The Foreign Service Journal, April 2012

Corolla, Ahmed ran into the garage excitedly and out of breath. “Did you hear what happened in Tunisia?” he said. “What the hell do I care about what’s going on in Tunisia?” Marwan retorted, continuing to rock back and forth in time with the sound of the wrench. “Couldn’t you once in a while humor me by at least feigning inter- est about what’s going on outside your garage?” Ahmed snapped. “Ben Ali’s gone. He’s gone! That thieving bas- tard and his family ran off like roaches when you flip the light switch in the kitchen.” “Great,” responded Marwan. “Now what? Who else is going to run the damn country?” “The people will run it, you don- key. They’re going to have a democ- racy.” “Ahmed, if the people in Tunisia are anything like us, what do they know about running a country?” “Don’t you get it?” Ahmed was ir- ritated. “Our leaders aren’t any bet- ter than us. They aren’t any smarter than us. They don’t have any more right to rule us than we have to rule them.” “Wait a sec. I thought we were talking about Tunisia.” “Exactly — we’ve been talking ,” Ahmed responded, lowering his voice. “Maybe it’s time to get rid of the thieves who run this country.” Marwan stopped pulling on the socket wrench. “What do you mean, ‘we’?” “Mohamed, Yousef and a few of the other guys have been talking,” Ahmed said. “And we’re not the only ones. We’re talking about maybe doing something.” “Really?” spat Marwan. “What the hell are you guys going to do? I’ll tell you: you’re going to get yourselves killed.” “Maybe,” retorted Ahmed. “But we’ve had enough.” And he left. A couple of weeks went by. Mar- wan didn’t see as much of Ahmed as he did before. In fact, there were some days when Ahmed’s shop didn’t open at all. It worried him. True, he used to give Ahmed a hard time about all that nonsense he used to spew in between drags on his cigarette. But Ahmed was a good man. And Marwan was starting to worry about what he was up to. A few days later, while Marwan’s head was buried under the hood of a Honda Civic that was hopelessly be- yond repair, he heard noise from up the street. It sounded like chanting, and it grew stronger as the seconds went by. The street that ran past his shop led to the city square, and that’s where the crowd beginning to pass was headed. The slogans they sang and those painted on the banners were not going to be re- ceived well. Hell, Marwan couldn’t re- member a demonstration of any sort in his lifetime — and he was 30. As the demonstrators passed, Mar- wan saw Ahmed among them, pump- ing his fist in the air. Marwan disappeared once again under the hood of the Honda. And he was deeply troubled. The next morning, Marwan went to his garage. As he began to turn the key in the door, he suddenly stopped and turned to look at Ahmed’s shop. He pulled the key out of the door and walked over. The light inside was on. He pulled on the door. Locked. Mar- wan looked at his watch: it was 8:55, just five minutes before the store should open. He tapped on the glass. He tapped again, harder this time. Ahmed suddenly appeared from behind the counter. He was limping. He turned the deadbolt on the door and opened it. “Good morning,” he greeted Mar- wan. “What the hell is wrong with your leg?” Marwan asked. “I fell on the steps at my house,” lied Ahmed. “Right. I saw you yesterday, Ahmed. Marching with those lu- natics. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “Marwan,” Ahmed sighed, “Do you even know what happened in 44 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / A P R I L 2 0 1 2 Ahmed always had an opinion about everything, and spoke a little too loudly about things better left undiscussed for Marwan’s taste. Dear Readers: In order to produce a high- quality product, the FSJ depends on the revenue it earns from advertising. You can help with this. Please let us know the names of companies that have provided good service to you — a hotel, insurance company, auto dealership, or other concern. A referral from our readers is the best entrée! You Are Our Eyes & Ears! Ed Miltenberger Advertising & Circulation Manager Tel: (202) 944-5507 E-mail: miltenberger@afsa.org