where to eat. His father would be waiting for him at just such an hour, and would take him home in the car, and he would find hot food and chilled fruit and cold water, and eat with his parents and his brothers and sisters. But now he has no father to feed him or give to him... And where is he now from his house? O God... it looks out over this deep water... if only he could swim across it to catch sight of the old home. He would see its balconies adorned with beds of flowers, and see its windows open, the blue velvet curtains, the color of the sky, drawn back from them.
He was sunk in his thoughts when there appeared above him, over the wall against which he leaned, a bewitching, beautiful girl. She was picking apricots in her garden — this apricot tree whose boughs, heavy with fruit, stretched out over the wall and spread a cool, moist shade over the girl's seat in the orchard. She saw the beautiful, hungry boy, and looked at what he was eating, and there stormed in her soul a pity mingled with tenderness and love. She took in her hand a share of the apricots and called to the little boy, to give him some. Nadim started, trembling. Who, he wondered, was calling him? Who wished to trouble the serenity of his solitude? He raised his head to discover the owner of the dewy voice, and saw that charming young girl gazing down at him. Nadim was thrown into confusion, and would not accept what she held out to him; so she threw down to him a small tender branch heavy with the golden fruit, glistening ripe with its sweet juice.
But a storm of pride and of fullness shook his heart. He did not pick up the branch; he took up his satchel and went... No doubt she pitied him because she saw him eating dry bread... No... he has
no need of gifts; he lacks nothing from any human being. This bread is enough for him, and he wants no one's charity, whatever it may be.
He walked back toward his school, his hand in his pocket clutching his lunch. He reached the playground and searched one of its corners for a secluded spot. There a jujube tree rose, thick with shade. The pupils are still at their homes now, all but a few. He would sit here and finish his eating. He sat a moment, brooding; then he drew his hand from his pocket, holding his dry bread, brought it to his mouth, and bit off a few small morsels. And then he saw a group of his comrades coming toward him. He hid his bundle in one of his pockets and rose to play with his comrades for what remained of the recess.
In the evening, at dismissal, he walked his accustomed road. As his mother had charged him, he stopped on his way at the house of one of her friends, to deliver a spoken message she had asked him to convey to her. The friend welcomed him and gave him a small paper bag filled with cherries, saying to him:
— These cherries are from (our own cherry tree, from the old home country).
Nadim refused to take her gift, gave his thanks, and made to leave. But the lady caught hold of him and would not let him go out; she put her arm around him, pressing the little bag upon him. In vain he tried to slip free — she forced him to accept it. He took it in his hand, vexed and furious, and went off toward his house.
He walked on, a feeling of oppression weighing on his small heart. He opened the bag and looked inside, and saw the big cherries glowing a deep wine-red... smiling at him. How delicious they are... He touched them with his fingers...
and they burned them, as though they were live, glowing coals. No... he will not taste them... Why did that lady force him to take this fruit? Surely his mother will be pained... it will grieve her to see that he does not hold back from other people's food...
He pressed his book satchel to his chest and heard the whisper of the remains of his bread crumbling. He put out his hand, took a crust, and placed it in his mouth... and with an angry gesture that held all the fullness in the world, he flung the bag of cherries into a hole at the side of the road. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and went on his way, wiping away two tears that rolled down his cheeks.
that no Israelite be permitted to travel outside Morocco unless it was proved and verified to the governorate that he had a commercial interest behind the journey, by documents of the commercial houses, and after he had given sufficient guarantees; and a reasonable period was to be fixed for him in which to conclude his business abroad.
And when I was in the city of Tangier, preparing to come to Syria, the governor told me that on that very day he had arrested a group of Jews who were attempting to flee by emigrating to Israel.
All of this is something that needs no reminder, for we have in our Arabism and our Islam that which makes us work to prevent emigration to Israel before any prompter need prompt us to it.