Who in Larache tore off this membrane that hid our shame to all of us in this country where the ultimate mark of love cannot be "proper" and legal in the eyes - blindfolded - of the law and faith unless blood flows and is displayed like a hunting trophy, to the sounds of drums, "néffars" and the ululations of "négafates", those cousins or accomplices of female genital mutilators of little girls? This shameful membrane, which our atavistic frustrations and our residual Neanderthal instincts, from the era of the eaters of live goat flesh, were inflamed by this bloody tearing. Rape, a "human" instinct that animals do not know, therefore provoked, after a long incubation, the sacrificial act of one of our countless Aminas, whose passing by rat poison had, in the end, the saving consequence of tearing our membrane to all in this country! A country that only celebrates and consumes love in a state of collective trance, more comparable to an exercise in exorcism than to the enjoyment of life and its beauty, ephemeral though it may be…

Our membrane to all (males and females) has been deflowered. Finally, our very dark collective Self has been unmasked, dislocated, revealing the state of withering of our laws and our oaths of faith. Here is therefore given as a spectacle, in the street, in Parliament, in the courts, on TV sets, this pitiful ataxia that gnaws at and agitates our social body in its entirety… With its powerful and its weak, its rich and its poor, its literate and its illiterate, its gandouras and its tuxedos, its old and its young (alas!), its judges and its plaintiffs… In front of his machine, the clerk of our loves, between males and females (law of nature, of Man as of animal), only agrees to type the report of life down here for Amina and her peers when the ribbon of his keyboard changes ink, when it becomes blood red, the blood of the hymen-trophy! Our magistrates and our jurists do not have enough breath to be able to go back to the caves of origin from where our tables of laws and our interlacings of beliefs, customs, and traditions come to us. Their breath is too short to be able to embrace, probe, reform, humanise, and modernise the entire cosmogony that binds us, in our social and human universe, on this Moroccan land occupied by males and females for millennia… Weakness of effort, of competence, and of strength of soul, which profits the sentences of the "evil genius" of charlatans, madmen, false prophets, rapists, and hunters of fresh hymens, gravediggers of love, of human dignity, of love in dignity and in the celebration of life and its beauty that only the human species has the privilege, among all species, to live and to become aware of.

In our reality, more than two hundred thousand years after the "Sidi Abderrahman Man", a distant successor of "Homo Erectus", in this Roman province of Tingitane, with its Tingis (Tangier), its Tamuda (Tetouan), and its Lixus (Larache), it is still not granted to every Amina the legitimacy to live in legality, in love, and in forgiveness, unless her hymen is "legally" and duly bled white, on white "saroual" or… shroud! Even if this throat-slitting of human dignity takes or appears to take the form of a… rape! A hunt for the hymen, at all costs, which can even, professes a criminal, have an epilogue: raping the corpse of the hymen that one has had, by the right - divine and human - to deflower under the reign of the sacrosanct hunting permit that we call, here, "marriage"!

Our Aminas, banished from all inflamed love, are tracked and hunted, everywhere, in cities as in the countryside, in palaces as in cottages, by hordes of hunters of juvenile membranes, assisted by many guardians of our membrane to all of us, the one woven of atavistic instincts, macabre dreams, and neo-cannibal customs. Enough of illusions! We are a people of the reign of the beasts: carnivores par excellence (idolaters of the "Sheep God", Candide would say if he visited us during the seven days of the "Grand" Eid) and rapists of the integrity and dignity of the human, by any means… By faith, by law, by voice, in the woods as in the Law. The acute inflammation of our collective membrane is, as we observe today, very strong and very advanced. It will worsen and spread further as long as, through drowsiness or indolence, we allow the male to write the history of his life with black on white, only to concede to the female the pain of engraving her ordeal with red on the white of the death of the heart, the body, and the soul.