When Being Right Is Wrong

Work Deadlines + PMS + Traffic from hell + Running Late =

Driving down Gameat El Dowal St. batkhanek m3a deban weshy (fighting wiz ze flies of my face)- there's no way to translate that except basically picking fights with anything that comes my way.

It seemed that all the morons in the country were in Gameat El Dowal that day driving or crossing the street and in my way. If my temper that day could take form, I would've looked something like Cruella DeVille with Don King hair.

I finally made it to the right turn after getting through what seemed to be an eternity and from 6th of October City to Mohandessin, when just when I was about to take the turn, Mr. Hyundai in front of me decides to stop. No flasher, no signal, no wave, nothing.

I wait for about a second, maybe he's dropping someone off. No one gets out. I honk my horn. Maybe he'll wave in apology and someone will get in. No one gets in.

Smoke was coming out of my ears long before I reached this turn, so, I hold my horn down in rage. He's holding the whole lane up.

Nothing.

I bypass him and find a zabet (police officer with the mental capacity of a humming bird) about a meter ahead. I really want the guy to get a ticket. I stop to complain.

Me: "Law sama7t, yaani yenf3a 7ad yewakaf el shar3a kolo keda? (Excuse me, but is it OK for someone to just hold the whole street up?"

Peanut Brain Police Officer: "la tab3an ya fandem. ma yenf3ash khales. (Of course not, not at all.)"

Me (gloating the way tattletales in KG do): "Mesh mafrood yet3akeb da?" (Shouldn't he be penalized or something? )

Him: "Ah tab3an ya fandem, bas el lewa mestany 7ad. hayerkab we yemshy 3la tool. (Of course he should. But the General is waiting for someone; once he gets in, he'll leave.)"

Ahh.. the land of kosa (big-shot gets his way, even if it means stepping all over everyone else). How could I forget?

At this point, I shake off the impulse to remake Michael Douglas's movie Falling Down and take things into my own hands. I hold my breath, nod and drive off.

I guess we'll see who screwed who at my next license renewal when I have to pay off my next lot of tickets.

...and my Mommy told me it serves me right! :(

An Artist's Inspiration

These pieces were displayed in Sequoia.



Hey, I didn't say anything. Get your mind out of the gutter!
El artist t3aban (or t3abana) awi.

Silence Is Golden

I’m never going to a 3za again. (A 3za is the Egyptian traditional funeral where friends and family come to pay condolences to their immediate family).

What happens is I go dressed in black, say “El baqa’a lellah” (Eternity is for God- it basically means that nothing is eternal, except for God, and that is our destiny).

At these things, usually people start chatting with each other and you always end up finding out that you know the person’s relatives or friends or friends of friends.

You end up exchanging stories of things you may have in common and how you all know each other. Eventually when it comes time for me to leave, I want to tell the people I have newly met that it was nice to meet them. You can’t always say it in English; sometimes people think you’re being cocky. So I blurt out, without thinking too much of the meaning-, “forsa sa3eeda”.

This is the second time I have gone to a 3za and left saying, “Forsa sa3eeda.”!!!! (It literally means “This was a good opportunity to meet you.”) I can never think of something that comes out smoothly meaning plain “Nice meeting you.”

Then I hear myself say it and want to shoot myself.

It’s basically like saying, “It’s a good thing he died because we got a chance to meet.” Please someone shoot me. That’s not even mentioning WHO I said it to.

I should walk around with a manual of situations and what you’re “supposed” to say in them.