لخّصلي

Zohra Drif, an Algerian freedom fighter, recounts her childhood experiences in a French primary school, highlighting the stark cultural and social differences between herself and her European classmates. Despite academic success, surpassing even her best friend Roselyne, Zohra confronts the harsh reality of colonial prejudice when Roselyne reveals the impossibility of her mother accepting Zohra's success over her own. This encounter shatters Zohra's innocence, making her acutely aware of the inherent inequality rooted in her Arab identity, ultimately leading to the loss of her friendship and a profound understanding of her place within the colonial system. Later, she joined the FLN, was imprisoned for five years for "terrorism," and ultimately played a key role in the Algerian revolution.

Inside the Battle of Algiers: Memoir of A Woman Freedom Fighter
Zohra Drit, the legendary freedom fighter, was born on a farm in Tiaret. She was a little ove
t9 when the Algerian Revolution broke out. Two years later, she was studying law at Algien
University when she joined a group of the (FLN) revolutionaries and placed a bomb in the
French Milk Bar cale. The following year, Mrs Drif was arrested and condemned to 20 years
of hard labour for "terrorism". She spent five years in prison before she was finally released
upon independence. Here is an extract from her book:
For nearly five years, I was the only Arab girl at the French primary school, with
my big long braids and long skirts reaching to my ankles, among the little European
girls with their short hair and their litle dresses above the knee. The difference
between me and these girls even extended to the foods we ate at ten o'clock in the
playground: they pulled out a brioche, a croissant, sometimes a chocolate croissant
or a baguette with jam. As for me, I had my Algerian treats-magrouta, mbardja,
msemna or matou with our family's honey.
I completed my primary-school years as an excellent student, finishing tied for first
place in my class with my classmate Roselyne Garcia. I considered Roselyne a dear
friend until we reached the sixth-grade entrance exam, a major test that marked
the passage from childhood to adolescence. We were in school the day the results
were announced. I, Zohra Drif, daughter of the Arab qadi, managed to rank among
the first students in the region, whereas my best friend Roselyne, the daughter of
Tissemsilt's baker and an excellent student, had failed. I was as shocked as the rest
of the school at Roselyne's results.
When we parted to go home, I told her, still crying, "
"You know, Roselyne, everybody
knows you're an excellent student. It was an accident. Next year, you'll get it.
Roselyne replied,
"But Zohra, it's not that. You don't understand a thing. How do
explain to my mother that you passed and I didn't? She will never understand that
Zohra the Arab succeeded and I failed." I was unsure whether I had misunderstood
or understood all too well. Soon my tears dried up. I looked her in the eye and spat
back, "Well, you'Il just have to explain to your mother that it was the Arabs like Zohra
who invented mathematics.
In a few short seconds, llost my best friend and my innocence. I suddenly realised
that all my excellent marks, ai my. efforts to learn French language and culture and
all my sincere feelings of friendship for Roselyne would never make me the equal
of Roselyne, the European. With one simple sentence, she put me in my place as
"Arab"