Arab Spring

One of the people on my schedule for a road test today was a woman named Safaa.  The car pulls up, parks, and out steps Safaa and another woman.  The other woman wore black, was about 4'6 tall and 3'6 wide and said with a big toothy grin and a very, very deep voice, "BOBB!"

"BOBB, HOW COME YOU NOT COME TO ME YET FOR A GOOD ARABIC LUNCH? "  My brain kicks in and I remember that a few months ago she brought a woman for a road test and told me afterwards that "I UNDERSTAND YOU LIKE ARABIC FOOD.  YOU MUST COME TO MY HOUSE FOR A WONDERFUL ARABIC  LUNCH!"

My first thought is, yes I do remember the invitation.  It was like the invitation from the Brazilian guy I gave a road test to who told me his family had a place on the beach at Rio and that I must go and stay there sometime.  When the invitation does not come with an address its just a nice way to say thanks.

My second thought, which I AGAIN verbalized to her, is that the State of Michigan does not allow me to accept such nice offers as going to someone's house, somewhere in Grand Rapids, during a lunch period I usually don't get to have a meal with such nice people as herself. 

For some reason, known only to God, the Arab people seem to love me and want to demonstrate their love by feeding me.  So if I conduct a test for one, and pass or fail, when they come back with a spouse, father or mother, brother or sister, aunt or uncle, in-laws of all kinds, and friends or someone they just met on the street, they may also bring me a plate filled high and wide with about 5 pounds of something I've never seen before.  I tell them that I cannot accept this but they ignore me, wink and say, "That's OK, take it."  So to be polite I accept the plate. 

Now if you know me you are aware that I am a very picky eater.  If I were to actually eat at her house I would try to do my best, but not being at someone's house I wait until they leave and then dump the gift into the nearest garbage can.  One time the food plate was presented after my last test of the day and because there were about 8 Arabic speaking people still milling around, smoking and laughing at the poor sod who just failed I drove the very strong smelling meal all the way home in mid winter with the window partially open, stopping at the garbage can prior to entering the house.

Anyway, back to today, the woman begins to bark out orders to Safaa in her very deep Arabic everything she must do, before I have a chance to tell her myself.  Safaa speaks English very well so she does not need the help, and I try to create some distance between the woman and Safaa. 

I look at Safaa who is now behind the wheel and immediately notice that she has this huge black mole on her left cheek.  I began to worry that this might throw me off a little.  It wouldn't look good to give the instruction for doing the parking portion by saying; "It will be a penalty every time your car crosses a yellow line or hits a mole, um, I mean pole."


Safaa passes the parking, the woman in black keeps barking out either orders or encouragement to her in Arabic until we have driven half way out of the parking lot, and because Safaa did not do so well on the driving portion of the test I will see her again sometime, because, "WE WANT YOU BOBB TO DO THE TEST."