Moroccan men are known to have very strong feelings about their family. As young men, their hormones drive them like they do men from any other country. But the tapestry of their lives has a very strong traditional weft that includes caring for wife and children. The drive to succeed so they can provide for their family is an integral part of their family values. Hasan was no different. His grandfather and father drove him to develop the type of work ethic that could be applied anywhere; the farm or the boardroom. Regardless of the distastefulness of the task you threw your back into getting it done. Hasan applied that to everything. Not really gifted intellectually, he did very well in school none the less. Why? Because he attacked his studies not just endured them. He carried himself well with an easy going grace and smile that almost made the locals forget he was Moroccan; almost.
One cannot party hard nightly and do well in school, especially if you’re not gifted. Yet, the recluse fails to make the connections that can open doors later in life. So, he attacked his social life like a job to be done. The goal was to collection of long lasting connections without sacrificing his grades. He would not go out every night. When he did he would take notes or a graph or a map on a piece of paper folded in his pocket. He kept a lot of information on his mobile. Fortunately, men don’t go to the restroom in groups like women do. He would use each trip as an opportunity to review a different piece of information. He used the loci mnemonic method and associated material with different bars or parts of a bar. Half way through the night, he would excuse himself to meet a friend or visiting family member at another place. He would use the travel time to study. Most of the “party hardy” crowd rejected him as too stodgy, too serious. But only a few of them had any real value as future connection.
Most people found him quiet easy to get along with. Affable, quick witted, always ready to listen. When Hasan was out with people making friends and connections he was 100% with them. When he went into the bathroom for a study break he was 100% focused on the material. One time he was using the urinal, with his left hand he held some study material. He was so focused that he did not notice a friend using the urinal besides him.
Are you studying and pissing at the same time?
Uh, yeah. I was so fried today that I absolutely needed tonight out. But I’m so freaked out about the test tomorrow that I thought I would bring this one graph with me. He considered a bolder lie but thought this embellishment of the truth would be better.
That test isn’t until a week from tomorrow!
What! Are you sure?
Pierre pulled out his mobile and showed him on the calendar.
May Allah be praised. Then he ripped the pieces of paper into tiny bits and threw it in the trash.
Let me buy you beer. You made my night. Hasan never used a urinal again.
Camille, from Lille, a confident redhead took an interest in Hasan. She spoke to him often. Asked questions about Morocco and had a gift for getting him to talk about himself. Hasan’s conservative upbringing and focus on studies kept Camille at arms length and out of his bed. The weather and the studies wore on Hasan. Without even noticing it, he was getting tired. He missed his mother’s cooking and the warmth of the sea and the sun. A cold snap and a plea from Camille for some help brought him to her apartment. A cup of tea, slices of baguette with butter and honey accompanied their study session. They worked with focus. Hasan knew no other way. The cold drove them together at the kitchen table converted to a desk. As their studies came to a close she produced some mint tea. A favorite drink of Casablanca. He relaxed his guard. He still does not remember if it was the mint tea, or the wine afterwards or just a little bit of everything. He found himself in bed with her.
In his mind they were consumed with the act of making love. In her mind she was exploring sex with a dark man of mystery. Her conclusion at the end, which she had the audacity to tell him out loud, was
“You’re, just like the rest. Dark man of mystery is overrated.” She showered quickly, dressed and cleaned up the kitchen.
Listen, I have an early class tomorrow. I really appreciate all your help tonight.
And with that he was dismissed. He was nothing more than experiment. Like a test drive at an auto dealer or a sample at a food booth. Most men would have been glad to trade tutoring for sex. But he felt ashamed. This is why dad warned me about foreign women, he thought to himself. He chastised himself for being such a fool. For the rest of the semester Camille was polite but indifferent to Hasan. At first he thought, French women innately had the ability to enchant, seduce and abandon. He felt Moroccan women would not behave so. Nevertheless he guarded his heart. Running into Amina at the middle of his senior year was like a care package from mom full of his favorite food magically hot right off the stove.
Amina was confident and energetic and inquisitive. They spoke of business and economics and changing the face of Morocco. He looked at her face and saw beauty. He looked at her body and saw grace. He looked at her soul and saw someone who wanted to build something of value. She hooked him completely.
So when did he change? What caused this man of focus, completely in love with a woman woven on the same loom as he, to turn so wicked? Retrospectively, one might point to this event or that but in reality it was Hasan’s decisions and not the circumstances that caused the change. After the first night as “sweetner” Amina no longer slept with him. He had concluded that French women had the capacity to seduce and discard. Now he decided that all women are like that. They seek men who can provide security so they pander to a man’s ego. Their feminine charm is a tool of acquisition not a sign of affection. He decided women have true love only for their children. Did he analyze his own contributions to the parameters of the equation. Of course not. He saw Camille as a representative model of the entire female French population. And he definitely did not see his pressure on Amina as pushing her to prostitution, only as business efficacy.
As proof that all women are like Camille, he watched Amina blossom. She learned other languages. Became more stylish and aware of politics and the who’s who in the international circles of art, movies and music. She picked up skills from the silly to sublime. Had he even bothered to ask he would have discovered that she used these activities as Valium for her broken heart. And she used her portion of the profits to better the conditions of her family.
His self-warped and cynical view of women was only an excuse he used to justify using Katya. She was sexy and an efficient administrator. She helped keep tabs on Amina and provided him the sexual release he thought he needed. He had no illusions of affection. She did not pretend to love him. She provided him with benefits and he increased hers. Amina saw the soft side of Hasan. Katya saw the hard side.
Some men are richer and more powerful than Hasan. He deferred to their wishes and courted their favor. Some men are less powerful and court Hasan’s favor. What Amina saw as affection and protection from Rodrigo, was just good stewardship of a valuable asset; Amina. She did not see them beat Rodrigo but she heard it, the shot and screeching tires as the cars left. What Katya saw, were the calls to Rodrigo’s employer. The insult that this man had for his business was inexcusable, is what Hasan relayed to the other businessman. Upon returning home, Rodrigo was beat again and fired. When his wife found out why, not from Rodrigo, she divorced him. He could find a job of no real importance after that. Did he have remorse for his treatment of Amina? No. He only seethed with hatred for Hasan and lived for the day when he could murder him. So Kaya knew what to expect from Hasan.
Hasan called Katya.
I cannot reach Fatimah. Their plane has landed and she is nowhere to be found. I
I cannot reach her either.
The must be in this together. I’ve been double-crossed.
I don’t think Fatimah has the capacity for that level of deception.
Idiot! He growled at her.
How much talent does it take to be turned and led away by someone like Amina?
You’re right. She said, though she doubted that Amina was also that clever.
Their anger and suspicion obscured the possibility that something could have happened to Fatimah. From something as simple as food poisoning to the truth that her drunken outbreak put her in custody.
Nasser went to Barcelona and he sent the others to Sete And Genoa. I must get focused on my meeting in thirty minutes. Get ahold of Nasser and tell him to send the man in Genoa to Milan. It shouldn’t take more than two hours.
I know someone in Milan that could check the hotel. He’s seen me, Amina and Fatimah before.
Do it. A lot is at stake.
Katya had street smarts, enough to know that keep your mouth shut and ask questions only for clarification. She could not imagine why Amina’s leaving was such an issue. If, in fact, she really did leave. Katya was quick to believe that she was just having sexy rendezvous to get away from Hasan. She had heard that tone in a man’s voice before. The sound of jealousy. It could turn a hug from your cousin into a lascivious act. She looked up Giovanni.
Hey Giovanni, this is Katya.
Hey there what’s up?
Am I catching you at a bad time?
No, I’m almost at home. Are you in town?
Not at the moment tomorrow I will be.
I wonder if you could do me a big favor.
Yeah, what is it?
Do you remember Fatimah and Amina my boss from our last trip there?
I do, I do.
I can’t seem to find them and I’m getting a little worried. There flight should have arrived 30 minutes ago but I cannot reach either of them.
What you want me to do?
Could you check at the airport and the hotel?
Ok. What’s in it for me?
I’ll give you a night you’ll remember for long time.
I have a girlfriend now, Katya.
Ok. I’ll call Roberto.
Cut it out. I wasn’t saying no.
Then you’ll do it?
Yeah, but you owe me dinner, or a drink or something. He chuckled and hung up.
She did not look forward to calling Nasser. He was always so serious. She was convinced that he had killed many men both before, during and after the war. She felt threatened, even at a distance. Nevertheless she called him.
Have you seen any sign of Amina?
No
I talked to Hasan 15 minutes ago. He wanted me to relay a message to you. She wanted to say “I just got off the phone” but she knew he was precise. If Hasan had talked to Nasser before she did, he would call her a liar and doubt everything she said.
Hasan told me to call someone I know in Milan to look for Amina.
Why?
Because their plane has landed and neither of us could get a hold of Fatimah. He thinks They’re colluding. I know someone there who can go to the airport look for Fatima and Amina. He has met them before.
Ok. What’s the message from Hasan.
He said he has to focus on his meeting which is starting soon. He would like you to send the man you sent to Genoa up to Milan. He estimates he could be there in about 2 hours.
[silence]
Nasser are you there?
Yes.
[silence]
I don’t think they are together. I’ll send the man to Milan. You get your contact to search for Fatimah. I believe Amina has left and is on her way to Paris. I will catch her here in Barcelona. Call me when you get more information.
I will
Nasser thought that Fatimah was a bright and loyal girl. Hasan viewed her optimistic and bubbly nature as stupidity. However, he also knew she could be easily befuddled. In his mind, it was just as possible that she had lost her phone or let it run out of charge. Despite her many trips to Paris, Milan and Rome with Amina she had not made much progress learning any other language. If she was there, without Amina, she would just shut down mentally. It could be hours before she regained her wits and found help.
He still felt confident that Amina would arrive on the ferry and head to the train station or the airport to go to Paris. He stayed at the ferry and told Abdul to leave Genoa and get to Milan quickly.
The ferry from Tangier to Barcelona took anywhere between 26 and 32 hours. His flight from Casablanca would put him at the port hours before the first ferry could have arrived. However there was the possibility that Amina had gotten to Tangier earlier than calculated and taken the first available ferry to Barcelona. If she were lucky, there was a slim possibility that he could miss the first possible ferry by an hour. To be safe, he called a friend of his. He was a good friend but dull. His only real talent was surveillance. He had the bladder of a water buffalo and eyes like eagles and a knack for remember faces. Nasser sent 2 or 3 pictures of Amina to his phone. By the time Nasser arrived at the dock, Armando was there as expected. He sat on a bench, looking in the general direction of the ferry. He had a large bottle of water and a large bag of nuts. He seemed to pop one in his mouth every two minutes exactly.
You just missed the ferry. The last of the passengers just turned the corner there.
Did you see anyone like the picture.
The ferry had 35 women on board. 10 where will children, no older than 16. 15 were very short. 5 were very fat.
What about the last five.
Here are their pictures. He reached behind him and pulled out a digital camera with a high powered lens.
Nasser swiped through the pictures. 3 he could eliminate immediately. Thankfully Armando tool a lot of pictures of each subject but that slowed the revue. The fourth could finally be eliminated. In one of the shots she turned toward the camera. Her face was as white as milk as were her hands. Not Amina. The fith seemed more cagey. She seemed to know she was being watched. She kept her head down or her face turned toward the wall. Nasser was getting excited. She was off the gang plank and near the exit to the parking and transportation area. In the last frame she turned toward a man waving at her. Her face perfectly filled the camera frame. She had Amina’s build and height. Her hair was the same color. But when she turned toward the camera she had gold framed glasses and deep furrows in her face. She was a very fit woman in her fifties. She looked American, English or Canadian. He was disappointed. He was tired. Why am I chasing the wife of a jealous man? He suddenly longed for retirement and days tending a garden and reading.
I gather she was not on the ferry.
No. But it was a long shot. To catch this ferry she would have to get from Casablanca to Tangier very quickly.
Perhaps she took a plane.
No we’re sure she did not take a plane from Casablanca.
Perhaps from Tangier?
Unlikely. Internally, Nasser chastised himself for not having someone check the airport. He assumed that Amina would hide but what if she wasn’t that clever or merely chose speed over secrecy.
You’re done with me then?
Hang on my friend. There are 2 more ferries she could be on. I’ll pay you for the extra time. I have not slept in 48 hours. Let’s go get something to eat. I’ll drop you off back here and sleep while you watch the next ferry.
After dinner, Armando went back to the port and Nasser went to sleep. He didn’t even bother to undress. He just laid down and slept, just like in the days of warfare. 2 hours later he got a call from Armando.
No one even close to fitting Amina’s description was on the next ferry.
I think she’s here. I’ll send you a picture.
Nasser put on his shoes and started for the door. As the elevator doors open he felt the buzz of his phone. He looked and his heart leapt. Right height. Right build. Right skin color. Big glasses. She was traveling with a man that looked like a professional bodyguard. It must be her. The hotel was only two blocks from the dock. He raced there hoping to catch Amina as she left the terminal to get ground transportation.
There she is. There she is. He broke into a run. It’s her walk. She was dressed like a westerner but completely covered from head to toe. The bodyguard was not to be seen. He reached her. Put his hand on her shoulder and spun her around.
I’ve found you, you little bitch.
The woman screamed in surprise and jumped back. But it was not Amina. At the same moment the hulk of a man stepped between Nasser and the woman. He grabbed Nasser by the collar and lifted him in the air.
What the hell you think you’re doing to my wife?
Honey, honey. Leave him alone. He might have a knife or a gun.
At that moment Nasser was reaching for his knife but before he could pull it out the man threw him backwards. Nasser fell to the ground wounding his pride but without murdering a man protecting his wife. The woman walked away, cuddling the man’s arm. So proud of his willingness to defend her. He walked away just swearing.
Armando could see the scuffle as he was huffing his way towards Nasser who was still on the ground when he came, wheezing around the corner. He helped Nasser up. Nasser looked around and saw all the people trying not to look at him. One slice with his knife and he could have cut a major artery in the man’s arm — dead in 2 minutes. A quick stab left of the sternum and he would be dead in 2 seconds. But there were plenty of witnesses. There would be little hope that he could escape prison. His pride was wounded. Had he kept his wits about him, he would have gone ahead of the woman then turned to look straight into her face.
Let’s go my friend.
Blast! Nasser landed on the curb of the sidewalk hitting both leg and elbow. It was painful to walk.
We’ll go to a bar nearby I know of that serves lamb, mint tea and anything stronger you want.
Blast!
Katya called.
My friend found Fatimah. She was detained by immigration. Her purse and phone were in storage when we tried to call her. By the time a translator was called and everything sorted out the batter of mobile was dead. My friend found her crying on a bench. He only knows a few words of Arabic and she doesn’t know but 2 words in Italian. They went to the Air Morocco desk and found a woman to translate. She’s now at the hotel where Amina normally stays. My friend verified Fatimah’s story. Amina was not on the plane.
Nasser ended the call and ordered and American whiskey; and then another.
Amina was still on the loose.
Frugal Pilgrim 