Tony and I went to the family in Sidi Bujita for f'tour with them, and they were lovely and welcoming as always. Visiting homes feels more regular now, sitting on froshes to chat, watching Ramadan TV, playing with the kids as they run around. The meal was delicious, with hirara soup, four kinds of bread, and a communal dish of something like pea soup with spices and oil that we dipped the bread into to eat. We had apple milk, a thick drink like a milkshake; and, of course, dates and shebekia.
After dinner, their neighbor Wafie stopped by, who is a henna artist. She mixed powders and water and some liquid from a small bottle, and stirred the henna up like a big bowl of cookie dough - but it was green. She used a medical syringe with a
fixture attached like a ball pump to swirl the henna around in beautiful patterns that she improvised as she went. She began learning henna when she was very young; she's always gone to school for it.
Tony and I and Khadija and the little daughter all had henna painted, and then had to sit for the next hour with our hands up in the air and fingers stretched! One of the men put us in the taxi home, so we wouldn't have to open the doors. Even after the wet paste dried, it them began to crack off our hands. We had a time of it trying to open our multi-keyed door when we got home.
You look so pretty with the henna!
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