Ah, my friend
So, after my interview today, a cab came to bring me back to the hotel. This cabbie was a kindly-looking older gent, like a thin Andy Rooney. This cabbie, John, wanted to chat. After he determined where we were going, and talked about how the hotel had recently changed it's name, and what the weather was like, he seemed to be running out of subjects.

"So, where are you from?" His accent was thick, dropping the R from 'where', and adding it to 'are'.
"Texas".
"Ah. Cowboys." Now, I had a moment to wonder, was he a football fan? Or just referencing the only thing he knew about Texas. Perhaps if I'd said Idaho, he would have responded, "Ah. Potatoes".

"Yup." There was a long moment where I found myself feeling indebted to continue the conversation. "And where are you from?"

"Afghanistan"

Suddenly, I was interested. "How long have you lived here?"
"Nineteen, Twenty years maybe."

"Do you have family living in Afghanistan?"

"Ah, yes. My brother. My parents. I traveled there, few weeks ago."

"Really? That's a pretty frightening place to be."

"Ah, my friend."

There was a long pause. I couldn't determine if he was ending the conversation, although I hadn't really asked him a question either. I was trying to think of what I could ask him next when he said, "You see that light there?" He pointed to a stoplight about a hundred feet away. "We were driving in a cab, and up ahead, Boom! Explosion. Just like that. I say to the driver 'What is that? What is happening?' He says, 'It is just a rocket.' Like that. Like nothing. Later, we go home and watch it on TV."

Another pause, then, "Ah, my friend."

"I take a video camera to my home. Taking pictures to show my children. The soldiers stop me, and take my camera. They say, 'What are you doing?' and I say, 'I'm taking pictures of my house. To show my children where I grew up.' They say, 'You cannot do that.' Then, American soldier comes. Ah, American soldier. He says it's okay. He gives me my camera back. But if he did not come. . . they can do anything. They kill someone, nobody says anything. Nobody asks questions."

"Ah, my friend."

There was another long pause. Then, "Do not go to war, my friend. Do not go." Another long pause, I was about to ask something when he said, "Mr. Bush, ah Mr. Bush."

I said, "Yeah. I know a lot of people disagree with Bush. I've been a Republican all my life. . ." John starts shaking his head, clucking at me like an entire political ideal can be reduced to the actions of a silly child. I continued, "But now I can't even vote for a Republican President."

"He is not a Republican." John opined, matter-of-factly. "He is neither one. He is a . . . he is just a mistake."

After a while, I notice that John punctuates almost every breath with, "Ah, my friend." Maybe it's just his way of keeping the tendrils of conversation alive. Maybe it's just a reflex. Either way, it helps you realize that a total stranger is willing to call you friend without a second thought. I like that about him.
- posted by BrandG @ 6:24 PM