My teacher, Dil is brilliant. This man is so dedicated to what he does. He teaches Arabic, and he has become one of my favorite people. I feel like we became real friends in Cairo, which just makes me happy. As the director of our program in Cairo, he had to set and enforce lot of rules, and work very hard to keep us all engaged with Arabic. He worked harder than all of us, and that’s saying something.
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| Dil |
Anyway, great man.
This is a story about how our friendship began.
The Hedayet Institute, where we all went to class, was a great little institution, in some ways. One way that it wasn’t very great was in the fact that the A/C was pretty questionable, and was only in the classrooms. The lack of cool air made studying between classes pretty unbearable. Dil and Jason (the directors of the program) lived in beautiful, air-conditioned apartments just around the corner from our school, and had opened their homes to all of us (which I thought was immeasurably kind) for studying and just hanging out, napping etc. all day. I was there one day and Dil happened to be there as well. He was just sitting there working on his computer. I noticed his shoes. They were plastic-y-looking slip-on sandals, worn over socks, with a sort of x shape over the top of the foot. I thought they were fantastic. I noticed that they were torn on one side.
“Dil, those are great shoes,” said I.
Dil laughed (If only I could convey the way he laughed with words).
He told me that they were his house slippers and that he loved those shoes more than any other shoe. He had purchased his first pair in the 70s when he first set foot in Egypt, and had purchased a new pair every time he had been back since then.
“But these ones are clearly falling to pieces!” I lamented, “why have you not yet purchased a new pair?”
A look of sadness came over him as he explained that he had tried. Boy had he tried. He couldn’t find them anywhere, and feared they had lost their appeal to Egyptians. They were no longer available, and it was something he would have to come to terms with. I felt a little bit sad for him… and maybe thought about it too much.
*
Jump to the next morning.
I awoke, realizing that my dream had been incredibly vivid; something so real. I delayed properly waking up so I could lay there trying to recall my dream… and then all at once there it was…
I was walking briskly, excitedly toward Dil’s office. I pushed open the door and said, in the sing-songy voice I sometimes do, “Oh Dilllll! What do you think about these shoes of mine?” I smiled at him, in very self-satisfied way, raising my eyebrows and extending my foot, toe pointed, so he could see the Dil-sandals that I had recently acquired. He gasped, “Where did you find those?!”
And that was it. That was the dream.
I laughed as I got out of bed, excited to report to Dil that he had made an appearance in my dream. I did tell him, at school the next day. He laughed (again, I wish I could convey his laughter).
*
About two months later…
A few friends and I were down at Khan al-Khali, sweaty and tired after a long afternoon of haggling and pushing our way through crowds. There’s much to see, but you’re often better off ignoring the invitations to look at goods. Sometimes though, my eyes would wander down to the ground, where blankets or tarps would display random collections of things for sale: massage oil, scarves, belts, underwear. I glanced down and stopped in my tracks as I saw, though it were the holy grail, a solitary pair of the sandals Dil loves. I bought them as quickly as I saw them. They were the only pair, so I hoped they were the appropriate size, but decided since they were only about eighty-nine cents, that it would be a great gift even if the fit was off.
The next morning at the school, I stood outside of Dil’s office door and slipped the new shoes onto my feet. I opened the door in a Kramer-like fashion… I said, in the sing-songy voice I sometimes do, “Oh Dilllll! What do you think about these shoes of mine?” I smiled at him, in very self-satisfied way, raising my eyebrows and extending my foot, toe pointed, so he could see the Dil-sandals that I had recently acquired. He gasped, “Where did you find those?!”
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| The famous shoes on my feet, moments before revealing them to Dil |
I told him how I had stumbled upon them and he was astonished. I asked if he was jealous. He was. I took them off of my feet and handed them over to him, informing him that they were a gift. He took off his other shoes, explaining that he was going to put on the sandals right then and wear them everyday. He was overjoyed. I apologetically asked if they fit, and what size he wore, and told him I didn’t really have many options. The shoes were size 11, as was Dil.
“And they’re blue!” He said in awe, “that’s the color I always get!”
I reminded him that I had dreamt this exact scenario, and we spent the next little while discussing the fact that I had, in fact, dreamt the future—no easy task—and thus, a friendship was born.
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| A very happy Dil, at his desk, immediately after receiving his new shoes |
*I have since dreamt that Dil was kidnapped by a pretty tough-looking guy, and in an attempt to spare himself, Dil buddied up to his captor by wearing a black leather jacket, growing out his hair and filling his face and ears with piercings. His tactics worked, and he was released. His wife, worried about the rumors that were spreading about her husband living on the wild side, promptly took him to the salon where his hair was washed, dried, and curled in a very feminine 40s sort of way.
Needless to say, Dil and his wife are worried about the future.
