Zohra Drif, the legendary freedom fighter, was born on a form in Tiarot, She was a ittlo over19 when the Algerian Revolution broke out. Two yoars later, sho was studying law at AlgiorsUniversity when she joineda group of the (FLN) rovolutionarios and placeda bormb in tho

French Milk Bar café. The following year, Mrs Drif

Mrs DrifL was arrostod and condomnod to 20 yoars

of hard labour for "terrorism". She spent fivo yoars in prison before she was finally reloased

upon independence. Here is an extract from her book:

ror nearly five years, I was the only Arab girl at the French primary school, withyig long braids and long skirts reaching to my ankles, anong the little Europeangirls with their short hair and their litle dresses above the knee. The diferencebetween me and these girls even extended to the foods we ate at ten o'clock in thepeyground: they pulled out a brioche, a croissant, sometimes a chocolate croissantor a baguette with jam. As for me, I had my Algerian treats-maqrouta, mbardja,msemna or matlou with our family's honey

Completed my primary-school years as an excellent student, finishing tied for firstplace in my class with my classmate Roselyne Garcia. I considered Roselyne a dearfriend until we reached the sixth-grade entrance exam, a major test that markedthe passage from childhood to adolescence. We were in school the day the resultsrere announced. I, Zohra Drif, daughter of the Arab qadi, managed to rank amongthe first students in the region, whereas my best friend Roselyne, the daughter ofTissemsilt's baker and an excellent student, had failed. I was as shocked as the restof the school at Roselyne's results.

When we parted to go home, I told her, still crying, "You know, Roselyne, everybodyknows you're an excellent student. It was an accident. Next year, you'll get itRoselyne replied, "But Zohra, it's not that. You don't understand a thing. How doexplain to my mother that you passed and I didn't? She will never understand thatZohra the Arab succeeded and I failed."I was unsure whether I had misunderstoodor understood all too well. Soon my tears dried up. I looked her in the eye and spatback, "Well, you'll just have to explain to your mother that it was the Arabs like Zohrawho invented mathematics."

In a few short seconds, I lost my best friend and my innocence. I suddenly realisedthat all my excellent marks, all my efforts to learn French language and culture andall my sincere feelings of friendship for Roselyne would never make me the equalof Roselyne, the European. With one simple sentence, she put me in my place asthe "Arab".