Just a little poem I came up with, inspired by personal experience (: Enjoy!

Rawna's Sister

Another good-humored gathering

of loud, crazy, happy Arabs

who clap when they laugh

and love to hear themselves talk,

their voices rich with the idea

that other crazy Arabs are listening.

Christmas this time, maybe

just another excuse to get together.

"Look at how big you are!"

"Last time I say you, you were

this big!" Gesturing the size of

a grain of rice.

Clicks of the tongue, eccentric

hand gestures, everything one

might expect from a stereotypical

Arab. We partyers, we drinkers,

we smokers (hookah of course),

we dancers, we melosmatic singers.

One lady, whose name I

can't quite remember,

pinched my cheeks, chirped my

name, said, "Do you remember me?"

Truthfully, I didn't. But to spare

her sensitive Arab feelings, I said,

"Of course."

The next was inevitable:

"Good! Who am I?"

All eyes on me. Testing my

knowledge of my proud and

pure Arab community. The

heat of the intense pressure.

My lips, dry and trembling, opened.

"...Rawna's mother...?

While laughter, bright and extravagant

and accompanied by the infamous

Arab clap, erupted, her face fell.

Of course...

I'd been wrong. But was still smiling

my own big, young Arab smile.

"I'm Rawna's sister."