The Sisterhood of the Traveling Abiya

Village life is just pretty amazing.  Yesterday after I had tea with Samia* I went home to rest for a bit before the next tea invitation.  "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Abiya" is the new name I've given to the women that I meet on a regular basis for tea.  I had told them that I would come in the evening.  Around 6:30, Sarah* and I walked out together to go to their house.  When we arrived, no one was there.  This is very unusual.  There are usually no less than 8 women (all dressed in black abiyas) and a small passel of children seated/running in a circle.

We turned around and went to another friend's house who told us what had happened.  One of the women had dislocated her arm and the others were tending to her (including relocating it).  My friend, Sarah, shook her head at the description, but what's done is done.

Our friend, Fatima*, invited us in for tea.  She motioned for us to come into the house so we did.  She then took out a key and unlocked a room that is strictly for entertaining.  There were two benches with cushions covered in gold cloth and a small table in-between.

Sarah and I sat down while Fatima scurried to the kitchen.  Two tiny kittens walked in and began trying to climb up the cushions, but they were still developing their muscles so they soon gave up and ran out.

Fatima returned with two cups of well-sugared tea.  I asked where her cup was.  She said, "I drink tea at 10 am and 3:30 pm.  That's it."  I always chuckle because this seems to happen a lot.  Ladies will invite me to tea and then watch me drink it.  I'm trying to get over the awkwardness of it.

I asked about Fatima's day while waiting for the tea to cool down. Sarah thanked Fatima for the dish of fuhl (cooked beans with spices) that was delivered to her door earlier.  Fatima then gave us the recipe and demonstrated how to make it.  She lost me on the 7th step.  Is there a Hamburger Helper version of this somewhere?  Some box of ingredients that can be thrown in a pot?  No such luck.

When Sarah confessed that she often buys fuhl in a jar at the store, Fatima gasped and said that she was never to do this again.  (I thought it prudent to keep my canned purchase confessions quiet.) From this point on, she would make extra and deliver it to them.

Fatima mentioned a mutual friend but I was still unclear of the relationship she had to the people in the village.  She told me of the sister's brother's daughter's daughter and then it got really confusing.  I had brought pictures of my own daughters, mother and sisters this time so she see them. She tried to use my photos to clarify what she was trying to say, but it didn't work.  I still have no idea who's related to whom or how.

I finally just nodded my head while looking at Sarah to see if she knew any better what was being said.  No go.  We gave up and switched topics until it was time for us to go.  The call to prayer sounded so we said our goodbyes and made our way back to our flats.

Fatima said goodbye to us in English waiting for us to catch what she did.  We smiled and told her that she said it just right.  She was beaming, but then turned serious as she said that she would be making fuhl and tah-maya (falafel) for us soon.  I guess that was her way of warning us to steer clear of any canned versions.  Message received.

I suspect that tomorrow when we're back with the "Sisterhood" we'll discuss" the dislocated arm incident" and "the tragic tale of the canned fuhl."  But it's okay.  My friends in the US have laughed at me more than a few times for some of my cooking attempts.  It's nice to just be women sitting together and being women.

Until the next chapter…Thanks for traveling with me!

*Not their real names

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