h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

October 15th 2006

It must be dawn. I am woken by the sound of the imam calling the faithful to prayer. I lay in the half-light listening to the sound of his voice. His tone is calm and soothing, and although I can’t understand the words I find it very spiriotual. Eventually I drift off to sleep again.

The apartment block is situated right next door to a mosque, so it’s surprising that I haven’t heard the imam before now. As I’ve wandered past the mosque I've noticed many people gathering at the ifta tent that they have erected in the grounds. During Ramadan free food is given to anyone who requires it, and I’ve seen large groups of men sitting on mats outside the building waiting for the food to be served.

This evening, along with several other westerners we’ve been invited to share ifta (breaking of the fast) with a local family. Ali and his father Haji are local contractors working on one of the construction sites. James explains that throughout the evening I will be in a separate room with the women, and that he will be in a different room with the men. I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent and confident woman, so the news doesn’t cause me any problems. It will be good to meet some local people, especially the women. I’m really looking forward to it. Roll on tonight!

We arrive at Ali’s house at 6.30pm. Haji and Ali are waiting to greet us. James has explained on the way over that some of the other western women will probably not be attending. They are not very happy about the segregation. In a way I can see their point, but for myself I’m keen to meet other women here. I am living in their culture, and I can already sense that it will be far easier to get to know people if I’m willing to step into their world for a short while, rather then to expect them to step into mine.

After the introductions Haji turns to me and booms ‘Women through that door.’ I’m not sure why - but I find myself wanting to grin. I notice a pile of women’s shoes outside the door, so removing my own I step thru and into a corridor where Haji’s wife is waiting to greet me. She smiles and leads me into a side room where there are several other women seated on the carpet, and some small children playing.

I introduce myself to everyone and then join them on the floor. Their home is very simple, but it has a comfortable feel to it. As well as Haji’s wife, there is Ali’s wife, her teenage sister, her two sister-in-laws and three small children. All the women have a very high standard of English, and soon we are chatting, and telling each other a little about our lives.

Ali wanders through a couple of times to check that I’m okay. I can’t help but think that he looks like a darker shade of Chris Martin from Coldplay. Very good looking and very laid back. ‘Our home is your home,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘If you wish to come thru and join us in the other room please feel free to do so.’ I appreciate the gesture, and thank him but tell him I’m perfectly happy where I am.

Haji’s wife spreads a long plastic table cloth on the floor and the women disappear into the kitchen. Soon they are back carrying large dishes of food. There is a huge platter of fish, large bowls of chicken biryani, salad, rice, freshly cooked dates and several other dishes especially prepared for the celebrations.

Ali’s wife tells me that they are concerned that I might not like the food. Not like it? It’s absolutely delicious. I especially like the chicken biryani and the dates. Ali’s wife would like me to sample every dish, so I only have very small portions as there are quite a few dishes to try. I’m left handed but I try to remember that I must eat only with my right hand. We chat as we eat, and several times I automatically place the fork back into my left hand, maybe because I’m distracted.

The children eat, play and roam freely around the house, maybe to go and see their father’s thru the other room. But they soon return to be with their mothers. With no males present there is definitely a different atmosphere in the room. It’s softer, gentler and I feel very relaxed and at ease. The women make a great deal of effort to keep the conversation in English, (I expect so that I don’t feel excluded) and only now and again do they talk amongst themselves.

Once the main course is finished they clear the plates away. And then a huge bowl of fresh fruit cocktail, various sweets, and large jugs of tea and coffee appear. The tea is delicious and Ali’s wife explains that they add about 5 tablespoons of palm water to approximately a litre of water. This is what gives the tea its unique and pleasant taste.

She also tells me that the women have shared the task of preparing the food between them. It’s just as well. Unbeknown to me there are ten men eating thru the other room, so that evening they had provided food for 16 adults plus the children.

Eventually Haji comes thru to tell me that James is waiting outside, and then he disappears again. ‘But I haven’t finished my tea yet,’ I exclaim. ‘Its okay, Ali will be outside with James,’ says Ali’s wife. Take your time - make him wait.’ ‘I will,’ I reply. All the women laugh. And that’s exactly what I do. Finally, armed with a big container of chicken biryani that Ali’s wife has kindly given us for our lunch the following day I head outside into the night.

mmmm i love this stuff .... you have the bones of a great memoir coming here pauline ...... it's beautiful writing