Abu El Moursy …and the forbidden fruit

Watermelon

The Forbidden Fruit

He was as old as his fruit, enigmatic with uncanny smile and like most of villagers, a reluctant businessman. His desire to be left alone was much greater than his need run his business. You could safely say, he wasn’t from the enterprising village camp. Never seen in public, never seen walking in the street, going or praying at the Mosque. He miraculously avoided  weddings and funerals a weekly event in the small village of MeetSwaid. You never know if he was married divorced or has a family. In a place where everyone knows everyone else impossible to do, he was a mysterious figure. Abo Morsi was his name, known to most villagers as “el Fakahany” ,the fruit man.  He earns this name from running the village fruit store where men go and chat about women, and women went to shop for offseason fruits since Abu El Moursy  didn’t believe in expiration dates or fruit seasons, his fruit was always in a self destructive mood. And no matter how rotten they are, he never threw anything away,  Shopping at his store was not an adventure, you always know what is at his disposal regardless of the season, all of his fruit look the same;  over ripened,  dark and dried with sickly appeal, as the flies calmly resting  covering the wrinkled  skin.   The fragrance of the overly ripened fruit was intoxicating; eating his rotten grapes was the closest thing to drinking wine. If you see someone running out of his story with food, they aren’t shoplifting, they just want to get home before expiration date.
Villagers men visited his store under the cover of the dark, where they can have an adult conversation about women and sex, and enjoy the fermented forbidden fruit. He wasn’t judgmental, never argued with customers accept trades and credits, a fisherman bring fish for mango and a carpenter will fix his broken door for grapes. His store was always dark and you navigate yourself based on the fragrance of the fruit. As youngest we loved to hang around the store, watching women and listen to adult conversation. Abu Morsi store was our outlet to adolescent and adulthood, first sexual jokes and first imaginary kiss probable took place at hos store. In the hunting and gathering era, youngster need to go out and come home with first kill, at Abu Morsi era we reach our purity by getting back with first sexual joke or first kiss!

Watermelon

Ahmed Tharwat 1/18/2012

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Al Ambobah

Al Ambobah

As old as Egypt

Literally  means the Tube, it is a propane cooking tank that Egyptian have been using and abusing for years.. , they fight over it in the street, they throw it off trucks on the ground, they tab on it with wrenches to announce its delivery, they kick it, they role it, they sit on it when tired, they carry on their shoulders, they hug it when cold, Egyptian not afraid from it, , it is made in Egypt, abused by Egytians and the most useful device in all Egypt. Government use it to create crisis for crowd control, , politicians gets favors giving it away, … it is as old, dirty, durable, authentic, real,  and as patient as Egypt, never complains, never explode,  always abused,  Egyptains call it “Al Ambobah” … if you are visiting Egypt and see this kid rolling it,  don’t be afraid, just join the Ambobah… welcome to Egypt

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Love My Dog, Love Me

The great Arab-Muslim-American puppy story.
By Ahmed TharwatPosted Friday, Nov. 12, 2004, at 12:44 PM ET
Having a dog in an Arab/Muslim household is an exhausting proposition. Who wants to wash or take a shower every time a dog touches or licks you, as I was brought up to do back home in Egypt? In Islamic tradition, Muslims are prohibited from touching the saliva of dogs. If you do come in contact with a dog, you’re supposed to wash your hands seven times before you pray. Most Muslims will avoid dogs at all cost to stay clean for their daily prayers. There are a few closet Muslim dog lovers, but they tend to keep their dogs outdoors.
Still, after a long nagging from my daughter and a few Internet pictures of an angelic beagle puppy, I reluctantly agreed to let a dog into our home under a few conditions. The dog was to stay downstairs in what is now known in our house as the bunker, and my praying area would be designated a “no-fly” zone for the dog.
We brought home the 6-week-old, 3-pound beagle on a cold, crisp Saturday afternoon. We named him Oliver. A few days after he had arrived at our house, I had to take Oliver with me to the supermarket. I noticed something new was happening out there, something Arab-Americans have rarely experienced since Sept. 11. People on the street, in their cars, in the parking lot, and at the supermarket were giving me a new look—a friendly one. Strangers who used to skillfully avoid eye contact now wanted to engage me in warm conversation. Patriotic national hotline tippers, who are usually more concerned about Muslim sleeper cells, now stopped me and cordially inquired about my puppy’s sleeping habits, breed, and big black eyes. Families congregated around me with their children to see the cute puppy, and they talked to him as if he should know what they were talking about.
As a hyphenated-American, I discovered that owning a dog easily accomplished what many diversity training programs have failed to do for years. Regardless of our race, color, religion, or country of origin, we were one community of civilized dog lovers.
I now take Oliver everywhere I go. He is my post 9/11 homeland-security blanket. Arab-Americans: Get a puppy, now that you need a real friend.
Ahmed Tharwat produces and hosts the Arab/Muslim-American television show Belahdan in Minnesota’s Twin Cities.

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