The Algerian state pisses me off at every turn. This week should be the best of my stay. It is all now the worst.
I drank too much beer tonight to write something coherent, but my 12 days of work beyond anything that Hercules might face (and I could have written 12 operas with the details, but chu too fucking).
Briefly:
- Samia and I want to married. In normal times, it is easy to obtain a marriage of a Town Hall complacent foreigners. Unfortunately, a presidential election prevents the Algerians in power usually entitled to affix their signatures on a document but otherwise inert, potentially, could offend voters bearded and, therefore, be denied. An Algerian who wants to marry a foreigner? No problem! The reverse? Impossible (even if the ACT indicates equality in this circumstance).
- My mother was supposed to arrive in Algeria on Monday. Unfortunately, she never thought to get a visa to do (yes, it's her fault). I received a call from my progenitor that woke me up at 6 am 55, saying she could not get out of Tunisia (where she had spent two weeks on vacation). Necessary documents (which were coming from me) were sent before the opening of the Consulate via fax, and several Algerian state actors (I've made friends in government departments) are ... occurred, but officials instead have been resilient. My dear mom got stuck in a seedy hotel in downtown Tunisians (after having spent his two weeks in beautiful hotels of the place) at stake to come and see her son even though he was promised a reply shortly. If I am awarded the Department of Foreign Affairs in my work, I WILL find the madman responsible for this situation (because they can not do much worse to members of his family) I'm going to urinate in a corner of his office for two weeks . I will then take faeces collected over several days and fermented in the sun and I'll grease all surfaces of his workspace. I do not nias. We promise.
... yes, I have a little bitterness. This guy keeps me from seeing my aging mother who has already had cancer and, well, may be fragile (though it may seem Fierce as a wolf trapped). He deserved worse.
- I waited for my mother on Monday with a Samia nervous to meet her at a barbecue 16 000 DA, 12 bottles of Champagne (3300 AD to the bottle. Wholesale Prices. I love Sam) and my circle of friends and colleagues. I just give 60% of the barbecue to Alf (well, my mother and her boyfriend, Jipi would not have consumed the balance of meat, but I'm still frustrated).
- is therefore seeking a way to marry me without my having to convert to Islam (something that the state inevitably pushes me to do). For the idiots who spit in the Algerian street and sing lamentations of your submission to Allah while beating your wives, here's the bulk of my message:
"lakum diinoukoum wa liya dini.
I wish I knew the attitude of Algerians if Canada required all immigrants potential to convert to christianity and to praise a virgin planted by an angel (the same fucking angel who has come to purify their cââââlisse Prophet) . I doubt we would not be too fond of apostasy imposed.
So, dear Canadian friends, I am not at all happy to be in this country aromatic at this time. I met wonderful people here but the eternal fear of castrated look bad in front of their neighbors gives me homesick AI-EM. The image of Algeria abroad is a nation ever bombed by Muslim extremists. I ardently desire to change your vision: this country is relatively stable, but populated by cowards who repress their females, who praise their God on the one hand and rob, rape, lie and lie to each other constantly. I am deeply disgusted. There are bombs that are lost.
