hookas and drums

Last night we had dinner at the Chinese restaurant. I had hot, hot General chicken and beef stuffed egg plant. A yellow gecko looking lizard climbed on the yellow bricks behind me, dates threatened to drop on my head from the palm tree under which we sat our table. A little kid, Saif, kept asking me for my flashlight. He ran around with it shining it at stuff but I made him give it back. I’ll get one at the exchange and give it to him in a couple of days. But nobody gets my blue minimag.
Then we drove down to the Green Zone Café and sat with three local guys: Tarif is the only one whose name I remember. He said it meant rainbow. Bob told him that in the States rainbow is the symbol for being gay. Once again my group manages to be the ugly Americans. He didn’t understand so his buddy translated for him then laughed at him.
We ordered a hooka pipe to be brought out to the table. A hooka is what the worm smoked in Alice in Wonderland. It’s a large water bong. You burn hot coals in the top of it. The ones we smoked last night were apple flavored and really good. We all took deep hits and rolled the cool smoke out our nostrils like human dragons.
There was some Arabic music playing on the television and occasionally a little drum band would get up to play on very sized local folk style bongos. They did a good job meshing all kinds of rythms and sounds using just their fingers.
The music made me think of all the sand bag guys who sing while they work. Tarif said those guys are singing traditional folk songs. I like the tone structure and scales of this music…its organic to this landscape.
Today I have to walk down to the flea market and order Bob’s embroidered thanks for your interest in national defense going away flag. I’ll miss him to. Man, its always a good bye.