I’m checking my e-mail at an Internet café that’s part of a Filipina restaurant. Behind me, the owner is helping her 4th grade son with his English homework. In a shrill voice, she’s explaining the difference between singular and plural, while running back and forth to the kitchen as she’s preparing food. Her explanation and her own English grammar is somewhat lacking. I feel a slight pinge of guilt and an even slighter impulse to intervene, but I ignore it, while I continue checking my e-mail.
Her son is concentrating. He’s really trying to understand and get all the worksheet “problems” correct. The shrill voice doesn’t seem to bother him. This isn’t her normal voice. It’s her English-teaching voice. I find it shrill and grating; her son must be used to it.
At the table next to them, Palestinian husband/dad is smoking shisha with his three friends, joking loudly in Arabic. Instead of the regular hose, however, he’s using a bamboo stick. I’ve never seen anyone smoking arguile through bamboo.
People walk in and out, announcing themselves with a “Come sta?” or an ironic “Salaam wa lekom” which induces laughter.
Soon enough, the karaoke might start. It'll be hard to resist belting out my faves--"Me and Bobby McGee", "Ice, Ice Baby", "Baby got Back" if I'm feeling particularly obnoxious, or "Take a Look at Me Now" if I'm feeling particularly depressed. And since it's Filipina's, I can also choose from some Christian classics, like "Amazing Grace."
I’m grateful that no one’s asking me to help. They know “auntie” is an American who teaches English. They also know that “auntie” charges a lot of money for her services. So I’m left to the computer with all the normal mayhem behind me. The wall is a mirror, so I can just look up and check out the action. This is my new favorite spot.
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