Same same but different...
January 24th 2010 19:06
I am siting in a small town Egyptian Café watching the football with the men. I don’t feel scared at all as I am accepted in this town having Moustafa at my side. There is a small television with two huge speakers blaring out the football. African teams I don’t know of are battling it out sweating profusely in their shirts. The man across from me orders a Turkish coffee that comes in a small jug and the waiter pours it for him. Steam stirs above it. I get a sprite and sip slowly letting the bubbles settle.
The pray call sounds from the nearby speaker and the TV’s sound is turned down. Nobody goes to pray they just turn the sound down while the eyes or bodies do not turn away from the screen. It sometimes seems to be just like bells of a church sounding the time of day and slowly nobody even recognises the sound.
There are passing tourists. I can see Australians a mile away with their clothing and thongs and twangy voices. It just makes me think of soccer matches in the RSL eating schnitzel and having a schooner. As much as I detested it at times it’s the strangest things that you miss when you can’t have them. It’s the atmosphere of Australia that fills my memories, and no place can match up to this. It’s the days on the beach, driving home in my bikini to eat some mangoes and lay in the sun some more. Running around the block, or going for a walk with friends. You don’t even know you’ve walked so far as your talking so much.
A man pulls out his chair and goes to sit as it falls backwards. Even though they are speaking a different language I can understand what they say, or what they mean. There may just be a global language that uses hands, motions and commonalities. Maybe I’m not so far away from my people after all.
The pray call sounds from the nearby speaker and the TV’s sound is turned down. Nobody goes to pray they just turn the sound down while the eyes or bodies do not turn away from the screen. It sometimes seems to be just like bells of a church sounding the time of day and slowly nobody even recognises the sound.
There are passing tourists. I can see Australians a mile away with their clothing and thongs and twangy voices. It just makes me think of soccer matches in the RSL eating schnitzel and having a schooner. As much as I detested it at times it’s the strangest things that you miss when you can’t have them. It’s the atmosphere of Australia that fills my memories, and no place can match up to this. It’s the days on the beach, driving home in my bikini to eat some mangoes and lay in the sun some more. Running around the block, or going for a walk with friends. You don’t even know you’ve walked so far as your talking so much.
A man pulls out his chair and goes to sit as it falls backwards. Even though they are speaking a different language I can understand what they say, or what they mean. There may just be a global language that uses hands, motions and commonalities. Maybe I’m not so far away from my people after all.
| 63 |
| Vote |
subscribe to this blog
