Open letter to Ali Lmrabet

My Dear Ali, I'm writing to you because I can't see or speak to you. An open letter too, because I'm not sure it will get to you. When Abraham was in prison, I didn't like giving other people letters for him in case it put them in danger. So here I am in October 2003 involved once again with political detentions in Morocco. Because that's what you are - a political prisoner - just like some of the Islamists now, just like Abraham and his friends in Kenitra prison were, along with so many others in jails from Tangiers to Marrakesh, during the years of darkness. Abroad, people aren't fooled. This summer, when I told people things had changed in Morocco over the past four years, they'd reply: "Is that journalist still in jail there?" Yes, things have changed. I'm here with Abraham and I can reach you through the media. But not everything's different. We still haven't got some of the most obvious elements of democracy that we'd hoped for, such as freedom of expression. We'd also hoped for abolition of the death penalty, which hangs over the heads of those convicted of terrorism and which, whatever the crime, should not be a part of justice anywhere. Replacing treason with defamation, reducing the number of taboos that clutter up life in Morocco (especially the dilapidated palace being sold that made us laugh so much) and forcing thieves, corrupt people and dealers to give back their ill-gotten gains. Was that all we were hoping for? The hardest things, I know, will take time, but we won't rest and won't forget. People in the countryside, in cities and slums, must be able to live, feed themselves, have medical care, go to school, have social justice and so find dignity. It's all that we've fought so hard for and it's that we going to keep on fighting for. This letter is a start. We'll write to you again, each month, out of friendship and solidarity or to tell you what the country and the world is thinking. Even if we have to write them for three years. Christine Daure-Serfaty Human rights activist