Gone Fishin’

Gone to Japan. Back in three weeks…

TECHNOLOGY!

Last night I was chatting with my aunt when my grandma, over there on a visit together with a great-uncle of ours, happened to walk past. My aunt explained to her what she was doing and my gran, not too sure about all this computer stuff, asked her to say hi. I can do better than that, I thought, and showed my web cam. Great idea, my aunt replied, and got them on web cam too, as well as voice chat. Lots of commotion as my gran called out for great-uncle to come and have a look as well. It was the cutest sight ever: the two of them, both on the upper side of 80, staring into the little screen as if it was a window to the future. Well well well, they kept saying, look at what the world has come to. We waved at each other and the conversation didn’t make an ounce of sense, they were too tickled by the whole I-can-see-you-and-you-can-see-me thing. It made me wonder what kind of nifty stuff will be out there when I’m 80, and who I’ll be giving a laugh with my reaction to it.

A Thought While Cooking Lunch For One

Sometimes I just want the comfort of cooking him a good meal, just the way I know he likes it –and no, I didn’t forget to grill plantain– and to see his eyes go all big and round like a little boy’s and for him to say, cookie, you sure can cook…

You Know How We Do –Khartoum Style

I have a whole new respect for the Sudanese hawkers in the street since yesterday. They sell fake Prada and Gucci bags, belts and wallets, right smack in front of the chic stores selling the real deal. And they look so relaxed doing it too, as if they’re just having a chilled day out at the seaside. No amateurs here, they have a brilliant system: they lay out their wares on a sheet with a length of rope threaded through the corners, never letting go of it even when they’re fishing for change in their back pockets. And in case they need to run, the whole thing bundles together in a millisecond, just by tugging at that rope, into a kind of sack.

As I walked by I noticed a police officer make a beeline for them and I stuck around to see what would happen. They’d spotted him too, of course, probably way before I did. But they didn’t start running like I thought they would, like any guy in their position does anywhere else in the world. No. I watched them bundle up their stuff with an exaggerated ease, alert but determined not to lose their cool. One of them went as far as to make direct eye contact with the police officer and –catch this—smiled at him. Talk about cojones! Then he slung his load onto his shoulder and sauntered off.

Respec’…

How’s That For A Line?

I got a rushed phone call from Mr. Rose, in the middle of an excruciatingly important decision: buying jeans. After some umming and ahing, I figured out he called to make sure they fit. Now, I have good eyes but that was a bit of a challenge even for me. Tell you what, I said. Look around for a nice girl and say, my wife’s about your size…do these jeans fit?

Sometimes I crack myself up.