The phone line hasn’t worked for days, and there’s no guarantee that it will work tomorrow, and yet, I cling to hope, futile though it may be, that mayhap one day there SHALL be a phone line, whose clarion dial tone shall be to mine ear as water is to the throat of one who is parched for long and many days. (Sensei is reading Ivanhoe, can ye tell?)

But yeah, so there’s no phone line. There may not be one tomorrow, so I’m actually typing this at an internet cafe. Here I go. Pardon the typos, there will probably be thousands.

I have a new student, which, in accordance to tradition, makes me nervous and causes me to dread every day that bring me closer to the first class. Sense confesses, Sensei isn’t really an adult, she’s just a kid who’s infiltrated their world and is afeared of being found out. Really, it’s intimidating trying to teach someone double your age and twice as important as you’ll ever be.

“Uh, look here, Mr. Diplomat, sir…” Sensei sez, trying to be respectful and stern at the same time, “This is the third time this week you’ve neglected your homework. What’s the point of moving on to next week’s lesson if you haven’t bothered to learn this weeks, sir.”

At this point I’m worried that Mr.Diplomat will thunder back, “Silence, Upstart American!” I’ve been busy with a delegation all this week and I have better things to do than your insipid vocabulary lessons!”



I know, I know, none of my students would ever say anything like that. They’re all very nice, in fact, all of the diplomatic-type people I’ve met have seemed like very nice guys. Of course, I’m sure it’s part of the job to seem like a nice guy, it’s only when you turn your back that they bust out all the devious spy vs. spy stuff, he he. I like to imagine that at least one of the students I teach from one of the embassies I teach at is a spy. It makes my life more interesting. Aniraz thinks it might be the security officer, based on the fact that he seems the least likely, and that’s probably his cover. I think it’s the third secretary, anyone who smiles that much must be hiding something…

And speaking of sneaky things, I was tailed by the ISI once. The ISI is the Pakistani CIA or FBI or M-16, or whatever gov’t department it is whose job involves doing really sneaky things in really sneaky ways. But that, dear blogistanis, is a story for another day. My net cafe time is up. Read my momma’s blog instead. 🙂


Abez is a 50% white, 50% Pakistani, and 100% Muslim. She is also chronically ill and terminally awesome. She is the ever-lovin Momma of: - Khalid, a special little boy with autism - Iman, a special little girl with especially big hair -Musfira, an especially devious baby Spoiler, Abez is also Zeba Khan on

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