Flash fiction by Timia Breederveld: a humorous look at life in Egypt, based on a true story, with Timia’s wit hovering on the edges.
—
A small boy came running from the desert. “The street’s on fire!”
“Did you hear that?” Mohammed stepped out of the tiny supermarket. In front of him, yellow spangles of light vaporized in the air. He lit a Cleopatra and shook his head. “That’s not a fire, it doesn’t have flames.”
“It is so!” The boy stamped his foot.
“It’s more like welding sparks.”
The kid pinched his nose. “It smells awful.”
A battered Peugeot 504 stopped in the middle of the street. Five men exited. More people approached from the other side.
Mohammed took another drag of his cigarette. “Maybe we should do something about it?”
“Like what?” an onlooker asked.
“We could throw water on it,” Mohammed responded.
A young man approached. “Not a good idea. It looks like an electrical fire.”
A wrinkled man with a stick took a step backward. “Is it dangerous?”
“Who knows? Maybe.” The speaker slapped Mohammed on his shoulder. “Assalamu Alaykum, Mohammed.”
“Alaykum Salam, Prince.” Mohammed greeted Abdul with a handshake and kissed his cheeks.
“Maybe we can cover it with sand,” Abdul said. “Or call the fire department.”
An old man reached for one of his phones. “Does anyone have their number?”
Everyone shook their heads.
A new face stepped forward. “I could call my cousin Khalid. His uncle Ahmed works for the government. Maybe he knows someone who has their number.”
“Maybe,” a man mumbled.
Mohammed looked at the shopkeeper. “Any ideas?”
“No, not really. Maybe we should wait it out?”
Mohammed turned to his friend. “How are your father and sons?”
“Very well. Thanks for asking, Mohammed. What about your family? Is there a son on the way yet?”
“If Allah wills.” Mohammed threw his cigarette on the ground and extinguished it with his foot.
A taxi honked and stopped behind the growing crowd. “What’s going on?” a voice called out.
“The street’s on fire!” The little boy jumped up and down.
“Is no one doing anything about it?”
“Good question,” Mohammed said.
The driver got out of his taxi. “My brother’s wife has a niece, who is married to a guy in the fire department. Should I give her a call?”
“Might be an idea,” Abdul said.
The man pulled three phones from a pocket in his jellabiya robe, and chose the smallest one to make the call.
One and a half hours later, a faded fire truck arrived. Two men climbed out.
“What’s happening?” one of them asked.
Mohammed answered on behalf of the throng, “Some electrical fire’s coming from under the asphalt.”
“Mohammed,” the other fireman called.
Twelve Mohammeds turned to face him; he pointed to the nearest one. “Go get a bucket from that supermarket behind you, fill it with sand, and throw it on that crack.”
“Let’s have tea and smoke a shisha,” he said to his colleague. “That was enough work for one day.”
—
Timia Breederveld was born in the Netherlands and lives in Egypt, where she makes underwater films and writes. Her short stories are inspired by daily Egyptian life and surrealism. Her short story “Strings” appeared in Text in April 2015.
You can find her at TimiaBreederveld.nl.
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Thanks for the compliments Ludi,Sam and Kathy. I hope many more of my Egyptian stories will find a home somewhere.
Well deserved!
I like the satirical sense of humor in this story. Well done!
Thanks, Sam. I second that compliment.
I especially like the second-to-last paragraph. 🙂
Very proud of my BFF Timia in Egypt x
Yes, she has a delightful sense of humor and an easy-to-read writing style.