algeria

[rabah shvayni]

A Woman Called Algeria


Algeria was a beautiful women, so beautiful that it was said that whoever lays his eyes on her falls under a spell of love, she looked mesmerizing when she wore the Kabyle dress, when she wore her Hayek, her eyes were mirrors of enchantments and it was said that when she covered herself with the black M’laya she would look like a black angel that was sent upon earth.

Everyone wanted to be with her, to stand next to her to be her, but her beauty came at a terrible price, she was constantly harassed by hungry monsters who wanted nothing but to break her pride and to suck every drop of her blood until she was left with nothing but a dismantled body and a shattered soul.

She loved her children greatly, she taught her sons to never bow their heads except to the Al Mighty, “Raise your head, you’re the son of Algeria!” she would say with fire burning in her dark eyes. She taught her daughters to work hard and implanted in them a sense of responsibility, pride and passion.

But how could she have known that one day those children would betray her? How could she have known that a group of them would disband from the pack and conspire to destroy her? How could she have known that they would resort to treason for money and shallow riches? How could she have known that in fact, they were never her children….that they were demons sent to slaughter her?

She was beaten mercilessly, tortured, her once flawless face was black and blue and her body was covered with holes were the devils sucked her sugary sweet blood. She screamed, she trashed, she fought back to protect her children but no one came to her aid. Her younger children were terrified, they couldn’t see who was attacking their mother, they heard the thuds, they saw the blood getting splattered but they could not decipher what that black shadow was. The older ones ran for her but they too were overcame by the shadows and that weak glimmer of hope was destroyed.

But she rose again, her smile was broken, but she rose…….she held on for her children, but they could not recognize her anymore. She was different, disfigured, she never smiled, she wore bizarre outfits, she spoke differently, she abandoned her traditions and followed those of distant cousins. Soon her children followed her example and forgot what she used to look like, but deep inside them they knew that something was missing, they could no longer separate between past and present….between lost memories and cold realities….so they grew bitter towards her and one day, one of them asked in hatred, “Why? Why have you become like this?”

She raised her sad, hollow eyes towards him and a single tear fell down her cheek.



By Rania Aissaoui