Posted on January 4, 2006


I was wandering around today when my dad called me into his room. “Ta3ali henna, 3ayzik fe 7aga.”
I came. My dad put a white plastic fly swatter into my hand. “Shayfa el debana di? 3ayzek matsebeesh el oda le7ad matgebeeha. 3ashan heya di mish hatkhaleeni anam lemodet talat teyam.” My dad is given to hyperbole, a tendency which I have needless to say inherited.
I looked around. I couldn’t see the fly anywhere. “Maybe it’s not here. Ma el bab maftoo7 aho.”
“La2 here. Here ya 7abeebi. Law Mama makanetsh kol shwaya tefta7 el shobak…”
“Sada2ny mish mawgooda”
“Malkeesh da3wa inti. 3ayzek te2teleeha we to7otiha 3ala el wara2a di ka isbat. Ana sala7t el computer – kol wa7ed 3aleih wageb ba2a”.
As soon as he left I gave up. It wasn’t there – besides I’m none too swift. I will brandish the swatter again when he gets back though.

Sorry for the dodgy transliteration – but some things just aren’t as funny in English.

Posted in: my family