Just a little poem I came up with, inspired by personal experience (: Enjoy!
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,
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.
While laughter, bright and extravagant
and accompanied by the infamous
Arab clap, erupted, her face fell.
I'd been wrong. But was still smiling
my own big, young Arab smile.
"I'm Rawna's sister."