1975, I met an Algerian who lives in Rouen; like me, he is also married to a French woman and had dual nationality.

He then advised me to go to work in Algeria as welder for Sonatrach

the National Society of oilfield work in Algeria. He told me that the director

was a friend to him and that my application may be of interest. Algeria had

needed people like me for. On his advice, I wrote a letter properly

form and sends it to the direction of Sonatrach. A month later, I get the

a favorable response; they gave me all the instructions to follow

when I have to appear before the Algerian customs to avoid to be repulse on the border. I prepare my passport in the prefecture of Rouen, and I was ready

for departure.

August 8 this year, more than ten years after my arrival in France, I

take the plane to Algeria with my work contract in his pocket. In the plane,

during the trip, I heard some Algerians who spoke aloud the fate of harkis. Referring, in particular, to their children who have not experienced war and should separate from their parents if they want to be as Algeria. This is horrible, and the anxiety takes me again bring me back to these dark days, because it’s tormented me constantly. I then asked, “How can we ask children to disown their parents? This is contrary to morality in this world and unworthy of any human being. It is true that during this period, news talked a lot about the fate of harkis living in the camps, including bias in the Lot-et-Garonne, Saint-Laurent des arbres, Reversal and especially Saint-Maurice
Slate where it heats.

Harkis rebelled about this scandalous treatment was making to them by French’s authorities. Before they defended this country with their blood. Even I heard some hostages made by harkis was held in the camp, assisted by their parents, organized to sensitize public opinion for to stop the bullying of them because they are victims. The President of a Republic Giscard d’Estaing intervened personally for the harkis to be considered as full French.

whole. I had not been yet fully aware despite the seriousness of things, constantly evoked the situation lived harkis.

Towards noon, we disembark at Algiers airport as planned.

I moved into the queue that formed before customs. I feel a certain

pressure despite the scorching heat. Each turn, passengers exited

an airport after checking the formalities. My French passport and the contract

work in my hand, I stand before a young custom. After casting a glance at my passport, he asked me to follow him to see of his colleagues. It shows my papers and said:

- Here’s another one!

Its leader, at the fifties, he asks me:

- You just from France?

- Yes

- Where are you going?

- At Arris my village,
in the Aures. He picks up the phone then and calls the big head. I heard them speaking first, and one of them,

repeated.

- It is French. Then he turns to me and asks:

- You were born in Algeria, and now you say you’re French? Tell me Why?

- Because I am working in France, and I live there so it is more convenient to have a French passport to travel.

- You would not be as harki before?

He asked me strongly!

As I had nothing to reproach to myself, before or after, I answer

honestly.

- Yes, I was harki.

- So you’re a traitor!

- No, I am not a traitor.

- How did you kill our brothers? It takes it vehemently.

- I’ve never killed anyone. You can see for yourself the age that I have. I was still young. I was a teenager when I was enlisted by the French armed as a harki, I was just seventeen, and as I’m here in Algeria, you can find out where I served, no one ever will tell you if I hurt someone.

- It is not true! You think I’m an idiot. So it was a stick you had in your hands and not a gun, he shouted on me again.

-You sold your country and your religion to the French, and now you’re back in this country you have denied.

- I am ready to swear on the Koran that I never hurt anyone, and I can tell you that my father served also the Algerian revolution.

The more I talk to him, the less he listened to me, although I insisted but nothing worked. He already made his decision. Thereupon he interrupts me again on an aggressive tone.

- A Muslim. You? I feel that you’re not a Muslim.

He replied, pointing his finger to me.

He takes my passport, auscultates and spits on it.

The Customs young said what we do now for this man:

-return! He said.

He then indicates a small room where I have to wait for the next flying.

. I was sent with some person who was here before me in this enclosure. It

there is no sink, and as I was thirsty in August, I asked one of the officers to give me a little water.

- Address yourself to the one who is in the office, he replied.

Right next to us, there is an open door through which I can

see an employee. I’ll find him. I see the water run from the tap.

- Your papers, he said.

I give him my passport:

After a brief look, he told me:

You’re harki you, you never drink the water of Algeria! Go back to your place!

I come back and sit down. Beside me was another Algerian, who has

observed the whole scene. He turned to me with kindness and advises me

writing in high places maybe to get them to let you enter in your country. Unfortunately,
I told him that my decision was made, I go back where I came from. I have my dignity. It is that of a free man and that of a man whose conscience is clean. No, I will owe nothing to these kinds of people. These people have judged me and condemned me without court. Unfortunately, there is nothing to dealing with obtuse mind as people who hold a sword in their hand, and they are ready to behead you. After four hours of waiting without eating or drinking, I’m completely bathed in sweat by the suffocating heat. The team Police is replaced. Again, I take this opportunity to ask a young policeman if he could give me a little water to drink. After casting a quick glance at my passport, he asked me to follow him. We go out in the hall of the airport and bring me to the bar.

- You are really thirsty, he said.

- Yes, it’s about four hours I did not drink.

Surprised, he asked me why they won’t give me to drink. I tried to

explain him the attitude of some. Sorry he was for such

behavior. He offered me something to drink at the bar, adding with

altruism:

- all this kind of thing happens very often.

Individuals want to do so much zeal and establish their own righteousness.

The young policeman asks me:

- What do you drink?

- A beer if you allow me.

He immediately orders the bartender a beer, I stick the bottle in my mouth, and I swallow the gulp. Intrigued by the rapid descent of the liquid, he proposes me

another one, who I take with pleasure. Having calmed my thirst, I thanked him.

I apologize for paying me such drink alcohol for that day. It seemed that.

Islam had left me in this moment of August during which they

prevented me from going to see my family. I wanted to leave my address to this man, you never know. People like him are rare. I have not forgotten

when he told me this:

- You are a Chaoui, and I am a Kabila; we are Berbers and brothers.

To six p m, the chief commissioner
arrives with customs.

- Go! He said. You go in France, your country.

Then, both with me like as a madman to the aircraft,

caravel. Along the way, one of them throws me a few picks:

- You came because Algeria has flourished.

However, I do not answer.

-I’m talking at you. He insists on a brutal tone, irritated by my silence.

I finally make him this answer:

- A flower fades, then it falls.

This does not please him at all. I just wanted it left me in peace. in

fact he wanted to threats with scare me. I do not take into account by his answer. When I arrived at the foot of the bridge, I see Captain Pardon, captain who recognizes me, it was him who had flown from Paris in the morning.

- What happened to you, he asked me?

- They do not want me because of my French papers. He is embarrassed because he has surely seen other people like me. Some passengers, paradoxically,
twelve workers

immigrant’s Algerians who returned to France took place with me.