Nescafe, TV, and shari3 il Khala

There really aren't any things like these At Tour nights.

It's a rule that neither Ahmed or I can go to sleep before 1 a.m., even when he has an imti7an several hours later. Tonight is his turn to make the Nescafe. After all, I've made it the past two nights for him (opting for lighter faux organic Chai that I brought with me for myself--I dunk the kershela regardless of the beverage).

These nights have become legendary to nonparticipants. I fill them in about the various conversations that Ahmed and I have--most often, about the perils of 16-year-olds' player-dom and heartbreak along the pot-holed pass of shari3 il Khala and those streets that branch off and toward it. "Low b tihtem fl mudrasa zay ma b tihtem fl banat, kan kont alif alif ya la3eeb," I tell him.

Break: Ahmed is telling me about the latest developments with his ex-soon-to-be-girlfriend-again. He's all smiles.

He is sitting on the long couch by the door, remote in hand, Nescafe by side, focused on the Egyptian film on TV.

Break: "Reem, shoofee, shoofee..." Ahmed is recapping this film for me. He likes to do that. I learn about the background story, present story, and rest of the story before I see the next scene.

I am sitting on the head of the single-seat couch. My back is against the open window, my left side inside the house, my right side outside. This is how I capture my nightly view of shari3 il Khala and of the only-seen-here scene of At Tour lit up and asleep at the same time: farthest lights, 3amman; closer, il jidar, closest, the dow that spills out from under il karmeed that covers dukan 3afif (formerly Sitti's store). 3afif is smoking argeelah, and likely watching and hearing the same cars and people pass as I am. This is what al Towara choose to look at--each other--even while the whole of the Holy Land rests madwee and serene before them. If it wasn't 3ayb in these parts, I likely would join 3afif downstairs. I guess I really am one of them.

Break: I hear yelling. Ahmed sees the look on my face, and yells, "tosha??" while running to the window to confirm. "La, La..bes wa7d b sayi7."

Towash is the second most popular topic of Ahmed's and my conversations. I have been here eight days now and have yet to witness one. That's a good thing for the relationships of the people of shari3 il Khala but not for the entertainment of their guests.

Break: The Nescafe needs its kershela. I grab one with simsim; Sitti likes the plain ones.

I won't be taking a box of kershela with me when I leave. It doesn't belong in the Virginia experience. It wouldn't taste the same. Kershela and I only have a connection here, fee dar Sitti, on these couches, with these hot drinks, in front of these films, and above this shari3.

Break: Ahmed is telling about the jundee that was yelling, "ya wlad il 7ameer, low zaqatkom bes...." chasing after Touree kids accused of throwing rocks at a bus full of siknaj. Ahmed ran and hid 3nd Abu Khalil eventhough he had not thrown a rock. He had been sitting with his friend, checking out the girls, when the action started.

No, there really aren't any things like these At Tour nights. I have about 17 more before I leave. I miss them already.