IMZRI

 

IMZRI

Life is fair...

September 2nd, a day of self-criticism. I hold myself accountable for the promises I made to myself on this same day last year. I get anxious about the additional number added to my age while I’m still in the same place. I feel a bit frustrated due to my expectations of achieving great things at the start of my twenties, and because of comparisons with others, those I know and those I don’t know. Also, for not meeting the expectations my family and others have for me. On this day, I didn't hold myself accountable, not because I achieved a lot, but because I no longer want to achieve anything. My ambition now is to be okay, to feel alive. I don't want happiness, I want to accept life with all its ups and downs and live as I wish, free from my society's beliefs and customs, from expectations, and the need to gain others' approval by achieving their concept of success.

We, the 2000s generation, are caught between the ease of life and the misery of disappointment. We are victims of one single definition of success, and we punish ourselves for not achieving society’s approval. We take pictures and post them on Instagram to tell each other: Look, my life is better than yours, then we turn off our phones, return to our reality, and cry about our miserable lives. That’s why I will achieve success with my own definition, and my success now is to be okay.

I got lost in my thoughts until I fell asleep. I woke up around seven in the morning. As I was getting ready to go to work, I said: To hell with work, today is my birthday. I’ll do something. All that makes me happy these days is escaping to a city or village, walking in its streets and meeting strangers with whom I’ll spend a day or a few days, then we’ll disappear from each other’s lives.

I decided to go to the village of Imzri, on the outskirts of the city.

At the bus station, they told me that there was no bus going to that village. Someone suggested: Take a taxi to the village of Toundoute, and from there, look for a hitchhiker to take you to Imzri. I did that, I took a ticket, I was the third passenger. We needed three more passengers for the driver to start driving. After an hour, we finally departed, and after another hour, we arrived at the village of Toundoute. It was a simple place with simple people. I asked about a hitchhiker to Imzri, but I couldn’t find one. I asked for the direction to the village and decided to stop any car heading that way. 

As I stood there, I observed the surroundings, it felt as though I’d gone back sixty years. The houses were made of mud, most of the men wore traditional jellabas, and the women dressed modestly, their faces showing a sense of modesty. Despite my sadness over their poor infrastructure, I was happy for the life they lived, a simple life.

I noticed people staring at me, and looking at my clothes. I was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. They were conservative people, and it felt strange to them to see someone dressed like that. I had thought the place was touristy, but it wasn’t. They weren’t used to seeing strangers. I got tired of standing and tired of their stares…To hell with this trip, I decided to return.

I returned to the station and asked about a taxi heading back to the city, one of them said: I’ll take you to Imzri for 500 dirhams. 

I wasn’t going to pay that amount of money even if he took me there in a private jet. I said no. And bought a ticket back to the city. I was the first passenger. I sat at a café in front of the station, waiting for the rest of the passengers. I ordered a lemon juice, and again, people stared at me. At one moment, a madman stood in front of me, staring. He took my glass of juice, drank it all in one gulp, slammed the glass down hard on the table, and looked at me with a harsh face before walking away. What could I do with a madman? I looked around me, but no one seemed to notice what had happened. They were used to having madmen both inside and outside the café. I ignored it. All I wanted at that moment was to leave.

While waiting, I thought about the past year. It had been hell since the beginning. On this same day, problems were already chasing me. I started this year with bad luck as well, does this mean that my coming days will all be the same? When something starts with problems and bad luck, does it mean that the end will also be bad?

An hour passed, and I was still the only passenger. I got bored and opened the Lingbe app, I entered a chat room, the room host was a girl. After we finished the usual introduction questions, she asked me:

- How's your day going?

I told her that it was my birthday and shared everything that had happened. She felt sorry for me and said:

- I wish I were there, if I was, I’d take you somewhere, and we’d celebrate your birthday.

I thanked her for her kindness. We talked for half an hour, which was unusual for me, I usually don’t talk for more than ten minutes. But I felt a connection with her, lost in the conversation until I heard the taxi driver calling for me. I was finally leaving this place. I said goodbye to the girl and got into the taxi heading back to the city.

On the way back, I received a message from that girl. Since that moment, since that day, I’ve been talking to her till now. She’s become part of my day, she saved me from myself, how, I don’t know. I feel that I became better with her. I’m writing these words in April, seven months have passed since September. Are my days as bad as they were at the start? Some days were bad, some were good, and others passed without any feeling. That day, I didn’t have a great day as I wanted, I didn’t reach that village, but if I hadn’t gone, if I hadn’t found that taxi, if I hadn’t sat at that café, I wouldn’t have opened that app, and I wouldn’t have met that girl who means so much to me now... Life throws us into different emotions, and we humans usually choose to see pain, sadness, and bad luck among those feelings. We deny or forget the joy and all the other beautiful things and say life is unfair .

TRANSLATED BY : NADA FARSI