Pen Circle Review

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Issue N° 30 – February-April 2012. Journal of the Department of English

Sultan Moulay Slimane University, Faculty of Letters, Beni Mellal, Morocco.

Editor: Khalid Chaouch.

INSIDE THIS ISSUE Editorial: The Mouse/Keyboard Theory! 02

The Poet‟s Corner: A Poem Says a Lot in a Little … 04

Pen Circle Prize (2011/2012): List of Awardees … 05

„A View from the Teachers‟ Lounge‟

by Elkhdar Abdelmoula, SLCE Master (2011-2012)… 06

„A State of Loss‟ by Jaouad Markoni, S5 (2011-2012) … 08

„Tahnanait, A Rural Woman Who Is Always Sixty‟

by Mohamed Handour, SLCE Master (2011-2012) … 09

„Sorry, My Cigarette!‟ by Jaafar Nabaoui, S5 (2011-2012) … 12

Report on „Occidentalism vs. Orientalism‟ International Conference… 13

„Doubt‟ by Omnia Regragui, S3 (2011-2012) … 14

„Here Again‟ by Hicham Ouaarabi, S1 (2011-2012) … 15

My Pungent Quotations: They said about „the Rich‟ ... 16

Proverbs of the Moment: „Counsel and Advice‟ … 17

My Enigmatic Pen Circles … 18

Looking for Clues among „DESERT‟ Terms … 19

Crosswords N° 30... 20

Pen Circle Sultan Moulay Slimane University

Faculty of Letters and Humanities, Department of English

BP. 524, Beni Mellal, Morocco. Fax: 212 (0)5 23 48 17 69

Email: [email protected]

Pen Circle is also available at www.flshbm.ma Départements L. L. Anglaises

Editorial Board

Mly. Lmustapha MAMAOUI, Mohamed RAKII, Redouan SAÏDI.

Sermo in circulis

est liberior.

“I had three chairs in my house; one for

solitude, two for friendship, three for

society.”

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

mailto:[email protected]

http://www.flshbm.ma/

Pen Circle n° 30 - 2 -

EDITORIAL

The Mouse/Keyboard Theory

Needless to say that the Internet has become an essential

source of information and an invaluable companion to any

scholar, more particularly to University students and researchers.

The aim here is not to elaborate on the unquestionable benefits

and the highly rewarding advantages of this inexhaustible

resource. It is rather to draw students‟ attention to some practices

that could prevent them from getting the best of the Net.

If we try to classify Internet users for research purposes, we

will realize that they fall, at least at the theoretical level, into

three main categories of researchers: those who produce online

material; those who consume it; and those who belong to the

mainstream category of consumers and producers at the same

time. It is clear that the most hard-working category is the first

one, since it produces information and controls its flow. It is the

category of researchers who think, plan, organize and use

different material for the sake of producing research papers,

generating new ideas, publishing original works, and hosting

papers and documents on one side of the Net. They are, in a

certain way, those who actively do research and put it at the

disposal of other users/consumers, hence selecting the kind of

ideas to circulate in the world. On the other side of the Net, the

weakest category of researchers is the one that consumes material

passively without any original outcome or plus value result.

In the course of my dealing with Internet sources and their

use for the sake of research advancement, I have developed a

kind of „primitive‟ and simplistic theory on the barometer that

could help me assess my relation to the Net. The theory is very

simple, especially as regards research works and activities in the

fields of arts and humanities. To verify it, I proceeded as follows:


Whenever I am in front of the computer screen, I try to notice

which hardware material I am been using most: the mouse or the

keyboard? The theory is that if I am using the keyboard more

than the mouse, this means, in most cases, that I am more likely

to belong to people who are generating new texts and who are,

thus, producing original material – regardless of its quality. On

the other hand, if I notice that my fingertips are more sticking to

the mouse (especially for select, copy, and paste functionalities in

WORD or PDF documents), even in the process of producing

research or „critical‟ material, then I am sure that, as such, I

would be a mere „collecting researcher‟ and a passive consumer

of others‟ material, exactly as in the phase of primitive humanity,

when our ancestors were contenting themselves with picking up

plants and fruits instead of working the land.

The attitude towards Internet material research productivity

could take a pathological turn when the consuming „researcher‟

expropriates information and material without expressing

adequate credits and without paying due homage to the original

producers. Any student-researcher who is in the process of

working on a BA or Master research paper is in need of Internet

resources, as are Doctoral, Postdoctoral or academician

researchers, but the positive attitude of using online material and,

at the same time, producing original material is to be acquired at

an early phase, before doing research, until it becomes an

essential one.

In the last analysis, the computer screen becomes, for all

such researchers, a kind of virtual border between both categories

of Internet users. And it is up to each one to decide to which

category of Internauts he/she wants to belong.

So, seize the Net… and choose your side!

Khalid Chaouch


The Poet’s Corner

This corner is devoted both to prominent figures in poetry and to ambitious students who dare

to embark in the process of creative writing. Students‟ attempts should be sent by email or

presented in legible handwriting, and submitted to a member of Pen Circle Editorial Board.

A Poem Says a Lot in a Little*

A poem is a record of experience to be shared. The poet sees

or does or thinks or feels, and he passes along his observations and

actions and ideas and emotions to the reader. This what the prose

writer does too, but the poet‟s job is a harder one. The prose writer

can leisurely develop his theme, making abundant use of details.

But the poet is held down by the conventions, or rules, of his form.

He must evoke emotional and intellectual responses in the fewest

possible words, usually through careful use of language. He

chooses his material with special care and screens his language for

useless words. Careful selection and sifting result in compression:

he says a lot in a little...

Like anyone else, a poet uses words first for their meaning.

But he often tries to pack more meaning into them than does the

prose writer:

Arthur with a hundred spears

Rode far.

What two meanings does the word „spears‟ have in the above?

The poet is also concerned with the connotations of words, the

emotions and associations they stir up in us. For example, what two

very different pictures of, and responses to, to a brook do have in:

I chatter, chatter as I flow

I babble on the pebbles…

and

I murmur under moon and stars . . .

Because the poet cuts away all needless words and packs the

useful ones with all possible meaning and emotion, poetry should

be read slowly and carefully. Ever word has a purpose; to

understand a poem fully, you have to be aware of the meaning and

connotation that each word carries.

*Robert C. Pooley et al., Projection in Literature. Glenview Illinois: Scott,

Foresman and Company, 1967, p. 196.

* Q * Q * Q * Q * Q * Q * Q *


Pen Circle Prize

for Mellali Writers in English

(2011/2012)

List of Awardees

This year we have received a considerable number of

attempts, a fact that reflects the students‟ interest in this

competition and their desire to express themselves in creative

writing. To give more opportunities to burgeoning talents, we

have decided to raise the number of winners to 6 (two from

Master studies, two from Semester 5, one from Semester 3,

and one from Semester 1), since the aim of this journal is to

encourage students to write. So the five winners of Pen Circle

Prize for the current academic year (2011/2012) are:

- Hicham OUAARABI, S1, for his poem “Here Again” (see

p. 15 on this issue.)

- Omnia REGRAGUI, S3, for her poem “Doubt” (p. 14.)

- Jawad MARKONI, S5, for his poem “A State of Loss” (p.

08.)

- Jaafar NABAOUI, S5, for his poem “Sorry, My Cigarette!”

(p. 12.)

- Elkhdar ABDELMOULA, SLCE Master, for his short

story “The Teachers‟ Lounge” (pp. 6-7).

- Mohamed HANDOUR, SLCE Master, for his short story

“Tahnanait, a Rural Woman Who Is Always Sixty.” (An

excerpt of this short story is on pp. 9-11.)

As usual, and for creative reasons, we have reprinted the

contributions as they were submitted (except for some very

few corrections).

Congratulation, winners!

Good Luck to other candidates in the next prize!


Pen Circle Prize Winners

A View from the Teachers‟ Lounge

It‟ a twenty meters square cold dull room, with some old Moroccan-

made couches, Sdader, and some mangy pillows scattered here and there.

At the corner of this space, one would see a wooden counter, behind it

stood a middle aged woman who‟s in charge of brewing tea for the

teachers during break times. Three sets of Moroccan tea pots are laid out

before the lady with bunches of drinking glasses; the big sized tea pot is

made with absinth, the medium with mint and the smallest is without

sugar, as many teachers are diabetic. The three pots are ironically lined up

like horses in a parade with their spouts, like rifles, pointed out towards the

leaking ceiling of the room! There is also an old rectangular wooden table

with four robust legs which is used for many purposes; sometimes as a

desk for teachers to fill in a form, and at other times as a small „mail box‟

where most of our mandatory bank letters are deposited.

On the well polished domes of the tea pots one would see the reflection

of what‟s going on in the room. It is 4 P.M and teachers were coming in

slowly, and short of energy. They sat down carefully on the couches. Each

one was holding a glass of tea between his or her hands as it was a freezing

day, trying to get warm. I felt sorry that our room lacked the heat needed

for in cold days. Some were nibbling a two-Dirham muffin- like toothless

babies- trying to gain some slight energy for the coming teaching hours.

They were sipping the magic drink in an awkward silence. Only the voices

of the dried lips which can hardly touch the brims of the tea glasses, but

the tea scum would stop the shivering action, declaring the end of a

prestigious moment.

The air in the room was quite melancholic. Teachers were wearing white

blazers –almost like pallbearers-with clouds of chalk patches, holding old

frazzled satchels that come in black and brown colors with faded shades.

The whole scene gave one the impression of a mourning assembly. Words

were scarce; teachers only exchanged exhausted looks, frowns, hand

waving….body language!

The room is a non-smoking area. There is, however, an open air place

reserved to smokers outside. Inside, few teachers would dare chat and talk

about the ebbs and flows of this warrior-like job, teaching. They try to

minimize efforts and save energy for the coming barking hours. In return,

they get only insults, ridiculed, called names and nicknames at the end of

the day. They are trying hard to say something to the young men and


women of this nation, mold their future and usher them into a brighter life.

Teach them or preach it‟s all the same, though; chalk and talk approaches

control the creative hands and minds of these metamorphosed body

creatures we dare call teachers!

Their faces are wearing the fixity of thoughtful men; unmerciful time

has chiseled octogenarian faces on their tiny figures. One would see them

blind, bald or grey haired. They wear shabby clothes that lack the

brightness and glamour called for in new businesses nowadays, mostly

khaki or black coats, black pants and plaid shirts, polished shoes, and black

Casio watches .Their voices are getting coarse after many years of talking

with no rewards and no retreats, only plans and schemes, hopes and

promises that one day our wretched situation will change; one day we‟ll

have white boards that would enlighten our dark teaching history, one day

we‟ll have fifteen well mannered students with single seats. One day we

will have offices where students contact us when they need help. One day

we‟ll have high salaries and low debts, enough money to be able to change

our rusty bicycles into motorcycles, clunkers into cars, to be able to move

from shacks to houses, from the suburb to the city, from darkness to light.

One day we will be able to break the unmerciful unknowledgeable fingers

which point at us, mouths weaving jokes about our daily practices, and

brains belittling us to things and to victims while we are supposed to be the

elites of this ill society.

We are agents of change or would I say prophets -our early historical

label. Norway! We are turned out to be a “piece of drifting wood”, to quote

Ernest J .Gaines. We live unseen; die unseen, and unheard as well. While

we are supposed to be the real town celebrities, the one thousand dollar

faces, brave hearts, men and women…It‟s a pity that we are becoming so

little in everybody‟s eyes, as if the earth is turning upside down and our

mission is nothing sublime, but to show off our knowledge pride then

disappear in darkness of years, decades and months.

The old school bell rang again at 4:05 P.M then I had to go embrace

my opaque destiny, wear my six pairs of hands and three pair of eyes, and

open the doors of my predicament trying to lock doors of the students‟ jail,

mental, physical or emotional. The graffiti on the wall in front of me added

insults to injury and summed the whole scene up: KILL YOU, TEACHER!

Elkhdar ABDELMOULA SLCE Master (2011-2012)



A State of Loss

Illusion scattered my youthful thoughts.

Deception fixed the lurking pain within my weak ribs,

Armageddon of dignity over love,

Which to let go and which to take,

It ached my brain as well as all that remain.

Gloom imposed itself, weakened me,

Darkened my beautiful day, blackened the sky.

So dreary was the night you left

My calls to stay didn‟t make you delay

Because of you I lost my peace of mind,

Surely I won‟t gain it, no way!

a sea of ink is what I need

to put my scrambled words into order

a divine aid is what may gather my pathless imagination.

Was it all a dream destiny didn‟t make it come true?

Or just a scene you were supposed to play so well!

My wounded soul is silently screaming,

The echo spreads through the world,

Pierce the skies to swim into infinity

It will never fade away till I turn into ashes.

Jaouad MARKONI

Semester 5 (2011-2012)



Tahnanait, a Rural Woman Who Is Always Sixty

High in the Atlas Mountains lives an old Amazigh lady who

never knows the true meaning of despondency and depression in spite

of her abject poverty and solitary existence. Her real name is Hadda,

but people call her Tahnanait. Whatever this word means in

Tamazight, whether it is illustrated in the dictionary or not and

regardless of its positive or negative meaning, this old woman‟s solid

personality and unshakable chastity are what really count for me (…)

It was so chilly that afternoon, I still remember. I was in a hurry to get

a box of sugar and a packet of tea which my mother badly needed for

our dinner. It was winter then. There were dark clouds in the sky.

Certainly, it was going to rain soon. Aunt Tahnanait was aware of

that. She walked on with tireless energy like a well-trained athlete. I

followed her; for my house stood alone on a little hill far beyond the

old woman‟s humble abode. I had to shake a leg to catch up with her.

Though I was just a boy and as sound as a bell, I couldn‟t keep pace

with her. She walked past olive trees, past Mohmmad ou Aadi‟s

house, past AIT Chaaou (my uncles)… with all her might. I felt a drop

of rain on my head; it began to rain. I was doing my best to catch up

with her but couldn‟t as she was incredibly fast. It was raining heavily

now. I was so scared of the rain, so scared of the ghosts and phantoms

which I would often hear in my grandmother‟s Amazigh tales and

anecdotes. The bare trees and stones, two hundred meters away, were

black and looked like some unearthly creatures. Overwhelmed by rain,

fear and cold I gave in. I had to call out to the strong old lady. “Wa

khalli Tahnanait! Wa khalli Tahnanait!‟‟, I repeated. „‟Naam

Ayarbanw awa naam!‟‟, she responded. (Yes, my dear child! Yes, my

dear!) I didn‟t have to call her several times as she had very good ears

though she had never resorted to any drops or similar medicine

whenever she had an earache or any other pain, either physical or

psychological as I would discover later. “Irbbi ql zari dinagh hat

taghi tassa‟‟(please wait for me there. I am scared), was my request.

… / …


“Wakha. Srba. Hat iqnd ssihl. Ila ousmid. Aanigh tignout ayya win

ddouri. Ghir ayg Rbbi sslamt‟‟ (Ok. Hurry up! I am here waiting for

you. It‟s so cold and rainy. It is so black, so dark in the west. More

rain was to come. Perhaps it was torrential rain). Her reply gave me

more power and energy to run as fast as I could. Because of that

effort up that precipitous slope, beads of perspiration were running

down my boyish cheeks but I didn‟t care as long as Khalli Tahnanait

was there waiting for me. I said, “Hello‟‟ and shyly kissed the old

woman‟s hand. My father used to say: “ssodounat afous iwanna kn

yougrn‟‟(when you greet the elderly kiss their hands). All Amazigh

children are brought up this way to show full respect to those who

are older than them. “Yiws nmi at tgit‟‟ (who is your father?) she

asked “Yiws n Moha ou Aaddi ‟‟ (He is Moha ou Aaddi) . She

inquired further about his health, especially his joints and muscles

as he suffered from a sort of chronic arthritis. She also asked about

my mother and how she was doing with the housework chores.

For my part, I asked how she was and then we resumed our walk

uphill. “Aflla s Rebbi Aflla,‟‟ (going upwards; still going upwards),

she muttered as we got near her hut. I would like to provide some

comment even if her words were not meant for me, but I was

interrupted by a deafening rumble of thunder on the horizon.

Another crash came then another accompanied by lightening in the

east. I was startled by the horrible sound which made me jump in

my place. I couldn‟t control myself, especially as a strong wind

began to blow and more rain began to fall. As for the old woman

she was continuously walking with a sense of total indifference to

this awful weather. “Don‟t worry my boy!‟‟, she said trying to

reassure me. “ Here is my house. Come and take shelter‟‟, she

added. „‟I won‟t let you go until it stops raining‟‟. Although the sun

was setting, I didn‟t turn down her offer as it was still raining

heavily, heavier than before. Tahnanait warmly invited me into her

one-room house. She impatiently took the packet of Casa (the

cheapest home-made brand) out of her bosom and lit one; even if I

was there, she couldn‟t help it. She told me that she hadn‟t smoked

for three days as she was short of money. Three days is such a long


period for an addict. She then hid the packet in a hole where a

window should have been.

Now that she had regained her concentration, she went to the fire

place and lit a fire. We indulged in the wavy flames. As I stretched

out my hands over them to get some warmth making sure I was

close enough to the pit for my wet shirt to dry, Khalli Hadda was

busy washing a little rusty pot to make tea. In a few minutes, her tea

was ready; she filled two cups: one for me and one for her and lit

another cigarette. She enjoyed puffing as she took a sip of her

favorite drink. She snatched a drag and then stood up so quickly as

if she had just remembered something important. She cast a look at

the ceiling followed by another at the front part of the room to the

left. There in a dark corner stood a ewe and her baby with some

grass and straw in front of them. “I always make sure the ewe has

enough to eat or the baby would die from hunger‟‟, she said. But I

was not sure she was speaking to me. She pressed the baby sheep so

tightly to her bosom as if it were her only little child and whispered

a few words in its ear. Then she carefully placed it near her mother

to ensure its comfort and happiness. When she went back to her

place near the fire pit, I expected her to talk about the sheep but she

didn‟t.

She suddenly ceased to drink the tea. I could easily infer from the

look on her face that she wasn‟t there anymore; she was absent-

minded; she was lost in some reverie. I didn‟t have the intention to

disturb her peaceful thinking. So, I kept absolutely silent trying to

keep my feet still and my head well-fixed between my shoulders; I

knew I had to avoid the slightest movement of any part of my body

so that the old lady could indulge in her deep reveries. She

undoubtedly had already set out for some long inward journey; a

journey back in time which served as a kind of mental exercising to

allay her stress, her downright solitude , isolation and deprivation in

that seemingly dreary world of her. (…)

Mohamed HANDOUR

SLCE Master (2011-2012)



Sorry, My Cigarette!

When voices are heard on the green

And laughing are heard on the hill

My heart is at rest in my chest

And everything else is still

Listen to me when I say

If there‟s no more love to give

Don‟t look back when you leave

I may forget and love again

I may stand and ease my pain

There no more tears in my eye

I‟ve already managed to kiss them all away

I learnt how I should heal my heart

When we were apart

Don‟t look back; I won‟t kneel at your feet

Asking you to stay

Or seeking for another way back to your heart

Sorry my cigarette

I couldn‟t taste the benefit of kissing you

Sorry my cigarette

I am no longer in love with you

I want to change my habit

Because I like to ride

When all the world goes to bed

To the top of the hill, where the sky grows wide

And where the sun grows red.

Jaafar NABAOUI

Semester 5 (2011-2012)

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~


English Department Activities

Report on the International Conference

“Occidentalism vs. Orientalism” (Beni Mellal, 17-18 April 2012)

The Research Laboratory on Culture and Communication (RLCC)

organized an International Conference on “Occidentalism vs.

Orientalism” on 17-18 April 2012 at the Faculty of Letters and

Humanities, Beni Mellal. The panelists, who came from six foreign

countries (Austria, England, France, Japan, Poland, and Turkey) and six

national universities (Agadir, Casablanca (Ain Chok), El-Jadida, Fez,

Mohammadia, and Beni Mellal) approached the issues of the Conference

from different perspectives. After the theoretical session, which

approached critically the concept of Occidentalism and its relation to (or

disconnection from) Orientalist, Postcolonial, Exoticizing,

Westernizing, or other discourses, the other sessions tackled the concept

of Occidentalism and how it is applied and manifested in the different

contexts of language, literature, media, art, travel writing, tourism, etc.

The presentations triggered heated debates and elicited pertinent

questions and comments from the audience.

Members of the Research Laboratory on Culture and Communication

contributed to this important event with the following papers:

Cherki Karkaba: “The Conquest of the West in Tayeb Salih‟s A Season

of Migration to the North.”

Moulay Lmustapha Mamaoui: “Western Culture and Moroccan

Society.”

Khalid Chaouch: “Claiming Estevanico de Azamor in the Labyrinth of

Oriental/Western Identities.”

This International Conference was a real success, and a selection of the

presented papers will be considered for publication in the next issue of

Middle Ground, Journal of the Research Laboratory on Culture and

Communication.

As usual, the awarding ceremony of Pen Circle Prize of Mellali

Writers in English, took place at the Closing Session of this

International Conference.

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---



Doubt

Early

Reality

Lost Dreams

Hopes confused

Three little words

Out too early

Frozen limbs, heart-beating

Unknown disease reappeared

Words disunited

As this life

Dead crushed

On gravel

I'm a bird

Flying too high

Omnia REGRAGUI

Semester 03 (2011-2012)

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---



Here Again

Here again, surrounded by time

I cannot die, I cannot stay

Alone, with none

To be with,

It has something to do with you

Look to the pen, maybe I can stay

Write, delete…

But cannot die, cannot stay

Here again with none

Trying, maybe I can die

Here I am bleeding from my heart

Watching people walking

Feeling every season

Winter, spring, summer and autumn

And unable to cry the spring

Here again timeless

Because I cannot die

And I don‟t know

How I‟ll be able to stay.

Hicham OUAARABI

Semester 01 (2011-2012)

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---


Pungent Quotations In this column, we present a selection of quotations by prominent figures of art,

literature, politics, history, philosophy, science, etc. Any suggestion or contribution

is cordially welcome.

They said about… the RICH !!!

“Few rich men own their own property. Their property owns them.”

R. G. Ingersoll (1833-1899),

Address to the McKinley League.

“His best companions, innocence and health;

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.”

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774),

The Deserted Village, 59.

“A rich man‟s joke is always funny.”

T. E. Brown (1830-1897),

The Doctor.

“Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.”

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774),

The Traveler.

“If you can actually count your money, then you are not a really rich

man.”

Jean Paul Getty (1892-1976)

“Rich men amenable to use are hard to find and often very

intractable when found.”

H. G. Wells (1866-1946)

The Autocracy of Mr. Parham.

“If all the rich men in the world divided up their money amongst

themselves, there wouldn‟t be enough to go round.”

Christina Stead (1902-1983)

House of All Nations. References: - Cohen, J. M. and M. J. Cohen, The Penguin Dictionary of Modern

Quotations. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd., 1980.

- Cohen, J. M. and M. J. Cohen, The Penguin Dictionary of Quotations.

Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd., 1983.

Selected by Khalid Chaouch.


Proverbs of the Moment

Counsel and Advice

Good counsel has no price.

Good counsel never comes too late.

Counsel is irksome when the matter is past remedy.

When a thing is done, advice comes too late.

He that will not be counselled cannot be helped.

Too much consulting confounds.

Like counsellor, like counsel.

Night is the mother of counsel.

The best advice is found on the pillow.

If the counsel be good, no matter who gave it.

Advice whispered is worthless.

It is hard to follow good advice as to give it.


My Enigmatic Pen Circles .

N° 30 .

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Find the appropriate words to fill the vertical square

diagrams (1–10) so as to find out the letters needed to fill the

horizontal line made up of 12 circles. The 2 resulting words

are the name of a Russian playwright.

1- Device for reducing the speed

of a car

2- One 100th

part of a dollar (pl.)

3- Not before

4- Small stream

5- Thirty-one days

6- A pair of short stockings

7- Think of with hatred and

disgust; detest

8- Gas or vapour into which

boiling water changes

9- Who makes things!

10- Of ashes; pale; ash-coloured

11- Liquid that runs in our

veins

12- At no time; on no occasion

Clues to My Enigmatic Pen Circles .

N° 29 .

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

A S R S S O G S O G

S H O H O T R O T R

E O A R E E V E E V

S T N K R R E R R E

H O I M A H B B H A


. 20 Clues, N° 30 . Looking for Clues among DESERT Terms!

The 20 clues below are hidden in the terms at the end of each line. To find them, cross off some of the letters in each term (from left to right.) Example: - Social rank … CATASTROPHE (The clue is „CASTE‟. It is obtained by crossing off the letters „TA‟ and „ROPH‟ in „CATASTROPHE‟) 1. International Organization……………………….. DUNES 2. Conjunction connecting words, etc.………………… SAND 3. Feeling of violent anger ……….…….…………. MIRAGE 4. Having an ash-colored face ………………… PALMTREE 5. Pronoun ……………………………….……………… PIT 6. To strike ..…………………………………………. THIRST 7. Past form of an irregular verb ………………………DATES 8. A University degree…………………………… COBRAS 9. An egoist pronoun ..…………………...…………. CAMELS 10. Loud unpleasant sound …………...…………. BEDOUIN 11. Adverb used in comparisons ……...……………… OASIS 12. Military action ……………………...………... WATER 13. Name of a winter constellation ……………… HORIZON 14. Payment for the use of land or a building……. SERPENT 15. 1000 kg ……………………………………...… PYTHON 16. Company ………………………………...…… SIROCCO 17. Make an opening or a slice with a knife………… SCOUT 18. We shall .………………………….…………… WELLS 19. Policeman …………..………..………… … SCORPION 20. Bull or cow …………………………..……………… FOX 20 Clues to n° 29: 1. but 2. bad 3. pen 4. rites 5. rector 6. bard 7. ex-

8. can 9. Stop! 10. rice 11. CAIR 12. mute 13. ads. 14. I‟d 15. base

16. ape 17. step 18. ebook 19. see 20. MP.

Clues to ‘CROSSWORDS’ N° 29

A B C D E F G H I J K L 1 N A P E B O O K A R

2 O D E T F A M I L Y

3 M O O R F C I A

4 A P A L E P P O D

5 N I L E A R M N S

6 S E I N E S C

7 L A S V E G A S A D

8 A R I U S O F F

9 N E V A D A F R E E

10 D N A I G N I T E X

11 A L O N E O E I

12 S E E S O U N D T


CROSSWORDS (N° 30)

1- Scholar specialized in the past. 2- People of this

Continent. 3- Flowing out of the tide – Powerful explosive. 4-

Allow someone to do, or allow something to happen – Find it in

„err‟. 5- Country that was known as „The Realm of the Evening

Star‟ – Place to sleep on. 6- Very grateful to someone – An egoist

pronoun. 7- Russian affirmative answer – French conditional –

Smell (n.) (American spelling). 8- Suffix meaning „without

something‟ – Tenth month of the year 9- The remains of fire –

Date-giving tree – Extra-terrestrial. 10- Way out of a public

building. 11- A Martial art – The most beautiful and most useful

satellite around the earth.

A- To behold – Musical note – A musical note in the Sol-fa

system – Small brown songbird. B- Persons having golden or

pale-coloured. C- Shopkeeper who sells articles for sewing. D-

Conditional conjunction– Find it in „AXA‟. E- „~ Lanka‟ (South-

East Asian country) – American news agency – Large deep hole

in the ground. F- Information Technologies (reversed) – To make

something start working G- October – Old English language. H-

Position that somebody has in the army, the navy, or in society –

Death, destruction, or any terrible event. I- Global (abbr.) – The

district that hosts the federal capital of the USA – To make. J-

Adverb used in comparisons – Far away. K- Opposite of chaos –

An ordinal number.

A B C D E F G H I J K

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