Under the shade of a vine with red berries with foliage extends to the shade from mid spring, leaning on a bench: A sort of low wall covered with a plastering with earth and cow dung found also as a conservatory (asqif) in other buildings, acting as an air of rest for passersby and an introduction to the house to visitors, my grandfather was watching me from Kaci child already in Sidi El Moufek or my family had enrolled at the Madrasah Quran Sheikh Mahfoud El for some time.
I must have four years. The memory alive, they wrote on a wooden shelf with holes for hanging high-end class at some point (tagwest) from the wall with a wire. By the way the lessons were simple. Under the watchful eye of the master, he was writing verses from the Quran in a pen dipped in rose-based ink burned wool called smekh "to learn, under penalty strokes on the flat feet" falaqa "and the Plasmodia later after clearing the slate with wood a substance called tsnachir "wash it with water and let dry to resume the next day my mother already knew a few verses learned from his school only six months of his life Ikherbane.
At that time, it was far from realizing the lessons even less useful, the interesting thing was to accompany these packs of children of all ages in the hubbub in the middle of fights childhood until our house or my grandfather received me with the same question: "what art have you learned today." Clearly he never got an answer but he rested well many times.
I must have four years. The memory alive, they wrote on a wooden shelf with holes for hanging high-end class at some point (tagwest) from the wall with a wire. By the way the lessons were simple. Under the watchful eye of the master, he was writing verses from the Quran in a pen dipped in rose-based ink burned wool called smekh "to learn, under penalty strokes on the flat feet" falaqa "and the Plasmodia later after clearing the slate with wood a substance called tsnachir "wash it with water and let dry to resume the next day my mother already knew a few verses learned from his school only six months of his life Ikherbane.
At that time, it was far from realizing the lessons even less useful, the interesting thing was to accompany these packs of children of all ages in the hubbub in the middle of fights childhood until our house or my grandfather received me with the same question: "what art have you learned today." Clearly he never got an answer but he rested well many times.
A year again later I doing early entry to public school in the village Tabouda in 1972 in a building donated by the French and who would serve as the training school for the past years of the war of national liberation. I was therefore allowed in this frame prefabricated Amrij transformed rather kept in school of independent Algeria.
carpentry workshops showed yet alongside those of the seam by their presence that the machines were abandoned in favor of houses in the village told us we . A volley ball and petanque embellished by some ash to harsh shadows of the summer and two houses for teachers whose distant one was occupied by a Hochine French master of the decor which was amplissaient also testify to the atmosphere, whereas most primary teachers were men of the village Boujemaa Rabah Aberbour, boualayoune Makhlouf, Mohand salah Boufalla, benabdella Boussaad .... a sort of team Arabized who carries the torch and the heavy task to make us understand how little they knew of the world but which nevertheless allowed us to be awake and lucid somewhat intelligent.
The atmosphere was warm friendly inclined al'enthousiasme post independence and nationalist values and seriousness in the work still had their place, the masters were more respected and feared that marabouts more than our parents. At that time, Saturdays and Sundays were still days off per week although the lessons were taught in Arabic in their three main pillars "write, read and count." My grandmother (may God have mercy on him) especially vigilant paid visits improvised and went to masters, among themselves, to investigate the evolution and education of the student that I was, at that time there was no formal framework for doing otherwise has woven through family networks since the existence of the Kabyle villages where everyone knew everyone.
Accompanied Ouamara Mohand Akli said "Bouhou" and some time Hamim Bahloul, friends of the first child and son of Kabyle immigrants like me we were doing the same class Tabouda being the same age "Tizya. So I spent with uncles Mohand Akli in Barache, crossing the lane family a sort of dead-end exclusive, or there was an explicit attention to the dog da Yahia, a beast of color and behavior North African race too because he attacked al'improviste back after the person has left. It arrived after more frightened than hurt, his mother offered us hot milk goat or sheep boiled in a fireside "el Kanoun" a kind of hole 30 centimeters in diameter on which a wood fire olive mixed with broom "adherdhaq" or heather "afouzel" is lit for cooking and heating the house during the cold.
Leaving this singular tenderness that only women had Kabyle we took the dirt road through the village until the last house at the Mouloud which we introduced in the surrounding fields "Timizar" of akhwnaq Oufella. He had arrived on time, but the game and the call of nature made us sometimes be delayed for disputes, talking shop or transferred from neighboring fields to steal the fruits of the season, has returned the last of figs September was particularly difficult finding led us to confuse, then this is the prickly pear, the pomegranate, hawthorn, acorns, ... until the arrival of winter he had to face with the little means rural, shoes and some clothes sewn holes hidden under a small hooded or kachabia but let infiltrate rainfall stringent that accompanies the cold wind in our mountains that makes us blush cheeks and hands growing up stiffing the wait to get to class or stove oil has warmed us. In those days it was not much has do except in times of rest, light trap setting the coal and thrushes ...
Returning from classes and sometimes before they are allowed to play, to debut a tixxamine n'chitane, has lead to the corners of the devil , a game that was already beginning to disappear and that is to play two Using olive pits (winter and spring). We dig eight holes in two symmetrical rows. Amidst these eight holes, a ninth which is used to store the gain of the opponents. Each player has 24 stones placed in groups of six in each hole except the center hole. Players need to turn around by putting five kernels one by one into the various holes the latest kernel installed, remove the cores located in the hole. The player who won the most rings wins.
