I have no idea what to call this post and by the time you, my faithful follower/skeptic are reading it, I will have come up with something. It's been 6 months since I last visited these pages. It's a new year with a renewed presidency in the US, a resignation at the Vatican, and a silly holiday 2 days gone. I've had two sustained work breaks since I last updated the blog with my adventures in East Kenya. I thought I would have the time and wherewithal to update these pages at least while on holiday but Delhi and Cape Town did not present the circumstances and motivation to cull through the photos, disentangle the cobwebs of the experiences and observations in my mind.
Today's circumstances align with my superb capacity for procrastination....I have been invited to contribute an essay for a regional journal on the project I am working on and I've had one sheikha tell me "yes" and another "no." I want to write it, but first I'll update the blog accompanied by a plate of cookies, a steamy coffee and Al Jazeera English in the background. The graduate school formula in NYC was slightly different with a plate of Oreos, a liter of Coke and the yoga class schedule in front of me representing the enticements for sitting down and getting the work done and the requisite exercise to offset the caloric damage.
In August I returned from 3+ weeks away to the last days of the Eid Al-Fitr holiday and Farenheit temperatures above 100. I was expecting to return to a dead Jeep battery but instead I found a dead refrigerator whose contents should have been donated to science, a leaking water heater, a dead laptop and something else I don't recall. Re-entry is always hell with the jet lag, the heat and everything that decides to unceremoniously malfunction. I brought back some cowhide area rugs from Ikea and enjoyed getting my apartment spruced up after tackling the other stuff.
We returned to the office to learn that one of our colleagues had just given birth. I went to visit her in the hospital with a local woman who works for me and is a decade younger. We arrived at the hospital to be welcomed by her housemaid at the door to her two-bedroom private suite. Our colleague was out of her abaya and therefore behind a screen controlled by a remote clicker so that she cannot be seen from the hallway if the door unexpectedly opens. The housemaid clicked to roll back the screen and uttered a few words in Arabic beyond the adjacent door. Our colleague's mother came out to receive us with our colleague's two daughters dressed in the same outfit. Our colleague sat up in bed and pointed at her new son in the crib next to her. We sat down next to her and the hospitality show started.
The housemaid brought us several drinks and pastries each time on a tray starting with fresh strawberry juice. Then she returned with tea on a tray, then she came back with savory pastries. Next served was the coffee with sweets and then a tray of pastel blue-wrapped chocolates from the nicest chocolate shop in town as a parting gift. Throughout our chat with the mother, she would look over my shoulder and instruct the housemaid to bring the next round of drinks or snacks for us. I was shocked at her inordinate concern for our well-being when she had endured a Caesarean section within the last 24 hours. The younger local woman who works for me was always offered the drinks and pastries first by virtue of being a National dressed in an abaya. Towards the end of our visit, the mother's husband arrived. He was not expecting visitors and stepped back into the hallway until we left. I followed my colleague's cues and did not acknowledge him on the way out because she did not as he was dressed in a manner that indicated he is an orthodox Muslim and does not touch or speak to women who are not members of his family in social situations. We left the hospital and my colleague's driver was waiting with her Porsche Cayenne. I reminded my colleague that we had left some fresh fruit in the cooler of my Jeep and instead of following me to my parking space 50 yards away, she sent her housemaid who was in the waiting car with the driver. The whole scenario was riddled with irony and cultural nuance and reaffirmed my stance that I still find this experience mind-expanding and instructive.
Happy Year of the Snake. I think I'll treat myself to a handbag, the only purpose these vile creatures serve, in my view. Next up....photos and short tales of Delhi and Cape Town inspired by the next plate of cookies. Gym closes at 10pm.
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