All the journeys and trips I have had so far have told me a lot about how patient the grassroots or common people are. In one way, I admire this remarkable patience. Rich people have never one day got themselves used to it, nor do they know how it feels. In another way, I despise it, considering it a scornful attribute on our part. I said " on our part", for I am also a common man. Recently, I went to the bus station to reserve my seat in a brand-new coach, but to my dismay, I found that it was already full; only shoddy, cheap coaches were left to me.
I had no other choice except to travel this time by one of them. As I was getting into the coach, many flies flew towards me, triggering a headache on the spot. I had a look at my seat number and sat down. While my head was aching, some passengers were arguing over the same seat, some were struggling with each other about the number of the seat because they all had the same number, and some kids were sobbing at the top of their voices. All the seats stank terribly.
It was such a scorching day and everyone began to sweat unusually profusely. Most passengers were women with their children and elderly men. I couldn't bear waiting for the bus to depart. As usual, it was already about two hours late. It at last departed, but what had really enraged me then was that the coach repeatedly stopped to carry other passengers by the wayside almost every five minutes. It was so unbearable; the coach driver did whatever he liked and stopped wherever he liked.
Regrettably, we common passengers kept our lips sealed and no one dared to complain about many grave things, like those nuisances standing in the corridor shouting every now and then. I didn't complain either; I wasn't used to that, which is an imperfection in my personality and also in that of common people.
All passengers, including myself, felt that we had no control over the coach driver and his co-driver. All these incidents, among many others, are merely living proof that we the grassroots are extremely and unusually patient even at the expense of our basic rights, let alone at the expense of our dignity, livelihood, and welfare. We need to revolt wherever we go and whenever our patience is about to come to an end. Don't worry! I very well know that these words of mine speak louder than my actions.
I don't like it when some people still obey those in authority in a blind manner, pay them the compliments they don't deserve, or ennoble them and get themselves ready to defend them even though on the wrong side. I very well remember the day I went to an office to obtain a certificate of residence for my brother. My brother had already submitted the right documents. So I went only to get it; the moment I entered the office, the one in charge of it told me that it was almost ready and that I only had to wait for the signature of the superintendent.
I was that instant asked to come back in two hours; but as I was coming out of the building, I came across a simple man while parking his motorcycle. Out of innocence, I thought that it was the superintendent; I then went back hurriedly into the office and told the official that he had at last come to work; I added that he had just parked his motorcycle. When he heard that, he couldn't help bursting into hysterical laughter. I had no choice but to hung my head in shame immediately.
A while later, I could see that I had berated the official to the extreme when he shouted at me, inquiring how I could have dared to say such a bad thing about his superintendent; I mean that he had come by motorcycle. " You know that our superintendent holds a high position and therefore must be respected; don't you know that superintendents own cars of high quality?" said he, red-eyed with anger. "Never utter that again! or you will be in jeopardy," he warned. Frankly, I still sue the day I went there. But thanks to the incident, I have learned that some officials still over-obey their leaders, headmasters, directors, superintendents, not only out of respect, but out of ignorance and blind obedience.
It is still a real pity that what characterizes our offices is sheer illiteracy, absence of empathy and more importantly bureaucracy. I have been to many offices and have witnessed that. For instance, many officials are illiterate; I am not the only one who received his identity card full of errors. When I analyzed these errors, I find that those who type them either misspell dates of birth, names, etc. or misread them. Most of the time, they misread them as they are not used to reading carefully. As a consequence, the card is infested with misprints from all sides.
My date of birth is Tangiers; when I received my card, I found Tinghir, not Tangiers anymore. The two words have several characters in common, which proves that it was due to sheer illiteracy. Second, many officials lack empathy; many people come from remote areas and when they get into the office, exhausted, some officials used certain expressions in French, I mean the ones they memorized at school, to address people; most of the latter are the elderly, not educated. Later, they aske these tired-looking people to wait until the officials take their rest, have lunch and talk to their colleagues about daily issues, like shopping, etc.
It once happened to me at one of the offices of the academy. I entered one of them when I heard three women laughing and chuckling together. As I entered the office, I found one of them sitting on the desk, cheerful; another one sitting on a chair and holding a black sack; and the one sitting at the desk, perhaps the principal official, started to frown at me and cast suspicious looks around me; No sooner had I begun to enquire about certain information than the all told me that I had chosen the wrong office.
Anyway, they were so impatient with me and wished I would go out the soonest possible. I could feel it. They found it comforting; if only they knew I had come from a remote city like Zagora. If we talk about bureaucracy that is still pervasive no matter what you hear about the signs of its downfall, it is still apparent wherever you go. I was once asked to go my place of work so as to fill in the application to obtain a new version of my identity card.
It is a rule without doubt. I accepted it. Only later did I get informed by many friends of mine that they obtained it in their home cities and weren't forced at all to go their place of work. So, it is no longer a matter of rules ; it is a matter of the putting them into practice in every single corner of the country. Oh, when should I breathe a deep sigh of relief? I don't think I will do during my lifetime.
