Treachery

Treachery is not always born out of ambition or greed. Sometimes, it comes from the unsettling space of displacement, being caught between worlds, between identities, between loyalties. In The Ogress of Fez, Oum El Hassen’s role as an informant for the French colonial powers reveals a complicated form of treachery, one tied to her status as an outsider. As an Algerian woman in 1930s Morocco, Oum was navigating a world that was not entirely hers. Her betrayal is not just of her people or of those she controls, but of the very sense of belonging she could never quite grasp.

Oum’s story becomes even more painful when we consider that the women she murdered were, in many ways, her reflection. These were North African women, many of whom were likely Algerian like herself, women who shared her history, her culture, her struggle. And yet, in her quest for power, survival, and control, Oum turns against them, enacting violence not just on their bodies, but on their shared identity.

To be an outsider in a colonised land is to live in a constant state of negotiation. Oum’s collaboration with the French was a survival tactic, yes, but it was also an act of distancing, a way to align herself with the powers that be, even if it meant betraying those who were, in many ways, her kin. Her treachery is layered with the complexities of being both victim and perpetrator, both colonised and collaborator.

What complicates this betrayal further is the fact that Oum was not betraying strangers. The women in her brothel were North African, just like her. They were part of the same world she came from, but she murdered them with the same ruthlessness she applied to her enemies. In doing so, Oum was not just betraying individuals; she was betraying her own history, her own people. This form of treachery feels more cutting, more personal, because it represents a severing of the ties that bind people together in shared struggle and identity.

This idea of turning against your own brings to mind Frantz Fanon’s exploration of how colonialism fractures identity. Fanon writes about the psychological toll of colonisation, where the colonised are forced to navigate a world that alienates them from themselves. Oum, as an Algerian in Morocco, would have already been living in a space of alienation. Her collaboration with the French, and her subsequent violence against the women in her brothel, reflect this fractured sense of self. She becomes both the victim of colonial power and its enforcer, betraying not just her people, but the very essence of who she is.

There is also a bitter irony in Oum’s position. While she informs on her fellow North Africans to the French, she also exercises brutal control over the women in her brothel, women who share her background, her culture, her language. Her power over them is a mirror of the colonial power she serves, and in murdering them, she enacts a form of violence that mirrors the very oppression she seeks to survive. Oum’s treachery, then, is not just a matter of political collaboration; it is a deeply personal betrayal of her own identity, one that erases any sense of solidarity or shared humanity.

The fact that many of these women were Algerian adds yet another layer to this complexity. Oum was not just betraying women she controlled; she was betraying women who were part of her own displaced community. In a world where solidarity among the colonised could have been a source of strength, Oum’s actions instead fracture that potential, leaving her isolated, alienated, and complicit in the very systems that oppress her.

This kind of treachery is what makes Oum such a tragic figure. Her story is one of survival, but also of deep moral decay. By collaborating with the French and turning against the women she should have been allied with, she becomes an agent of her own destruction, betraying not just those around her, but herself. Her murders are not just acts of violence; they are acts of erasure, wiping out the shared history and identity that connect her to these women.

Ultimately, Oum’s story asks us to think about the consequences of displacement, of what happens when survival comes at the cost of loyalty, belonging, and self. She is a woman trapped between two worlds, caught in the tension between her Algerian roots and her existence in colonial Morocco. Her treachery is a product of this tension, a reflection of the fractured identity she carries. And in betraying the women who share her background, Oum betrays the very idea of solidarity, leaving her isolated in a world where she can never truly belong.