Scipt: Ahoo (deer) Shrubbery, daytime: A man shouts: “Ahoo… Ahoo…” A herd of deer run in the shrubbery. The man gallops his horse in the shrubbery and shouts “Ahoo” in all directions. Ahoo is not there. The rocky shore, continued: On horseback, the man reaches the rocky shore where waves break on the rocks. He calls again to Ahoo, Ahoo is not there. He gallops his horse in another direction. Shrubbery, cycling track, daytime: The rider sees a cloud of dust far away. He gallops toward the dust. From the dust, a group of women in manteaux and chadors are seen, pedaling on bicycles. In search of the Ahoo he’s been calling for, the man looks at every one of the women, but Ahoo is not there. Exhausted women pull aside in different parts of the track, and lie on the ground. The man takes a quick look at every single one of them, but Ahoo is not there. He gallops to another group of female cyclists, pedaling faster than the first. He yells “Ahoo”! They turn back one by one, in a way that one can’t tell which one Ahoo is. Finally, the real Ahoo turns her head from the heart of the crowd. The man: Didn’t I tell you I’d divorce you, if I ever see you riding a bike again? Get off the bike and go back right away! Ahoo pedals without paying the smallest attention to the man. Seeing her indifference, the man leaves in rage. Ahoo turns her head to the sound of the man galloping his horse. The horse leaves a cloud of dust in the air. Ahoo awakes to the sound of a bike’s bell. A skinny dark woman passes by her and the music of her Walkman fills changes the atmosphere for a moment. Ahoo stands and pedals, but it’s as if something is stopping her from going forward. She sits back on the seat and pedals in despair. The other women pass her one by one, until there is no one left behind her. It looks like she is ready to stop the bike and get off of it when she hears something. She turns back. She sees two horsemen approaching from far away. One is the same man, and the other is Mullah Osman. The man: I brought Mullah Osman with me so I can divorce you right here. Either stop being so stubborn and get off the bike, or Mullah Osman will read your divorce right now. It’s as if the threat gives Ahoo new life; she pedals faster, making up for the distance she’s fallen behind. Mullah Osman: Ms. Ahoo, don’t be so stubborn. I married the two of you, I don’t want to divorce you. Get off the bike. Ahoo: Read our divorce, it’s what I want. Mullah Osman takes his leather covered book out of his bag and starts writing. He falls behind Ahoo and the man. The man goes toward the Mullah and after the divorce is read, he rides back to his wife and shouts: The man: It’s over. You can pedal all you want, now! The man rides away and hides from sight in the dust Mullah Osman has made. Having lost the rage that caused her to pedal so fast and pass all the other women, she loses her spirit when the man goes. Despair leaves her legs lax and the women in the background gain on her, passing her one after the other. Hearing a horse, she once again comes to, turning her head and seeing Mullah Osman riding next to her. Mullah Osman: Ms. Ahoo, it’s not too late to change your mind if you regret what you’ve done. Ahoo stands once again, pedaling away from Mullah Osman. Consequently, she puts her competition behind her once again, reaching the first two or three cyclists. It’s a tight match now. The bikes touch one another and the rivals hear each other breathing. Ahoo reaches her last rival, the girl with the Walkman on who pedals nonstop. Ahoo makes an effort to pass her, but she can’t. She stands on the pedals, bends forward, and puts all she has in her legs to pedal past the girl with the Walkman. It now seems that she needs to pedal to escape from all thoughts. She pedals. She once again hears a neigh. She turns her head to see a yet bigger could of dust following her. To escape the could of dust after her, she pedals as fast as she can but a minute later the dust surrounds her. She looks in all directions. She sees a member of her family galloping his horse. There are half-naked men with irregular beards, each of them trying to persuade and sweet-talk Ahoo back to the warm arms of the family in their own way. But they have no effect but to add to how fast Ahoo pedals. They are her father and uncles. Ahoo’s father: Ahoo, honey, you didn’t even say hi! Ahoo: Hello father. Ahoo’s father: Your husband loves you. Get off the bike, honey. Paternal uncle: Ahoo, honey, have you forgot what your husband went through for 7 years, before marrying you? Get off the bike, honey. Maternal uncle: You didn’t listen to your father, or to your uncle. At least listen to me and get off that bike. Ahoo’s father: Forget you have a father if you don’t get off that bike. Men have pride. You disregarded your husband’s pride. Paternal uncle: We’re a family of honor, honey. The whole tribe will be talking about our family tomorrow. Shut their mouths and get off that bike. Maternal uncle: Let’s go back. She has turned her back on God, and no longer hears. The dust moves away from Ahoo and disappears far into the desert. Ahoo is tired after pedaling so hard to run away from her relatives. It’s as though her fatigue manifests itself in the women who lie next to their bikes and on the ground, all over the place. One of the women on the ground asks her for some water, and a flock of birds pass over her heads, screaming. Waves slam against the rocky shore beside the track. Everything is fit for delusions… And Ahoo is no longer the same person. She is a woman wet of sweat from the warmth of her struggle and incapable of pedaling from the cold of despair. Minutes later, there are no rivals left to pass. It looks like she could fall to the ground from fatigue and despair if she doesn’t stop and get off. But the neigh of the horses comes to her help once again. She turns her head and sees a yet larger cloud coming to encircle her. Their tumult dominates the roar of the waves slamming into the shore. Ahoo takes a good look, she sees her grandfather among the elders of the tribe. Each look so skinny meager bodies and dim eyes gives the impression that each have run away from their grave to come here. What could they have to offer Ahoo but advice? Grandfather: We owe everything we have to our dead fathers. But you, my girl, are making our ancestors tremble in their graves. Get off that bike. Other old man: I will count to 7, damn the devil and come back. One… Other old man: Damn the devil, two… Other old man: The tribe’s honor is at stake. What will other tribes have to say about us? Get off the bike, my girl. Get off. Three… Other old man: I hoped to die with dignity. What can I tell the dead when I see them? What have we done with their inheritance? Four… Other old man: Your grandmothers will feel the shame in their graves. Get off. For the sake of your grandmother, get off! Five… Six… Other old man: It’s your own decision. You can get off the bike, or you can wait for your brothers to come and force you off… Other old man: Seven… The horsemen turn back and disappear faster than they had appeared. Ahoo looks around and finds out that she has passed all her rivals except the girl with the Walkman, in her effort to escape the old men. Something within her tells her to pedal these last moments of the race and get it over with. But they just won’t let it happen… She hits on the brake and stops her bike. The girl with the Walkman makes her pass from the middle of the two horsemen blocking Ahoo’s way. From far away, looking back from the eyes of the girl with the Walkman, it seems that the horsemen have blocked Ahoo’s way, leaving her no way out. But is it really so? One can’t really know from the last shot. Winter 2000