Bitter memories of a woman complaining, with all sincerity and courage, about the pain of our burial

Djilali Chebih is Professor of Higher Education in Law at Cadi Ayyad University in Marrakech
I still remember, when I was a young girl, from the city of Safi in the Al-Salam neighborhood, at the age of seven and a half or eight years old, a horrible incident that disgusted my mind, hurt my feelings, and had a deep impact on me. This tragedy continues today, and it was the first of its kind. After, unfortunately, other misfortunes of equal intensity, which now bruise my sentiments, shake my feelings, afflict me greatly, and I most regret my childhood, which I have lost.
That miserable childhood, deprived of the tenderness of a narcissistic mother, she embraced herself more than she embraced her children, especially that miserable daughter, the only one among her three brothers, so much so that I hate that ill-fated period of my life I hate it because it was constantly a misery and suffering I feel now that I am a woman In my right mind, I seldom, like girls of my age, enjoyed my childhood, I was always treated at home, by my mother especially—and even my father, in fact, was no better—as a daughter much older than her age, always doing all the housework as a servant With everyone’s knowledge, and with everyone’s tacit approval, these actions and behaviors were ingrained in my body and in my behavior, to the extent that they became internal, natural matters in my life.
And once, when I was in an abusive, hateful situation, alone with a bad, immoral neighbor, at that moment I did not have the courage not to defend myself, nor to scream with all my might, nor to reveal what happened to me to my parents, especially to that absent, wandering, and completely inexhaustible mother. Kindness and motherhood, in the affairs of her family As for my father, he used to spend most of his time in his work and spent the rest, until the night, in other things that are abhorrent, because the nature of education and transactions inside and outside the home, and between family members, and the effects of all these situations and circumstances on the young, positive or negative, were It still plays a fundamental role in all circles: rural or urban, rich or poor, Moroccan or foreign.
I used to go to our neighbor’s house near our house in the Al-Salam neighborhood to play with their daughter, Amna. An emptiness inside me, our heads and our fats filled, like all little girls of our age, with dreams and beautiful things.
And one day, during the absence of my mother, I knocked on the door of our neighbor as usual, whenever she was absent, and her absence was not rare, and the emptiness was as much as her absence, to play with my friend, so I was surprised when her father opened the door saying: “Come in, my daughter.” Towards the foyer where there was a round table: « You came to play with Amna? echoing in a hoarse voice, “Yes! She answered shyly, “She came out with a purpose, she’s just coming! Continuing with his full voice, he pulled me from my armpits and threw me standing on the table, to make him equal in length. I realized at that moment that there was no one in the house but him, and that the vile one was determined to do undesirable things towards me! And he was actually touching me fiercely all over my body, with his two rough and coarse hands, and kissing me eagerly on my mouth, on my neck, on my cheeks, while repeating, “You are beautiful! you are cute! You will be a beautiful woman! » · I could not get rid of the grip of that predatory beast, I did not scream, and I do not know now why I did not scream, I groaned in fear of him, but I resisted and floundered for long moments that I imagined hours, had it not been, fortunately, for the knock on the door and the sound of his daughter safe! So I ran to the door, and rushed out quickly, ignoring poor Amina, who innocently wanted me to stay with her. Since that accursed event, my feet have not set foot in that ill-fated house. Until now, as a woman, that painful, nightmarish moment has ingrained in my mind. fixed forever!
And, unfortunately, I encountered other calamities later, which came against me against my will, and even entered my life and became a ghost that haunted and tormented me continually, when I was nine or ten years old first, and thirteen years old, with the same degree and severity, hideous and terrible, than the previous one. Sometimes a teacher Our chastity gives private lessons, hollow chastity and morals, in an apartment, of his spacious house, which he allocates, on the roof of his house, to the end of himself, a vice, and he tightens firmly, long, whenever he has the opportunity, the chest of every child is overflowing, showing through her stature and body more of her age, and I, too, was repeatedly a victim among the victims of that despicable person.
I hated those lessons, but I was compelled by my parents to follow them because they were not aware of what was going on there, nor were they ever aware of all the pain that was afflicting me, internally. Finally · How many children have dropped out of school, withdrew, and no one knows the reason for that withdrawal! And hid it forever
And at other times at night, while I was in our house, on my bed asleep, a peaceful sleep, my aunt’s son suddenly lifted me up, stopped me on the bed, to balance his stature, the same way as the criminal act, and held me warmly in his arms, while he was drunk, his mouth smelled of abominable wine, hugging me He caresses me, muttering malicious words and faltering in his words, and kisses me as if I were his mistress, while more than twenty years separate me from that filth. wow! I did not escape from the claws of these predators, even if I was in our own home.
Where were you, my mother, in my hours of suffering? Where were you, Father, in the hours of my pain? What do I remember ma! Wound, pain, I do not forget! What do I remember, father? The past bears its burden, and the present cries its eyes! But, whatever it was, may God forgive you! Because perhaps you, too, have been victims of a society that is cruel, rude, and insensitive.
How many children have concealed their misfortunes and sufferings, and these misfortunes, sufferings, and worries remained buried, gnawing inside of them, buried, gnawing at their depths, throughout their lives, through which they lived and died!
Mercy to your daughters, O society, mercy to your sons, O homeland!
To you, young girl, these words, to you, the victim of my sympathy and thought, and I share with you with great sorrow your pain from all my depths. Now remove from within you those nightmares and traumas, which have long exhausted your strength and exhausted you psychologically for years, and go free, free, confident in yourself! you are all well and beautiful
And you, O bruised woman, for nothing but her beauty, and who has been keeping her secret for a lifetime, a victim of these vile acts and behaviors, do not close yourself! Don’t be silent! Don’t be shy about revealing it! Shout! Blast! Express, out loud, the painful memories that ignite inside you, free yourself from those traumas that you had no fault of.
Djilali Chebih is Professor of Higher Education in Law at Cadi Ayyad University, Marrakech
He holds a doctorate from the University of Paris and a state doctorate from Cadi Ayyad University