Hope And Other Dangerous Pursuits

Aziz is “tall and lanky and he sits hunched over to fit the narrow space allotted to him” (4). In Morocco, Aziz has no prospects; with a two-year degree in mechanics, he finds it impossible to acquire a steady job, which creates tension within his family. His in-laws never liked him, viewing him as a disappointment. Like all of the other characters, Aziz believes that emigrating to Spain represents the only chance he has to provide for his family. He is resolute in this decision, much to the chagrin of his friends and family. On his second attempt across the Strait of Gibraltar, he is the only character who successfully avoids the Guardia Civil and eventually makes his way to Madrid, where he then works as a busboy.

However, once Aziz is settled in Madrid, the physical distance separating himself from his loved ones also turns into emotional distance. In order to make his way in a new country, he forgets much of his past, eventually realizing that he can no longer remember his wife’s face. He even cheats on his wife; although he feels slight guilt about this, he is able to rationalize his behavior, demonstrating the psychological distance required for immigrants to succeed in a new country. Even though Aziz is successful in Spain, he loses parts of himself, leaving the reader to wonder whether his situation is in fact better than that of the other characters. Aziz exists as a kind of foil to Murad, who is unsuccessful in leaving Morocco yet seems to gain a better understanding of himself. In contrast, Aziz’s sense of self seems to be erased with his relocation in a foreign country, as though the author suggests that leaving one’s homeland results in a loss of self-identity.

Halima is “twenty-nine, but the dark patches on her face and the stoop in her shoulders made her look much older” (56). She married and had three children quite early with a charismatic man who later turned into a violent drunk. Halima’s husband often beats her and drinks away the rent money. She lives in abject poverty yet still is kind, demonstrated in her giving money to a beggar when she has extra cash on her. Halima has the least education of any of the characters; she is barely literate and does not understand the difference between grammar and history. This prevents her from doing many things in life, such as legally emigrating to Spain to get away from her abusive husband. Nonetheless, she displays the same resolution as many of the other characters in her decision to leave Morocco and her husband. Unlike Faten, Halima is fearless, as she has already experienced tragedy and heartbreak in her life.

As a result, Halima embodies a kind of redemption within the book. Readers encounter Halima at a low point in her life wherein she is constantly abused by her husband and has nowhere to turn as everyone—from the judge to her boss—shuts her down and refuses to help her. It seems, then, that the only place for Halima to go is up, and she transcends her surroundings, becoming saint-like in her devotion to bettering the situation of both herself and her children. The author often indicates that her past suffering has paved the way for her sainthood: “She did not notice the fading afternoon light that lengthened the shadows behind her, framing her body like the arches of a shrine” (131). Although Halima believes that it is her son who is blessed, the reality remains that her previous suffering has afforded her a concrete sense of self and a resolution about what must be done. Eventually, Halima gets everything she wants, including a divorce from her husband. Although she is unsuccessful in leaving Morocco, she finds happiness selling pancakes to the community and earns enough to help her mother. By the end of the book, she is entirely self-actualized, gaining the independence she so desperately craved. Her agency makes her happy and helps her realize that she does not need to leave Morocco in order to better her life.

Faten is the youngest main character within these stories, only 18 or 19 when she decides to make the dangerous journey across the Strait of Gibraltar. She is expelled from university as a result of both her failing grades and Larbi’s desire for vengeance. After some misplaced comments about the king, she must flee Morocco in order to escape imprisonment. Faten represents the lack of freedom encountered within Moroccan society, in which she is persecuted for her beliefs and religious fervor. While in Morocco she is incredibly devout and even convinces Larbi’s daughter to don a hijab, she later turns to sex work in Spain in order to survive.

Throughout the stories, Faten is best represented as an object of the male gaze. The only time the readers catch a glimpse of her appearance is through the eyes of male characters. Larbi describes her as incredibly beautiful: “She had amber-colored eyes, plump lips, and skin so fair that it seemed as though all the light in the room converged upon it” (44). Indeed, it is her beauty that allows her to successfully emigrate to Spain as she exchanges her body for freedom from a Spanish officer. Faten demonstrates the dearth of options available for female immigrants, as most of her coworkers are also immigrants from various places. In Spain, Faten succeeds because her customers desire to exoticize her history, recreating her in fulfilment of their fantasies of Arab women. She despises the customers for this, eventually deciding to turn back to her own history as a way of erasing these microagressions.