Lesson 1—“Stress”
“What’s the meaning, haboob,
in English?”
“Haboob?
‘Dust storm.’”
“This ‘dust storm’ on your face
for two month.”
“Oh, you mean
‘pimple.’ “Haboob
can also mean ‘pimple.’”
“This ‘bimbel’ in your face
for two month.”
“This ‘pimple’ has been
on my face for two months—
I know. It’s stress.”
“Yani eh, ‘stress?’”
“‘Stress,’ like when you’re scared
for no good reason.”
“No, no ‘stress.’
From the wedding party—
guests give you hasad.”
“The evil eye?!”
“Ah walahi!
Because you beautiful.
We have people this way in Egypt.
Guests also give you ‘chress.’”
“No, it’s ‘stress.’”
“What’s the meaning,
‘stress’? Khaifa men eh?”
“I’m not scared of anything,
really, just of bad carbs
and the imminent rebellion
of those tiny dogs
that women tote in their handbags.”
“Nermeen doesn’t make a baby.
She angry with her husband.”
“They’ve only been married
for two months!”
“Yani eh?”
“Yani, they need
more time.”
“Why?”
“Stress.”
“‘Stress?’”
“‘Stress.”’
Lesson 2—“Mayonnaise”
“The girl in the taqueria is understanding
Arabic.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“I say ‘pescado burrito’ in Arabic
and I get pescado burrito.”
“What’s ‘pescado burrito’ in Arabic?”
“‘Pescado burrito.’”
“And she understood that?”
“‘Kamen’ in Arabic is
‘tambien’ in Spanish.”
“That’s cool!”
“It is same, no, close—
what I say?
“It is ‘similar.’”
“It is ‘similar.’
Do you want some
‘pescado burrito?’”
“No thanks, I don’t eat mayonnaise.”
“What’s the meaning,
‘mayohnees?’”
“ ‘Mayonnaise’—that
oily white stuff.”
“Why? It is good!
Yani eh, ta’m?
“Flavor.”
“Good flavor,
‘mayohnees.’
Easy.”
“What do you mean, ‘easy?’”
“This ‘easy.’ Put it on
and make stuff better.”
Lesson 3—“Forbidden”
“Don’t tell your friends
that we find this in the street.”
“Why?”
“Because, it’s haram.”
“But I cleaned them!”
“Still, haram.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re coming from the street!”
“But I cleaned them!”
“You don’t listen:
haram.”
Lesson 4—“Forbidden”
“Gamal, you really should stop calling people
fat.”
“But they are fat.”
“But people don’t say so here.
It’s considered rude.”
“What’s the meaning,
‘rude?’”
“You know, I don’t remember.
Mish qwais.”
“Like haram?”
“Yes, exactly like haram.”
Lesson 5—“A little bit”
“Can you help me?”
“What you need?”
“I’m trying to translate this poem.
What’s this mean, nabiyeth?
“No, listen: nabithu.”
“Nabidu?”
“No, nabithu. It means like
‘a little bit.’”
“But the dictionary
says it means ‘wine.’”
“Yes, it does.”
“It means both?”
“Yes.”
“But the dictionary—”
“Look Kris,
this book is full
of paper.”
Lesson 6—“Meaning”
“I need something to give
the poem more meaning.”
“What’s the meaning,
‘meaning?’”
“You know what it means!”
“Yes, but I think it means
something different
to you.”
Lesson 7—“My love”
“Kris!”
“What?”
“I read your poem!”
“Really? Do you like it?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you understand it?”
“Only a little bit.”
“What part do you understand?”
“I told you not to tell your friends
that we found those things in the street.”
“I didn’t tell my friends.”
“You wrote a poem about it!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Listen—
‘Don’t tell your friends
that we find this in the street.’
It’s right here!”
“Habiby, that poem’s about us.”
Originally published by The Writing Disorder.