Sunday, June 02, 2013

Arabic is my credit

I was walking down the street to the subway.  I passed a black and white ortho with a long white beard.  Standing next to him ever so briefly at the stoplight (robot) was an assumedly Jamaican woman in a bright blue and white dress.  The juxtaposition was striking.

I walked up to the bodega to buy a bottle of water.  I grabbed a bottle of water, and exchanged Arabic pleasantries with the Yemenite fellow.

Everything good?
Praise God.

Then I opened my wallet to pay and found nothing.  I thought I had one last dollar, but was staring into a black void.

He smiled, and told me to take it and pay when I return, Inshallah.

He asked if I had any bills from other countries, and for the first time in a while I did not.  I had left all my Kazakh tenge and Kyrgyz som at home.  I offered coins of a Brazilian real, Turkmen manat and a euro.  He politely declined my moneda.

Arabic is my credit; in God and Man, we trust.

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