One day, Mohamed came home earlier than expected. It was market day, a Wednesday. He carried with him a basketfull of vegetables and fresh fruit, red meat and mint. He washappy and proud. He would be with his wife again. He hadearned some money. He felt like a man, M’Barka’s man.Unfortunately for him, Saleh, my mother’s cousin, was there,right in his own home. Even worse: He had also brought abasket crammed full of provisions. Mohamed had never beenable to stand Saleh, that he found vulgar and spiteful.M’Barka and Saleh were sitting next to one another. Theirknees were touching. They were drinking mint tea. They werelaughing. They were almost playing make-believe, the waylittle kids play house. M’Barka slightly inched away from hercousin when Mohamed made his entrance. He noticed. Heimmediately concluded that something had gone on betweenthem while he was gone. Their intimacy bothered himintensely, it immediately disgusted and sickened him. But hehad to face this unpleasant surprise, this terrible situation,this doubt, the jealousy that sprang up when he surprisedthem sitting so close. And yet, he had to welcome Saleh, hewas a relative. A member of the family that Mohamed notonly didn’t like but never invited over. Saleh took the libertyof making himself at home and that drove Mohamed crazy.

“Salam alikoum, cousin of my wife!”

“ Wa alikoum salam, husband of my cousin!”

“You both seem happy ... The neighbors could probably even hear you laughing ... and suspect something fishy ...especially since I am not supposed to be home.”

“We’ve always been very close, M’Barka and I. We grew up together, played together, got into trouble together.”

“And what made you laugh so loud? Tell me so I can laugh along with you!”

“Oh, this and that, anecdotes from the village ... our childhood games, memories ... Well, you know, the douarstories are so funny. M’Barka and I, we’ve gone through somuch together, we could spend days on end going throughour shared memories.”

“Well, I see you don’t need me, I’ll leave you to your funny stories, leave your collusion intact ... My head hurts,I’m going to bed. Goodbye.”

Mohamed went into the bedroom, closed the windows violently and slammed the door. The message was clear.M’Barka took refuge in silence. Saleh left at once for hisdouar. He would never again come to visit his cousin in myfathers house.

I never knew Saleh. Nevertheless, he was very much present in our lives. His name, very beautiful and sweet, still resonatesin the Hay Salam house, because it was so often brought up,shouted, insulted, cursed. Saleh was the source of an absolutemisunderstanding, a wound left open forever, a definitivesorrow. In my father’s mind, it was a betrayal. The end of acertain idea of love and the start of an unbridled, violentsexuality without decency.