Our First Radio Noureddine Boutahar

Growing up in the countryside during the late sixties and seventies was a unique experience, especially without the ubiquitous presence of TVs. In the rural setting of my childhood, my dad was among the few who possessed a tabletop radio, our exclusive source of at-home entertainment. This box-shaped device, powered by hefty, non-rechargeable batteries, needed time to warm up before efficiently transmitting its waves.

The front of the radio featured an indented panel housing controls and a speaker outlet. The lower part contained three knobs - one for turning on the radio and adjusting volume, another for selecting stations, and the third for changing the wavelength from long to medium. This radio was not just a device; it was the center of our entertainment universe.

Gathered around it, my family and I would listen to captivating radio dramas that sparked our imagination. Closing my eyes, I could transport myself to different times and places, enchanted by the theater of the mind. For my dad, the radio was a vital source of information. He tuned in for news updates, talk shows, and in the evenings, Amazigh programs, given that the Amazigh language had limited airtime from 16:00 to 20:00.

In the bustling heart of our expansive family, a sense of reverence and a hint of secrecy embraced the enchanting melodies of Amazigh songs—a symphony reserved for moments when we couldn't share them together. Laden with the essence of love and romance, these tunes became our private indulgence, set aside for times of seclusion. So, whoever desired to immerse themselves in the lyrical tales emanating from the radio had to find a moment of solitude.

Yet, Fridays emerged as extraordinary deviations from our usual clandestine routine. On these hallowed evenings, our abode resonated with the profound wisdom of Imadiazen, the Amazigh poets. Completing our field work and tending to the farm animals earlier than usual, we would gather around the radio, immersing ourselves in verses that intricately wove narratives of piety, faith, and invaluable religious counsel at the onset of the broadcast. As the evening unfurled, we'd be captivated by Imadiazen's poems, each one delving into diverse topics and themes, adorning our Friday nights with a mosaic of eloquence.

As children, laying a finger on that prized possession was strictly off-limits, and we always had to patiently wait for Dad to take the lead, albeit occasionally sneaking in stolen moments of radio bliss. However, when I reached my mid-teens and entered high school, I was granted the honor of using the radio without needing Dad's permission. It swiftly became a cherished pastime during school vacations, etched vividly in my memory. The radio transformed into my go-to companion for exploring various music genres, thrilling dramas, and the latest news, with a special emphasis on English programs.

Serving as my inaugural English teacher, I tuned in to BBC broadcasts, progressing from picking up a few words to understanding phrases, sentences, and eventually grasping the entire main idea. Listening to news in both Arabic and Amazigh significantly enhanced my comprehension of BBC's English global updates.

Concerns arose when my dad worried that the radio might be fostering passive behavior and laziness, especially given the agricultural work we had to attend to. Thus, an informal agreement was reached—moderate radio use was permitted only during leisure times, ensuring a balance between the radio and my farm responsibilities.

Amidst the symphony of those countryside days, our humble radio, albeit the only game in town, played a pivotal role, not merely as a purveyor of entertainment but as a gateway to enlightenment, cultural immersion, and family unity.