Dear Friend,

... During your last visit to Salé, we only saw each other for a brief moment. I did not think you were leaving on the following day and so I was not able to either dissuade you or to wish you farewell. It was a mistake not to have informed me.

Said has returned from Marrakesh after having completed the mission he set out on. He shared with me everything and told me that his discussions with you were very open and frank.... but to what purpose? I do not know! Each of you seem to have been perfectly aware of each others intentions. However the truth is it was I who informed him about the news after my return from Marrakesh and shared with hm the letter you addressed to me. We read the letter together or if you wish to know, he read it in front of me. Now that I confessed the truth I do not know if you will chastise me after you have advised me to speak to no one about this affair. What will you do now? Did you not say, "If you deem it useful to inform a third party, feel free to act per your intentions." Said is my alter ego. Hence there should be no conflict in this regard.

Dear Friend,

You have informed me that you were among those who were arrested following the demonstrations and incarcerated for over a week. I made a blunder by not rushing to congratulate you. You have now experienced prison and torture for the national cause. The one and the other are tolerable for someone like you whose patriotism lies deep in his gut and believes without a shadow of doubt in the cause for freedom. You must feel fortunate.

Please accept my expression of deep friendship and my best wishes.

Salé, January 2, 1936

Your devoted friend,

Kacem Zhiri

Dear friend,

We have not written each other since we last met. It is true that events were not of a nature to allow us to write other than to exchange information. But now that the measures that assaulted personal correspondence have been lifted or more likely suspended until further decree, we can engage in writing such that our views will be less stifled than in the past. We send you our fervent congratulations for the proud title for the patriotic cause that you have earned while in detention. For my part, I tried to do my best, but these were not crowned with success as I had hoped. Perhaps it is even better this way.

Abdallah Ibrahim - 1959.

My dear friend,

Finally hope conquers despair. I took the route to the post office one last time to deposit a letter and ask the postal clerk behind the counter if there was mail for me. I enjoyed dwelling on this walk and on how my thoughts were soothing me in a soft and agreeable manner about this letter I was sure to receive today. Filled with hesitation I stopped my walk and asked what it would contain and what my facial expressions would be upon reading it. Among the questions I raised about it, I wondered about its format. It was as if I had guessed its nature and was in haste to receive its contents. Without realizing it, I found myself in front of the entrance door which I immediately pushed in to access the interior of the post office. Then I climbed the staircase. At this precise moment, doubt gripped me and I began to say to myself, " Perhaps the letter has not yet arrived." However, despite this doubt I burst into the room where I habitually asked for my mail. I don't know if I had knocked on the door or not. Anyways I handed over my letter to the lady and prepared to leave the room when a thought sprang to mind that I should first of all find out if there was or not a letter being held for me at the post office. This thought preoccupied my mind while I was gathering my papers. And so here I was, calling upon my willpower to be informed about this letter, but I don't know what held me back once again. Was I worried of forgetting the polite formality of thanking her and appear disrespectful or just as well was I not ready to withdraw this letter destined for me? Lord knows that neither of these two motives were what prevented me from speaking. There was something much more serious that I have yet to this day come to grips with despite the time spent pondering about it. Can you solve this puzzle and enlighten me? Or must I imagine that it's not possible to ask someone such as you to find the solution needed to this problem?

Here I am, hesitant, chewing my fingers with regret. Why? Because I had asked without being aware of doing so and she began to search for my letter. Then she responded with an accent that I did not understand but which seemed to imply "Yes, here it is." I hastened to her side, snatched the letter from her hand and put it into my briefcase. Then I headed to the door. I couldn't restrain myself from opening the briefcase once again to pull out the letter and I eagerly unsealed it and left the empty envelope at the post office. I began to scan through the contents. I found other sealed letters and an opened one that was addressed to me. I put the sealed letters in my briefcase and began to the read the open letter. My admiration for what I read was unbounded; my joy was at is peak as the (evoked) visions paraded before my eyes. No one can contradict me when I say that while reading your letter, I accompanied you in your voyage with all the resources of imagination which confirmed this perspective by making it difficult to distinguish between dream and reality. Be assured that your friend has shared your joys and sorrows in an instant when he let himself be swept by a supernatural phenomena which raised him to a level he believed was above this existence even as he knew pertinently that existence and he were inseparable from each other.

My friend, this is a brief note without commensurate measure with the extent of your letter. I will come back a second and a third time. And when you will be back amongst us, we will return together in most of our reunions.

Your devoted friend,

Kacem Zhiri

My dear friend,

I resume my thread of discussion after a long interruption which I presume has angered you and won't fail to lead you to admonish me upon your return. But why the anger and blame when you know how much I'm under the iron rule of the school where I spend all my daylight hours. I am freed from it only to eat, to sleep and to return. I promised you in my last missive to reply in much detail to your first letter. In the last paragraph I signaled my intention to catch up in my next letter so that it would be commensurate in breath to yours. However each time I grabbed the pen to convey what I intended to tell you, it would escape from my hand and fall on the sheet of paper I was darkening with ink. At the same time, (on one occasion) my mind was captivated by a bird that suspended its flight and landed on our patio in search of leftover food to appease the hunger of its chicks. This diverted entirely my attention from what I was writing. When it flew towards its little ones, I reverted my gaze back onto the sheet to continue writing but, what a surprise it was to notice that I no longer had the pen in my hand. I searched to the right and then to the left for it. Meanwhile it was lying in front of me, not necessitating all this useless searching. Finally I grabbed the pen and began to read what I had written so as to link it what was to follow. It was then that it dawned on me that I was incapable of executing on my promise to write you a (full) letter for I had not fully digested the contents of your letter despite having reread it several times and even though its wording was engraved more or less in my mind. To my big surprise and enormous astonishment I had the impression that, after I had read your letter page after page so I could relay my feelings to you by pen, all that my mind retained was but a vague recollection. It was as if reading the later sentences erased those at the beginning. Hence I knew not whether to respond to the end of your letter where fragments of its contents were still in my mind or to start at the beginning where a more focused reading would be necessary. Despite all this, I put my mind to test and began to summarize very carefully what I had read. It was then that I detected a deep sadness and dramatic atmosphere which could be grist for a fairly large book.

Your letter begins with the tale of a friendship triggered at first sight, provoking a hellish heat that only everlasting hope and wishes can appease. Following that unfortunate and yet delicious first glance, we observe that hopes fade from one moment to the next while the flame rose higher and higher until we are led to the end of the letter. We have no other choice but to observe the two beings separate in silence, overwhelmed by sadness and consternation. If a poet who lost inspiration could see this scene or at least imagine it, he would immediately recover his creative enthusiasm and compose a master piece. The initiates would prostate themselves before him with hearts overflowing with tenderness and affection. But let us not be too hasty, my friend. I am not one of those who expect this from you nor one who wishes to revive in you what fate wants to erase. I have spent an hour by myself and during this time I have tried to distance from me all that binds me to life and that is how I find myself now, in front of a sheet of paper on which my hand traces what it will without an attempt to stop its meanderings.

Please accept the best gift your friend can give, who knows if it is no less than his soul that is offered to you.

Your devoted friend,

Kacem Zhiri

Dear Friend,

For the third time I hold a pen in my hands with some anxiety. I place a sheet in front of me to be filled with who knows what. Will I perhaps write on matters that might bore you or that might trigger bouts of hilarity? It's not my intent to put blame on you. You could even turn this into derision and fall backwards laughing at my expense and you would have reason to! I don't know how I can prevent your doing so when I know there exists another Kacem -- that the Kacem we know would disavow -- and that it is he who writes to you now and uses up your time. Can't you see that all he says is nothing but trivialities which reveal nothing that would satisfy the mind? Moreover is he adding confusion to the point where one can not distinguish what surrounds oneself without a doubtful perspective? Hence let's not be taken in by such nonsense that persons like you would not understand. Let us explain ourselves (therefore) with more precision and directness. This is the third letter I am sending you and each time I have been waiting for a response where you would describe your travel adventures. However my hopes have been in vain. I have gone three times to the English post office and each time I have asked the lady who works there if there was mail for me. Each time the response drops like a hatchet: "Non we don't any letter with your name on it." I was always full of enthusiasm as I headed for the post office and returned with my hopes frustrated and totally disillusioned. i do not know if this time I will have more luck than than in the previous occasions in finding that much longed after letter. But no matter the circumstances, I will not accept any reason you invoke to excuse your silence. It will be futile for you to make any effort to exonerate yourself. Don't attempt to justify yourself, it will be a waste of effort.

Your devoted friend,

Kacem Zhiri

Kacem Zhiri - 1927.