Djawed is another very entertaining fellow here. He was introduced to me by my sailor-mouthed British lady friend, Pat, who lives here. Pat had recommended him as the perfect chaperone, should I ever need one. She told me (while he was sitting there), “He's a little out of it and sometimes goes off into the clouds but he's harmless.” I don't think he understood her, thank goodness.
At first, I would have described Djawed as endearing and cute in the way that you'd use “cute” when you feel sorry for someone. But after knowing him for a month now, while I no longer feel sorry for him, he's become a much more fascinating and three-dimensional character.
I haven't quite figured him out completely. However, my theory is that he just lives on a different plane than most everyone else or is tuned into a different station than the rest of us. I really wonder what it would be like to speak Arabic fluently with him because I can't entirely tell if he's really that mentally checked-out much of the time or if it's just his English, which is pretty much impossible to follow.
He has this ability to construct phrases that really SOUND like they should mean something to the point where I feel like I'm going crazy when I can't understand them. It's partially strange combinations of words, partially tenses and verb conjugations that don't agree, partially just phrases that don't really translate well which I think he's getting from Arabic but largely just that his sentences are made up of a bunch of unrelated thoughts- at least from my perspective.
He'll start a phrase and I'll think to myself, “okay, okay, I'm getting it...” and then the words that follow have nothing to do with where he started. And he really loves to talk. One time I sat with him in the cafe, he talked for 45 minutes and I don't think I understood more than maybe two of his sentences. It was nuts.
What's also hilarious is that he often adds the words, “Not clear?” at the end of his sentences when I think he's trying to really say (as we would in English), “Do you know what I mean?” So he'll construct these sentences that make absolutely no sense to where I'm pulling my hair out trying to follow him and then he ends it with, “Not clear?”
I was trying earlier to memorize bits of his sentences to give examples but it's difficult to approximate. It reminds me of that magnetic poetry game: imagine just randomly assembling words- his English is very close to that. I think one sentence went something like: “Good time Moroccan friends? Maybe make different, father good, mother good but maybe America life different? Maybe no happy because big house, good thing? Not clear?”
This is where I've just learned to nod and say, “Fehmt” (“Yes, I understand”). One night when he was especially talking my ear off at Ma'alem Sadik's house, I made the mistake of whispering in a pleading way to the other men,“I can't understand his English!” (“Mafemtsh Ingelisia dialo!”) and they all chuckled knowingly. I think someone must have later said something to him like, “Tamara can't understand you, Djawed. Give it a rest,” because since then he's started asking, “Not understand my English?”
Groan....
He has a very gentle and sweet demeanor so as he's saying all of this in a soft voice, he's bowing his head a little, looking out of the tops of his eyes, using his hands a lot. I really wanted to understand him in the beginning but I really started to feel like I was going crazy trying. So now, I've resorted to just humoring him and kind of spacing out when he's talking to me, making sure to say, “uh huh, really?” every now and then. It's the nicest way I can think of handling the situation without losing my mind.
I've been noticing with curiosity and humor that he spends the entire evening bumming cigarettes off everyone. But what's especially funny is that he asks them for the cigarette which they are in the middle of smoking, too, not just one from the pack. I've heard the other guys rant about this before.
Ever since he took me to Ma'alem Sadik's that first night, about a month ago, he's started showing up every night, too. This means he's part of the entertainment each night, especially after I got over my frustration stage. Despite the fact that he claps off the beat (you can often hear it in my recordings), the men are quite patient with him and are open to letting him learn as well.
At any rate, he's a trip and it's clear that he means well and has good intentions. He's very kind to me, always asking me if I'm okay. He has (I think?) referred a couple times to why I don't come by the shop to see him or have coffee anymore. I felt kind of bad about that but I still see him every night and sometimes bring him cigarettes as a friendly gesture.
I'm sure I'll miss him too when I leave.
