Cairo: and a tale of a man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives: Part 2

(The blog post below is a follow on to this blog post, which begun the tale:  Cairo: and a tale of man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives.  If you haven't already, please read first.)


How are you, Ahmed? I asked.  We were driving as usual.


 I’m fine. I’m very fine. I’m well, he emphasized {just in case I didn’t believe him}

I’m good up here, he tapped his temple. Because I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives.


What happened? I asked.

Well, since my brother died, my wife has been terribly worried that I might marry his wives.  She  hasn’t stopped crying.  She cries in the morning and she cries at night.  I don't know, maybe she cries in the afternoon, too.

I like my wife. She’s been with me all these years. I don’t like to make her cry. So I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives, he explained.


 Well, that’s decided, then, I say.

He went on:  Besides, the truth is that I don’t like my brother’s Palestinian wife, Fouzia. It’s just problems, problems, problems. It’s just talking, talking, talking. If it’s like this now, you can imagine what it would be like if I actually married her, he said, shaking his head at the craziness of it all.

Her parents live in Saudi Arabia. Fouzia needs to go live with them. And as soon as possible, he said emphatically.

Egypt direction


Right, I said firmly in agreement.

Ahmed didn’t say anything for some time. Then he continued. Did I tell you… Fouzia is a very good cook? Very! he exclaimed. You know how those Palestinian women cook? Those special things they can make? Chicken prepared in a sauce. The beef….so so tender. And the rice?! {He groaned in pleasure at the thought.} And she prepares everything so quickly! Honestly, she’s a better cook than my own wife.


 Well, I know how you love to eat, I laughed, pointing to his big belly.

Ahmed laughed back. Yes, it’s true, he said. I love to eat. I look forward to my dinner all day long. Fouzia has this way of making potatoes. Small ones. I swear, I can eat them like candy….they’re that good! Next time, you come back to Egypt, I’m going to ask her to make you some, so you can see for yourself, he said delightedly.




But Ahmed..... didn’t you say that you were going to send Fouzia to Saudia Arabia to live with her parents? 




Yes, yes, Ahmed murmured. Then he looked out the window and was quiet.




Read Part 3 of this tale here.

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