The Algerian dream - Altered

Dreams like plans are often altered; yesterday I dreamt I was swimming in a beautiful calm blue sea, when a singing dwarf appeared and started howling the national anthem, I told him to shut up so he transformed into a shark and chased me then I woke up….

My Algerian dream was of moving back to Algeria, farm broccoli and Brussels’ sprouts and import Salmon which lets face it, sounds like hard work and I am Algerian, I like to know where my next income is coming from, I am not the one to take risks, I like to get paid at the end of each month whether I showed up or not, and I stash my money in the mattress bank.

Nowadays I dream of working in Algeria, get a job in Algiers at one of those big Banks in Hydra or some major Oil company that pays double my fucking London salary…seriously! I work my butt off; I pay exorbitant rent to live a poxy flat that I have to share with someone and their needy cat.

I am not done – I have to pay bills on top of that, water, electivity, gas and then come a series of taxes; Council tax, Road Tax, VAT on nearly EVERYTHING, TV Licence because you own a TV then you have to pay Virgin or Sky to rip you off with lousy Internet connection and a bunch of encoded channels that scramble on a windy day!

My little cousin, who has the IQ of a garden pest and who is about 10 years younger than me, has a job that pays almost the same as me after tax!! And I know this because in Algeria everybody discusses salaries in cafés, restaurants, buses, doctor’s waiting rooms, everybody knows everybody’s salary, your mum will boast about it when her friends come around, your brother will inform his friends as a reference and your friend will tell her other friend your salary not to sell you short. Good catch!

My little cousin who’s name is Celia - since when do we have names like Celia? -  I make a point of calling her Sellia to bring out the Arabic in her,

She lives with her parents – rent free - no bills, utilities or taxes are imposed on her, her boyfriend pays for her phone bill (flexi) because she’s only supposed to be calling him! - Chuckles - she drives a brand new Seat Leon and doesn’t have to pay for petrol because the company gives her coupons to pay for her “commuting” – honey, 15 minutes drive to work isn’t commuting!

Sellia is getting married this winter to the young man by the name of Massinissa who sends flexis to her phone, he drives a black Audi Q7, lives in a Villa in Hydra (with a pool), his mother is a gynaecologist and his father is a high ranking government official, naturally, Massi has a great job, his job title is “Superintendant des operations internes et chargé de synthese techniques” (What??) and he makes around £7000 a month. Good catch!

Sellia tells me I ought to move back to Algeria, she’d introduce me to some “interesting” guys (by interesting she means rich and speak good French) and have me married by next year, all I have to do is bring my booty, my charisma, IQ, fun and my fur coat she wants, another inflicted tax…roouuuh

I tell her I am angry, cynical, mostly moody, and lunatic
I don’t even own my own flat and I am 34 going on 35. The jig is up! NOT a Good catch


Dz-Chick…Chief Operating of interactions and data Guerilla!