CHAPTER 5: My First Visit to Fred's

—Oh, thank you so much! They call me Aïcha.

— Wow, what a pretty name! Your name reflects your appearance.

— Thanks, Uncle!

— My name is Fred! I'm a journalist and web editor.

— Wow! I admire your profession!

— Thanks! Can I have your phone number?

I knew this sentence was going to come out of her mouth. It was my mother who used to tell me: When a boy gives you a hundred-franc coin, rest assured it's to ask for your number.

There you go!

— Oh, my phone is currently unavailable. But you can leave me your contact information.

— In that case, I'll leave you my business card.

And Fred, reaching into his pants pocket, took out his wallet and handed me a business card.

For only 1,000 francs, I fell in love with Fred's first name and appearance.

—Thanks, Uncle…

—Call me Fred!

—My bad! Thanks, Fred.

—You're welcome!

Fred extended his hand, and I extended mine back. We greeted each other and wished each other a good day.

Watching him walk away, I realized that Frederic didn't deserve me.

Delighted, I first went to the nice woman who sold Creole rice in the front of the house. I asked her to serve me rice for two hundred francs and a large fish for two hundred francs.

Peacefully, I ate the meal. Then I got up to go home. When I got to the bedroom, I saw Frederic in front of his piles of documents. While I was starving, this young man, as brave as he was, had had the courage to continue learning. Okay, no big deal.

I lifted the curtain he had used to divide the room in two and went to lie down on the damned mat that had allowed me to get pregnant. Oh yes, I have to blame that braid because if that day, after they undressed me, the damned braid had started pricking my body, I would have quickly understood the message and gotten dressed again. But unfortunately, that fucking braid conspired with that scoundrel and he got me pregnant.

After I lay down on the mat, I started doing some calculations. Because it wasn't possible to live in this shit. A shit where no one cares about me. Instead of the man helping the masons build to earn a little money, the man preferred to stay glued to his documents.

Lying on the mat, I thought. Yes, I had to make a plan; a plan that would save me; a plan that would lessen my pain.

"Now your phone isn't with you, how are you going to call Fred now?" That was the first question that crossed my mind.

And it's true, I took Fred's business card. What was I actually going to write to him with? It was a very profound question.

I looked straight ahead and my eyes met the wall. Imagining myself, I saw myself approaching Frederic to ask him to lend me his phone. Also imagining myself, I saw him hand it to me without saying a word.

I then made a decision: to get up and approach him to take the phone.

—Good work, darling, can you lend me your phone, please?

—Who do you want to call with it?

—I want to call a friend in the neighborhood and ask her a favor.

—Sorry, there are no units in the phone.

This sentence didn't surprise me because you have to have a full stomach before thinking about MTN and MOOV.

“Don't worry, I'll buy some.”

Frédéric drops the document he was holding and stares straight into my eyes.

“Didn't you say you didn't have any money?”

“Absolutely! I found a hundred-franc coin in my dress pocket…”

“And can't you buy something with it and we're going to eat?”

“What do you think a hundred francs can do for us? When if I call Yasmine, she can make an electronic money transfer.”

Without another word, Frédéric picks up the phone and hands it to me.

I rush to the courtyard. Walking down the street like a diarrheic woman, I find myself in front of a payphone. In less than three minutes, the young man I saw in the payphone has sold me my coins. He, too, like everyone else, was looking at me like a ripe apple.

When you're too cute, you attract everyone's attention. I turned around as I dialed Fred's first number. I had finished dialing the number and automatically remembered a technique. And then I erased all the dialed digits and first dialed #31# and then dialed Fred's number.

Yes, I needed that code; I had to hide Fred's number to avoid getting into trouble.

I made the call, and when I did, I saw Fred on the screen.

I smiled. Holding the phone to my right ear, I was getting impatient until a voice answered: "Hello? This is Fred speaking; who do I have the honor of speaking to, please?"

I was silent for a moment before answering: "It's Miss Aïcha."

"Oh, Miss Aïcha! How are you?" – I'm fine, thank you, and you?

– I'm fine too! Are you home yet?

– Oh, yes! But I'm back again. I wanted to sincerely thank you for your gesture earlier…

– Oh, no merit! You deserve this! Then why didn't you leave your number displayed?

– I'm sorry, it's because the phone I'm calling you from isn't mine. My own phone broke. When I call, the microphone crackles and no one can hear me.

– Damn! How can the microphone on a very beautiful woman's phone crackle!

– Dad promised to buy me one, but it's not ready yet.

– I see! As soon as we see each other one day, I'll make plans to buy you another one…

– I'd be very grateful!

– No merit! Otherwise, when will you have time to visit me?

– Uh… would tomorrow be convenient for you?

And suddenly, the two hundred francs worth of units I bought were gone.

Woe is me.

Very quickly, I went back to the young man at the phone booth to get some more.

– Miss, do you live in the neighborhood? he asked me.

– Yes, is there a problem? I replied.

– None, miss! Let me just say that you look very beautiful.

– Thank you for the compliment. You don't look bad either.

– Thank you!

And since I was handling a case directly, I quickly went back on my way while making the call again.

– Hello?

– Yes, Uncle Fred!

– I'm sorry I didn't call you back. – You have nothing to complain about. It's because the number sucks. And you know, I'd like you to use the informal "tu" form from now on.

– I also like to be addressed informally.

– No problem! So, is it possible for us to see each other tomorrow?