A Woman Called Algeria

A Woman Called Algeria

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Two years ago, I wrote this short story that sort of symbolizes Algeria’s history and some of the important events that have happened in it. I shared it on Blogspot, but later deleted that account, and when I decided to start blogging again, I was urged by family members to post it here as well. After much hesitation, I decided to do it.

So here it is!

Algeria was a beautiful woman, so beautiful, that it was said that whoever laid his eyes on her fell under a spell of love. She looked mesmerizing when she wore her Kabyle dress, the Hayek made her eyes look like mirrors of enchantment, and it was said that when she covered herself with the black M’laya, she would look like a black angel that was sent upon earth.

Everyone wanted to be with her, to stand next to her, to be her, but her beauty came at a terrible price. She was constantly harassed by hungry fiends who wanted nothing but to break her pride, and to suck every drop of her blood until she was left with nothing, but a dismantled body and a shattered soul.

She loved her children greatly, she taught her sons and daughters to never bow their heads except to the Al Mighty. Her dark eyes would burn with fire as she instilled in them a sense of pride and passion.

But how could she have known that one day those children would betray her? How could she have known that a group of them would disband from the pack and conspire to destroy her? How could she have known that they would resort to treason for money and shallow riches? How could she have known that in fact, they were never her children….that they were demons sent from hell to doom her?

She was beaten mercilessly, tortured, her once flawless face was black and blue and her body was covered with wounds where the devils sucked her sugary sweet blood.  She screamed, she trashed, she fought back to protect her children but no one came to her aid. Her younger children were terrified, they couldn’t see who was attacking their mother, they heard the thuds, they saw the blood getting splattered but they could not decipher what that black shadow was. The older ones sprang to life, they tried to help her, but they too were overcome by the shadows and that weak glimmer of hope was destroyed.

But she rose again, she held on for her children, but they could not recognize her anymore. She was different, disfigured, she never smiled, she wore bizarre outfits, she spoke differently, she abandoned her traditions and followed those of distant cousins. Soon her children followed her example and forgot what she used to look like, but deep inside them they knew that something was missing, they could no longer separate between past and present….between lost memories and cold realities….so they grew bitter towards her and one day one of them asked in hatred, “Why? Why have you become like this?”
She raised her sad, hollow eyes and a single tear fell down her cheek.

Note: This version has few edits here and there.

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