Does a Good Turn Really Deserve Another?

At the outset of this school year, I had eight working hours a week. I worked every other day. Because of this free time, I was kindly requested to teach in another school. I accepted the offer on condition that I would work on two days in my original school and on a day in the new school. The other reason why I accepted the offer is that my original school is remote from where I am living, and to have a working day moved to Zagora center, the current place where I am living, is akin to having a burden taken off my shoulder.

A few days later after receiving the call from the delegation, I went to impose my own conditions on the official in charge of appointments. At first, he rejected my conditions. But with time, he saw that he had no choice but to see to them, for the new school is in dire need of a teacher of English. It was two months late when I joined the new school. The comportment that drew my attention about the official was that he talked to me unusually tactfully, the thing I am not used to in Moroccan offices. He got even closer to me by talking about his original town, his ancestors and his school days.

He and I spent two hours talking about any topic he raised. We soon made each other’s acquaintance and I frankly enjoyed the conversation. Towards the end of our meeting, he even invited me to a cup of tea and suggested that I should have access to the Internet in his office for company while he is out for a moment. I must admit that I did him a favour when I accepted the offer. Anyway, I did that too for my sake. I went home that late afternoon and the question that remained on my mind was how come I had been treated so kindly for the first time in my academic life.

It is three months and a half now since the meeting. I must admit that I enjoy work at the new school. I also feel that my current state is now much better than before. However, from time to time, I wonder whether or not the official still remembers the favour I did him. No doubt he must do. I have passed by him many times, but I have never dared to talk to him, nor does he. Sometimes, it is because there are always colleagues with me when I pass by him. The same thing is true of him.

Notwithstanding, as the first semester was nearly over, I once came from work at school. On the spur of the moment, I met him at the entrance of a lane, and I took the initiative to talk to him. I called him three times before he stopped for me. I could infer from this comportment that he no longer remembered him. The first question that he posed to me whilst I began to talk to him about my work at the new school was whether I could remind him of myself. I did all my utmost to remind him, but in vain.

Instead of reminding him of myself, he recommended that I should make his acquaintance once again. When I failed to remind him then, I had no choice but to bid him goodbye. As I was leaving him, he called me. I came back to him, and he said that he at last remembered me. I no longer gave his insincere talk any importance. I only feigned interest for a moment and when we parted, I began to reflect about the favour I did him. Instantly, a saying came to my mind which goes thus: One good turn deserves another. By the way, does it really deserve another?

Pessimistic or Realistic

Whenever I hold a pen and sit down to write a piece about a certain issue, I seldom pay attention to the tone that my article, poem, or a short story are going to have. I believe it is rather the job of the reader to discover the tone. However, recently, I was so delighted to hear from one of my readers that the tone of most of my works is pessimistic. His comment or view is to be respected, for it goes without saying that he has inferred that from his own perspective of my works. Frankly, I did not find his view strange simply because he is the reader, not the writer of these works. Personally, I feel realistic when relating certain circumstances in my works mainly because I have actually experienced them.

I am going to delve into these two epithets only from my own perspective. I myself find many works by Mohamed Choukri and George Orwell pessimistic, but I would attribute this tone to the fact that I am neither Choukri nor Orwell who went through the circumstances related in their literary works. As a relater of events, I am realistic. But, for readers, I appear pessimistic owing to the grieving, heart-breaking incidents and characters in my stories. The reader reads and cries, but I the writer write and do not cry. And when I cry, the reader does not cry. Seldom do I cry at the same time as my reader cries. Reality exhorts me to describe things as they are, and readers who have missed the chance to taste some realities deem the realistic pessimistic.

From time to time, I accuse myself of writing about poignant lives of people, and instead I strongly advise myself to write about the happy lives of other few people. The question that came to my mind then is why I should write about the latter. I also ask myself why readers should know about them. I do not therefore think that readers get inspired by rich people, lucky people and ignorant people. Children who rise from poverty to wealth, from ignorance to knowledge, and from littleness to greatness inspire us more. Many of my articles are about one of the aforementioned category. I the writer am sometimes filled in with inspiration, awe, and admiration when I converse with or meet with people with ambivalent life experiences.

In my works, I describe people or talk about issues with a negatively tinted tone. Thus far, this has been my habit. I do not have an idea when I am going to get rid of it. But it has done me a great deal of good. That is why I still preserve it. Here, if I were pessimistic about the issues, I would always conclude that there is no hope, and no solution to the thorny problems raised and at the same time I would avoid recommending a remedy. However, this is not the case with my pieces. I all the time begin with, or conclude with, an awe-inspiring adage or bon mot. This means that I look forward to the better and that I hope the characters in my stories may one day bring about a change which will put an end to their predicament.

I believe that I get closer to the majority of readers by bringing to life their complexes, their vested interests, and their repressed aspirations. Realism brings us together and bids us think of possible ways to discard the aforementioned problems. I always feel that I appear pessimistic to the readers who do not share me my characters’ life experiences or the issues I take delight in raising, whereas I appear realistic to the readers who have once led the same sort of life that most of my characters have led.

Life with its numerous risks is always worth living. This is my motto. As we all know, life is full of risks, difficulties, and setbacks. My works describe the negative side of life for the purpose of attaining the other side. Getting to know, and familiarizing readers with the negative one, surely pave the way to the good life every one of us seeks. I have broached on the hapless, the failure, the desperate, the blind, the lame, to name but a few in order to be appreciated as a writer.

“An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats,” said George Orwell. Of course, this writer, my favourite, is not being pessimistic. Rather, he is telling the truth. In other words, he is realistic even though at first sight he might appear pessimistic to some of us. Anyway, who amongst us is the one whose life is empty of defeats? Nobody!