Lebneh or Death

So last night, I had to be out of the house for Mama's Qur'an Study....at least I call it that because it sounds like it was going to be a lot like Bible Study. Similarity noted! Anyway, so I left the house around 3 to meet a friend at this DANK museum near al-Weibdeh. The exhibit was by an artist named Halim Al Karim, who does work in Baghdad and the UAE. This exhibit consisted of a lot of out of focus pictures with very well defined and finished eyes, which made for a creepy, if striking, presentation. The museum itself was set up on a hill and in it were lemon, pomegranate and olive trees all around. At the bottom of the hill was a big white screen with columns leading up to it, so I can only hope that they will screen movies there.

But I digress.

I spent the rest of the day with my friends Mara and Dana, but at around 7 Dana went home and I went to meet Mara's family and have dinner. Mara is staying with two sisters, both of whom are in their sixties or seventies and who LOVE to feed people. When I got there, I was fed pizza, lebneh, tomatoes, fruit preserves, cheese, tea -- you name it. Over the course of the dinner, we also tried to engage in pleasant conversation despite my poor Ameeya. Obviously, when one sister got a phone call, she seemed somewhat relieved to return to Arabic. Whomever she was talking to on the other end, however, must have asked about her dinner guest (me), as she stared at me and said a long sentence that included the words 'lateefah' and 'negro.' Though some of you may be pleased to know that 'lateefah' means 'nice' in Arabic and that I was not being compared to Queen Latifah, you may be amused to think that this was a) a common go-to description and b) something that this old woman found tremendously funny.

After dinner, the two women also brought out some delicious date-filled cookies, which they noticed that I liked and gave me a large bag of them before I went home. At that point, I was completely stuffed and looking forward to a little bit of a walk before getting in a taxi to go home. As I was leaving, the other sister's curiosity could no longer be assuaged. As I was pulling away from my third kiss on the cheek, even though my hand was on her shoulder, she reached her hands up under my arms, put them directly into my hair and shook them back and forth with what can only be described as unbridled glee. She told me that it was because she thought my hair was beautiful, but I really just think she wanted to make sure that it was real (and, of course, to touch it). After that, I was on my way with my cookies, if a little startled.

The night did not end there. When I got home, I expected the Qur'an Study would be wrapping up. I was right. Unfortunately, however, my Mama, being the wonderful hostess that she is, did not neglect to prepare dinner for me. Of course, on that day of all days, she did not opt for the traditional (and light) hummus, lebneh, cheese, tabouleh and pita dinner that we had had almost every night this week. Last night, she chose to prepare a heavy, lukewarm dish, sort of like a ground beef and potato succotash, with an oily sauce and rice. With fear in my heart and a smile on my face, I sat down to eat this massive (and delicious) meal. Each bite I could feel filling the remainder of my stomach; I reached the point that I was working to hard to finish my plate that I was sweating. Luckily, there were still some stragglers from the Qur'an group to distract my family such that I could secretly wipe my brow and occasionally whimper in agony. Upon finally finishing the last bite, a combined feeling of triumph and unparalleled nausea washed over me. I shimmied up out of my seat, said goodnight to my lovely mother claiming that she had fed me so well that I had to go to sleep, waddled back to my room and presumed the fetal position for about 30 minutes.

May you all never be put in the position in which otherwise delicious food becomes toxic for no other reason than that it is literally killing you by sheer volume.

Everything in moderation,

anneke