For American readers, in Syria under Bashar al-Assad’s regime, air force officers wielded enormous power and inspired genuine fear. They could arrest anyone for virtually anything, often on absurd charges. They are really bad people. They could throw you in prison without any reason and make you disappear for ever, and they can beat you for no reason at all, and you wouldn’t be able to object.
I was sitting at home when my phone buzzed with a Facebook message. I opened it to find a message from my neighbor, a woman married to an air force officer. This guy was evil incarnate. So ruthless that if stray dogs looked at him wrong, he’d probably arrest them for “undermining state dignity and threatening national, water, and air security.”
His face was absolutely terrifying. His expression permanently said: You’re guilty until proven innocent, and after you prove your innocence, you’re still guilty for trying to prove your innocence, which constitutes questioning the integrity of the original accusation.
When he looks at you, you feel like you owen him a logical explanation for why you existed on this planet and why you were breathing his oxygen.
My neighbor would message me secretly, always venting about her misery and how unhappy she was in her marriage. I’d listen with half sympathy and half anxiety, not anxiety for her, god forbid, but anxiety for myself because of her psycho husband.
Then one day, I was shocked when she sent me a flood of complaints: Listen, this husband of mine is unbearable. He wakes up angry, goes to work angry, comes home and smokes hashish. He’s stoned 24/7. I’m exhausted….would you marry me? I’d divorce him tomorrow
Oh my God….. I felt my heart drop into my shoes. I pictured the officer standing in front of me, waving his gun and saying in a raspy voice: So you’re the bug who wants to take my wife?! I quickly replied, trying to sound like a UN diplomat: Listen, you’re like my big sister, and I’m not thinking about marriage right now. And the officer, truth be told, is a good man and comes from a good family(he is not lol).
Then I turned off the internet.
That same day, I had plans to hang out with my friend Ahmed at our buddy’s place, a guy we called Maestro. He wasn’t actually a maestro, but we called him that because he liked to pretend he played piano, when all he really had was a piano app on his phone. We were all university students living and studying in Homs(a city in syria), away from our families who lived in a different city.
We got to his rented apartment, and it was like any typical hangout. One guy telling unfunny jokes, another singing old Amr Diab songs, a third trying to convince us that if we made the cow drink coffee, we’d get coffee with milk. Suddenly, one of the guys threw a joint on the table and said: Hey guys, wanna try something to change the mood?
Me, having never tried such things before, thought to myself: Brother, life is short, and you’re going through severe depression, so why not? Once won’t hurt.
So I took a hit…..two…..three…. I entered another dimension.
I was about to write poetry about a cucumber sitting on the table, but before I could compose an entire collection titled “You Are the Cucumber in a World of Tomatoes” I got a Facebook message.
I opened it. The neighbor: Should I divorce my husband or not? What did you say?
Under the influence of that joint, I felt like the hero of a Hollywood romantic movie. I thought to myself: brother, why not? I’m a man, and if the officer gets mad, let him get mad. Where’s the problem! Let him go to hell with his rank and his scary face. I wrote: hell yeah. I’ll marry you. Come on, get divorced and we’ll secretly get married tomorrow. I sent the message, laughing and telling Maestro: imagine, I’m going to marry my neighbor. Maestro, who was in another world himself, said while laughing: congratulations, groom! Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding, I’ll bring my piano (knowing full well he didn’t own a piano, as I mentioned).
The night ended with Maestro explaining his plan to open a shawarma restaurant on the moon, describing how the low gravity would make the shawarma easier on the stomach. We decided to leave before he convinced us to invest in his project.
Ahmed and I walked down Hadara Street in Homs, and it was past 2 AM. The world was quiet, but I was still under the influence of the joint. Suddenly, an old man in a worn coat appeared near a dumpster and said quietly: god bless you, help me with anything so i can buy food, god bless you in the name of the prophet mohamed.
Under the influence of hash, I felt a wave of generosity I’d never known in myself. I felt like king Faisal at the height of his giving. I opened my wallet, which contained money my family had sent as my weekly allowance, and said in a booming voice like I was addressing the UN: take it, uncle, you deserve the world and everything in it. I pulled out fifty thousand. Yes, fifty thousand. And gave it to him. The man opened his eyes like he’d seen Ali Baba’s treasure and said: oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, god reward you, god grant you success, god preserve your youth, God….etc.
And Ahmed, the other stoned guy who was laughing, said: what are you doing, you maniac? Give him more, what, are you being cheap?
I replied with complete seriousness: what’s wrong with you? I swear to God, I gave him everything in my wallet, look and see (I opened my empty wallet). You give him something if you’re so generous.
Ahmed opened his wallet and gave him everything he had: 35 thousand.
The man replied: god grant you success and provide for you. Go on, may God open doors for you
Before leaving, the man turned and asked me: god reward you, uncle, but if you don’t mind, could i know what’s today’s date? I’m a bit lost.
I said with complete confidence: the date, uncle? The date is 2023. The year of goodness, blessing, and giving.
The poor man stared at me with a “what the hell” look and said: no no, son, god bless you, i mean today’s date in the month, like what day of the month is today? Not the year.
Me, with all the stubbornness of a stoned person insisting on his opinion and ready to argue even if you told him the sun rises in the east, said: uncle, why are you arguing? The date is 2023. The year of goodness, blessing, and giving (knowing we were actually in 2021).
The man was puzzled, then continued on his way.
I went back to Ahmed’s rented place and slept.
In the morning, I woke up with a headache. I opened messenger and saw the messages. I was shocked. I felt like Judgment Day had arrived. I opened my wallet and found it empty. I remembered the beggar and screamed: the fifty thousand!!!!!!
I ran to Ahmed and told him the messenger disaster from the beginning. He burst out laughing and said: brother, just confess to her and tell the truth that we tried a joint. You have no other solution
I stood there for a moment and thought: wait a minute, kid! She was complaining to me about her husband who smokes hash, only to find herself complaining to another person who smokes the same stuff. Oh, the irony of fate.But in the midst of this thinking, a devilish idea flashed in my head, I found it a golden opportunity for her to get off my back and leave me alone and stop burdening me with her marital problems that I had nothing to do with.
And indeed, I confessed to her that I was a very, very bad person who smoked hash daily and drank alcohol(not really, of course)
She was shocked. After that, she completely cut off communication with me, no messages, no complaints, nothing. Praise be to God.
TL;DR: Got high once, proposed to a married woman, and donated my entire wallet to a random guy
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Why people are downvoting 😀?