Shisha

Shisha, a syrup marinated tobacco smoked from a water pipe, lifts my head as I sip a mint tea.  I am at a typical coffee shop serving tea, Turkish coffee and shisha.  In the haze of Shisha, Egyptians daze towards either me or the linoleum floors, as they puff their pipes.  The pipes rest either in their mouths or against the nook of a smile.  It looks as though they are playing an oboe or charming a snake, except inhaling rather than blowing. 

 

I also gaze downward, looking at the dirt that refuses to leave my fingernails.  My unwashed clothes are beginning to dull and I only notice my stench if I catch the scent of soap or something else clean.  Looking at the locals, I notice a darkened spot at the top of the forehead.  In muslim slang, it is called a raisin, resulting from pressing the head against the ground during daily prayers.  It is said that people who have raisins atop their head are pious.  An outside breeze sends ash from the coal across me, landing on my clothes like ashen snow and I turn my attention to my water pipe.        

 

Pulling air along the amber coal lights the shisha, sending the smoke it into the water beneath.  It then bubbles into a smoky waiting area and finally into the lungs.  They say that a session on a Shisha pipe is like smoking a pack of cigarettes.  Since we will enjoy only a few weeks of Arabian culture, I continue to indulge.

 

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