I Have the Right to Destroy Myself – Young-Ha Kim

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If you’ve been following my posts lately, you would know that my passion for Korea is expanding day after day. I’ve been getting to know it through its music, TV shows, popular games and food. And, from having watched a lot of Korean dramas and variety shows already, I’ve been convinced that Koreans’ sense of imagination cannot be defeated. They have proven their ability to come up with the wildest and most eccentric and original ideas through their digital productions, and that’s the reason why I wanted to discover the literary side of Korea and how its words would captivate me as these always seem to reach me better than images.

I Have the Right to Destroy Myself relates the story of an unnamed narrator whose job is to track the saddest souls around Seoul and help them commit suicide. He doesn’t force them or kill them by himself; he just offers a listening ear and a helping hand to help them choose the most appropriate way to end their lives. There is also another side to the story, where C and K are two brothers that have fallen for the same woman, Se-Yeon. They lived an atomized life punctuated with Se-Yeon’s choices that usually seem to be in C’s favor. The story goes back and forth making the reader unable to find his way to the reality, but slowly making sense as pages are turned. There is something beautiful and filthy at the same time about the two colliding stories that make them interesting each one in its own way. It’s like reading a same story from two different perceptions, letting the reader think about it and choose whose side to pick.

This book was different from any other one I have read before. When I first read its synopsis, even though the title inspires a lot of darkness and despair, I thought it would be one of these stories about love triangles that are frequently featured in Korean dramas but, to my surprise, it was absolutely nothing like this. Indeed, there was a love story that animated the events but there were also a lot of parts about art and lust; be it wanderlust or the carnal one.

Once I finished this book, I have found myself dumbfounded from the accelerated velocity of the events. I needed time to just reorganize everything in my head and figure out where to start this review from. And this is exactly the kind of books I like. The kind that leaves you bewildered and makes you retreat from the outer world just to process everything that went through so rapidly. It’s really sad that this novel only had 119 pages as the story would’ve been way much better if it had been prolonged a bit, but it was still an awesome reading. I’m glad that the first book from a Korean author I’ve read had enthralled me that way and I really hope that in a few years I can be able to read its original version in Korean since the translated versions are not always totally reliable. In the same way as the synopsis, I agree that this novel brilliantly affirms Young-Ha Kim as Korea’s leading young literary master and I won’t linger much longer to read another one of his pieces of art. It was such a blast.

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The Humans – Matt Haig

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Once upon a time, there was a planet in the whopping universe called Vonnadoria. Its inhabitants lived in a seamless peace and there was nothing there as family bonds, love or hate. Everyone there minded their own business and only interacted when receiving instructions or missions to fulfill by the ones in control there; the Hosts. There was also nothing there as faith or religion. The only thing Vonnadorians believed in was logic and mathematics. Thanks to this latter, and their tight grip of prime numbers, Vonnadorians were able to create a technology that surpasses every expectation, one that allowed them to impersonate any figure, travel anywhere in a blink of an eye and know exactly what happens in their neighboring planets, particularly on planet Earth. They indeed had a very biased prejudice about this aforementioned planet. Based on everything that they had witnessed from afar, all the wars and altercations, Vonnadorians would tell you that humans are miserable and are craving money, power and violence. According to them, the ultimate nightmare was to live among these bipedal earthly creatures whose character appalled them, let alone their appearance. In the same way, no one in their history has ever tried to venture and go there to explore, until one day where a major event will happen on Earth that will break their record and would drive one of them to go to this godforsaken place where no one of his species has been before. In fact, the unfortunate Vonnadorian was unwillingly sent to Earth as Andrew Martin, a professor at Cambridge University who happened to solve the Riemann hypothesis that would’ve revolutionized the world. The solving of this mathematical riddle meant destruction for both humans and Vonnadorians, that’s why they were alarmed and needed to stop any possible evolution concerning this matter. It was a danger for humans because there will come a time where they won’t be able to tame the accelerative velocity of its development, and for Vonnadorians because humans won’t be late to show interest in exploring new horizons and hence find out about the otherworldly planet that is Vonnadoria and would want to invade it.

Andrew Martin had then two missions to fulfill when coming to Earth: destroy information and anyone who gets in the way, and gather as much information as possible about Humans. In Vonnadoria, earthly creatures are known to cherish aggressiveness and live a miserable life doomed to death, radically unlike Vonnadoria where there is no such thing as death, hatred or even love. Yet, as time went by, Andrew Martin had to interrelate with people to make his task go smoother and he unexpectedly found himself compassionating with them. There was still an alien part of him that always brought him to his senses but he sometimes seemed to lose himself to the complicated existence of the humans. He has got to experience the beauty of poetry, the soothing existence of a loving wife, the good that is within loyal friends, the beautiful feeling that is motherly love, the interesting ambitions that animated the human bodies… He realized then that everything he once believed wasn’t necessarily true. Indeed, there was bad on this planet but there was also a lot of good in it. Andrew Martin’s vision started then to slowly deviate from what he has been told in his home planet and he had no idea how this would revolutionize his life both as an alien and as a human.

Now, I should say that there are some really good moralities in this book that deserve to reflect on. The author has put the emphasis on how humans can live miserably without the existence of love and family bond. No matter how much misfortune you’re living in, no matter how tough life is on you, no matter how serious your bruises are, love always seemed to attenuate the acuity of the pain. He has also spoken about the ups and downs of human life and how this made humans cherish the small things around them; sunsets, oceans or waterfalls, etc. Being one that was immortal, he perfectly understood where the mystery of these things lied. It was because humans had experienced pain and knew mortality that every moment of their lives is considered as a blessing.

I originally bought this book because I really liked its cover and as the saying goes, you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Personally, I liked the idea of this novel a lot, and all throughout my reading, I was telling myself that if I was to write one, it would probably be something of this kind. This is the kind of stories I like because we believe that aliens are a myth, so this gives us more freedom to imagine the most eccentric and unbelievable things there might be out there. Yet, I must say that I’m not a fan of Matt Haig’s writing style. It’s such a pity that the plot is really good and the ideas are excellent but the way they’re expressed in isn’t that impressive. I wanted to give the author a chance to compel me like many of his fellow writers did, because sometimes you just don’t get into the story from the very beginning but would get used to it once you’ve progressed a bit, but I was already at page 200 trying to find something good in his work… It was bland and tasteless, but I still would give this book a 2-stars rating because the ideas and the life moralities it gives are worth it.

Essay: Hallyu and the Global Culture

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I have participated in an ongoing contest organized by the World Association for Hallyu Studies about Hallyu and the Global Pop Culture and I requested feedback on my Facebook page. Many people have shown interest in reading it, so I thought about sharing it with you all on the blog to read it and eventually, give me some feedback if you want to. Now to the essay.

“The Hallyu wave refers to the growing interest in Korean traditional and pop culture that has swept Asia, Europe, the Middle East, the Americas as well as several parts of Africa. In addition to producing state-of-the-art devices, Korea has been demonstrating a sincere endeavor in revolutionizing the artistic scene. So, since when has the Korean pop culture been gaining that much potency? What is the secret behind its exceeding popularity? And what has made it stand out in front of the topnotch productions generated in Hollywood?
In the late 80s, the Korean musical pop culture was dominated by two musical genres called ballads (발라드) and Ppongjjak (뽕짝)[1]. Ballads were generally characterized by melodious sounds along with love related lyrics that make listeners go with its smooth flow, whereas Ppongjjak was a kind of noisy fast-beat music that was Japan-inspired. Yet, as much as these types of music have been receiving a much positive feedback from Koreans at the beginning, the locals have soon abandoned them to a more dynamic and innovative music style. The occidental musical expansion was at its best at that time and, according to Korean youth, it has proved to be different and much more entertaining. The Korean musical scene has taken a long halt due to the uniformity of its productions and the deficiency of concerts within the peninsula, and this condition has been perpetuating until the early 90s, when a band called “Seo Taiji and Boys” would draw the attention of the whole nation and revolutionize the Korean music industry. This band knew how to present something new, slightly inspired from the occidental music while not forgetting to add its own cultural twist on it. Their songs were a perfect innovative musical hybridization; they were a mixture of rap, pop, rock, punk and even ballads. Since then, the Korean musical scene has been witnessing the emergence of new talents of various styles. From the overzealous H.O.T, passing by the feminine Girls’ Generation, the eccentric G-Dragon, the belligerent BAP, to the very manly 2PM, Korean pop has surely got out of an epic revolution where novelty and uniqueness are key words. It has been producing a perfect artistic hodge-podge harmonized with various music styles that made it experience the worldwide popularity we’re now witnessing.

Recently, I have watched a video[2] about how English-speaking Youtubers (mostly American and British ones) react to Kpop, and their reactions were all pretty much the same; “It’s awesome, iconic, artistic and out-of-this-world”, said most of the protagonists. These people were at first startled at how these songs and music videos were so much different from the occidental usual ones, particularly when it comes to the number of singers, the amazingly synchronized choreographies and the abundance of eccentricity. One of them specifically called this as “unleashing your inner Lady GaGa” and I think that it is exactly how it should be phrased. People of the Internet around the world love what’s abnormal and this is what made Kpop rise exceedingly for the past years. Koreans perfectly knew how to adopt styles inspired from other cultures while bringing in their national characteristics, and hence, creating something unique, entertaining and visually stimulating.
Indeed, the Korean pop culture has undoubtedly spread its influence in so many ways; food consumption, fashion trends, makeup and even plastic surgery. The number of tourists headed to Korea has increased exponentially over the past years and people have started showing more interest in their culture and way of life which, I should say, is really unique.

As it’s the case of many others, I’ve learned more about Korea through its drama series which have played a huge role in promoting the said nation more than K-pop did. As you’re past watching a couple of episodes of a Korean drama series, you’ll notice that some humanly values like thankfulness, respect and loyalty are frequently featured. Truthfully, aside from the interesting plot twists and the good-looking actors, this is what has aroused my interest in them at first place because I truly think that the recent Hollywood productions are more and more lacking this touch of values and are starting to become inwardly destructive rather than instructive. The American movies and series are progressively over sexualized and don’t particularly hold a meaningful morality in them. So, I think that Korea has scored a point regarding this,  presenting indeed a work of art that is innovative, utterly interesting and, at the same time, humanly ascensive.
Korea has also succeeded the promotion of its country as a lot of its young fans started to show an undeniable interest in the Korean language. I’ve started learning it as well and I seriously think that it is such a rich and interesting language that draws you along its process to learn about the history of the peninsula and the stages it got through to build both an economically and culturally strong country.

At last, I should say that, for a country that has thrived from the ashes and proudly started hitting musical charts and film festivals, Korea has shown a perfect example of a country ruled by strong willpower and cultural excellence, both leading it to stay neck and neck with the Hollywood productions that once ruled the world.”

References:

[1] Research Paper
L’hybridité et l’essor de la culture populaire coréenne en Asie (The hybridity and the rise of the Korean popular culture in Asia) by Doobo Shim, professor at Sungshin Women’s University.

[2] Video
How Youtubers react to K-pop by TheFineBros

Be a diligent hardworking pal

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If you take a close peek, you’ll find that the most miserable people on earth are considered to be perfectionists. And I can’t lie, I am one of these. By nature, I am someone who can’t just do something in a rush and settle with an average-quality outcome. I need all the time and the inspiration of the world to give a neat and perfect result I am fully satisfied of (I guess you figured why the blog is somehow hibernating).

People around me always tell off my devotion for work and, eventually, its effects on me. Because of that devotion, I have been suffering from strained nerves, gastric pains and stamina depletion for so long. I couldn’t come to the end of a full studying/working day without taking an aspirin or a gastric medication. Yet, I have always been acknowledged for my work everywhere I go and this is what matters the most. Doing your work diligently obviously has some drawbacks but they can’t be compared to the myriad of benefits it holds within.

Today I had a pretty pleasing surprise at the agency I’m having my internship in. As that day was my last one there, I was called to the boss’ desk to discuss the outcome of this experience on both professional and personal aspects. That is when I was thrilled to be given a recommendation certificate that vouches for my hard work and rigor while I didn’t even ask for it.

I know that this is quite personal but I intended to share it with you, all of you hardworking pals out there, to incite you to always do your best and you will eventually be given the credit you deserve. As I usually say, every hard work bears fruit for sure and what goes around comes around. We often hear that the ones who work thoroughly are the ones who get screwed up at the end but that is not quite true at all. In a rather democratic and regulated atmosphere, when you work your best, you will always receive the most thrilling appraisals and acknowledgments.

Even at school, seeing those jolly people who recently passed their bac exam, they wouldn’t have reached that stage if they didn’t work thoroughly for it. And their success wouldn’t also have felt that good if they didn’t have a part in it.

I only have one advice to tell you. If you do something, do it the right way or just don’t. I can’t stand people who actually feel good about tossing off their work to just feel relieved and rest or move on to something more entertaining. When I was at this same agency, there was another trainee that was charged of “writing” articles for the website. When I first arrived, there has not been much I can do so I decided to provide her some assistance. I worded a well-written paragraph and gave it to her to boost her inspiration a bit and let her progress in her work. Later that day, when she asked for the approval of the boss, I was paying close attention. She reached for the said written content and I was surprised I didn’t find any trace of my paragraph. Not even a single word of it. I hushed and told myself that it’s her assigned work and I legitimately shouldn’t play the gatecrasher. Not long after that, I figure out that she has been translating English contents to French and adding a twist on it to make it look like a personalized content. And, I should say that this incident has lowered the esteem I had for her. LIKE BIG TIME. If you give your best at a job, not only you receive the respect and the esteem of the others, but you also help boosting your self-esteem. You tend to be honest with yourself, you feel professional and erudite and happy with the way you lead your life. You eventually feel proud of the person you have become. And wasn’t that our ultimate wish when we were young? Make this your motto and you’ll live happily ever after.

To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life; foolish people are idle, wise people are diligent. Buddha

Les cerfs-volants de Kaboul – Khaled Hosseini

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Les cerfs-volant de Kaboul a été un gros coup de cœur pour moi, un roman qui m’a secouée et qui a réussi à atteindre le tréfonds de mon cœur rien que par des mots; des mots très puissants tout de même. L’histoire relate principalement le cycle de vie d’Amir; depuis son enfance élitiste, étant l’enfant d’un marchand riche et fortuné de Kaboul, en passant par la partie secouée de son enfance, son amitié conditionnée avec Hassan et ses tribulations après avoir quitté son pays avec un secret lui pesant lourd sur le cœur.

Toutefois en parlant de l’amitié qui le lie à Hassan, il y avait un hic qui brisait ce lien puéril et innocent qui est né entre eux; l’appartenance ethnique. Amir était un Pachtoun très fortuné et reconnu à Kaboul tandis qu’Hassan faisait partie de la minorité Hazaras qui n’étaient considérés que pauvres esclaves ignares. Ils n’avaient droit à rien tant que les Pachtouns sont de la partie. Les deux tribus vivaient chacune à sa façon, et gare à celui ou celle qui ose se mêler avec l’autre dans une affaire quelconque. Il s’agit un ici d’une question d’honneur, de dignité et de réputation pour les Pachtouns. Le petit Amir grandit alors avec cette idée bien inscrite en tête même s’il considérait Hassan comme son seul ami. Une exposition publique de son amitié nouée avec Hassan ne pouvait être en sa faveur.

L’enfance des deux gosses était stable et régie par la monotonie, jusqu’à un jour maudit, le jour de la compétition des cerfs-volants. Amir voulait remporter la première place à tout prix pour regagner l’amour et l’appréciation de son père, chose qui a été atteinte, sans que celui-ci ne sache que ce jour sera le jour ultime où son esprit connaitra la notion de stabilité. Après la victoire d’Amir, Hassan courut vite lui ramener le cerf-volant du perdant, pour revenir en fin de soirée violé et traumatisé par des enfants Pachtouns de son âge, avec Amir comme témoin. Tout deux sont rentrés troublés cette nuit et ceci se perpétuerait jusqu’à leurs derniers jours. Amir vivait un véritable enfer en culpabilisant de ne pas avoir eu le courage de sortir son ami de son sort tragique et Hassan s’est vu broyer du noir pendant les semaines qui suivirent l’incident. Ceci jusqu’à ce que l’histoire ait prit une tournure moins appréhendée à cause d’Amir qui, poussé par son supplice intérieur, se permet d’infliger à Hassan et son père la punition de quitter la maison familiale sans pour autant avoir perpétré un crime ou enfreint une loi. L’enfant que personnifiait Amir m’inspirait ainsi beaucoup d’antipathie. Contrairement à Hassan le Hazara qui n’avait d’yeux que pour lui et pouvait sacrifier tout ce qu’il a de plus cher pour protéger et ne pas déplaire à son ami, Amir, lui, se réjouissait à la moindre idée de voir Hassan les yeux grands écarquillés pendant qu’il diffamait les histoires qu’il lui lisait ou qui préférait l’expulser pour ne pas voir le résultat de sa lâcheté déambuler le long du jardin de sa maison. Hassan était la véritable incarnation d’un ange tandis qu’Amir en différait. Il était instable. Le manque d’affection de la part de sa mère décédée et de son père stoïque le déstabilisaient et affectaient grandement sa psychologie.

De plus du lien d’amitié sur lequel l’auteur s’attardait beaucoup, il y a une pléthore de choses que Khaled Hosseini a mentionné dans son roman. L’honneur, le lien sacré de parenté mais aussi la religion. L’évocation de l’Islam dans ce roman me rend tout particulièrement concernée de la manière dont certains comprennent cette noble religion. A voir ces dits religieux à la barbe s’étendant le long de leurs bustes exécuter des personnes innocentes en plein public au nom de l’Islam et tuer tout ce qui bouge parce que leurs avis oscillent des leurs ou seulement parce qu’ils ne sont pas de bonne humeur, je me dis que c’est grave. Je n’ai jamais compris le mystère régnant à l’Afghanistan et c’est devenu encore plus flou pour moi. Comment est-ce qu’un peuple pourrait s’autodétruire? Cette question restera encore plus sans réponse jusqu’à ce que je me renseigne davantage sur ce sujet ou que quelqu’un ait la gentillesse d’éclairer ma lanterne. (Et j’apprécierai beaucoup)

Au début, je suis restée très sceptique à l’égard de ce roman, je n’ai pas pu dépasser les 50 pages lues soit pendant le trajet menant vers l’école ou avant de dormir. Cependant, j’ai décidé d’attendre jusqu’aux vacances pour le relire et je n’ai pas été désappointée; ce roman méritait seulement un peu de temps pour digérer ses faits et nécessitait tout de même un petit remue-méninge à mesure que l’histoire progressait.

Il est vrai aussi que cet écrit m’a beaucoup touchée et déstabilisée mais ces sensations fortes ressenties pendant sa lecture sont vraiment ineffables et ne peuvent être ressenties en lisant un young-adult ou même un polar. C’est vrai, c’est humain et c’est intense. J’ai beaucoup apprécié la plume gracieuse de Khaled Hosseini, ce fut ma première lecture d’une de ses œuvres et je suis sure qu’elle ne sera pas la dernière. Toutefois, je pense que mon prochain Khaled Hosseini sera en anglais en vue de pouvoir crédiblement juger de la qualité de sa plume. J’ai aimé le fait qu’il ne s’attelait pas beaucoup sur les descriptions, que son œuvre est très bien structurée et qu’il maniait parfaitement l’art de trouver le mot exact pour n’importe quel cadre ou situation. Sans oublier les phrases imparables qu’il employait et qui possèdent une signification ésotérique qui mène vers beaucoup de réflexion. Ce roman a été pour moi le déclic pour explorer de nouveaux horizons livresques, moi qui ne lit principalement que des contemporains et biographies. Ceci dit, cette revue ne représente qu’une petite parcelle du roman et ne sert que d’un avant-goût pour courir attraper ce précieux bijou parce que, franchement, vous ne le regretterez point.

1st year anniversary – The story behind

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A year minus one day before that, this blog has seen the mundane light. I don’t know how I’ve gotten here or how this has been perpetuating, but all I know is that my love for writing has become hugeous over this year and my unconditional love for English has made it easier to operate. I’ve been fond of the reading/writing combo since I was a kid. When I started learning French and Arabic, I would seize every opportunity to buy letters from a store nearby, write affectionate letters to my parents and siblings where I expressed the quite ineffable love I carry for them without forgetting to illustrate the texts with puerile drawings and lots of hearts. Some family members that happen to visit us have had the chance to get one of these as well. I was a really calm child and this was just my main activity within the house. It seems like my parents found no harm in that and the lucky pen pals I’ve been writing to appreciated the act.

As I was growing up, I quit this writing habit because of the burden of studies and the lack of inspiration. Until one day, one sappy day where it’ll all explode. If you’ve known me for a while ago and have been on the lookout of my many statuses about my previous school, you’d know that I’ve been living the two previous years in a pure earthly heaven. I’ve gotten the chance to study and live in the same school with awesome people with whom I had a lot of chemistry, to take a major that I like and go past the tiny disturbing complexes I have. I’ve gotten to know the real me, the good side, the perks of helping people and having them smile thanks to you. I knew the real meaning of the sentence “Life is good”, I lived it, and there has been a point where I started setting all my passwords using this same sentence.

Yet, there has come a day where this truly seemed ephemeral, where it all faded away like it never existed; that last day at school. It has been the saddest and most emotional day of my whole life. I’d go from a state of hellish sadness to pure euphoria to the point where I started doubting about my bipolarity. This day was where the nail got in the coffin, where my long-lasting silence broke. I was packing to go home when I needed to cry my heart out to lighten it up a bit but it hadn’t been of such a relief and I still needed something to make me at ease because I was literally going crazy. These are the woes of having a soft heart and gentle sentiments; I really should be entitled as the overly attached lass instead of Laina Morris because I have problems with letting go easily. I thought about opening my laptop and surf the internet a bit in order to loosen up a bit, but karma wanted me to open the WordPad and start writing, writing, writing… until a piece of art came out and I was like: “What the actual heck? Where did this come from?” Suddenly, I felt much better. I knew what my therapy is. No human being could’ve put me at ease at that time, not even my momma’s tenderness or even Ellen DeGeneres with her merriness. I was living an affliction that only I can put to rest; and this was through writing. It’s really a genuine therapy for those who are conscious of its mighty power; it can help free a heart from its burden without confessing to a person who might not turn out as honest as she seems and may stab you in the back afterwards. It can also help you put your emotions into words and not have this wall standing between you and your ability to speak up your mind. I always say that each human being has the power to express himself through writing, he just lacks resources, will or inspiration. Speaking of this latter, I must admit that sadness always wins at bringing out this inspiration for me to write something perfect, that’s why most of my blog posts are about rants and tribulations, and that’s also the reason why you shouldn’t be surprised if by the upcoming year, my blog wins the award of the depressive blog of the year (Just kidding, I’ll try writing about the jolly things about life from now one, I promise). So yeah, that was the story of the re-triggering of my love for writing and the birth of my first article that would later make me start this blogging experience.

I’d like to thank all those who have supported me from the very beginning, who bookmarked my blog and read every single article of it, who liked and shared them or sent me a jolly message to make up my day. Thank you, you’ve all been such an inspiration and you keep me standing still to face the cruelty of this world. I hope that this adventure lasts much longer and gathers as many people as it can around the love for writing and literature.

Read the article I talked about over HERE.

Casablanca is aching, my friend.

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Today I’m talking about a rant, a massively important one. If you happen to follow my personal Facebook account, you may have seen me complaining about the civic paranoia we’re starting to get due to the insecurity reigning in Casablanca. As a matter of fact, people are planning to reunite in order to protest against that, but since I am a coward and the outlaw bandits against whom this protest is held are recently into social media and would probably interfere, I’m afraid there would be any kind of dangerous confrontations between the widely different clans that would cause me some trauma (or a serious injury). That’s the reason why I thought I could at least express my indignation through words and only God knows how much I’m thankful for that tiny bit of liberty still allowing us to do that.

Being bludgeoned from all directions; on social media, newspapers, TV or friends chit-chat, I ended up waking up short on breath few days ago because I’ve been chased by a delinquent in my nightmare all night long (it might’ve been only for a few seconds, but it felt as is). And indeed, that is the exact situation many of Casablanca’s citizens are CONSCIOUSLY living. The city would bewitch its visitors by its facade of the economic capital of Morocco, proudly showing off its mighty buildings and constructions, emphasizing the perks of the racial and cultural diversity residing within it, but appearances are generally quite fooling and the grass isn’t always green around here. Casablanca, my friends, is currently living a tumultuous revolt.

As I got off late from a friend’s house two days ago, I found that the streets were deserted and wet and that the chill was fresh and wintery; perfect weather for the introvert that takes refuge in me. My steps were racing along with my brother’s and I found myself wondering why we can’t take advantage of the simple things that surround us, a walk in this chilly weather for instance. A simple air puff in this kind of night can hose off all the negative thoughts strolling in your head and make you sleep like a baby. It can make you reconsider your resolutions and be productive the day after. Solitary night contemplations of this kind can simply make you a better person. The problem is, you simply can’t go out alone peacefully at a time like that, especially when you’re a girl, it’s an undiscussable no-no because the streets are colonized by the freaking night-lifers that could make this one your last. How can this be fair in a quote unquote democratic country like Morocco? And even in the glimmering daylight, how can you go out peacefully without being chased by the fear of being dragged to a cul-de-sac and find yourself deprived of the couple of gadgets you got used to, that’s if you’re lucky enough of not being raped? How can the average number of robberies in Casablanca reach 60 times a day without ever someone batting an eye? How can we accept the tragedy of the death of an old man in the middle of a street just because he only had 1 DH in his pocket and couldn’t afford buying himself the right to live? SINCE WHEN WAS THAT EVEN BUYABLE? These questions cross my mind every single day without being able to find a potential answer; knowing it’s not even our duty to find one, but the people responsible for this commotion are way too busy reckoning fortunes instead of figuring out a solution.

Street violence and robberies existed eons ago, nothing quite new. I can’t remember that one time I felt secure in my own city. Yet, these criminal acts are noticed to have thrived at an unusual pace during the last few months due to the ineffable indifference of the police that should normally be insuring security within the city, but this time, there’s some novelty about this matter. Generation Y is one of their targets.

If you belong to this latter, you may have heard about the online movement “Tcharmil”. You can tell from its name that it’s not something to joke about. It’s a page hosted on Facebook that displays pictures of male and female potential robbers with their wads of money, stolen phones, rolled joints and most importantly, arm-long sabers. Regardless of the adults that are effectively present on social media, what if a child saw these shocking and terrorizing pictures while scrolling down their news feed? It might cause them some real emotional issues and I’m speaking knowingly; I’m not even a child anymore, I’m 20 and I went a bit bonkers during the three days after I saw the pictures of their facial traumatizing scars, tattooed backs everything that was stated atop.

When I talked about it with some of my acquaintances, one of them advanced the excuse of them being issued from poor families and showing rebellion their way and undoubtedly, I didn’t agree. Even thought the life-cost has increased, nothing justifies the fact of stealing someone else’s property just because you weren’t able to earn it yourself. Plus, from what I’ve seen on their pictures, they own an effing fortune I can’t even gather while working for a whole year and if their real motive was the need for money, they would’ve stopped by now. I truly think that everything goes back to the bad choices our government made and still is making. If they were to allot the fortunes spent on festivals and some nonsensical BS to education and rehab centers, we wouldn’t have been dealing with such matters by now. EDUCATION IS MAINLY THE KEY TO EVERYTHING and I always state the nation of South Korea as an example to follow.

I hope that the forces of order would make a move to improve the quality of life around here and make this current situation a fad that we would bitterly remember several years after that, while rejoicing about our right to go free in the streets, fearing no one but the Almighty and DREAM WHILE WE STILL CAN.