Swarmed

I was minding my own business riding the debab home from language school. Everyone got out except me, and I prayed for safety. Being alone with a driver is a set up for something to happen.

Well, something did happen. A young school teacher spied the nearly-empty debab and decided to hire it for his class to take a field trip. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by what looked like 5th-8th grade boys in green school uniforms.

"Hello," they started out. "Welcome." This is normal. I smiled, enjoying them. Then, "My name is [whatever his name was]." My name is _____," I told them. Then the talkative one asked, "How old are you?" Apparently English class hasn't informed him that you don't ask a strange woman that question. No matter. "Old," I replied, as they giggled.

Then the teacher started talking to me from the front seat. "I hope you don't mind [that we are in the debab]," he told me.

"No problem," I assured him.

"Can you understand me?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, of course," I responded. His English was quite good. He was the English teacher, but that didn't guarantee that his English would be good.

"Do you have an e-mail address?" he asked me. In front of his whole class! The nerve!

"I don't give it out to people unless I know them well," I said with a smirk.

"It is hard to find people to practice English here," he excused himself. It's true, but I wasn't going to sign up to be his practice partner. Then the debab stopped, and he moved from the front seat to the back of the debab. "Can I sit next to you?" he asked. "I can't hear you up there."

"You can sit there and talk to me," I told him, motioning to the bench seat in front of me. Again, totally ayb (shameful) for him to sit next to me. I'd show his students some propriety if he wouldn't! He was probably testing my boundaries, assuming that I'm like the western women in the movies. Not quite.

"Are you coming with us?" someone wanted to know. They were going to play soccer at the park. No, I had to go home, I told them. It would have been fun to go, but not culturally appropriate.

We talked a bit more, and I came to my stopping place. "Have fun playing soccer," I told them, "Ma'a salaama." They waved, and I walked off, happy. So happy that I nearly forgot to give the bill in my hand to the debab driver. I retraced my steps and handed him the bill, with apologetic body language.

"Don't worry," the English teacher called out, "I will pay for you!" I'm sure he would have, but I didn't give him the chance.