of hamoody, who wouldn’t shut up and got what was coming to him

16Jun09

at this point in time i am attending a presentation on the things a guy can do in abu dhabi. do i really need to be told that corniche probably means beach?
______________________

blame it on the hashemite bloodline if you will, but as a rule, i like kids. of the human variety. admittedly, i am not the type to volunteer to babysit at your place and the pockets of my jacket are full of strepsils and panadol for myself not sweets and candy for children i meet. i am not the desi santa claus. but if you bring your baby to a party and it doesn’t wail in my ear or relieve itself in my near vicinity you’ll probably see me waving at it or pulling faces and generally doing other idiotic things to elicit a smile. that’s the good thing about these demonic little angels. they have the ability to make us drop the armour of our feigned sense of propriety and behave like we might actually do if this was a world without boundaries. if you really want to profile a person, put a baby in their arms for fifteen minutes.

not all the babies in the world, however, follow up the “demonic” bit with the “little angels” bit. there are good kids. there are bad kids. there are kids who swing from one extreme to the other like kamran akmal’s batting form – the case springs to mind of the little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead and who, when she was good, was very very good, but when she was bad, was horrid. i forget her name but we learnt about her in some history lesson back in kindergarten. probably a relative of mary. (yes that’s the one who had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow; and everywhere that mary went that lamb was sure to go). anyway, i would like to suggest that the young man known as hamoody is such a child and has the potential – when he’s being good – to be very, very good but sadly our acquaintance was rather short and during the brief period which we knew each other he displayed rather more consistency than kamran akmal, or the little girl for that matter, and remained focussed on getting a nod of approval from the antichrist himself.

we met, like most gourmets do these days, in a burger king outlet.

if you have never seen a four year old in a sparkling white kandoora and kiffaiyeh, trust me you have no idea what the term cherubim is supposed to signify. however, when the aforementioned cherub is running amok in a fast food joint, loudly repeating one of the few obscenities in the arabic language i am familiar with, all the while managing to avoid the two filipina nannies diving for him underneath the tables and behind the trash bin – well, to put it mildly, cherubim is not the adjective that comes to mind. especially when, in one of his less inspired moves, he decides to barrel into you while you are juggling with your tray and executing a rather complicated weave between hamoody’s abaya-clad mom and two behemoths from sudan.

now i am not the lissome reed who the winter wind passes idly by, harming me not, but i am also not the kind of warrior you unhorse with a wooden sword. four yeard olds, no matter how admirable their speed and for all their other merits, are not generally known for being the ones who brought down the iceman with a single charge. however, far be it from me to decieve you by saying that the suddenness of our contact did not have a profound impact on the both of us. before hamoody, i had a tray in my hands. after hamoody, i had none. before me, hamoody was a hyperactive arab kid wearing a kandoora and a kiffaiyeh in a state of high velocity. after me, hamoody was an arab kid wearing a kandoora and a kiffaiyeh considerably handicapped in his search for the usain bolt’s world record by the fact that he was also wearing 500 mililitres of diet coke. in what was probably the only moment in my life that an arab woman has expressed shared sentiment with yours truly, hamoody’s mom and i broke out in laughter at precisely the same instant that hamoody started crying. i’m not sure why she was laughing but my outburst was caused by the fact that in her superior knowledge of the use of english phrases she chose “thank you” as the most appropriate one to apologise for her son’s behaviour.

yeah, well, since burger king reimburses you for such diet coke dunkings, she’s very welcome.

as a matter of prudence, i would advise you not to name any upcoming masculine progeny “hamoody”.

unless, of course, you hair designer can get him to sport a little curl right in the middle of his forehead.

______________________

ana oreed al ghada. yalla salam.

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12 Responses to “of hamoody, who wouldn’t shut up and got what was coming to him”

  1. shu ta’abi ma’al ghada? ana y3ana ba’ad.

  2. and you made hamoodey cry… you evil evil make-hamoody-cryier… i feel soooo bad for him…
    the hamoodey i know is SO CUTE =D ya’ salaam.

    btw, you say ‘ya’ sala’am’ when you see a lamborghini, or my hamoodey. not when you want lunch. yallah salam is ‘3ala6

  3. i had a sandwich if thats what you were asking. do me a favour. ask your hamoody what his name means please.

  4. hahaha if an arab kid is not in motion, all you gotta do is look at them and say:

    Waahid itnainnn talattaa, irkid irkid irkid!!

    They shoot off like theyre nasa shuttles or some shit 😀

  5. 5 Owl

    Now see, if Hamoody was in that child zoo we talked about (not to be mistaken with a children’s zoo), then the glass barrier would have protected you and your Diet Coke. I say we write up the proposal and send it to The Ruler STAT. All ofthe UAE’s residents will thank us.

  6. 6 Owl

    (also, my English is toot gya. I shall blame the fever/flu/horribleness that I’m afflicted with. Not my growing fobbiness. That’s your domain, not mine. :P)

  7. 7 Saeed

    What..? So you’re saying that none of the Diet Coke / mayo / ketchup / etc ended up on you..?

  8. @ farooqK: i wouldn’t know. i haven’t ever seen an arab kid not in motion. 🙂

    @ jarina bai: as long as i’m on the board of governors. you’re the editor. you write it, i’ll sign it. also, is your second link pointing to your roomie’s site?

    @ saeed: the mayo and ketchup was enveloped in this marvelous human invention called plastic or foil or something. i did come under heavy fire from some french fries but the cavalry bore the brunt of the attack – including the heavy artillery. btw, if you don’t mind me asking, are you the guy who logs in from kolkata?

  9. 9 Saeed

    Well I don’t mind, not at all, atleast not unless my answer would have any unfavourable ramifications…
    But then again, would that detail be of much help at all..?

    Yes, that would be me (the guy who logs in from Kolkata). & now I think I should add here, that I’m not a bengali (incase you start wondering how many more bengali fans you have..). & I only mention this because I’m aware of the bengali jokes among pakistani brethren (since my pakistani friends outnumber the bengali ones). Not that that’s a bad thing (being bengali)…

    But if you’re ever thinking of including this city in your book-signing tour, lemme know.

  10. @ saeed: the only book i ever sign is my chequebook, and that too with heavy heart and pained expressions. i don’t think i’ll ever do a tour for that.

  11. 11 Mystic

    u even have a cheque book? and u can sign it? will wonders never cease!

    PS: extremely lame i kno but what can u do 😛


  1. 1 Baby name meaning and origin for Sudan

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