own questions. Djellali had mellowed under the influence of the good wine and a large after diner cognac.
“As far as I can recall,” said Ennis, “once the events had crystallised into a full insurrection, and its leaders had emerged, the initial object had been the demand for a semi-autonomous region in the same style as Catalonia or Euskadi in Spain.”
“That’s correct. A cease-fire was proclaimed under the supervision of the Federation, pending the start of negotiations in Evian. However, on our side we knew that the French government would take advantage of that period to consolidate their military positions, so we maintained the pressure with a series of surprise attacks on the French army across the cease fire line and against the enclaves they held within our territory.”
“So when did the idea of a full autonomy emerge?”
“The French played for time, hardening their negotiating position. We had no choice, by the time the negotiations in Evian had opened our struggle had intensified. In the streets of Medina Hurriya there were massive demonstrations day and night, French symbols were destroyed and administrative buildings were burnt. The remaining French population fled.”
“The French authorities had lost control?”
“Yes. The French government was overwhelmed by the magnitude of events. Fighting had spread to other cities and towns. The situation was on the verge of total anarchy. The government law enforcement bodies, such as the CRS, were more experienced in dealing with demonstrations or riots, and were insufficient in numbers and material to deal with a massive armed rebellion of the non-Gallo population.”
“What about the army?”
“The military forces were trained for foreign wars. They were unable to react with the force necessary to limit the explosion of insurgents who armed themselves with weapons taken from the police stations and army barracks that they attacked.”
“Did you believe at that time you would obtain some kind of autonomy?”
“Yes. There is no doubt in my mind. As oppressed minorities we would not have been the first to have won our freedom.”
“French leaders feared an Islamist revolution. They feared that Islamist factions would establish their state with the aid of their brothers overseas.”
“That was unrealistic, you cannot compare our desire for freedom with a threat to France or Europe.”
“Why not? History has shown such revolutionary movements with powerful ideologies have produced inspired leaders and gone on to dominate a whole region or continent,” said Ennis provocatively.
“Maybe, though the leaders of our insurrection, the Insurgents, were heroes we cannot seriously compare them to Muhammad or Jesus Christ. We have no Lenin or Mao, and, even less, Hitler. The extremists usurped the words of the Prophet to suit their own political ends. Sincere men and true believers are for Islam, the extremists are the enemies of Islam. Radicals like them have divided the world into two parts, themselves and the rest.”
“You are quite right,” Ennis agreed. “They are not unlike Christians at the time of the Conquistadors. They saw all those who refused Christianity as heathens, whose only fate was to die by flame and sword.”
“For a long time Israel was sacrificed to such people. That is why we accept Jews who are not fanatics. On the other hand the Caliphate and especially the Algerians, both Islamist, and others have a long record of bloody acts, they have killed tens of thousands of their own, women and children, were they not innocents?”
“Acts of terror are all the same. In Paris today there are still attacks.”
“They are carried out by extremists, not Algharbis, we are totally against such methods, we are even victims of such attacks.”
Ennis nodded in agreement.
“You Americans complain about the death of innocents in the war against terror, but you are not alone.”
“You have nevertheless admitted certain changes that do not favour non-Muslims.”
“Such as?” said Djellali suddenly alert.
“Well the Grande Mosque.”
“It was something that happened before our president's time.”
“Our first president, before his death, allowed the Cathedral of Marseille to be transformed into the Grande Mosque. When our president, Hassan bin Ibrani, became leader of Algharb, he had no choice but to accept that, it was a fait accompli, in any case he had the total support of Algharb's Muslim population.”
Ennis remained silent.
“Remember Mr Ennis, most of us have our roots in the Maghrib, for us, France's history of the Maghrib is nothing other than the history of foreigners on African soil.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are here as a result of France's colonisation of North Africa. In a certain manner of speaking it is our compensation. A just settlement so to speak.”
Asma
Ennis left his room, it was ten in the evening, the heat was unbearable with the air-conditioning off and the noise was unbearable with it on. In any case it was much too early and he could not have slept with the thoughts that churned through his mind. The strange world of Algharb, his interview with Hassan bin Ibrani, was difficult to fit into the world of Islam he had seen over the recent weeks.
He walked along the quay in the direction of the Old Town, it was quiet, it was a little better with the light breeze that wafted the warm but refreshing air around him. After about ten minutes he crossed the road to the opposite pavement, there were several small cafés and restaurants with tables outside. He stooped at one, selected a table and sat down facing the port; the masts and riggings of the boats twanged and whistled in the breeze, and the weak lights winked as the boats jostled on the wavelets.
He tried to imagine it as it had been twenty-five years before. He had already visited the city in his early twenties, on holiday with his best friend and their girl friends. They had rented a small farm in the Baux about twenty or so kilometres from the city. Though the coast crawled with tourists from every country of Europe, life on the farm was another world, the four or five weeks they had spent there had been idyllic. They had eaten fresh melons every evening and drunk the local wine at less than one euro a litre.
Everything had changed, the prosperity had evaporated. Already at that time the centre of the city had been transformed into a North African colony. Now he thought sadly the metamorphosis was complete. The Europeans were mostly pied-noirs and Israelis, or officials and businessmen from France and the Federation about their affaires.
“May I?”
Ennis turned his head; he was surprised to see the girl, it was Asma. She was dressed differently, smarter, chic.
“Please,” he flustered, making space, moving one of the chairs that crowded the small table.
“You are surprised?”
“Yes, rather.”
“I don’t live far from here.”
“What can I offer you?”
“An orange juice would be fine.”
He made a sign to the garcon and ordered an orange juice and another beer.
Asma smiled nonchalantly and looked around, taking in the scene in the café. There were few customers; just two couples engaged in their own conversations.
“I called you at the hotel,” she said lowering her voice, “half an hour ago, they said you had gone out.”
“Yes, about thirty minutes ago,” he confirmed.
Ennis was curious, but because of the tense situation in the country he did not want to go beyond his brief; collecting information for Global Focus and for his book.
“They are putting up new camps just at the border, in the Queyras.”
“Camps of what?”
“We don’t know exactly, but there is a lot of work going on buildings, fencing, road works...the buildings are very basic and could hold several thousand people. We know that much because there are a lot of our people working on the site.”
“Why are you telling me all that?”
“You have to tell the world what they are doing here and in France,
it’s against all the principals of human rights!”
Ennis knew he could do nothing before leaving the country without compromising his work and perhaps worse. He had little faith in the justice of such a regime and the smooth words of Ibrani.
“Have you heard of the code name ‘Savannah’?”
“No, why?”
“Nothing, never mind. Why don’t we take a stroll?” she said standing up.
Ennis paid the drinks and followed Asma along port, walking slowly towards the avenue the led into the city centre.
“You see John Ennis, Hassan bin Ibrani is not the kind of leader he would like you to believe, he is a brutal tyrant, worse he is the marionette of Paris. The Autonomous Region of Algharb is nothing less than a gigantic ghetto.”
“Come along now, that’s turning reality into some kind of psychoses. What more do you want? You have elections, your own government, you have auto-determination. That’s what you wanted!
“No, you are wrong! Ibrani is not elected by the people, Paris decides everything here. The Nation of France is a Fascist country, ultra-nationalist. If le Martel was nothing more than a poor man’s Napoleon or a poor copy of Mussolini it would not be so bad. Le Martel is infinitely more dangerous, he has declared an insidious war on Africa, just when things seemed to be settling down on the other side,” she nodding in the direction of the sea and the horizon. “You think that the Caliphate has reached its objectives, that they are satisfied with what the have?” she added.
“I think that they certainly have need of economic assistance, but they are happy