|An Exorcist for dinner
||[Sep. 14th, 2006|01:30 pm]
I am not sure if I wrote following my recent on schedule meltdown...
I will start in the middle....it was the donkey's fault. I only said "be careful when you get out of the car, there's a car coming."
"No, it's a donkey."
Meaningless. Trivial. Just two long robed men-like a million others-on a donkey cart.
I started crying and couldn't stop. Now, it is obviously better to be run over by a donkey cart then a car. Gratitude eluded me. All I saw was the completion of a regular chaotic traffic ride, full of curses, honks-the honking here is done in signals like morse code-a certain series means "fuck you"...etc...etc...being a mere undriving female, I have not learned the code. The buses with passengers hanging out of doors, the complete families on one motorcycle, women sidesaddle, babe in arms, another kid in the front...and then, of course, the donkeys.
Suddenly, I realized, THIS is IT. Enough. The military police are everywhere, with bomb dogs, barriers, automatics which they really do rest barrel up on their crotches...what the fuck? Then I noticed that the amount of nose-picking (please indulge me here) was just too much to bear. It is just too much. It was the straw that broke the really-for-real camel's back.
So, Please answer me.
Is this a reaction to:
The recent village exorist?
My mother-in-law standing on the desert road having a temper tantrum, after a violent screaming fight with her brother...I am staring at the tops of the big ships behind the sand mountains by the suez canal...my nijab-face covered Moroccan "aunt-in-law" running down the highway, trying to grab my mother-in-law who is cursing on Friday in front of the mosque..hailing taxi's-which the menfolk slam the doors of..while she has her fit and finally takes off for another village....after barring her family from her funeral...
Or, was it the hole in my tooth, and the dentist located off a dirt road...I left and self-prescribed antibiotics....
then, the pharmacist-I thought I might need hormones-or something-sends a syringe and estrogen, so I call another pharmacist who says women should take something akin to thorazine during their "time" (Islamically women can not be lawyers or judges due to their hormonal phases) and then he turns out to be a veterinarian. Which runs full circle to the donkey.
Now, my favorite exorcist has been invited to "clean" the house of evil spirits.
WHAT DO I MAKE THE EXORCIST FOR DINNER?
I mean it. He is invited from his village compound to get the Jinn out of the flat.
I swear this is real and I have photographs and I will get him on tape. However, I do not think it is reasonable to have to have this man for dinner and tea. Are the children supposed to witness this? Do I want him to know where I live? If I do not comply, the family tribal unit-for they really are a tribe in the oldest sense of the word-will think I am still possessed by the demons and Jinn.
A moral question, for anyone who has read thus far, do I cover myself head to toe, and politely offer this 14 century man tea, as if it were normal? Or do I rage with the rage that is now consuming me for covering my head, saying yes from fear and cowardliness, and basically refuse to participate in this ongoing charade?
What would you do? I will download the pictures of the compound as able-
OK. I will need deprogramming upon my return to the real world. Or at very least, an Oprah makeover. Sometimes, it just all sucks donkey dong.
Does anyone have a backporch with a rosegarden??????????????????