MAHMUDIA

 

  MAHMUD, Mahmudi Phone-callingus : a Mahmud is a 1.05 m height male Egyptian whose age and last name are still undetected and whose tailor is, without any doubt, the Godfather’s. He lives in tourists environments, such as Hotels and restaurants, and it’s very easy to recognize him since his cell phone is the prolongation of his right hand, that he uses compulsively to call me ten thousand a day from 8.00 am in the morning to 1.00 am in the morning. He never eats, but smokes a lot, if possible my cigarettes, and always asks the same milky slimy cocktail ( something called guava, that according to me has rather the taste and texture of guano, but at breakfast I once had to swallow it and looked pleased despite that, because Mr. Dauriac from CFI asked me to, and I didn’t have courage enough to disappoint such a nice person.)  Anyway, a Mahmud is someone who is paid to take care of you, but not in a nice way, for example bringing you chicken soup when you’re sick, or singing you a lullaby before going to bed. Not at all. The Mahmud is mainly annoying. He only speaks Arabic, and a few word of English, that he uses in a random way, and with the wrong intonation. Example: every night, I have this little briefing with him to arrange the transfers for the day after. The first days he politely waited in the hotel hall until the I finished my dinner. The fourth day he started calling me on the cell phone asking me where I was. From the sixth day on he took the amusing habit of having is guava thing sat at the table next to mine, staring at me like a vulture with its prey. When I can’t stand his sunglassed gaze anymore, I give up my chicken ( no regrets, anyway) and go meet him. Since the Mahmud doesn’t understand English very well (or, at least, my English) communicating with him requires a bunch of cigarettes, excellent gesticulating capabilities and some Arabic-speaking person  to ask to if you really can’t help. If you are in Alexandria in these days, give up the boring belly dancers, buy some pop corns (cumin-flavored, of course), grab a chair, put it outside the Windsor Hotel at dinner time, and enjoy the show.  Ladies and gentleman, The Windsor Paradise Inn Hotel in Alexandria is proud to present the Egypt v.s. Italy Mime Challenge . At the right corner we have the Queen of transfers, the Princess of the flight plan…meet Copeamgirl!!! ( the crowd applauds) At the left corner we have the one and only Egyptian champ…the Mahmud ( delirium of the crowd). (Play by play of the match): the two fighters approach…they shake hands…here’s the Mahmud… 

Mahmud (speaking, he will keep having the same paralysis-like smiling facial expression for the whole time): SIT DOWN!! (translation: please, take a seat)

Copeamgirl (speaking, very self confident): no thanks, I’m fine.

M. (speaking, same facial expression): GIVE ME A CIGARETTE!! (translation: would you lease give me a cigarette?)     

C. (gives him a cigarette)

M: all ok?

C: (speaking very slowly) no. a –girl –lost –her –luggage –and –she –wants –to –go –grab –it –as –soon –as –it –arrives –with –the –next –flight –at –the –Alexandria –airport. Can – we –arrange- a – car –for –her?

M: (keeps smiling) bus tomorrow afternoon?

C: (starting to gesticulate) a – girl ( pointing at the hotel restaurant, in which the ladies are having chicken) lost – her – luggage ( miming the act of carrying a bag) and – she wants – to – go ( miming someone driving) to – get – it ( miming someone that picks something) at – the – airport ( drawing a square in the air, in which a lot of flying things land…very difficult to understand) as –soon –as –the –play –arrives (miming something landing). (only miming) she – is – afraid ( terror on Copeamgirl face) that – if – no one (miming “no one”, very difficult, Copeamgirl gets 100 points)  – gets – the – luggage (miming the luggage) people –at – the –airport –grab –the –luggage –and- send –it –back (miming a catapult) to the –next –flight ( waving her harms as they were wings). You understand? ( hope in Copeamgirl’s eyes)

M (keeps smiling) : plain? Airport? How many tomorrow for lunch?  

C: (almost crying does all the mime thing again while smoking three cigarettes at the same time)

M: (keeps smiling) aaaaaaaaaaah.ok, airport. Luggage, tomorrow.

C: (shaking her hand and tearing her hairs) no –tomorrow. Now!  

M: (keeps smiling) sorry. No understand. Give me a cigarette.

Copeamgirl grabs one of the Arabic-speaking girls visibly upset and ask her to explain him, then leaves them and goes get a double Tony Youseff Especial.