Hideous Kinky Page #2

"An Arab peasant looks at the moon.

"'Do you know me? Surely not.

"'Then how have I offended you that you'd go

a million miles just to plant your flag on my dreams?'

"Listen, America. I, the poet,

Ben Abdul Jalil Noar Edin, make this petition.

"I don't have much say in the matter,

but just a word, America.

"I read my soul by the light of her face.

"She will never again so brightly shine,

"or rise singing in the morning,

brushing stars from her hair.

"So you spared no expense, seducer.

"But for both our sakes, my enemy,

send her back to me! This I plead.

"In the name of my soul and of my people,

our revolution!

"In the name of the moon."

HE SPEAKS ARABIC

Ben Abdul Jalil thanks you.

May he have the typewriter back?

Of course, but I've only done ten poems.

Yes, ten poems.

He says, "A life cannot wish for more."

Oh.

Mum, what did he mean - only ten poems?

I'm afraid, Lucy, it means we're out of work.

- The bank is closed.

- Please will you look again?

- There must have been a mistake.

- There is no money here for you.

Tomorrow.

Merci. Merci beaucoup. Au revoir. Bonne journee.

Je ne comprends pas. What are you doing?

Qu'est-ce-que vous faites?

Please don't do that!

Hey! That's my towel!

F***!

Julia, what is wrong?

Julia?

Nothing.

- We have no money. - No money? -

Absolutely none. Not even for the rent.

- How can you have no money?!

- Meaning?

- I only mean you are English.

- Do you think I sell dolls for fun?

No, but it's money for the pocket. Julia?

Many English don't have any money, you know.

Most of them, in fact.

- Uh? - Just because I'm English

doesn't mean... - No problem.

So what's the problem?

What?

I left my job.

There are... two women. No, three women.

- And a journey.

- A journey? How original.

- Something's bad.

- What kind of bad?

Ten US dollars?

- Get lost!

- You must help me to tell you. It is most important.

So maybe you should tell the police.

Oh, no, no, no.

Nothing could possibly be that bad.

Please.

Well?

- You will never have a husband.

- That bad, huh?

- No husband?

- Sorry, but you should know.

You complete loser.

Have you seen my pink trousers?

Bilal isn't wearing them, is he?

- I don't think so.

- That's strange.

How could they do that?

And we have nothing! NOTHING!

- Stop her, Bea!

- No, Mum!

- Stop, Mum, please stop! I know what you're gonna do!

- I'm not going to do anything.

- No! - Mum, stop! Mum!

- Stop, Mum!

- Come out!

- Don't do it!

- It doesn't matter.

Come out! Those are my trousers!

.. Now you've taken my trousers!

Give them back to me. Get them off!

Right!

Sorry.

Right!

Don't do it!

Sh*t!

Bea, what did you learn today?

- And the five rules of Islam?

- Prayer, study, pilgrimage, fasting, charity.

Good. Very good.

You really are the little Arab girl, uh?

Would the schoolgirl like a vacancy?

- Bilal means holiday.

- But why? I'll fall behind.

- I've just started. - But just until

things get better. - Will you think about it?

- Hmm?

- In Bilal's village.

I'll think about it.

- Look, it's for you.

- Thank you, Bilal.

These are my people.

Do it like this. Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Bilal! Something wrong?

No, everything is fine.

She's so small.

She's beautiful.

OK. Now you're like a little English boy.

He says, "When you grow up,

he can see you'll be a good man."

- "How many wives in your country?"

- Mm, thousands and thousands.

He says, "Wives take lots of money."

".. And every wife adds trouble to trouble."

".. To add this sum, we need a great mathematician."

".. Life passes and youth is spent."

".. That's why to neglect a wife...

"is a crime against God."

".. And a mortal sin."

I suppose I feel, sort of, very at home.

- On the side of the hill.

- Yes.

On the side of the hill.

- To fill the eyes, it is important.

- Mm.

- For the memory.

- Yes.

For when we go.

What?

Tomorrow morning.

Why?

This is your village, Bilal.

We've just arrived.

No.

I don't have a village anywhere.

No mother, no father.

- Then where are you from?

- Nowhere.

- La honte. Le monde est fait de honte.

- "The world is made of shame."

Yes.

Papiers?

Papiers, Madame?

- English?

- Yes.

- And this is your husband?

Yes, she's my wife.

- Don't I know your face?

Je crois pas. I don't think so.

"I don't think so"? Hmm!

Thank you.

Come on, Julia!

Whoo!

- Mum's going to become a Sufi.

- And what do Sufis do?

They live in a mosque,

they pray all day, and they never go out.

- Well, she can't cos she's married to Bilal.

- Mum's married to our dad.

- You just don't remember!

- No, Bilal told me so on the bus.

Liar!

- Bea!

- Liar!

Bea!

- Hey! Oh! Julia! What are you doing?

- I could swim and swim.

Maybe I could reach the other side.

- Until you drown, you mean?

- Fine, it just doesn't scare me any more.

The annihilation of the ego.

- Huh?

- The death of the body.

How can you talk like that?

How can you people talk like that?

Hi, girls.

- It is from the hotel. - The

hotel?! - Have you been there?

Yes.

I had a job... with horses.

- Can we go there for a ride?

- It is nothing. Useless plastic.

- Please! -

Please! - NO!

OK?

I said no!

It is a bad place!

That's the last of it.

- We've got to reprovide.

- I suppose someone has to.

- Mum, where's Bilal?

- He's gone to find food.

- We'll have lunch when he gets back from the hotel.

- If he comes back.

What do you mean, darling?

Well, he's gone a bit potty, hasn't he?

- Mum, will we still have a garden?

- Hmm.

- And mashed potatoes every night.

- Hmm?

- And will you still want to have two little girls?

- What?!

When?

- When you become a Sufi.

- Oh.

- Bilal!

- Hey, girls!

Sardines. 46 tins.

- Is that it?

- And two cigarettes?

That's it, come on.

Oh.

Rub your tummies, rub your tummies.

- You have to go back?

- To Marrakech, yes.

I know, I know. Rub your tummies

and bring up some more.

OK, this man's called Mohammed

and he will drive you to Marrakech.

- Isn't Bilal coming? Aren't you coming, Bilal?

- No, there is work in Agadir. - Come on, girls.

- But aren't you coming with us?

- No, that is no longer part of the plan.

Look!

Learn and work is the only secret, OK?

- We will meet soon, God willing.

- Inshallah. - Yes, inshallah.

Now, go, go, go, go!

What did he say?

Bilal?

Bye, Bilal!

Hey, hey! Now, what should I call you, hmm?

The English Girls or the Arab Girls?

No matter. Shall we have tea?

Er, Jean-Louis Santoni.

- Mum!

I remember your husband.

I knew him in, er, the '60s. Quite a dandy.

- Does he still wear those gold waistcoats?

- Probably.

And those little tight, black,

elegant shoes?

Too small for him, with pointed toes.

I'm sure he does. And despicable

red socks, full of goat's cheese.

- Do you ever see him?

- London is such a big place.

It's booming - full of raincoats, pragmatists,

optimists, bank accounts, wives.

- Which is why you're here.

- Which is exactly why I am here. And you?

- Something similar.

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