I don’t know why he suddenly decided to take us on vacation. Back then, he was no more than a minor civil servantand he didn’t earn a lot of money. Our sisters were left out of the trip but they weren’t jealous: boys hung out with boysand girls hung out with girls. There was a certain justice inthat somewhere! The girls would finally be free of us boys,from our watchful gaze which supposedly protected themfrom the outside world and its dangers. They could do whatthey wanted, without having to explain themselves or askpermission. It’s hard for me to admit it but I was like everyyoung Moroccan guy: I kept an eye on my sisters, consideredit my mission. I was the guardian of their honor. I acted likea man, the kind of man people hoped I would become. Fortunately, that didn’t last long. I gave up the idea of becomingthat sort of man rather quickly after our trip withAbdelkébir.

For the first time in our lives we were going on vacation, together. There would never be a second time.

Tangiers. We would spend a week in this ancient international city.

Why Tangiers?

I didn’t ask myself that: we were going on vacation and it didn’t matter where. Marrakech, Esssaouira, Fez, what wasimportant was that for once summer vacation didn’t meanstaying home and doing nothing, being home all the time, tothe point of insanity. Now that Tangiers holds a special placein my heart, I wonder if my love for that city was born duringthat first stay, or, later on, when I went back there at agetwenty. In any case, as we started this trip, everything I knewabout Tangiers, and that amounted to almost nothing, wouldsoon change. My vision and my idea of that city would be turned upside down forever. In my heart and in my mind,Tangiers will forever be associated with my big brother.Thanks to him, a new and other world opened up for me. Iwas both happy and afraid.

After the copious breakfast, we went back to the Rabat-Ville station to catch our train. On the way, I bought a small notebook to draw in. Why? I didn’t know why. I don’tremember. Maybe it was to imitate rich people’s children.

In the train, on the spur of the moment, I decided to assign the notebook another role, that of a private diary.Really private.

Tuesday

We got on the train this morning at 9 o’clock. In the beginning, it was almost empty. Then, when it stopped atSalé and Kenitra, it filled up quickly. The compartmentwhere we were didn’t have a door and that worked out wellbecause after just an hour into the trip, it got very hot and thewhole train heated up like the hammam in Hay Salé onThursday night, the eve of the holy day.