The Bold and the Beautiful

Do you sometimes experience a keen, almost physical, longing for association of the past. When you pass by your old neighborhood in which you were born and where you spend your earlier life, do you have a sharp funny reaction almost a keen to nausea?

Yesterday I woke up early in the morning. The night had been brittle cold. I took a long hot shower in the morning. I let the showerhead gush. I stood under the showerhead for a long time and listened to the sound of the water that was gurgling down the drain. I went to the kitchen and found some cereals and milk. I fixed a quick breakfast. The day stretched before me .The day is like a desert. The desert is treeless. It was another morning. I had nothing to do better. I wondered what to do? The dishes were dirty, the laundry needed to be done, and the floor needed some mopping. I whispered to my self this is the only time I needed a maid (or a wifey! Sorry girls!). I walked in to the living room and turned on the television. I sat there flipping the channels. I was immediately hit by soap operas. I hated soap operas. I never liked it especially the Lifetime television (television for women as the logo goes). Then suddenly before I flipped the channel, I saw the soap opera “ the Bold and the Beautiful ”. This shows reminded back in the days when I was the king of translation in my neighborhood. All the girls used to come to our house and watched the show. The girls did not know how to speak English. They were from Somalia. Every Monday night I used to be called by my aunt to translate for the girls. This was an opportunity for me to escape being pushed to do my homework. School was a drag then.



The neighborhood girls used to let me translate for them. Sometimes they asked me to translate some unsettling questions that were struggle for a seventh grade kid like me to translate. But I pretended I knew everything. I never wanted to miss the chance of being the king of the neighborhood. All the girls in the neighborhood used to respect me. Whenever there is a making out scene, the girls covered their faces and said in Somali “akhaas meyeynan xishoneyn”. This was my favorite part. I enjoyed their reactions even though I was only fourteen. This was close to my puberty age. This show let me participate in girly talks with these girls. The participation was so intense you might think I shared an experience with these girls. I shared grief and shame with these girls. Shame became an experience. We shared the “Bold and the beautiful” experience. Suddenly a siren wailed in distance .The sound rose closer. It distracted my little daydreaming! I turned off the television and continued eating my breakfast while cursing the people who called the firefighters.