Eliciting the dreams of an Afghan refugee

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His name is Mustafa and he’s turning 30 soon, well I didn’t wonder how old is he neither when I was checking-in three days ago at this not-so-bad hostel that in order to spot you have to ask foreigners not locals as it’s in the backpackers street of Penang ….. a lovely city where the buildings could tell how magnificent was it for Chinese old people to build a Fangzi here but the history narrates how proudly Sir Francis Light walked down this ground. Chulia street -Penang- Malaysia- Planet Earth-  3rd to the sun in the Solar System- The milky way. Mustafa  who didn’t know what’s the milky way – without an education and with his English that he practise everyday with both his guests and colleagues – would think that in a city in Europe where the wonders happen there’s a way that is milky. He was there standing as an owl hunting fat rats …. us the backpackers 🙂 he was the host – he  said it with pride but he lied.

Me – Hello ! tired of being stuck like a sardine in this Van for nearly 4 hours.

Mustafa  – Hello ! Welcome ! Passport or identity card please

Me – I’m not a rapist but yeah here is it.

Mustafa – One dorm one night 25 ( Malaysian) Ring-ing-gits

Not the guy to haggle with over the price, I paid and got my locker’s key and went upstairs

Mustafa – Have dorm, have a fan, toilet, hot water, A-C no ! ( it was as fast as Eminem singing the last verse of Mockingbird )

Me – Vego Vego Vego Vego.

I got the keys and thanked him Malaysia is hot and the only reason I know is that this part of Asia is hot and humid and because you can’t wander topless because you simply can’t. I didn’t take a shower I just went on a bike tour. A pedal bike that won’t cost more than 3$ a day.

I did almost all the touristic attractions. I fell in love with the city and all I wanted was to go back to the hostel and write about what I’ve found.

At the entrance were Mustafa and his fellows an Indian young boy and a Malay man around the big table and a white lady boy talking to a Chileno and a Chilena young lady. Took the shower, I dressed in my Lungi and went back and went out to write. As there were 6 chairs and 6 people + me. The Malay guy gave me his and said he’s going to shop from the grocery.

Mustafa: Penang good ?

Me: It is

I thought of Sir Francis Light and his cruises. I thought of mom, the old man whom I met at the restaurant and haggled with over the price of the hippie outfit. I felt guilty doing so because couple of months ago I was tipping in fancy restaurants. The pen broke so I turned back to him.

Me: Tell me about the war. Mustafa is your name right ?

Mustafa: The war is hard. You people travel.. you think it’s hard life. No try the war !!

Me: So true !

Mustafa: My father, mother, brother died in the war in Afghanistan. I’m from Ghazni … Hein … dangerous city .. be careful !

Me: I’m sorry

Mustafa: Oh it’s okay ! You are Arab …. right??

Me: No.. I’m a Berber .. Be careful

Mustafa: Sorry, I don’t like Arabs.

Me: You’re a good man Mustafa but why don’t you ?

Mustafa: I am refugee Ok?

Me: Okay

Mustafa: I came here to work and live peace but in this job you don’t want to have Arabs.

Me: I heard they tip well….. They spend too much money

Mustafa: Ah the money. They steal money. Ask me I know … Algeria, Morocco, Libya No, Egypsha Oh My God !!!

Me: I lived in some of these places Mustafa and I know there are both the good and bad people.

Mustafa: You are Muslim right?

Me: Yes Alhamdoulillah

Mustafa: Sex is haram right ? ( smiling )

Me: Hmmmmm Depends ( smiling )

Mustafa: Theft is haram too. Why Arabs steal ?

For a moment I thought of explaining to him that Arabs can be Christians, jews and irreligious but I assumed such a talk would ruin the night. So I nodded.

His Indian friend: Remember the Egyptian who stole the laptop. His name ?

Mustafa: Hahahaha yes the Egypshen !

Me: hahahaha Egyptian ( being dumb )

Mustafa: Anywayzzzzzz

Me: Mustafa, what if your wife asks you to go live in Ghazni. Will you go for it ?

Mustafa:Wife don’t know maaaaAaaaan ! ( His friend laughed ) My wife don’t ask questions. My wife answer……… Be careful !

Me: I’m seriously trying to be careful actually.

Mustafa: now girls are stupid… facebook, telephone love love love and in life.. real life no love.

Me: This is the sound of wisdom !!

Mustafa: Hein ?

Me: What’s your dream….. Mustafa ?

Mustafa turned back to his friend who was inches behind him and said something in a language they both know but I don’t. Something that I translated into: This is a silly boy and I deemed the post-comment grin an indecent suspicion.

Mustafa: Good house, Good country, Good job, Children. ( He lowered his voice as he noticed the guys at the other table stared.

Me: Hmmmmm you’re not demanding. Find one of the foreigners who come over and marry her.

Mustafa: hahahahaha hostel maaAaan ( Whispering ) budget people here and when they know  I’m Afghani, they freak out.

Me: Afghanistan is a good country. You guys have Cannabis and nature.I would marry an Afghan woman if you find me one…….  well I’m a Berber you know ….. Be careful !!

Mustafa: Afghani women good, they pray, they fast. Afghan woman you are  lucky !

Me: I just want to be happy. The passport doesn’t matter.

Mustafa: The problems Afghani women don’t have dreams. I want a woman with dreams and professional.

Me:Professional !?!

Mustafa: Travellers know life. Afghani women for example no.

Me: Yes….. true ! (serious )

Mustafa: Ok ! I have to go… night shift is long.

Me: So no dreams for you tonight

Mustafa: Peace and Love

I thought what answer was that. but as I remember the way he smiled when he said it. I thought of all the neo-hippies who use these words to use people.

Mustafa is still there….. He added me on Facebook and sent me a message in which he wrote on Sunday 7:07pm:

– Hello bro how are you
-You can call me ***** cuz my name is *****, so in Facebook cuz some people disturb me I changed my name.

Instead of writing back I thought of writing about him…… The poor 😦

AT THE CAFE – explicit content

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Settings :

Where: A tiny coffee shop not far from my pad

When: Four hours ago ( 22:00 Bangkok time )

Characters:

Me : unable to get couple of things done at home so I headed to a cafe.

The waiter: a thirtish guy with badly dyed-blond hair who poked his wife as I get into the coffee shop.

His wife: A fat cat that seem to be as useless as a bad quote.

————————————————————————————————

Me- Sawadee ….. an Espresso please !

Waiter- Something that should mean I don’t understand

Me- Cafe / Italia / Roma / Milano / Cafe / Cafe

Waiter- Ahh Ok  Ok Ok 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

His Wife- Hahahahahah laughing like an ugly geisha.

Waiter- Where you come from ?

Me- Heiiiiiin ?

Waiter- What’s your name ?

Me- Aw yeah ! My name’s Gulliver and I’m from Brodbingnag

Waiter- Nice to meet you

Me- Are you sure ( I whispered ) faking a smile

5 MINUTES LATER 

Me- Internet WI-FI password

Waiter- GOD + his phone number

Me- That’s a good name for a network !! What’s your name ?

Waiter- Game

Me- Smile, the coffee was good

Waiter- Lady? ( In other words: I can find you a sexy girl ) nudging his wife’s elbow

Me- Thank you, I’m married ( I lied ) showing him the ring I wear in my indecent finger.

Waiter- Ok Ok Ok … Thai lady you ? ( He wanted to know is my girl-friend Thai)

Me-  No. She’s from Wonderland and her name is Alice and she’s way better than the shit you have.

His wife- Hmmmmm and she said something in their language that must be too funny that he could neither hold back the laugh nor hide his filthy teeth.

(( Bored, Tired of his frequent questions, his bitch’s stares and pissed as I couldn’t start what I came for ))

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER

Me- Does this cunt play dominoes ?

Waiter- Heiiin ? ( He didn’t understand )

Me- I believe jerking off is way better than having such a company.

Waiter- English No No No

Me- Ok Ok Ok. If you have a dollar and you have to give it away. Will you give it to the hungry kid, the homeless man or to the woman in the wheelchair ?

Waiter- The midget is getting nervous as he started fast-talking.

His wife- went out for a cigarette.

Me- (Mumbling La dance de Zorba in a provoking croon as I was getting ready to pay and leave )…… You know if I were you I’d give half a dollar to the woman in the wheelchair, half a dollar to the hungry kid and gift your nasty wife to the homeless fella.

Waiter- Thank you …. Good night

Me- Good night ……. nudging him the way he poked his wife as I came in.

I will — On sufism

sufism

I decided that tomorrow

I will be strong

I will truly feel it

And by the will of the avenger

My ego will smolder

I won’t fed, I won’t tire

I’m no longer the old me

That I’ve quit

So in the lake of must

I will fancy falling

And along the road of hardship

I will be tracing joy

At the peak of Moksha

I will both dazzle and enlighten

And I will call you

Dear lord

And I will thank you

As l grow radiant more and more

I will smile, I’ll be shining

I will be the core

A very short ‘n’ silly double-plotted story by the dean of silliness.

He loved her for being easily satisfied, for being awesome, caring, tender, real ……. for being unrivaled. But as the time passed by this non demanding character turned into a burden that he shoulders every night when they visit their secret garden and every morning when she plays ” buy me a rose – Kenny Rogers”. So he decided to travel to make cash … to make her “happy” .

It was a foggy Sunday when she was crying next door begging him to stay, promising tomorrow is going to be bright and re-suggesting for the thousandth time that she gets a job to help. None of these did. He gripped the old suitcase that used to be his son’s cradle as he was turning to leave when his kiddie shouted ” Dad, I can deal with a poor, luxury-free childhood but I will never handle a fatherless past. He ran to his kid, hugged him tight, cried behind his back as a father is a hero and a hero doesn’t shed tears, sniffed him desiring the sacred smell of home……….. The couple made love and the kid slept happily. A happiness that started fading from the very next day as whenever things went wrong, she – whom he loved and still – reminds him that he was ready and willing to leave them ……. And he finally did as the freight gets heavier and heavier …. too much on the lil pony.

HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

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Drunk and still thinking of you

Too lonely to go sin

But though dump, deaf and blind

I can see and hear you saying

I’ve spent your age ferreting

Please don’t …….. Go !!

Now as I spot you 

I remembered the prayers during the nights 

Naked… weak…. stoned

To the might, the all-knowing

To your God 

That I revenge …

That I stop you

I hated myself … I hate you

I hate The fact

That we became one

That I’m soothed… I live in you

Exhausted but willing to run

To race the cheetah and cheat

To even murder … to culprit

To wrongdo

Just to lay next to you

Now, here

And as I fake a smile

And as I’m hiding the tears

I wish these letters

When merged, squeezed, thrown and brewed

My lay way

Then lost and found in a mess

In a shy stack of hay

Could tell how much I love you

                                          ***Knitted, muffled and mailed to the Syreni of the North Atlantic.

A quick chat with a King

street-vendor-young-child

We all have that little ” Hasan, Luigi, Tom, Julien, Miguel, Hongqi …..etc” in our neighborhoods. I’m talking about that kid who occupies the corner you may stop by for a couple of seconds to tie your shoelaces during your daily outing. He would sit for hours trying all the marketing tips he’s learned over the time at ” the University of Seasons and Seasons on the ground ”  to sell you  chewing gums,a nail clipper, a keychain or just a pack of tissues that could give the vividest denotation of heat, cold, loneliness, war, peace and fear, that was and still the most willing accomplice when sinning and the most placating solace when bewailing. A pack of tissues that comprehends that none of the mentioned tips could make this long-awaited detachment from his “Roi ” as soon as begging would.

The king supplicated !!!!!

In a planet where a porn star has millions of fans on social media and tons of food are wasted rather than donated ……. A real king is likely to beg. Actually he’s good at it, he even considers it a life-skill which endures just like riding a bicycle or pitching a tent appropriately and as there was a need for a first time to gain this skill, I was wondering when was the King’s premiere and here was the answer.

I begged him once to have a bite

Of his sandwich

 I begged her mom so we hang out 

She was a bitch

I begged their sister for love the sacred 

I was mortified…. I developed hatred

He knew I was amazed by the way he speaks.

He knew I underestimated him.

He knew I thought he’s unlettered.. so he added.

I am the King and I’m lucky

The best poet is a friend

And he enlightened me

The victims of genius are clients

And they taught me

It’s by the painter and his beloved

I was worshiped 

And by the monk and his God 

I was venerated

It was a struggle, a hardship I should admit

A fight to which I was challenged

But with Neptune and Uranus 

I was blessed

As when a cop scolded

There was a hippie to cheer up

And when an ugly disgusted

There was a cute to joy me up

I didn’t say Adios as I went. The king is easy to find

I just winked, smiled, hand-slauted him and wished I could be a king for a while

 

Don’t cry

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Don’t cry 

You will be both fine and happy 

And by the end of the ugly tomorrow 

You will meet him

The right …. the one ….. the perfect

And don’t fret

He will clear them 

The ashes of my memory 

The pain of my loss

And the sourness of the sorrow

And don’t sap …

Don’t tire …

And don’t surrender !

He is right there

To glue that part of you

That has to be fixed

To recraft what used to be abused

What I once called mine

The silly pre-cruise thoughts by the dean of silliness :)

” Se Paciente  !!!!!

This is what I’ve been telling to my little tetchy self as I was getting ready for another cruise … a further and a more protracted one this time but helas ! all of the tips that used to calm me down are no longer fruitful and none of the benefits of being “home” managed to take the feelings, facts and images of travelling off of my eyes. I who decided and is pleased to make a life out of saying Hi and goodbye. It’s been quiet a long time since the last fine I got for those stolen puffs in the plane’s lavatory. I missed those butterflies in the stomach and the rush, the run to the airport with that fiendish voice in the head ” it’s late already” then realizing you’re maybe the first comer so you go to the people, elicit their stories, crack jokes and even squabble over everything and nothing in an imprudent escape from “time”.

The time that though I always had to brawl with for unspecified reasons before having a pact which was always broken in two shakes of a lamb’s tail I’m proud to admit its necessity, its great influence on my life and would even thank for the way it shaped me like nothing else did. Now I’m having a strange, silly but strong belief that time is the best enemy one can have in his life for a simple reason that may not be so justifiable.

An enemy can’t be temporary. It has to be perpetual and equally powerful so the combat would last as long as possible…. a lifetime and must come to an end under a sole condition which is the disappearance of both adversaries because confronting, winning a fight with someone/ something then being sure of his/ its vanishing and the impossibility of having one more round would rather generate sadness, sorrow and dejection than giving me elation which is the result of getting engaged in a conflict with any of the other so-called “enemies” ranging from governments, diseases, financial hardships to narrow-minded people, a dangerous stray dog and even theories of racism.

ON SUFISM ————- feeling thankful

sufi festival calligraphy art 

OH ALLAH !!!!!

I’M HEALED

I NO LONGER WORRY

I WON’T AGONIZE

I’VE SEEN THE BEAUTY

THE KARMA HIT ME

THE BIRDY WINKED 

I’M REVOLVING 

I FORGOT HOW TO HATE 

I’M FINALLY WISE 

— I once have wished —

I once have wished 

There was a planet 

where I plus you equals you

 

I once have wished 

That at night as in the morning 

the sun shone

So I can surf those wrinkles 

Slide along your lips 

Drift, bounce, fall and shift 

And proudly announce

I located beauty 

I once have wished 

I could chaperone you

So I voetsak

Out of the land of Right

And shoo the guilt away

 

I once have wished 

Death was a party 

And Azrael was a welcomed advena

So I recommend his comradeship 

So I smile as we parted