Measure Success [Hakim Ziyech]

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

Success: Part One

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Qaboyawa/Ras El Ma in Berkane, Morocco

Summer 2002

Souhaila was sitting on a rock by the beach. Her parents and siblings were sitting in a café somewhat behind her. She was watching boys jump into the water from the highest spot of the cliffs from her spot at a safe distance from them. 

Her feet were dangling in the water, it wasn't particularly deep here where she was sitting.

It was a group of boys in swimming shorts. All of them daring or encouraging each other to jump from an even higher point or at an even faster pace. And indeed they were outdoing each other in form and pace.

She swore she could see the boys glancing at girls and whether they were watching them before they sprang. Souhaila thought she saw one even sneaking glances at Hafsa who was very disinterested and heavily focused on her orange juice. Well, her orange juice and Souhaila.

Souhaila sent her a smile though Hafsa quickly looked away. She looked beside Souhaila and then rolled her eyes, scowling.

Souhaila grinned brightly. Happy, and oddly enough, satisfied with herself.

"I want to be a successful football player," Hakim spoke up from beside her, catching her attention. Still grinning, Souhaila turned her head back to the beach in front of her before angling it so that she could see the boy beside her.

Rashid Hayat had found Souhaila and Hakim playing with cats at their doorstep when he'd come outside to prepare his car and announce to Souhaila that they'd do a little trip to the beach.

Souhaila hadn't even said anything, when promptly Rashid had announced that Hakim too would join them and then he'd left to inform the little boy's parents. Not even waiting for Hakim to agree or protest.

Not that he would do the latter. Both kids had jumped in the air and high-fived, grinning from ear to ear. And not even a drive in the slightly stuffed backseat with an ogling Hanan and glaring Hafsa had managed to dim their excitement.

Well, and voila! Here they were, both of them sitting at the beach.

And Hafsa was only sour because basically and unknowingly her father had proven her statement of Souhaila being "too old to be friends with Hakim" wrong.

But back to the present!

As Souhaila faced Hakim she found his gaze stuck, following it she found two little boys playing football. Though not with a ball. They were playing with some sort of tin can that Souhaila couldn't properly identify.

When he turned to face her, Hakim's face was full of conviction and seriousness.

Souhaila's brows furrowed, her grin dropping. She had to process his words again, now that she knew that he'd meant them seriously and not in random fun sort of way.

Though she found herself unable to properly place his words because "what does a successful football player look like?" Souhaila thought she knew what "success" meant even though it was a big word. She was sure that she'd thought Hakim the darija word.

Success was this; her properly teaching Hakim words something so precious as his mother tongue. But that was only success accomplished through a person.