“She’s like malaria. Living under my skin. I am forever prone to flare ups.”
Amina (her Moroccan name when walking in the streets) is the only other fulbright scholar here who shares an artistic bent with me. It’s nice to be able to say about someone that “they” “she” is even better than you could have imagined. I knew she would be wonderful in the same way that she said she knew I would be from simply reading the others proposals.
She’s better in person. Even after sharing a small bed with one other man and after many an uncomfortable situation. She’s cool.
She not only also says “African” when referring to “Moroccan” and assures me that someone else gets it that “Arab country” is not synonymous for “Islamic” but she also shares little histories with me. Down to being dirt poor, picking insects out of our food, talking ‘funny’ or inappropriately at intellectual gatherings, knowing what it means to bi-cultural and clearly mixed up yet able to pass…she is the same woman who started playing your favorite poems of Saul Williams on her computer for me and asked me a perfect question without even asking it. She says the wrong things at the right time. So appropriately incorrect by taking the words right out of my mouth drawing a portrait from others who have said it before and making me read, “What a shock when they tell you it will not hurt and you almost turn inside out when they begin.”
She smokes too much and drinks about as much Coke but it’s a friendship that’s forming so easily. She seamlessly situates herself like a sister without trying. And i feel strongly that i’m going to know this woman my whole life.