Middle Eastern Maxine

One of the funniest characters Hallmark ever created is Maxine.  Maxine is a cranky, old lady who always sees the glass not half-empty, but cracked and leaking.  I have said on more than one occasion that I might indeed be the personification of her if not for Jesus reminding me to be kind.  It seems that the spirit of Maxine lives in more than one culture for I believe I have met her Middle Eastern self right here in our village.

For the sake of our story, I’ll call her Samah*.  Samah lives alone in a small mud brick home near ours.  She sits on the stoop by her front door every morning watching the other villagers going about their day.  She says little, watches much and sometimes chases children with a stick if they get too close.

As I was returning from errands one day, I stopped to greet her (4 kisses on each cheek.)  After the normal, “How are you? How did you sleep? Are you doing well? How was your morning?  How was your afternoon?  You are doing well?” she then asked, “Where have you been?”

I said that I have been here.  I asked, “Where have you been?”  

She clucked her tongue, “I am here!  I am always here! You think I go anywhere?!  I don’t go anywhere!  Ever!”

Well, I’m glad that was settled.

I then told her it would make me so happy to sit and drink tea with her.

She asked, “Why?”

I said, “We have had tea together before and I miss you.”

She smiled and then went serious.  “My house or yours?”

“My house would be fine.  Why don’t you come by tomorrow afternoon with Esma? (A mutual friend.)”

“What time?” she asked gruffly.

“2 o’clock, okay?” 

She grimaced and clucked her tongue again.  “Okay.  Okay.”

After some back and forth deciding if this really was a good time, she agreed.

The next day at 2:07 pm, she knocked.  I opened the door and ushered her into our living room.  

“Where’s Esma?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  I thought she was coming with you.”

She mumbled to herself with words I didn’t understand. It was probably better I didn’t.

We sat down and I offered her some raspberry iced tea.  Definitely not what she was expecting, but I thought she might like it.

“What is this?” she asked.  

“Tea,” I said.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s iced tea.”

I thought she would roll off the couch.  No Esma and now iced tea.  It wasn’t that I was trying not to follow culture, it was giving her something new to try that was from America.  I thought she might like the experience.  Now I wasn’t so sure.

I offered her a brownie and some fresh pomegranate.  She said she would eat it later.

We chitchatted a while as I tried my best to keep up with her Arabic.  If I asked what a word meant she just said it LOUDER and shook her head in disgust.  It made me laugh.  It reminded me of myself a few times when I’ve tried to help others understand English by talking LOUDER AND SLOWER.  The rule is: If you don’t know the word, it won’t help to say it at another speed or volume.  It just won’t.

I heard a knock and opened it to a flustered Esma who began apologizing profusely for being late.  I told her it was no problem and that I was very happy to see her.  She presented me with a bag of oranges and made her way to the couch.

Samah was less forgiving.  She began telling Esma, “You’re late!  We said 2 o’clock and it’s almost 2:30.  What were you doing?  We said 2 o’clock!”

Esma who is a younger woman took the chastisement gracefully.  Once Samah had said her piece she resumed the conversation with me as if nothing happened.  Funny.

Esma immediately took the photo album containing Emileigh’s wedding photos and began looking and commenting.  Samah had already seen them so she began nibbling on the brownie I had set in front of her earlier.

After a few more minutes, Samah popped up and said that she had to go.  She had to go to the doctor and she didn’t want to be late.  She emphasized “late” while looking at Esma.

I walked her to the door and told her how happy I was that she came.  She gave me a half grin and I sensed I had gained her approval if begrudgingly.

Esma finished the photo albums and drank the iced tea with enthusiasm.  (Samah had tried a sip, but declared the weather too cold to finish it.  It was 90º.) Esma needed to leave.  I thanked her for coming and welcomed her back anytime.

As I closed the door and began cleaning up, I smiled.  Samah is what my mother would call “a tough ol’ bird,” but she let me see a glimpse of the woman inside for just a moment.

I decided that next time I would be sure to make hot chocolate for these frigid winter months when temps drop into the 70s at night.  Until then, I’ll keep praying for Samah knowing that if God can tame my tongue and keep me from my Maxine ways…He certainly can soften the heart of my friend.

*Not her real name