I Have The Right To Be A Stranger

I Have The Right To Be A Stranger

- Inaya Jaber

After work, my friend and I go to the Café de Prague in the heart of the Hamra district. As we sit at a table by the large window, looking out on the lighted street, I think about the people living in the buildings across the street from us. We should go somewhere else occasionally—she says to me—we need a little variety. I eat a large salad, and we split a veggie pizza. I’d like to go to Ravenna again, I tell her. Why Ravenna, of all places? To sing in that church, to sing onstage surrounded by candles. But you’ve done that, you’ve been there before and sang. And the audience are all foreigners and strange, Italians, what’s fun about singing in front of foreigners, in a foreign country? I know that it’s Italian and strange—I say—I have the right to be a stranger, be a part of the strangeness of what’s happening in this world of strange things. You getting philosophical now? True—I tell her—I’m getting philosophical.

After dinner, we knock back the glasses of green peppermint, followed by coffee. Except for the waiter asking us if dinner was to our liking, nothing interesting happens. Nothing happening in the street catches my eye.