ‘Just do what your brother did. Pretend you’re one of the monkeys by the waterfalls.’
‘Don’t go, Momo!’ Driss cries. ‘Don’t leave me by myself. I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t worry, Driss,’ Momo says. ‘You go first. It’s fine. It’s a strong branch.’
‘I’m afraid, Momo.’
‘Mister Gus will help you. It will be fine.’
‘Okay, Momo. I’ll try.’ Driss crawls onto the branch and begins to whimper. ‘I can’t do it, Momo.’
‘You can. You can. Look, Mister Gus is close.’
‘The cow!’ Omar screams.
The cow emits a terrified bellow as it suddenly frees itself from the rock and crashes into the raging current. The tin bell’s ring is swallowed by water as the cow thrashes against the current propelling it towards the waterfalls.
Driss throws his body onto the branch and clings to it like a baby macaque on its mother’s back. ‘Momo! I’m afraid!’
‘I’m right behind you, Driss,’ Momo calls to him. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll help you.’
‘Hold on, Driss!’ Omar yells from the riverbank. ‘Mister Gus is coming.’
A crack like a gunshot rings out across the river as the branch splinters. The boys fall into the pushing current. The black-haired heads slip under the water. They bob up just under the bridge, and disappear again under the rushing current. Mohammed and the men run along the riverbank, Omar and Yassine chasing after them. Aicha screams. Gus stands in the churning river, his face a mask of shock. Hanane puts her hand to her throat. Her voice is broken, silenced by her cries.
Chapter Fifty-Two
High Atlas Mountains, Morocco – June 2009
Addy hugs Omar against her. His shoulders shake with emotion.
‘I’m so sorry, Omar. That’s terrible. Your poor mother.’
Omar sits back and presses his fingers against his eyes. ‘It was their fate.’
‘You don’t have to tell me any more right now. We can talk about Hanane and my father another time.’
‘No, habibati. You must know the whole story. After the flood, Yassine told everybody Hanane was with Mister Gus in the olive hut. It was a big scandal. Like Mount Everest.’
‘Just because she was in the hut with my father?’
‘You don’t understand, Adi. This was haram. She dishonoured herself. Nobody could trust her after that. The family of Hanane tried to force her to marry a cousin in Tafraout. There was a big argument with Mister Gus and the family of Hanane. They didn’t talk to her any more after that. Somebody put the bad eye on Mister Gus and Hanane for bringing bad honour to Zitoune. It was a hard situation for Hanane. Her heart was broken for losing her family.
‘Mister Gus took her to Marrakech because the situation became very bad in Zitoune. They were gone for many months. Then one day they came back to talk to her family. I took the photo of them at the waterfalls when they came back. Everybody could see that Hanane is pregnant. Mister Gus insist to talk to her father and Mohammed, but no way. They refuse. So, again Mister Gus and Hanane left. Hanane cried so much.
‘Many months later, Hanane came by herself in a grand taxi from Marrakech. She is close to have the baby. She went to her family to help her. Her brother, Mohammed, sent his wife to get my mother to help, but my mum was afraid. But my grandmother helped her. Jedda doesn’t mind what people think.’
‘You’re like your grandmother.’
‘She’s better than me. She’s Hajjah. One hundred per cent she will go to Paradise one day.’
‘So Jedda delivered Hanane’s baby?’
‘Yes, I insist to help my grandmother. Hanane was very sick. In the night-time, Amine was born. Mister Gus came in a grand taxi soon after, but Hanane she died before he came. He didn’t see her. When somebody dies here, they must be buried quick. It was haram for him to go to the cemetery because he is Christian.’
‘What about Amine? Did he see Amine?’
Omar shifts his gaze away. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Mohammed took Amine away.’
‘Why? My father could’ve brought Amine back to Canada. I would’ve had a half-brother. I might even have come here with Amine one day. And met you.’
‘Mohammed didn’t want Mister Gus to take Amine because he wanted the baby to be Muslim and he was angry for how Mister Gus had shamed Hanane.’ Omar looks at Addy. ‘It’s hard for me to tell you this, darling.’
‘Tell me what?’
Omar looks away, unable to meet Addy’s gaze. ‘Mohammed paid my mother to lie to Mister Gus.’
It’s like a slap. ‘Your mother lied? But how? She doesn’t speak English.’
‘Yes, she lied. She told him Amine died as well.’ He inhales a deep breath. ‘She told me to tell Mister Gus for her. In English.’
Omar had lied to my father. Gus never knew he’d had a son. A son who’d lived.
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Omar looks at Addy. ‘After that, Mister Gus left Zitoune. The story became history. And then you came and you showed people the picture, and the story is alive again.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
Zitoune, Morocco – March 1984
‘How can you do this to me, Hanane? How can you do this to your family?’ Hanane’s father tosses his soaking djellaba over the strident floral upholstery of a living room banquette.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t speak Tamazight,’ Gus says in French. ‘Your daughter didn’t do anything wrong. Blame me, by all means, but she’s entirely innocent.’
‘How can you say that?’ Mohammed says in French as he pulls his djellaba over his head and throws it on top of his father’s. He jabs a finger at Gus. ‘I saw with my own eyes the situation by the river.’ He turns to his sister, who stands as still and lifeless as a statue in the doorway. ‘The police saw you go in the olive house to meet this man, Hanane. Yassine found you there today. You can’t say this is not true.’
Hanane looks at her father’s angry face. The lines seem to have etched themselves more deeply in his face since the morning. The pain she’s caused. How can she ever forgive herself?
Mohammed’s wife, Bouchra, shuffles out of the kitchen, the baby swaddled across her broad back with a scarf. She flicks her eyes from Gus to her sister-in-law.
‘I told you you should have married her to Mehdi last year, Mohammed,’ she says to her husband in Tamazight. ‘This would never have happened. Now, our child will be stained by her sins.’ She steps across the plastic mat and pushes Hanane’s shoulder, throwing her off balance against a table.
Gus reaches out and catches Hanane before she falls. ‘Hold on. That’s not necessary.’
Mohammed barks at his wife, who retreats sullenly back into the kitchen.
Hanane’s father opens his arms out in a gesture of despair. ‘What am I to do now, Hanane?’ he asks her in Tamazight. ‘The only solution is to marry you immediately to Mustapha in Tafraout, if he will still have you.’
‘No, Baba! Please! I don’t want to go there. It’s so far away. I’ll know no one there.’
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