Varnishing Identity

The old man headed to Al Rasheed Avenue again searching for his lost papers. He didn’t saw a police man since the 50s so that was why his happiness on seeing that young policeman in the corner this night of April 2010 was childish, a happiness that met halfway with surprise and walked together as a couple of children in new clothes.

“Hey Policeman!!” the old man saluted the policeman who in spite of his long beard seemed like a female.

“It is prohibited that I shake hands with men” the policeman answered the protruded hand of the old man like a tongue on which many songs had been dried and died from thirst.
“you are really a new kind of a policeman” the old man commented and added “it must be that time had changed a lot, since you don’t look like the police man I used to see in my childhood in the 40s”.

The old man looked away into the turnings of the avenue and at the old forgotten ruins of what used to be a cabaret and added “…. When I was a child I dreamt that I become a policeman. But .. anyway young policeman have you seen a card of identity in the ground cause I have lost mine in the 50s and… wondering.. if…”

“No and No and many Nos!!!” the policeman answered as usual and started combing the hair of his long thick beard the hair of which was falling in the ground while more hair is growing in his beard. The old man started seeing at the falling hair and wondered if it was his identity card which he had just seen buried by the falling beard hair and buried. He wondered if he must put his hands deep into the dead beard hair to capture his card of identity but he saw that the dead beard hair is turning into a fire that threatens to burn his hands.

The old man decided that he left the identity case for a while till next winter hoping that rain would turn the fire off and that wild wind will blow the dead hairs away.

Jan Dammu came out from a carpenter atelier filled with the aroma of Rowney artists clear picture varnish and said to the old man: “I am failing to find the original color of our paintings. I will keep working on it. What else can I do. Meanwhile, can you go to my friend Khalid in Oran and tell him that I am busy today and that I cannot meet him?”

The old man went to Oran to find Khalid offering him Algerian wine. With the first sip, all his tongue dryness became an issue of the past and wet songs get back to life again and started coming easily from his mouth singing Rai with Khalid with some lyrics that are spontaneous, easy, childish, and popular.

While they were singing next to the sea he wondered if he had just seen his white card of identity swimming under the sea. He got naked and while dancing to the Rai of Khalid he jumped into the sea and continued his dancing with the dolphins.


yana el meryoul (yes I am the man)
yana sharrab l’alcohol yaah (yes I am the alcoholic)
serbi sebri, w illela, n3ammar rasi waah
(Pour pour, tonight, I want to fill my head “=get drunk”)





yana el meroul (yes I am the man)
willi quatnit shkoon yah? (and who is that lady who burned my heart?)
serbi sebri w illela n3ammar rasi waah

walift el negressh (I got used to the "negreesh" don't know really what it is)
will qar3a tseel (and the bottle is flooding)
serbi sebri w illela n3ammar rasi waah


medet 3ahad (I have given a promise)
minik ma nzeed had (won’t add anybody after you "=won't love anybody after you")
serbi sebri w illela n3ammar rasi waah

la zhar la maktoob (no dice “=luck”, no written “=destiny which is believed to be already written for everybody”)
sihrulna liqloob (they magicked our hearts)
serbi serbi willela n3ammar rasi

khalloha tibki (let her cry)
tbarred jinniha (to cold her Jinni)
serbi serbi willela n3ammar rasi wah

3eineek futhhatik (your eyes had revealed the truth of you)
bil dam3a bkat (cried with a tear)
serbi serbi willela n3ammar rasi wah

Kema bketi (like you had cried)
Nibki 7etta ana el youm (I would also cry today)
serbi serbi willa n3ammar rasi wah