The sound of the telephone startled me as I stood in the kitchen trying to prepare the evening meal. My mind was not on food, because my husband had just been telling me about some rumours he had heard about a list apparently drawn up by the FIS, the Front Islamique du Salut, or Islamic Salvation Front. On it were supposedly listed the names of people whom they intended to arrest, imprison or execute when they came to power. Continue reading
One of the chapters from my first book.
Constantine, the city where man lives higher than the eagle.
—Constantine the Great
If Algiers is a grand old lady, Oran a good-time girl, Mostaganem a bluestocking with a chequered past, then Constantine is an eccentric great-aunt. I imagine her dressed in flowing draperies, with perhaps an exotic silken turban perched on top of her henna’ed hair, and her veiny hands covered with age-spots and heavy gold rings. Continue reading