Adli

The cook. The only Muslim on staff here at the guesthouse, he keeps his turquoise and white and black prayer rug folded and draped over one of the chair backs in the cafeteria. His English is sporadic but comprehensible, and occasionally he sits down across from me while I eat and teaches me the names of things in Arabic. Salt. Pepper. Knife. Spoon. Do I remember these things? Debatable. Because usually people are using these words in such a rush of other unknown vocabulary that all I can remember to say is "Too fast, too fast!" Just this morning, I ordered a "coffee car" and then an "Arabic cat" and then, third time's a charm, my wished for "Arabic coffee." I find caffeine helps in language fluency.

Before, Adli worked as a chef for TWA Airlines for 27 years until they closed down in Cairo after 9/11. He was hired on at the guesthouse shortly after.

"The money," he says, "no good. But money in Egypt, no good anywhere." 

He loves the people though. I sit and watch them over my fresh cooked meals as they sit around the metal work table in the middle of the kitchen and shell beans for the evening fair. They talk and laugh and insult one another, all with good natured smiles. Every so often, a bean sails through the air at some sarcastic comment. I want to ask if I can help, but I'm a guest here, and the rules of hospitality are tacit yet firm even if they are growing blurrier by the day. Now, they say that this is my home. I am welcome to roam the kitchen as I please. The roaches and I have the run of the place. I'm slowly but surely wiping out their contingent, although if they don't stop breeding, I can hardly compete. 

Adli once sat down and showed me his photo album of every meal he'd ever made for TWA. They were required to catalogue them all for a presentation to the officer of the company. I don't remember much of the plates for Services 2 and 3, but I do remember a photo of crêpes and discovering that I had enough Arabic in my repertoire to ask if he would make them for me. The Muslim holiday Eid El-Adha starts tomorrow and since Adli will be off from work for quite some time, there are now 10 days worth of crêpes in the refrigerator, which incidentally is more French breakfast food than I've eaten in my lifetime. They tell me here that I'm thin and then they hold up an index finger and turn it in the air. I wonder if this is why they keep giving me copious amounts of food. What with Adli and all the women in my daily interaction, it'll be a wonder if I fly home for Christmas somewhat smaller than a cow.