The End of Ramadan

As things came to a close for the holiday season, here in Aleg, we were filled with relief and anticipation. Relief that we can now walk around town and drink water in the open when we are thirsty (rather than hiding in alleys and abandoned houses to steal elicit sips and eat cookies). Relief that when we are welcomed and force-fed by strangers it won't be endless courses of food in the dark, but single plates of rice and fish in the daylight. Anticipation to start work and find housing when the other half of Aleg's population returns from their months of camping in the bediye or countryside... which is mostly desert.

Yesterday Lily and I decided to explore a part of town we hadn't yet seen--the name of the neighborhood ended up being Jdide, which, fittingly, means New. We were bismillah'ed into a couple homes, given large bowls of Zrig (sour milk watered down and sweetened with sugar), which you can't sip--gulping is the only polite way to drink here--cups of tea, and even bread and begnets (little donut balls). I felt like I was going to explode... I wonder what we'll be given when they aren't fasting anymore!

On the way back we hitched a ride on a donkey cart driven by a little boy wearing a Saddam Hussein T-shirt. Apparently giving rides to strangers is okay these days. Our last stop was at Rubiya's house. She's getting married tomorrow and after that will be living across the street from me. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. Some friends in life you seek out and get to know gradually, and others find you and claim you as their own... you can probably guess which type Rubiya is. She's great, really. She helps us with our Hassaniya and her khayme is always open to us. Sometimes we take alternate routes through town when we have things to get done so that she won't bismillah us and derail our plans. I laugh to think that after two years here the most efficient way from point A to point B won't be a straight line, but a circuitous trek around the town through thorny fields to avoid having to talk to everyone between here and there.

So, about that Hassaniya help. Lily and I thought Rubiya might enjoy hearing how the other night someone threw a cat in a plastic bag over the wall into Lily's courtyard. After slowly piecing together the story in Hassaniya, French and Charades, Rubiya looked astounded (animals are rarely treated like pets here, so she shouldn't have been too shocked). "Who did that... and why?!" she asked. We told here we didn't know. Now that we had her engaged in the story I thought it would be funny to wrap it up by telling her we'd named the cat Zazu, which means plastic bag, but as I heard myself saying it I realized that instead of saying "mush," or cat, I'd been saying "mus," which means knife. No wonder she was horrified--I'd told her someone threw a knife in a bag at Lily's house. Par for the course, as far as my Hassaniya's been going lately! The day before I was at the market and spotted some of the season's last melons. Knowing I'll soon be missing fruit I decided to test their ripeness in the usual way. By the third melon I looked up to realize I was actually being very unusual. "Allo?" said the vendor, indicating that I was playing telephone with her produce. We laughed. I thought I should explain my behavior, but I think what came out just made it worse: "I--I heard... sugar. This is delicious?"

I pledge here and now to never make fun of a foreigner's English in America. I will only laugh with them, and remember when I was in their place.