Thursday, July 10, 2008

Profane passenger

A few days ago, I hailed a servis from Geitawe to Raouche. As we were inching through traffic towards my destination–– after the other passengers had disembarked ––the driver began to ask me the usual questions:

Are you married?
Of course.
To a Lebanese?
Of course.
What religion does your husband belong to?
No religion.
Nothing? No. I mean, is he Muslim or Christian?
Not Muslim, not Christian. Nothing.
No he must be Christian or Muslim.
He doesn’t believe in God.
No, its impossible. He doesn't believe in God?
No. I don’t either.
You don't either? You must believe in God. You will be more satisfied. You must! You must!

As I reached into my wallet to pay him for the 45-minute journey across town, he refused payment with a plea to save my soul. I got out of the cab and left my godless wad of thousand lira bills on the back seat.

2 comments:

Emily said...

At least he wasn't a dirty thief! This is L.'s friend, the one who got ripped off with you one late night in the city of taxi hijinks. Happy summer! With affection, E.

Oberon Brown said...

Hahaha funny story :) Good to have you back!
But seriously, is he Muslim or Christian?