Books make the poor travel

For it was the first time I had a voyage, I burst into the bus keenly, greeting friends, taking my seat next to the rearmost window, urging the chauffeur to start our journey towards Tlemcen city.

Our destination was distant but miles were traversed in haste, and by forenoon we arrived to the city of dry spring.

We descended, and the scene of the place crowded with people surprised us. It was an unpleasant gathering that repelled me away to be lost throughout the city. Escaping everybody’s notice, I took a Teleferik, ignorant of its destination; I ended-up facing a cupreous engraved gate within an entrance of a mosque.

I approached eagerly and pushed the gate, it didn’t respond.

“It is closed, son”

A husky voice came from behind. An aged wrinkly woman dressed in white, pale face yet warm, tattooed with a blue cross on her forehead, standing fore a cottage.

“You seem to be lost, son"

"Not quietly"

"Come, step forward”

Reluctant and wary, I dragged my feet onward while she sat cross-legged on the floor.

“He is not there if you are looking for him” she said “we only pray to God in the mosque.”

“Who” I said, questioning

She pointed out to a house.

“There you find him young man; he might answer if he listens. Go”

I left the queer woman thrilled, pacing down road to the house unaware of the matter.

The building had no door, so I invited myself in, appealed by the marvelous Arabian architecture that adorned the insides. The place gave the impression to be unoccupied for a moment, till a sound of weeps and moans broke the silence and stunned me.

I kept walking, thoughtless and curiously, until I came across a tomb, wrapped in a colorful cover, encircled by men and women, crying and praying eerily. The scene was eccentric to me.

“Aren’t you going to pray to him?”

Alarmed by the voice I turned back and found the old woman standing nearby. It was a relief to see her face, still her presence is frightening.

“To him” I asked

“Sidi Boumediene, a saint. That is his grave. They pray to him like if he is a god that could grant them their wishes”

“One God wasn’t enough”?

“Ignorance, son, makes people blind, makes them senseless”

“Why don’t you pray to him?” I asked

“If he could fulfill one wish, he would bring himself to being, son”

Her dry voice was disturbed with the clamor of tourists and my lost friends entering the building.

“Even dead men are restless in this world” She said, walking away.