Homophobia: The Prince of Odor

By Nabil nouri laghzar mouhane

You will wonder: why are this title and this subject? What’s the aim? What does it hide? Is the author homosexual? Or this novel promotes homosexuality? These questions are logical in an environment propagating conspiracy mentality, and then creating stereotypical thinking which is collective and individual simultaneously.
Certainly, when the novel wanted to express itself through me, I thought of all the criticism and accusations that I would confront. I promise you, dear reader, that the novel is a mere human literary work, which I finished, so passionately, its draft within two weeks . I experienced creative energy exploded in my soul like a parallel world of the real world. I became enamored of the characters and
eager to the events that I discover them during writing.
In this novel, I was an author and a scriber writing down whatever reaches his ears from a space out of worlds and times. It was a unique personal experience that I enjoy sharing with you. Enjoy reading!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nabil nouri laghzar mouhane
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005163594

Book preview

Homophobia:

The Prince of Odor

Written By

Nabil Nouri Laghzar Mouhane

Translated By

Abanoub Wagdy

Dedication

To Humanity

Nabil

The Author’s Introduction

You will wonder: why are this title and this subject? What’s the aim? What does it hide? Is the author homosexual? Or this novel promotes homosexuality? These questions are logical in an environment propagating conspiracy mentality, and then creating stereotypical thinking which is collective and individual simultaneously.

Certainly, when the novel wanted to express itself through me, I thought of all the criticism and accusations that I would confront. I promise you, dear reader, that the novel is a mere human literary work, which I finished, so passionately, its draft within two weeks. I experienced creative energy exploded in my soul like a parallel world of the real world. I became enamored of the characters and eager to the events that I discover them during writing.

In this novel, I was an author and a scriber writing down whatever reaches his ears from a space out of worlds and times. It was a unique personal experience that I enjoy sharing with you. Enjoy reading!

The Translator’s Introduction

This novel courageously deals with one of the most dangerous taboos in the Arab world, viz., homosexuality which has always been a point of conflict. Nabil Nour’s Homophobia, according to my reading, does not propagate homosexuality nor try to institutionalize it. Rather, it sheds much light on understanding the lives of these ‘closeted’ individuals: how do such people think, feel, act? I hold that this is the most significant question of the novel.

It is noteworthy to mention that Nabil Nouri establishes himself as a distinguished social commentator. Having the honor to translate his debut novel ‘Mr. Consul of Babel’, I saw how much it can be described as ‘Dickensian’, par excellence. Likewise, Homophobia is Dickensian, albeit in another way. In both novels, Nouri offers a scathing critique of poverty and corruption. Our Arab societies are in a bad need for such high-minded writers to throw light upon numerous issues.

Abanoub Wagdy

Egypt

August, 2022.

Naiema, who waited for the moment of delivering her baby along nine months, screams out in the presence of her husband Hamied, a janitor in al-Wafi’s Company, named after its owner. Hamied spend his life in this company, hung, moving among the shops in markets and offices to clean up the glasses vitrinas and to do tasks that his female colleagues cannot.

The dominating culture in Morocco, is that a doctor marries a doctor, an engineer marries an engineer, and an employee marries an employee. That does not apply to a corrupt one; he looks for a girl of honor.

Hamied married Naiema, a janitor, to start a family and be able to make love limitlessly. He also has an opportunity for ensured oldness in the company of their children who will take the responsibility of caring about them, in the absence of pension or health insurance to preserve the dignity of their old age, especially the employee always seeks abusing them to the full.

After nights of kisses and hugs, the couple became sure that they able to have children, just as the majority of couples do. They began to announce the pregnancy to those who around them, as if they achieved a great accomplishment. Still, the fact is no one pays attention to their newborn child. What would distinguish their children from a mouse’s child? The only difference is that a mouse’s child will not be forced to join its parents in their room.

The new comer’s screams are mingled with the vapored sweat and hot water and the smell of the bloody tissues among the demolishing walls of the room, swollen like the layers of the French sweet ‘Mille-feuille.’ That is due to the repetitions of gluing that came one by one like tasteless seasons, giving us wisdom, among the chaos of the sane but insane life that determined not to let newborn children see in their first weeks.

I want to be assured, Sharifa. This is was Naiema’s question after some hours of labor birth, which made her pay the price of all the moments when she opened her thighs to Hamid’s increasing breathing at night. It’s a boy! Safe and sound! I should be rewarded, the midwife said as she was giving the boy to Naiema.

God bless you, Shrifa. I was about to die. Hamid surely will be assured, and there will never be problems ‘cause men are obsessed with sons.

She fisted her arms around the newborn baby, making a cradle with her hand. This seemed as if it was a drawing of a tired mother dedicated to take care of her first beloved child, who will carry the torch of his grandfathers to preserve the lineage. A son is not like a daughter who cannot preserve the lineage, and this breaks all the slogans and cliches of equality. It is not the family title that counts, but the memory does; a sheep will not benefit from the name after being slaid.

Hamid returned, tired, from his work in the massive economic complexes, located in the heart of the classy district of Anfa Street in Casablanca. His body was feeble and his heart heavy with the newcomer who would see the light soon. He wished that his son had tarried at his wife’s womb for a century, enjoying his kicks against her abdomen instead of the disturbance of constant screaming and payments weighing heavily on his feeble body with endless needs among the absence of any social insurance to secure him and his family from the changes of the time.

He stops at the public bakery as Naiema is at her last pregnancy months and cannot do the housework that needs great efforts.

Hello, Sadouf. I need 4 hot loaves.

Go upstairs until I’ll go out of the oven.

He ascended on the narrow, curvy stairs, keeping his balance by touching the soft walls. Then he passes through a corridor among the shelves, and he doesn’t spot