My Encounter with the Devil

We have met the devil. At least he claims to be. Perhaps I should explain. We were walking home one night at about midnight and came across a gentleman. He had a copper skin tone and black hair. This was as we approached our house, about two blocks away. He asked me where I was from and my name. I told him in a loud boisterous voice, Nigerian. I registered that he believed it, then I told him I was American and my name.

So now I asked him his name. It sounded to me that he said Shei san, which when he slurred it sounded like Cheetos to me. So now I am calling this guy Cheetos. As we are walking with him, the children who are on their balconies do the Egyptian equivalent to our gesture for crazy in the states. It is so cute, they move their heads in a diagonal circle with their whole hand moving in the opposite direction, instead of the one finger. Usually there is a facial expression that goes along with the movement. I have obviously figured this out, but since Cheetos wanted to walk us to our door I felt it was okay, besides, he was harmless.

The next day I found out that he had given me the name for the devil in Islam, Sheitan, which was a bit disturbing. However, since I had tricked him about my nationality he tricked me about his name. Still, he has to be known as Cheetos to me now anyway, so fair trade. Later, I found that he had spent considerable time in America as well and was now a failed businessman.

He has also told me about the love of his life who he loved from a distance for twelve years, and later lost to another. This of course while asking me for cigarettes. Since I don't smoke I asked him how much a pack costs. He said a million dollars. We settled on five Egyptian and all was well. He went on to explain why he had a black heart for a period, but now it was white heart. That made me feel better, kind of, at least in a Moorish sense of the language. So anyway, now I am buying the devil cigarettes and from time to time he meets me on the way home or out. Sometimes I buy him a sandwich too. Funnier though is that he still thinks I am Nigerian and C is known as mother. So I guess that makes her the mother of the devil. Hmmm....