“Did you hear? The Mbarek’s wedding was called off this morning,” Amer’s aunt barged into the house as if she held the news of the century. She had a long, silky white sheet wrapped around herself, just like any other older woman would have on while walking outside. If she didn’t speak first, Amer wouldn’t have recognized her. Looking back at her as she sat on a wooden stool by the well, he sighed and closed the metal door. He wasn’t sure ifshe expected an answer from him or not, but he didn’t bother replying. He figured a grumpy ‘good morning’ would be enough to let her know he wasn’t quite awake yet. Making his way across the central patio, or what is known as El Haouch, Amer knocked on his mother’s room to let her and his younger sister Fella know that the newcomer was not a man, and that they could come out. Fatima, Amer’s mother, emerged from said room looking nothing less than delighted. She greeted her sister and took another stool across from her, ready to listen. Fella, on the other hand, only took the time to kiss her aunt twice on the cheeks before she made her way to the kitchen upstairs where she quickly resumed preparing their breakfast. She, too, wanted to listen to the big news her aunt brought, he guessed. Amer never understood why women wasted so much of their time gossiping. Didn’t they have enough things on their own plate? Why did they care so much about what others did? What confused him even more is this particular aunty of his. She spent her mornings going around people’s houses, starting with his, and gossiping about whatever she heard the day before. She then spent her afternoons receiving other middle-aged ladies at her house and for what? More gossiping! She was busier than a 9 to 5 employee and more efficient at spreading news than any radio station. Amer didn’t know if he should be impressed or scared.
“I heard from the bride’s cousin yesterday. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, Fatima! I knew it! How can she invite people if she has no coffee to serve? If they went on with it, they would have become the laughingstock of the town, I’m telling you,” Amer’s aunt shook her head as she watched Amer take the mini table out of the living room and put it between her and his mother. Fella came down the stairs slowly while balancing the tray of food sheprepared. She took a seat in front of her brother and started serving coffee for everyone. Amer stared at the pot in her hands. The smell was different, too different. His mother had to mix chickpea flour with ground coffee so it could last them longer. He was aware of that fact and he didn’t like it one bit. They had no other choice, though; coffee was nowhere to be found in the whole country. He might as well have that weird mix than having nothing at all.
“Poor girl, she must be devastated. She quit her job not long ago, too…” Fatima put down the piece of toast she was holding. “Son, her fiancé is your co-worker, right? Did he say anything about why they cancelled?” Amer was taken aback by the question. They were talking about his co-worker’s wedding? He was so used to these conversations that they turned into white noises to him. His co-worker was set on getting married by the end of thatyear so if the wedding really was cancelled… Well, Amer didn’t look forward to going to work anymore, not that he did before, but now he had to spend the whole day, possibly week, listening to whatever complaints his co-workerhad. He cringed as he took a sip of his bitter drink. He liked listening to him talk…on the most part. It was better than having a dead-quiet workplace, but Amerwasn’t exactly fond of his never-ending complaining.
“No, I haven’t seen him since Thursday,” he finally replied when he realized all three women were staring at him. He decided breakfast was too uncomfortable for him at that point so he stood up and walked near his roomwhile still holding his cup of coffee. Instead of going inside, he turned on the radio that was placed on the outer side of his tiny window. Some professors were discussing the country’s current economic crisis. It was boring. He wouldhave preferred listening to some soothing Chaabi1 music, but anything was better than the chat that was going on around the table. He still had some time to spare before heading to work so he sat down on a mat right under his window and faced the patio. Taking yet another deep sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the words the professor was saying.
“As I said before, the government still has enough money to import sufficient supplies for everyone, but people freaked out and started stocking up! You can’t expect to have enough Savon de Marseille if dozens of families buy ten boxes at once.” The professor paused, as if trying to hold in some pent up anger, “I told my students the other day: if they give you one box at the market, take it and have no more. It is because people are buying so much more than they need that prices are going up.” Amer laughed at that last statement. He agreed with it for sure, but he would have a thing or two to say back to that professor if he met him face to face. He didn’t know his name, unfortunately, and he had no time to wait for the end of the discussion to find out. Finishing the last bit of coffee he had in his cup, he stood up and walked near the door to retrieve his shoes.
“Ye’mma,” He called out for his mother, “do you need anything?” His voice held less bitterness now that he’d had his morning coffee. Fatima smiled at him and shook her head no. Amer knew she didn’t. Fella would have told him something was missing as soon as he woke up; but he preferred asking that every morning rather than telling her he was leaving for work. Maybe he thought too much about it and maybe no one really understood, but he liked to believe his mother knew that his question was a way to let her know that he was there if she neededanything; that he wanted to give her and his sister a comfortable life. Fatima hurried to the door right as Amer was stepping outside. She patted him on the back and told him to be safe, something she did every morning, too.
Maybe he asked her that every morning so she would come see him off? He wasn’t quite sure of his own motives anymore.
After saying goodbye to his aunt and sister from afar, Amer made his way down the narrow alleyways of La Casbah, making sure not to walk under any balconies in case anyone splashed water while cleaning. His house wason the top of a steep hill, so the fact that he liked the walk to work way more than the walk back home was obvious. The climb hadn’t been that big of a deal to him back when he was an energetic teenager. He wished it was still the case. Sighing, he couldn’t help but glance at his co-worker’s house as he passed by it. It was oddly quiet. Three families all lived together in there so it was usually noisy from early in the morning, but Amer figured everyone must have been feeling down since they’d had to cancel the wedding. Notthat he cared that much, but it was a shame, nonetheless. ___________________________________________________________________ 1 Traditional popular music made of poems about love, the war and wisdom of life ___________________________________________________________________
The whole town was looking forward to it! Mostly because the groom’s mother was famous for making the best Couscous and Mtewem2, but also because his father was a popular Chaabi singer on top of being a veteran. Amer had no doubts it would have been the biggest wedding of the year if only this crisis hadn’t struck so suddenly.He knew that everyone would have still been talking about it for the next month or two, at least. Since cancelling awedding was considered very scandalous, it rarely ever happened. Add to it the family’s fame and status and voila,perfect gossip material.
Djamel, Amer’s co-worker, wasted no time and started speaking as soon as the later stepped inside the workshop. Yellow copper trays were scattered all around the place, waiting to be decorated. The ones that were finished were hanging on the walls or were already displayed outside to attract customers. It was a small shop, a tiny basement if one had to put it in words, but the business was doing well. When his father had first opened it years ago,teenager Amer was convinced it was going to be a total failure. La Casbah was filled with craftsmen's workshops. A good number of them had been making trays for at least fifteen years. How was his father’s going to compete against that? It did struggle at first, Amer remembered, but a couple of years into the business things changed for the better. Amer was twenty when he finally decided to learn how to craft. It was just a Friday afternoon hobby to him, something he did to please himself and his father, but it turned into his full-time job when his old man passed away and he was forced to drop out of school to support his family. He didn’t really mind, though. Amer loved his job formany reasons. It was calming, he didn’t have to interact with too many people and being a craftsman, he didn’t haveto pay taxes. What’s there to hate about it? He knew he would’ve hated an office job anyway, so he was content. It was definitelyworth tolerating the chatter-box that was his friend.
“-when I finally managed to get a voucher to buy a fridge, Amer! Can you believe it? I mean, I’m the groom. Shouldn’t I have the last word or something? They got me so mad yesterday, I swear, just thinking about it makes my blood boil.” Djamel groaned as he rummaged furiously through a drawer, government voucher long forgotten. Oh, how Amer wished he got his hands on one of those precious vouchers. His mind wandered to that one time hisfather had received one and his whole family had headed to the local city hall to order a new heater. He smiled at the fond memory but quickly composed himself before he got caught by his co-worker…He would’ve never heard theend of it.
“Everything was going perfectly fine until today. I had everything planned,” Djamel finally gave up and sat on his stool. “I need some coffee to calm down or I’ll end up fighting someone today,” he said. Amer sat across from him and resumed working on a tray he had started the previous Thursday night. Being the quiet one, he never needed to say anything but he felt like that day was an exception. Especially since he knew the guy in front of him probablycouldn’t get any coffee at the moment. He was obviously too mad at his family to go back home and get some, andthe café down the street had long since closed. ____________________________________________ 2 Traditional dish with meatballs, garlic and chickpeas ____________________________________________
“What’s the reason, anyway?”
“They gave me many reasons!” Djamel laughed in disbelief. “The date coincides with the big protests, so they said that no one will come. They also said that the bride needs to buy more things, anyway, so might as well give her more time.” He rolled his eyes. “We both know it’s about the coffee, though, right? I could see that answer through my mother’s eyes. She and my mother in-law just can’t bear the thought of celebrating without serving that damn coffee and they know the government will import more in a few months.”
“So then, it was just postponed?” Amer asked, confused. He thought that if it was just about the protests and the bride needing more time, they could just set another date.
“Well, yeah! Did you expect me to get a divorce a week after registering my marriage?”
“Oh.” Amer stopped what he was doing and contemplated whether he should tell his partner about the rumors that apparently were spreading around town. If his aunt had heard something it meant everyone else probably had, too, so he figured it was safe to call the news she brought ‘rumors’. Before he got the chance to speak up, though, a customer walked down the stairs and into the shop. She had that white sheet wrapped around her as well as a white tissue that hung on her nose, covering most of her face and leaving only her Kohl-traced, wrinkly eyes visible. A little boy followed right after her, looking up at the tray-covered walls as if it was his first time in a workshop. Amer recognized him as Bilal El Kahwadji’s3 youngest son, the little kid who played football by his door. He would always hit the ball too hard, and it would end up in El-Haouch of Amer’s house, surprising his mother and sister and forcing him to get up and give it back. He talked to the boy’s father about it before, but theman told Amer to mind his damn business. It took every fiber of his being to resist throwing a couple of punchesbecause what did he mean by that? Amer was minding his own business! This kid was disturbing him and his family, what part of that was not his business?
“Would you like a tray, Ye’mma?” Djamel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Amer was almost fooled. Heturned back to his work while his partner recommended different models to the woman, occasionally ruffling theboy’s hair.
“I heard the news about your wedding,” the costumer (who Amer assumed was Bilal’s mother) said after deciding which tray she wanted. “Such a shame. I don’t recall the last time someone cancelled a wedding.” Amer’s eyebrows flew up. He waited for Djamel’s reaction, but it never came. When the woman and the boy were finally out of sight,Djamel looked back at Amer with furrowed brows. Realization seemed to have hit him.
“Please don’t tell me the whole town thinks I cancelled my wedding.”
“I don’t know about the whole town but… My aunt was talking about it this morning, you know what thatmeans.” _____________________________________ 3 Nickname given to Café owners and Baristas ______________________________________
“Oh, God,” Djamel removed his work apron and put it down on the stool he was sitting on earlier. “I need to run home before mother hears of this.” He looked around frantically. “She will have a heart attack. She postponed the wedding to avoid ruining the family reputation but ended up ruining it more than if we’d actually had it!” He finally spotted his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket, heading out to save his family’s name.
Amer shook his head, a bit amused but also apologetic towards his friend. A cup of well brewed coffee would have been perfect just then.
It was a real addiction and its lack was causing too much trouble. Amer could swear there were more fights breaking out in public since this crisis started. He witnessed three of them during the sole hour he spent in the market the previous Friday morning and he hears of one at least once a day. Everyone was walking on eggshells andnothing seemed to be helping. Amer thought of Bilal who had to close his café down the street and find a low-paying job in a printing company until the end of the crisis. Now, Amer might not have gotten along well with Bilal but he had to admit that everyone loved that café. It served as the meeting point for everyone in the neighborhood. Every morning, that corner would be filled with students stopping by for a boost of energy before classes, retired grandpas would always gather there to play domino all day while discussing current politics. At night, football fanswould gather there to watch the game and be as loud as they want and on some weekends, Djamel’s father would come down with his band of musicians to entertain everyone with his newest songs. It was truly a key spot where everyone shared the same coffee but different interests.
Amer was done decorating the tray by lunch time. He put a broom stick across the door to let people knowthe shop was temporarily closed and climbed the hill up to his house. He stopped a couple of times to greet other craftsmen, inviting them to lunch. They’d all politely refused saying they had too much to work on since they received many orders over the weekend. Amer seemed too relaxed compared to them. Did the first day of the week have to be the busiest day? Amer’s Sunday had always been fine. He felt kind of jealous and it made him wonder ifhe was doing anything wrong.
Pushing the metal door open, he was greeted by his sister’s figure. Fella was getting some water from thewell and seemed to be struggling a bit. He laughed and playfully waived her off, getting the water for her instead. He could hear noises from the kitchen upstairs and his mother humming to a song he couldn’t recognize.
“Ye’mma! I’m home!” He called out, making his way to the radio. Turning it on, he sat down just like he has done that same morning and listened to the news. Fella put a glass of water by his side and went to check if lunch was ready. Soon after she was gone, Amer’s mother slowly made her way down the stairs. “I told you not to go upstairs, ‘ma, your knee pain will only get worse.” Amer watched as she reached the bottom and sat on the neareststool. He would cook himself if it meant his mother never stepped inside the kitchen again.
“This way you won’t complain about not eating enough of my cooking, son.” Her eyes turned into crescentsas she smiled at him from where she was sitting. She taught his sister
how to cook but still refused to let her prepare all meals. ‘They wouldn’t taste the same’ she would claim. Amerguessed she got bored around the house all day, so he didn’t say more.
“How is your co-worker doing? Did he tell you why they suddenly cancelled? Is it really because of the coffee?” She moved closer so she can hear his answer over the radio. He hesitated a bit, not knowing how to reply.
“I think aunty misunderstood the situation. Djamel said the wedding is still on,” he sat up as his sister came down with their food. All three of them gathered around one of his father’s trays that was placed on the mini table. He briefly explained the situation over lunch hoping his mother would let his aunt know later, maybe then the rumors would slow down. “This is such a mess; the bride’s cousin shouldn’t have said it was cancelled. I bet she was just jealous her younger cousin was getting married before her and wanted to stir up trouble.” Fella shook her head. Amer continued eating in silence as his mother and sister led a conversation about jealousy and marriages.
A loud bang startled the three, cutting the conversation short. Amer looked over to the middle of El Haouchonly to find a familiar looking ball rolling towards the drill in the corner. He got up, ready to scold the culprit who was most likely the same kid he saw a couple of hours ago. When he opened the metal door, though, an idea struck him and he stood still, just staring at the boy (or was he glaring?). He contemplated for a few seconds if he should really do it… Djamel was his friend, but was his wedding worth this much?
Bilal’s son was about to run away, thinking Amer was about to kick his butt, but Amer was fast enough tocatch his arm before he escaped. Here goes nothing, Amer thought.
“Is your dad home? Go call him for me. Tell him Amer is looking for him.”
“Are you going to tell onme again?” The boy’s voice was smaller than usual.
“If you get him to come up here before he goes back to work, I won’t tell on you, I promise.” Sealing the pinky promise, the boy ran down the narrow alley without even taking his ball. Amer went back in to ask his sister to prepare some mint tea for a guest. They had already finished lunch and were just wondering what was taking him so long. Hearing the word ‘guest’, Fella rushed to the kitchen while Fatima went to get her scarf from her room and stay in the living room. She could hear better from there. A few minutes later, a faint knock was heard on the door.Fella quickly put the tray down on the table and ran to the living room to join her mother. Amer shook Bilal’s hands and invited him inside, assuring the tense man that this was not about his son misbehaving. Bilal’s son followed his father shyly. He asked for permission to take a piece of Makroud4 and when he was allowed, he reached for the biggest one on the plate and ran out, picking his ball up on the way.
“Bilal, I’ll get straight to the point… I have a favor to ask.” Amer started as he served his guest some green tea with mint. ________________________________________________________ 4 Traditional fried cakes made of semolina, almonds, dates and honey _________________________________________________________
“If you’re going to ask me to stop my son from coming up here then you’re wasting your time and mine” Bilal was still not convinced this was not about his son even though Amer just said so a few minutes before.
“It’s about the Mbarek’s wedding.” Amer put the pot down after filling his own cup. “Djamel needs coffee and I know you have a lot left in your café, your son keeps bragging about it to other kids.”
“And? You don’t expect me to just hand it to you, do you? Plus wasn’t that wedding cancelled? Why evenbother?”
“It wasn’t, but it would be postponed if they don’t find any coffee. Trust me when I say that asking you outof all people for help was the last thing I wanted to do but you’re the only one who can help right now; so please…”Amer was getting frustrated, desperate.
“…What’s in it for me?”
Amer held back a smile as he took his first sip of the tea.
“Okay, so here’s the deal.” __________________________________________________________________________________________________ Amer went to work a bit earlier the next day. Djamel was usually the one who opened the shop while he wasthe one who closed it every evening, but he thought an exception wouldn’t hurt once in a while. He put down his cup of coffee on the wooden table he used for designing, making a mental note to return the cup later before his mother found out it went missing. He started drawing a new paysage since he had no orders to take care of. He was being extra careful not to accidentally spill his coffee with his elbow. It wasn’t until he was half way done when Djamel made his way down the stairs and into the workshop. Amer glanced at him as they greeted each other. His co-worker seemed cheerful, as if yesterday never happened. He didn’t ask anything either. He just put his work apron on and silently took a seat. A few minutes into working though, Djamel abruptly stopped and turned his chair around to faceAmer.
“I was going to keep this a secret, but I can’t hold it in anymore.” He grinned. “Bilal El Kahwadji came to our house this morning. He said he needed to get rid of the remaining coffee in his shop since he doesn’t think he’ll re-open any time soon anyway. He only asked for my voucher as payment! Isn’t that so weird? I mean, I’m not complaining, but I really thought he was joking, it’s just weird. He’s like the biggest asshole, what’s gotten intohim?”
“Yeah, so weird. He must really need that voucher,” Amer continued drawing as if he didn’t care much about thenews.
“He mentioned he’ll get an arcade machine or something, I don’t remember. He said someone lent him quite the money so he’ll go for it,” Djamel shrugged, “but anyways, now all I need to do is to officially invite everyone. The day before the big protest would be perfect, everyone will come and we’ll have enough coffee to serve.”
“Thank God. I was scared I would have to go months without eating your mother’s delicious Mtewem.” Amer joked. Djamel pushed him by the shoulder, causing the cup of coffee to fall over and stain the design paper Amer was working on. The young groom got up and hurriedly looked around for anything he could use to dab the coffee off the table while Amer just stared at it.
“You owe me coffee now, you know? Lots and lots of it,” Djamel nodded apologetically as he used an old rag to clean the mess. Amer just patted his back, “Congrats, man.” He picked a new draft paper, ready to go back to work. Those long gone savings weren’t going to recreate themselves!