2

The mission school has done better. It has managed to get at and educate some of the children of the poor, mainly from the wilds, giving them a better scratch at life than they would have had otherwise. The children are taken very young and only those are accepted whose parents allow them to sleep on the premises. They are given free food and clothes and a good Christian training. They learn literary Arab, French or Spanish and English. And they learn habits of cleanliness, self-reliance and self-help, working in the extensive mission garden, growing some of the food they eat, chopping wood for the kitchen and keeping the schoolroom and dormitory in order. Four times a year they are sent home to visit their people during the great Moslem holidays: Aid el Kebir (Big Festival) Aid el Sehrir (Little Festival), el Ashur (tithes-giving) el Mouloud, (The Prophet's Birthday).

When he was seven years old, Miss Allah's father begged the missionaries to take him in their school. Otherwise Miss Allah would have to begin working as an apprentice weaver or a serving boy in a Moorish cafe'. For the father did not earn enough to maintain his large and growing family. And little boys in Morocco may be very helpful when their families are poor. They hustle and earn a little money in devious ways, making two ends meet. The girls are bound at home to be virtuous so that they may make an honorable marriage and bring in a decent dot from the husband. Those who break loose and enter the "oldest profession" have a status a little less than they might in an Anglo-Saxon community.

7

than before. When Miss Allah was passing

One day Krimo was passing by the garden Krimo asked him: "How could your father stand for you changing your religion?"

"Why when he's getting the two dollars a month that I earn!" said Miss Allah. "We are poor."

"I couldn't do that," said Krimo. "You are not really converted."

"I am. I believe that God is love," painted That was the device that was KIMPO in large letters in the facade of the mission: GOD IS LOVE.

"Oh how can you say that," said Krimo. "It is obscene to say that God is love. God is not a man and a woman in bed. God is not that," he said, imitating the sexual act with his fingers. "The Christians are crazy,"

Mr Johnson came upon them at that moment and Krimo began digging. Mr Johnson walked on with Miss Allah and asked him what Krimo had been saying and the meaning of his pantomine acting. Miss Allah told him that Krimo had said it was obscene to say that God is love.

Mr Johnson was very shocked. "Krimo has a dirty sensual, oriental mind," he said severely. "God is the Father of All Love and He is Love Divine."

After lunch Mr Johnson asked Krimo to go to his study and there he tried to convince him of his error. "You must ask the Lord to forgive you," he said. "It was because of his Great Love that God sent his son upon earth to save sinners like you."

But Krimo said it was obscene to say that God could

8

have a love child. And he believed only in the Prophet.

Krimo was kept at hard labor and he felt that his tasks were more and more difficult. He began thinking that the missionaries did not like him any more. And one day he took his clothes and ran away to the town. At night he slept in a Moorish cafe huddled up with other lads and in the daytime he hustled around picking up any odd job among the Moorish merchants, or the European residents or the tourists.

When he was sixteen Miss Allah was baptized. It was a great event for the school. The boys were given a holiday and special food. And Miss Allah had dinner sitting at table with the missionaries. At the school he was now the first boy above all others. It was he who saw that the boys retired to bed at the proper hour, lights were put out and that there were no infraction of rules. The branch mission in the town was always crowded when he conducted the service. His wages was doubled.

One day when Miss Allah was free and visiting the town he met Krimo. Krimo had developed into a fine young man. He was most elegant wearing a djellaba (male robe) of maroon satin, a favorite color among Moorish young men, a new pair of baboosh and an Egyptian-style fez with tassel, and copiously perfumed. in the slate-colored djellaba Miss Allah usually worn by the mission school boys was a poor figure beside him.

Miss Allah admired Krimo and asked him how he was getting on. Krimo said that he was doing well working as boy for a Spanish officer and his family. He had a room of his own in town

and invited Miss Allah to go and see it. It was a nice little
room, independent with a high narrow stone step leading up to it,
neat little Moorish mattresses covered with flowered cotton and laid against each wall.
And in one corner
a bronze tray and nickel teapot and half a dozen glasses for the
ritualistic Moorish tea.

Krimo told Miss Allah that if he would wait
in town
until he finished working they could have a little tea
It was his free day and it
party together. Miss Allah said yes. It was a nice change
away from the crowded mission board with benches without backs, to be in a cosy room and squatting Arab-fashion
to drink tea and gossip with a friend. And Krimo looked so splendid, it would be a pleasure to talk to him and hear how life was
using him now that he was among his own people out in the world.
came home in the early evening
Krimo carrying
a rainbow-colored basket full of stuff. He found Miss Allah sitting
waiting for him in the native square, which was quieting down
after the days traffic with the country natives filing out of the town along the gray African road, the women afoot
and barefooted with their red shoes attached to the loads on their
backs and the men mounted upon braying donkeys and camels heaving
and grunting along.

Miss Allah accompanied Krimo to his room. Krimo
took a little mess of food from the basket and putting it in a Miss Allah
bowl, he and Miss Allah ate of it with their fingers. Afternoon
had a look at the basket and
noticed and remarked that there were
for consumption later.
other things in it. And Krimo said they were
Miss Allah said he would have to be back at the mission at
seven o'clock for evening prayers.

Krimo prepared tea with mint. Just out-

15

nourishment of the Moors. They are sung with a kind of savage
passion

XXXXXXXX and listened to and appreciated by all with something
akin to reverence. They are tragic to a heart-breaking degree
as if they were meant to be an unconscious XXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX artistic reaction against the prevailing traditional forms of love.

Oh, have pity upon me and just show your face again,
Oh, my heart's a heavy load that is killing me with
pain......

Krimo's girl skipped up to shake her feet, dancing the
Arab flamenco with a little red-edged handkerchief in her mouth.
Pat-a-pat! Pat-a-pat! Feet and belly and rump moving to a XXX
single harmonious rhythm in perfect imitation of the sexual act.
Snatching a bottle of wine from the basket, she fixed it upon her
head where it rested like a mute symbol of the spirit presiding
over the party. And dropping her hands to her sides she danced
as if to a limited pattern designed in the small circle.

She stopped with a sharp toss of her head, caught
the bottle and squatting down she opened it and poured the drinks.
Each drained each glass at a draught and the spirit of the little
party became a little less ceremonious, as the drinks passed more
freely.

But there was no breaking wild. Moorish parties hardly
ever do and to an outsider from the Western world they may appear
dull on the surface. But the underlying motif of intensity and
ultimate XXXXXXXXXXXX desire are XXXXXXXXXXXX dominantly evident. And

25

KKK Christmas KKKK came and the mission had its celebra-
tion. There was a big Christmas tree, gay-colored and starred
with candles burning. And a gift for every native child on
Christmas eve. A new fez for every boy. Miss Allah received a
stout pair of European boots. All assembled in the schoolroom,
that the giving of gifts was to KKKK
Mr Johnson told the pupils XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX commemorate the anniversary of God's gift
of the Christ-child to the world hundreds of years before.
Christmas was a time for general feasting and rejoicing, recon-
ciliation and peace among men.

The next day there was a big dinner of turkey and plum pudding. KKK Mr Johnson, his wife and the mission staff and Miss Allah with them, ate at a special table in the boys' dining room. After the dinner Miss Allah thought that it was just right at that happy time to ask Mr Johnson to raise his wages.

Mr Johnson refused. He said the mission could not
afford it. Miss Allah would have to go on with his present wages
as a native missionary he would get a missionary's salary. Mr Johnson felt that
any raise of wages might encourage Miss Allah to neglect his voca-
cation and push him to making a premature and miserable native
marriage. Better to keep him bridled on a pittance so that he
could not step out too far.

Miss Allah was feeling the pinch of need. His little
fatmah had finished school and was staying at home. And the cost
of keeping the girl was more than her mother could afford. And
so Miss Allah was giving her a half of his salary. But even that

["27", "over North Africa. The flowers seem to spring up like magic over-\nnight. The roadsides are banked thick with daffodils and primroses\nand the dreary fields are transformed into miniature woods with kkk\nfat and tall-growing clumps of daisies.\n\nI", "And it is beautiful to see the sheep in those fields\naround the town brought in from the far pastures for kkk L'Aid el Keb-\nir, herded by the little brown shepherd boys in the k brown wollen\ndjellabas of the peasants, sitting by the roadside kxxx blowing their\ntea\nflutes or drinking from their tin cups. wkkk\n\nBWN", "it is terrible upon that great festive day ............\n\njkkkxkkxkkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkxkx

28

Again Mr Johnson tried to persuade Miss Allah to give up a part of his heavy responsibility for the sake of his career. After he had finished his Christian training he would be a full-fledged young man. He would be worth substantial wages and fit to marry. A great defect of the natives, it seemed to him was that they did not take a long view of things. They were so quick to grasp at any little first thing that presented itself without considering its permanent value. He had done his best to train Miss Allah in the Christian virtues. It would be a pity if Miss Allah should spoil his career by being carried away by native passion and sensuality.

Miss Allah told Mr Johnson that if he could not be granted a raise of wages he would stop working for the mission at the end of the month. He felt that with his education, his knowledge of languages, he ought to find a job that would pay him about three times the amount he was getting at the mission. At the end of the month he left the mission.

Although resolute about not increasing Miss Allah's salary, sincerely believing that it was for had hoped from experience that he Miss Allah's good, Mr Johnson would change his mind at the end of the month and stay on at the mission. For the common Moorish mind is like a crystal of unyqueness. Many colors rapidly changing with every new wave of feeling and elusive perhaps to a very modern civilized mind. Native passions flare up with burning intensity even over mere trifles and blow out like fireworks leaving no scars. Hurts are exchanged that would leave deep family and group feuds among other peoples.

But here they pass like bubbles on the surface of running water. And

30

were very jealous of him because he knew more excellent English
than they. They banded together to keep Miss Allah away from the
best tourists. And Miss Allah was not equal to their ruses. For
the cludes *XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX* knew all the little tricks of the
game, growing up like wharf rats in the port.

Miss Allah was reduced to a state of destitution. All
his fine clothes were in the hands of the Spanish pawnbrokers. And
his little fatmah had gone to work. The girl's mother forced her
to go out to work. And she was very mean to Miss Allah now that
he was not working regularly and could not help her as before. Some-
times Miss Allah gave the woman a nice little sum, when he had XXXX
luck among the tourists. But that was *EXCELLENT* not often.

Little Fatmah was working as a maid for an English-
woman. She earned about two dollars a month and her board. The
Englishwoman had a house in a European quarter, which was within
half a mile of the suburban native quarter where little Fatmah
lived.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Every afternoon,
except occasionally when he was guiding elsewhere, Miss Allah wait-
ed outside the gate of the house where little Fatmah worked until
she was let off. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX And he escorted her home
before nightfall. Little Fatmah was perfectly safe by herself, al-
though there was a small stretch of lonely road, where there were no
houses towards entering the suburban quarter. But Miss Allah was
so jealous of her. He was so unhappy that she had to go to work
and daily walk the street and the Arabs remarking her. He criti-
cized her manner of veiling. Sometimes little Fatmah would just
throw the haik over her head without covering up her face. And Miss
Allah would insist that she cover up her face, just leaving the

31

the big brown beautiful eyes to show, before they started.

One day Miss Allah met Krimo. Krimo was amazed at Miss Allah's state. Miss Allah told Krimo that he had left the mission and was looking for a job. But he did not tell about his little fatmah. Krimo promised to help Miss Allah find a job. He was very glad that Miss Allah had left the mission and was a good Moslem again. And he said he wished all the Moorish boys at the mission would do the same. Krimo invited Miss Allah to another party at his room. But Miss Allah declined. He was too unhappy to enjoy a party.

came upon
Another afternoon Krimo saw Miss Allah just as Fatmah came out of her mistress's house and joined him. Miss Allah was very nervous and tried to get rid of Krimo. But Krimo stuck to him and walked along with them talking. Miss Allah did not want to offend Krimo, especially as he hoped that Krimo might be helpful in getting him a job.

Krimo was charmed by little Fatmah's lovely Andalsuian eyes and he noticed that her bare ankels were beautiful. To Miss Allah's discomfiture, Krimo accompanied them to little Fatmah's hut.

On their way back to the Medina, Krimo asked Miss Allah if little Fatmah was his cousin. Miss Allah said no in a tone that notified Krimo that he didn't want to talk about the girl. Krimo did not ask any more questions about little Fatmah. He was aware that she was not just a common fatmah of the streets and he respected the Arab tradition of men not discussing her nor showing their women to any other men except their nearest kin.

Often Miss Allah met Mr Johnson in the town. And Mr

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Johnson would inquire if he were doing well. One day in the market place Mr Johnson saw Miss Allah buying a penny's worth of barbary figs. He was looking very undernourished. And indeed he was.

Mr Johnson invited Miss Allah to return to the mission. "Your job is still there. Come back and we'll do the Lord's work," he said.

"Will the Lord double my wages?" asked Miss Allah.

"That I cannot guarantee," said Mr Johnson. "It is better that you should be doing the Lord's work with small wages than to starve on barbary figs. Come back and do your duty as a good Christian."

"I am no longer a Christian. I am a Moslem," said Miss Allah.

"You are a Christian. You were baptized," said Mr Johnson.

"What is it if I were washed in water?" said Miss Allah. "My father sent me and my brothers to the mission, because he was so poor and wanted to give us an education. I am a Moslem and don't want to be called a Christian. Wherever I go among my people they taunt me with being a Christian. I don't want to be a Christian. It was because my father was poor. I am a Moslem. I believe in Allah and the prophet. I hate to be called a Christian. And I'm ashamed! I'm ashamed!"

"There is no shame in being a Christian," said Mr Johnson. But he was very upset and hurried off. But he never invited Miss Allah to return to the mission when they met again.

37

public and he did not believe his appreciation.

However, with his very refined Western ways, Miss

Miss Krimo arrived at the airport in a car which was driven by the superintendents of the school.

Allah appeared less natural and elastic than his compatriots.

The others, when we got to know one another, were all open of

(which was nearly always about the universal subject of sex). But Miss Allah preferred to talk about

the religion and stress the superiority of Moslem over Kafir customs, as if he wanted to convince everybody that, although he had been educated by Christians, he was more Mohamedan than Mohamed.

Through Miss Allah I also made the acquaintance of Krimo, the long-bodied, Albino-type Riffian who in his movements and conversation suggested a very splendid eel.

After the month of Ramadan I left the little port town and went South to Marrakesh where the sun wasgorgeously warm and the native population sympathetically Negroid.

Upon my return in the Spring, I was invited by Krimo to a party at his lodging. Krimo invited me and a few other guests to the party. The night of the party Krimo's little room was overcrowded with his friends. There were three fatmahs who entertained Krimo making and pouring tea and wine, singing and dancing.

Two of Krimo's friends had brought a mandolin and a gambril each and with Krimo made pretty music. Krimo's regular girl friend was not at the party. He had broken with her. But he was the happiest person of all, playing and swaying and amusing the party with jokes, especially about the mission, so happy as if he had found something better than he had lost.

41

into the house and called Fatmah. Fatmah came into the room crying. Miss Timber asked her if she really loved Miss Allah. Little Fatmah said, yes. And Miss Allah he loved her too.

Why, this was Love, Ideal Love, Miss Timber there was thought. She had never thought that any such kind of love among the natives. Of course, long ago the sheiks had touched by the Cinematic Rudolph Valentino sheik style of love in Africa in accordance with its antique customs among the Arabs. But the native loving was merely a given in and taken by sex. But, lo, there was an exception, something different right under her own roof.

Native love, so rare and beautiful, should be encouraged, Miss Timber decided. She told Miss Allah that his love was a noble thing. And she promised Little Fatmah that she would use all her influence to prevent her being married to a man she did not love. She would tell Little Fatmah that it was wrong and a sin against the human soul to make her daughter marry a man she did not love, just because he was able to pay the marriage portion.

Little Fatmah said she was afraid to go home. Because of the trouble with Miss Allah her mother had not wanted her to go to work that morning and she was afraid she might be locked up until she was married. Miss Timber said that Little Fatmah could stay at her house for the night and in the morning she would see her mother.

Miss Allah was very happy and kissed Miss Timber's hand. And then went to embrace Little Fatmah, while Miss Timber looked ecstatically smiling with clasped hands.

42

Little Fatmah's mother was worried that the girl was late coming home. By nine o'clock she was alarmed. Maybe something had happened, Miss Allah had been like a crazy one when he left her place. If he should do something to Little Fatmah. Something that should spoil the marriage and make her lose the amount agreed upon for the marriage portion.

Little Fatmah's mother left her hut and hurried to Miss Timber's house. She did not know how to ring the bell and took a stone and beat on the gate. The gardener came grumbling to open, asking the woman if she intended to break the gate.

The woman asked if her daughter was there. The gardener said he wouldn't say anything about it. She should see themissress. Fatmah's mother was reassured, confident that the girl must be there...

In the Moroccan patio of her house Miss Timber confronted Fatmah's mother like a terrible priestess of justice. xxxxxxxx that Little Fatmah was staying for the night at her house because she was afraid to go home. She reproached the woman for making her daughter afraid and miserable by wanting to marry her to a man she did not love.

LOVE! She emphasized it. Did the woman know what was Love? Love was the most sacred thing in the world. xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx The most wonderful thing. There was nothing so beautiful as two human beings in love. Perhaps Fatmah's mother had never experienced true love Miss Timber would have to make her understand xxx the meaning of true love. And understanding would make her ashamed of ruining Little Fatmah's future by marrying her to a man she did not love.

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Fatmah's mother could not understand Miss Timber. She had felt guilty about deceiving Miss Allah, by taking his money and letting him believe he would get her daughter at last. She had thought Miss Timber was going to accuse her of duplicity and dishonesty. Robbing a person of "flouss" was ruining him. But of love! That was "nesrani" nonsense that she could not understand. And so told Miss Timber.

An honest young Moor had demanded her daughter in marriage. Paid down a half of the money agreed upon. The transaction was honorable. It was right according to Moorish custom and Mohammedan law. The notary had drawn up the papers. And even the Sultan, the highest person in the land, would have to approve it. Therefore she wanted Little Fatmah to go home with her that very night and submit to parental authority.

Miss Timber said she would not give up Little Fatmah to her mother for the girl herself had elected to stay. And added that if there were any right in the case it was right that Little Fatmah should marry Miss Allah.

Fatmah's mother said that if Miss Timber insisted upon holding Fatmah she would go and get the police.

With very English dignity Miss Timber drew herself up to a most formidable attitude and said that she was not afraid. In her younger days she had been a militant suffragette and possessed a store of experiences of daring the police. Indeed she said that she would welcome the occasion to lecture the native police, the native lawyers and judges and All about the sacredness of love.

Fatmah's mother quailed before Miss Timber's gaunt and stern presence. And was relieved to get out of the house and home alone. The woman was frightened of the probability of losing Fatmah's marri-

47

Little Fatmah said, "Mektoub", (It was ordained!) and accepted her marriage as a good Moroccan female. She went to krimo with her family to live with Krimo in his little house in the medina. She bore him a baby.

But after a year the Spanish officer returned to Spain and Krimo was out of a job. He found it difficult to find a good new place and one by one his valuables and clothes passed to the Spanish pawnbroker. Such is the rhythm of native life: chicken couss-couss today, black bread and sour milk tomorrow.

When plenty gave way to penury Fatmah's mother became quarrelsome and unbearable in the house. But Krimo could not turn her out, for he could not trust his young wife alone when working at a transient job he was away from or looking for work.

Meanwhile, Miss Allah's fortunate topic life was the sheltered girls peeping at him from the terraces and proud parents mentioned him respect-fully. One day Fatmah's mother met Miss Allah in the street and fawned upon him so much that Miss Allah was struck by her resemblance to English Miss Timber's she-dog.

Fatmah's mother said she was very happy to see how Miss Allah was going up in the world. And Little Fatmah was always talking about him, but not in Krimo's hearing, of course. Why was he such a proud stranger? She would be pleased if he would condescend to visit her house sometimes. Little Fatmah would be so happy to see him again. She wanted to divorce Krimo for religious reasons.

One day, after a long absence, Fatmah's mother called on Krimo, and together they talked to each other.