Adventures Of Bee مغامرات النحلة الجبارة

As expected, the welcome lecture ;) of course...or the lecture welcome, rather...my mother just can't help it. On the other hand, her red lentils, fried kebbe balls, and makdous are divine...I'n not certain she made them all herself, not the Makdous for sure!

So, mom's car attempted to murder her...that sly metallic shine charcoal BMW X3 with an excellent sound system and a poise worthy of queens! Now I have to drive a lousy white -WHITE! -  320 i down to earth replacement (yes, a BMW too! - not really complaining, my favorite cars), as the queen's wounds are being mended in some dark, greasy undreground operation room...it tried to kill mom, but hurt herself in the process...mom, on the other hand survived the incident, unscathed. The mastermind behind this shrewd plot must've thought "naaaah, leave her be for now, she's plagued enough with other diseases".

Anyway, of course, I hit Gemmayze, along with Shadi, my everlasting welcome-committee, late night drinking companion, gossip/storyteller, who I love so much :) our wicked feet took us to Torino, something-ini (where we found the ex-Wolfpack trio working, got very green, very minty welcome shots), then ended it in Bulldog, where William's music was excellent. In the last two places, we were, as we often are, the last to leave :)) why change habits we  like, eh?

Now, Karima, mom's resident help for household chores, who ended up becoming a cook-companion-TV series recorder-family member, returned to her country, Bengladesh, after 6 years among us,  to marry. She found out that the man she had in mind got married 3 months earlier, so decided to become a career woman. She would teach new recruits for overseas maid jobs, mainly in Lebanon, some of  the language and requirements of the task. Therefore, mother asked her to pick her replacement, train her, and send her information in preparation to bring her here. It sounded like a good, smooth plan.

Thus came Rahima...from the remotest, most deprived corners of Bengladesh, I suspect. None of the tools, equipment, machinery of modern life , is even  conceivable  to her...Getting her to take the elevator to the third floor was  quite challenging, it seems. Electric appliances are hazardous tools in her hands, unfamiliar with handling them safely. Sign language is the only excruciating means of communication with her.

All in all, it'll be quite an amusing situation, to watch mom turn her into "my fair lady"...or that's what I thought...Mother is not famous for patience, nor endurance, except in high pitched screeming...so, there are 2 people, huuuge divides apart on any and all levels, attempting to communicate, interact, and failing miserably...mom'd ask for something in Arabic, Rahima would just plant her wide fearful inquisitive eyes at her face, her mind going definitely numb at the feverish gibberish shrieks  thrown at her. And mother will work herself into a rage for the trick Karima played on her, but take it out on Rahima...I spent this morning, in mom's absence, trying to show her things, repeat their Arabic name, so she would learn basic words used in her work...Daw, Shams, Bantalon, Mekweye, Nescafe, May...it was funny, but showed me the impossibility of any elment of this exasperating situation endind well.

Now that the Shams is closer to the horizon, I put on the Bantalon I ironed myself with the new Mekweye, and will take the white Sayyara to Hamra, lovely Hamra. Pit stops include Regusto, Dani's, Harout for generous refills of  my favorite juicy sweet.