Life away from Manchester...

Life here has been a laugh (mainly I am laughing at myself at the stupidity of the things I do and say). No joke. Every time I step outside of the home something ridiculous happens to me.

Lets just look at yesterday...

I woke up and as per usual I had over slept but hey there is no work to be done so I just continued to get ready at a nice and easy pace. I got breakfast (it should really have been lunch but who's counting!), read the newspaper and got ready to leave the house.

My aunt noticed me leaving and I got given a little errand to run. No problems so far.

I leave the house walking in between two houses to get to the main road to flag down a taxi (taxis are my main form of transport here as it's really efficient and cheap to boot). As I am stepping on to the pavement to wave a taxi down one nearly runs me over. It's like these guys are psychic or something.

I get in and give a destination. He sits there looking blank. I tell him the destination again. He is still sat there and then he has the cheek to turn around and say in plain English "Why don't you speak to me in Arabic Ma'am"

I tell him like I told the countless others before him "I don't speak Arabic" and they always seem shocked at this. But you are Somali...But you are here...and such other none sense.

Anyway we get to the shopping centre safely but with my ears hurting (he has been giving me a lecture for the last 10 minutes on how disgraceful it it that I don't speak Arabic). I jump out of the taxi and don't even collect my change. Oh to be away from him. Although I have had other drivers do this I have yet to come across someone who manges to speak the language so well that I wasn't just sat in back seat laughing at him.

I nearly tripped in my haste to get away from the taxi and did something to my shoe. I forgot about it and composed myself and went into this POSH shopping centre. I am the only person not wearing an abaya (the black covering that the women wear here) and ridiculous high heeled shoes. I got a few stares and I gave a few as I saw all around me women in the most awful looking shoes. I even giggled to myself (they must have thought I was sightly khafif).

I went into one of the poshest shops in the centre was collecting something I was asked by my aunt when low and behold my shoe (sandals) fell apart. This is what I had done in trying to get away from the taxi driver.

Wallahi I was the most embarrassed that I have ever been in my life. I walked out of the shop in hysterical laughter at how I must have looked. Here is woman holding her shoes in her hands and walking in the shopping centre. The stares I had previously got were nothing compared to the ones I was getting now. I was laughing so hard that I had to sit down in a cafe and order a cooling drink. I had tears streaming down my face from the laughter. Every time I even thought about how I was going to get home without shoes I had a fresh dose of the giggles. The waitress kept coming back to me and asking me if I was OK. All I could do was nod.

After ten minutes of sitting and trying to compose myself I saw across from the cafe a SHOE SHOP!! All was not lost...
I bought a pair of granny sandals ( beggars can't be choosers right) and headed home before something else happen to me.

I am about to go out for the day. I am picking up an abaya for me and having lunch with friend so I might be safe from over zealous taxi drivers and disintegrating sandals...

IA Ameen