Writing the unwritten
At the end of last week, I submitted my 26-page draft screenplay and creative treatment to the DFI Hezayah Screenwriting Lab. It was a challenging process, pushing me to advance the narrative structure, but it was also quite painful. The opening and ending of the screenplay feel strong, but the middle is a mess of ideas that need a lot of work. This journey has left my head spinning with unresolved thoughts.
One major challenge has been finding first-hand accounts from Oum El Hassen or the women who worked in les quartiers résérves. The historical texts I’ve found have highlighted to me that a chasm exists in the historical records of this period in Morocco’s history. These women are frequently written about but rarely speak for themselves. Oum El Hassen, in particular, is similarly depicted through sensationalist and orientalist clichés, transforming her into an exotic legend rather than a real person.
I’m far more interested in the everyday details of these women’s lives, told in their own words. What did they eat? How did they sleep? Did they have private rooms or live communally? How did they end up in these quarters? How did Berber, Arab, and Jewish women interact? Did they socialise? How did they maintain hygiene? Were they paid? Did they have families or children? Were they coerced into this life, or did they choose it? What were their daily lives like? Their hopes, dreams, and fears?
Oum El Hassen’s motivations are particularly intriguing. What led her to murder her own working girls? I recall Nick Broomfield’s documentary on Aileen Wuornos. Despite her crimes, I finished watching the documentary feeling empathy for her. Her rants revealed a deep-seated madness from a tragic, dysfunctional childhood. She showed rage and a lack of accountability, yet she expressed remorse for one victim. Wuornos was a complex figure, not easily condemned. Her seething anger at a life that could have been different often comes to mind.
Oum El Hassen shares some of this complexity. Born into poverty in Algiers, she rose to become a powerful Madame in Fez and was even considered for the Legion of Honour for acting as an informant for the French colonial powers. What drove her to align with the French? How did her identity as an Algerian Madame in Morocco influence her actions? What drove her to commit the murders? How did she see herself and her working girls? Was there internalised racism, rage, mental illness, or psychopathy? Were these crimes of passion? So many questions remain.
I’ve reached out to several academics in Morocco and the UK who specialise in this historical period. The available information online about Oum El Hassen and her trial rehashes the same facts. I wonder if hidden archives or primary sources could provide more insights. The journey continues, and I am determined to uncover more pieces of this intricate puzzle.