Amara Lakhous Clash of Civilizations Over an

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.I never imagined finding Parviz in such a state.The social worker didn’t go into details on the telephone, she said only, “Parviz is sick, hurry, before it’s too late.” I said to myself maybe he had drunk more than usual.I hurried to the refugee welcome center, and made my way among policemen and nurses.When I saw him with his mouth sewed up, I felt a tremendous earthquake in every part of my body.I couldn’t speak, I took his hand and embraced him tightly.Oh, my God! Where does such sadness come from? What is silence? Is there any point in speaking? Are there other ways of telling the truth, without moving your lips? The authorities had told Parviz that his story of fleeing Iran was an invention, that it had nothing to do with politics, but instead with cooking! They told him, “Your application has been rejected.” They didn’t believe that he fled Shiraz after the Revolutionary Guard found some anti-government leaflets from the People’s Mujahideen in his restaurant.It’s true that Parviz is not a political activist and has no relationship to any parties, but his life was in danger.One desperate night he fled, without kissing his children or his wife goodbye; he didn’t have time to say farewell to his Shiraz!I ask as loud as I can, from this hole that has a stink to take your breath away: who possesses the truth? Rather, what is the truth? Is the truth spoken with words? Parviz spoke his truth with his mouth sewed up: he spoke with his silence.Today my hatred of the truth has increased, and so has my passion for wailing.I’ll wail for the rest of the night from this confined space, and I know that no one will hear me.To this small tape recorder I’ll entrust my ceaseless wailing, then console myself by listening to it.Auuuuuuu.Monday August 5, 10:49 P.M.Peace between Parviz and the police! The controversy over the pigeons in Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore dragged on.It wasn’t easy to persuade him not to feed his pigeons anymore.Parviz adores pigeons, because he’s sure that someday a pigeon will land on his shoulder carrying a letter from his wife and children.He’s still waiting for the promised message, especially after hearing the story of the miracle that happened in Santa Maria Maggiore in the year 356, when it snowed in August.In the meantime, the city has decided to make life difficult for the pigeons in the big squares in Rome with the excuse that there are too many of them, and they shit on the citizens and, worse, on the tourists.So it decided to prohibit feeding them in the squares.In fact, it went further, introducing free birdseed laced with birth-control chemicals.I suggested to Inspector Bettarini that he give Parviz the job of feeding the pigeons, using the city’s birdseed, and after some hesitation the police agreed.I had no trouble persuading Parviz, and obviously I said nothing to him about the nature of the city’s birdseed.Sometimes it’s best not to know the truth.For example, I agree with doctors who hide from a patient the true nature of his illness.What stupidity drives a doctor to say to a patient, “You’re going to die in two months”? Poor man, let him live his two months without the burden of knowing the hour of his end! Is the truth a remedy that cures our ills or a poison that slowly kills us? I’ll look for the answer in wailing.Auuuuuuuu.Saturday February 25, 11:07 P.M.I couldn’t convince Parviz that Johan Van Marten isn’t a spy but a Dutch film student who dreams of restoring the glory of neorealism with the rebirth of a De Sica or a Rossellini.Johan, or Blondie—as the residents of the building call him—is trying to gather information about the lives of Parviz, the concierge Benedetta, Sandro, Antonio Marini, Elisabetta Fabiani, Iqbal the Bangladeshi, and all the others.Johan’s dream is to shoot a film in Piazza Vittorio, in black-and-white, that tells their stories.He’s asked me insistently to help him persuade Parviz, Benedetta, Iqbal, Maria Cristina, and the others to be in the film.He said that Parviz is a talented actor, with remarkable artistic gifts.You merely have to watch him weeping spontaneously and feeding the pigeons near the fountain of Santa Maria Maggiore to find the many resemblances between him and the fantastic Anthony Quinn.He paused on the name.He suggested giving Parviz a name worthy of an emerging film star: Parvi Bravo instead of Parviz Mansoor Samadi.THE TRUTH ACCORDINGTO BENEDETTA ESPOSITOI’m from Naples, I’ll shout it out, I’m not ashamed.But then why should I be? Wasn’t Totò born in Naples? He’s the greatest actor in the world, he won five Oscars.I’m a big fan of Totò, I haven’t missed a single one of his films and I remember them all.He can make me laugh even when I’m sad [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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