Following my “Thugs Intimidate Women Driver” post here’s another story
Yesterday 9:49am Tuning into my feeling of ‘fear’. A slight shake of the hands. Heart-rate a tad above normal. A slight knot in the chest. Mind slightly busy – what do I say?- What do I do?
I just ignore it, it’s just another Egyptian chancing his arm, looking to intimidate a few 1,000 LE’s out of a scared little foreign wife. – Only that I’m not, only that I’m not that scared at all. My mirror tapped off his black SUV, parked in our narrow street, as I snailed past. He lowered his window and started to shout, I stopped and stared, our eyes never meeting through the dark of our sunglasses. He kept shouting, waving thermos mug in hand, stripy golf shirt, acne scarred face, jowls jiggling. Checking my mirror which needed adjusting, closing it in and extending back out, before I can plainly see. I’m clear of his wagon by at least two inches. A very good distance for this part of the road. Still, not enough room for the chancer to get out of the car.
Slowly I pass, thinking that is his anger, wondering how well it is fuelled. Mahmoud stands watching, a top of our ramp, I wave and nod before I descend. Slowly I park, embark and ascend our stairs, giving him plenty of time to catch me up if he wants. Nobody’s coming, I close my front door and get ready for the days chores.
Firing up the laptop I glance out the window catching a glimpse of his stripy shirt passing by. Maybe he’s found a slight mark on the car after all. When the bell rings I know I won’t open, I’m though but not stupid, I’ve seen his anger – I need see no more. I’m not up for a doorstep challenge, home alone without any anger, just knowing a few dollars is all that he wants.
Surprised though I am that Mahmoud lead him straight to my door. Clarity rises again in this land, you might be protecting me, but not from your own. The bell rings again – my fingers stays tapping the keyboard – on my own in a foreign land.
Safe and steady. Intimidation, catch me if you can. I’m weary but fear is my friend.
Many hours later, when Shane comes home I tell him my tale. Just as I’ve finished he’s out of the door. ‘You do not bring strangers to my wife’s door!’ His statement to Mahmoud is meet with a; ‘but he lives here.’ ‘What?’ asks Shane ‘the driver lives here?’ ‘No’ says Mahmoud ‘the owner do.’ ‘Well, then don’t bring strangers to my wife’s door.’
We know what they’re up to, they’ll split the ‘winnings’ leaving the owner none the wiser.
And would you believe it, this morning again, Mahmoud shuffles up to our shed. We’re getting on our bikes for the ride up to school.
Good morning Mahmoud – Sabah elKyr
‘Sabah elnour – the driver, – he lives here.’
No, Mahmoud, the owners do. If there where any damage, which I certainly doubt, I’ll be happy to hear directly from them. There’s insurance to sort this stuff out. I don’t deal with drivers or angry Egyptians, so don’t bring strangers to my door.
Love & Light
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