and he has a speech impediment. Now that I kind of understand Arabic, I pick up on the Amewickas and Hawiwis and mashwuas and ashweein and I just can’t help but to laugh. How can people take him seriously? This is the big, bad terrorist the world is scared of? His fuzzy cheeks are so cute.
It’s so funny. Why doesn’t everyone else laugh, too?
But no, they’re always so serious when they watch him on TV. Of course, today, there was no electricity at 4 when Hassan Nasralla started his speech, so mom and the sisters had to listen to the radio. Apparently, only the boys know how to turn on the generator. I’m not going to go near that thing, and stink my hands up of benzene.
I was scheduled to tutor at 4. Knowing that the speech was starting at 4, I still didn’t finish my other work and leave before hand. So when all the AK-47s and RPGs and whatever else started, I was putting on my shoes. My tutee called, “I don’t think you should come. The shooting is really loud over here. It’s bad where you’re at, too, right?”
Barely able to hear him with all the racket outside, I told him I’d leave in about ten minutes. It might have been 15 minutes once it all died down. Joe later drive me there. And I just couldn’t believe it—the streets were empty!!! It was 5 in the afternoon, and there was NO ONE in the Dahiye. I took a picture! Everyone was stuck to his/her TVs/radios. All you could hear was the Sayyed talking.
I took some video—so you will eventually hear all the racket and see the black pillars of smoke and then myself filming from my balcony. But I didn’t really go out on the balcony. I was still inside. I am scared of those falling bullets.
On the way home, after the speech and all the accompanying artillery-fire-racket, I noticed the people with the 4-5 packs of bread in their hand, and the bakeries filled with people. It’s like they were running to get bread!!!
We called home, and they told us to pick up bread. Geez. There is at least five huge packs of bread that mom brought back from the village about five days ago. She makes it herself, on the communal tannour oven in the middle of the village. She says she’s one of the very few people who uses it these days. Her children don’t like it so much; they prefer “furn,” from the bakery, though mom’s is a million, billion times better.
Everyone’s stocking up.
2 comments:
It's horrible to hear that fighting has flared up again. For those of us who are trying to follow what's going on in Lebanon, but who don't know much about it, it might be helpful to be told who that Sayyed Hassan guy is (although now I have a clear picture of him in my head... Wicket... though Wicket proved menacing).
HAHAHA he does look like an Ewok!
Post a Comment