The Battle of Algiers Page #12

They are shouting from their windows and balconies:

JU-JU.

They smother every other sound. The excitement increases. They run

where there is more shouting, more people. They don't know what to do

yet, but want to be together. Until there is a voice stronger and

clearer than the others which gives them a goal and direction.

Ali la Pointe points below beyond the slopes of the alleys and

stairways. There below are the European quarters which widen near the

sea.

The crowd is shouting, pushing, rushing forward with him, like a raging

stream, tumultuous and unrestrainable. Ali is together with his men,

five boys, one of them older than twenty. All of them are armed. The

crowd forces them to quicken their step to a run.

Petit Omar is furthest in the rear. He is wearing a pair of short

pants, his chest bare; he is barefoot. He calls Ali with all his might,

but in vain.

He tries to join Ali, to make his way through the legs of the others;

he runs, clinging to the others, pushes, passes near the walls; then,

turning into a side-street, he rushes into an alleyway, and finally

arrives in front. He runs to Ali, almost out of breath.

PETIT OMAR:

(shouting)

Kader says to stop them! He says we've

got to stop them!

Ali slows down as much as he can with the crowd pushing him from

behind.

ALI:

Where's Kader?

PETIT OMAR:

With the others. They are trying to stop

the people.

ALI:

Go away.

Their voices can hardly be heard or understood amid the loud noises.

PETIT OMAR:

But he says that if we go on like this,

we're playing their game, and they'll

murder everyone ... Stop, Ali!

Ali continues to run. His face is sullen, frowning, as always when he

must choose between instinct and reason. Omar calls him again. His

voice is hysterical, repeating again to stop. He is hanging on one of

Ali's arms. Ali jerks himself free violently; he strikes the child.

Omar sways and falls against the wall.

With this movement, Ali seems to release his anger at not being able to

carry out his actions.

He slows down, speaks to his men, a few words in Arabic, his voice cold

and bitter.

Ali extends his arm and the others imitate him. Each man grabs another

by the arm, forming a chain. They check the flow behind them and hold

back the crowd that is pressing forward.

54 KADER'S HOUSE. INSIDE. DAY. SEPTEMBER 30, 1956.

Djamila, the girl who in January, in rue Random, gave the revolver to

Ali la Pointe, is now standing in front of a large mirror. She removes

the veil from her face. Her glance is hard and intense; her face is

expressionless. The mirror reflects a large part of the room: it is a

bedroom. There are three other girls.

There is Zohra, who is about the same age as Djamila. She undresses,

removing her traditional costume, and is wearing a slip ...

There is Hassiba who is pouring a bottle of peroxide into a basin. She

dips her long black hair into the water to dye it blond.

Every action is performed precisely and carefully. They are like three

actresses preparing for the stage. But there is no gaiety; no one is

speaking. Only silence emphasizes the detailed rhythm of their

transformation ...

Djamila's lightweight European dress of printed silk ...

Zohra's blouse and short skirt to her knees ... make-up, lipstick,

high-heeled shoes, silk stockings ...

Hassiba has wrapped her hair in a towel to dry it ... a pair of blue

jeans, a striped clinging tee-shirt ...

Her blond hair is now dry. She ties it behind in a ponytail. Hassiba

has a young, slim figure. She seems to be a young European girl who is

preparing to go to the beach.

Continual silence. Djamila and Zohra have finished their preparations

and sit down to wait. Hassiba is still barefoot. She is putting on her

sandals, when someone knocks at the door.

Djamila gets up and goes to open it.

It is Kader.

A quick attentive glance; Djamila ... Zohra ... Hassiba ...

Hassiba responds to his look with a gay and somewhat coquettish

expression; she says, stressing her French:

HASSIBA:

Ça va, monsieur?

Kader smiles for a second, without any gaiety, but to please her. Then

he speaks briefly and harshly in Arabic. And turning one at a time to

each of the three, he gives them three addresses.

KADER:

(to Djamila)

Number three rue de Chêne.

(to Zohra)

Number fourteen rue Monseigneur Leynaud.

(to Hassiba)

Number twenty-one rue de l'Hydre.

Each one of the girls repeats, in turn, the address which he has given

her. Each one of the three responds emotionally. The atmosphere is

tense. Kader bids them farewell according to the Algerian custom, first

bringing his right hand over his heart. Then he embraces them.

They look at him for a moment; they are embarrassed. Kader tries to

ease their discomfort, smiles, and answers Hassiba's previous remark.

KADER:

Ça va ... Et bonnes chances!

55RUE DE L'HYDRE. OUTSIDE/INSIDE. DAY. 5:45 P.M.

At number twenty-one rue de l'Hydre, there is a bread store. Hassiba

has again covered her face with a veil, and is also wearing a white

cloak which covers her whole body.

She enters the store. There are other women who are buying bread.

Hassiba waits for them to leave, then says in Arabic to the shopkeeper:

HASSIBA:

I've come to take the package ...

The shopkeeper empties half a basket of bread; at the bottom, there is

a beach bag with a shoulder-strap, and he gives it to Hassiba.

Hassiba hides it under her cloak, bends her head in a sign of farewell,

and leaves.

56RUE MONS. LEYNAUD. INSIDE. DAY. 5:45 P.M.

At number fourteen rue Monseigneur Leynaud, there is a tailor shop and

clothing store. Zohra is also wearing the veil and white cloak. She

enters.

ZOHRA:

I've come to take the package ...

The tailor accompanies her to the back of the shop, where there is a

workroom and young girls who are sewing. He rummages in a closet, takes

out an Air France utility bag and gives it to Zohra who hides it under

her cloak, greets him, and leaves.

57RUE DU CHÊNE. INSIDE. DAY.

Inside number three rue du Chêne, an Algerian craftsman is working in

filigree. Djamila takes a small leather cosmetic case.

Djamila hides it, greets the man, and leaves.

58ALLEY AND BLOCKADE. RUE MARENGO. INSIDE/OUTSIDE. DAY. 6:05 P.M.

At an intersection of rue Marengo, an alley, Hassiba enters a large

door, and shuts it. In a second, she has removed her veil and cloak.

Her face is made up; she is wearing pants and a jersey top. She places

the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

Inside the bag, a towel and bathing suit are visible.

Hassiba goes out the door, proceeds down the alley until she reaches

rue Marengo. She approaches the blockade.

It is Saturday evening; there is a hurried bustle of Algerians and

Europeans. Soldiers and policemen, are very busy with their usual

requests for documents.

Hassiba's arrival is quickly noticed for she is very pretty and

attracts much attention. Some soldiers whistle.

An elderly Algerian woman looks at her with dislike. Hassiba is

indifferent and waits her turn. A French soldier approaches her.

SOLDIER:

I'd like to search you, Miss ...

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