Holiday in the Sun 1.0

My holiday, continued ^_^ These are my favourite moments...

A Scary Night

Creepy Z is addicted to Wi-Fi, and her phone. She can’t be without it. She can use her phone anywhere, but coverage and Wi-Fi is only in the reception lounge (along with that blessed air conditioner.)

My mother has forbidden us to leave our cottage after dinner, but my father shows up and gives us permission, for ‘last night’s sake’, as long as three of us go together. Although there’s some friction, because my sister wants us to play Monopoly and do stuff together, Creepy Z, Aisha and I head to the reception lounge. 

Creepy Z takes a lot of selfies. I find it weird that someone can take that many photos of themself, but whatever. Aisha and I play the Icon Pop Quiz, Googling some of the answers that we have an inkling about. Creepy Z does her creepy thing, makes us laugh so hard we have tears in our eyes and our stomaches hurts. 

I can’t really explain it. It’s sort of you-have-to-be-there-to-appreciate-it.

It’s 10:55pm, and we decide to go back. Outside it’s pitch black – really, like the black is a solid substance. Aisha waves a glow stick about, and Creepy Z has that blinding light coming out of her phone.

“Do you realise we’re moving targets right now?” I say, just because. “We can’t see beyond the light, but someone somewhere, in the dark, with their eyes adjusted, could spot us miles away. They could follow us, and we wouldn’t know.”

“I never thought of that,” Aisha whispers.

“Turn off the light,” Creepy Z hisses. The glow stick and her phone light are extinguished. There’s a confusing moment that I can’t really explain. Creepy Z pulls up her shawl to hide her face, like a niqab. She grabs my hand and Aisha’s, and pulls us close. She whisper-yells at me to stop walking too fast. We slow down so our feet don’t crunch on the gravel, but she’s still hurrying. No one’s around. There are few lights.

“Which way?”

“This one,” I say, because it’s quicker, and it doesn’t go past the mothers’ cabin. We didn’t want to capture the notice of my mother, the sleeping dragon. But the way I pick is also very twisted, with sharp turns where you can’t see what’s around the corner. We break into a run, hysterical giggles. I’m not sure if any of us were really scared or not, but it was exhilarating.

(this path was so much more sinister in the dark)

 When we get to our cabin, we grew quieter, and hid around the side. We hear Sasha, MJ and Sam talking inside. Creepy Z tiptoes forward and scratches on the window, before running back to us. I shove my shawl in my mouth to stifle my laughter, but they haven’t heard the scratching. Creepy Z does it again. This time it goes quiet. She picks up some gravel and throws it at the window.

But now they talk louder, and they say something about it being Creepy Z, and so we know the game’s up and go in.

We ready ourselves for bed, and lay about chatting, eating and playing on the iPad. No one is sleeping on the floor tonight – my sister claims to have seen a snake outside and was paranoid that it would somehow find its way in and eat her up at night. I wasn’t too concerned, but everyone wants to be all cuddled up together. Sasha dishes up on her own little love story, sitting on the chair she was going to sleep on. Apparently she actually likes it, but we were still weirded out (she promises to stare at MJ all night. No wonder she and Creepy Z are related.)

 Sam wants to start up a fiery debate on the niqab, but for one, no one disagrees to start with, and two, no one is really in the mood to think. We mock each other.

Then Sam’s phone rings. It says ‘PRIVATE’, and she answers it, but no one replies. Shrugging, she tries again, in vain, to spark an argument.

The phone rings again. PRIVATE. Cuts off when she answers it.

Feeling a little spooked, she gets into bed, while Sasha and I make sure the door and the windows are locked.  Then I crawl onto the bed next to Creepy Z and Aisha. We’re sleeping sideways so my feet dangle off.

“Don’t you ever feel like something’s going to grab your feet when you do that?” she asks me.

I immediately curl up. 

 
Yes, Creepy Z. Yes I do.

The phone rings again. PRIVATE. No one speaks when it’s answered. Cuts off again.

Call after call comes in quick succession, and Sasha answers each one, making funny voices. We ponder who it is.

My mother? No, she’s not that weird.

My cousin? I doubt it. He’s a prankster, yes, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his sleep to do that. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t possibly know we’d be up.

MJ’s boyfriend? He’s the only other guy that has my sister’s number. But MJ texts him, and being the lovesick puppy he is, he’s quick to reply at 1am. Well, actually, apparently he and his friend have decided to block a road with their cars for fun. They like watching drivers unquestioningly pull U-turns.

MJ launches into a tirade about her useless, co-dependant boyfriend.

The phone rings again.

Again and again and again.

We can’t sleep. It won’t stop ringing, and my sister can’t turn it off because my parents have insisted she keep her phone on. It’s on silent, but it keeps lighting up

And truthfully, we’re dying of curiosity.

Sometimes Sasha thinks she hears children’s voices. Other times, it’s an adult. A man. Then it’s just silence again.

Aisha plays on her iPad, Creepy Z on her phone, and the rest of the girls talk.

I’m thinking about being a target. Okay, we’re not out in the open. But you know how at night, when the lights are on in the house, you can’t see outside unless you stick your face up close to the window? Once again, though, anyone out there, in the dark, could see you easily. They could be watching. And you wouldn’t know. Of course you could press your face against the window and take a peek, but do you really want to see a face out there? Do you really want to know?

I sometimes enjoy giving myself the skeevies. Don’t know why.

The phone rings and rings. And rings.

And rings.

And rings and rings and rings.

Over 20 calls.

Past 1am, 2am, leaning on 3am.

Creepy Z is addicted to her phone. Of course no one would think twice about her being on it, because she always is. And no one wonders what she’s doing on it – naturally, they assume it’s something to do with taking or editing a photo, sending a text. It’s what she always does. No one would think, for a moment, that she would set her number to private and constantly call someone in the same room.

When it rings for the umpteenth time, I bury my grin in my pillow, feigning fatigue.

Only a few days ago did my sister pull it out of Aisha :P

An embarrassing video you will never see

It is a tradition, in my family, that when we go on holiday, the men cook. It’s a tradition that we like to impose on the other families too. So on the trip, the men had their own cabin with the kitchen, to cook away to their hearts’ content, while the women chilled.

On the way back home, we’re at a reservoir, and we’ve taken a massive hike up in the searing heat to look over the top of the wall at a dam. On the way down, we stop half way to rest in some shade, and that’s when my little sister comes running – somewhat hysterically – screaming:

“THEY WERE SINGING. THE MEN WERE SINGING!!!”

It’s understandably traumatic.

One of the uncles – one that is not the father to any of us girls – hands over his iPad. We play the video.

First, Aisha’s dad looks intently into the camera, crooning the words to some exceptionally ancient, sad Curry song. Watching over our shoulders, she looks mortified.

And they’re off!

A cringe-worthy a cappella performance starts. An uncle – another who is not the father to any of us – dances across the screen, carrying some vegetables. My dad, who was cutting the meat in the background, sings into a knife microphone. Creepy Z’s father sings low key. And Aisha’s father continues to look deeply into the lens.

When the men see us watching the video, there is much face palming.

“You sing well, father,” I say.

“Really?” He doesn’t know whether I’m being sarcastic or not. I decide to let it remain a mystery.

Creepy Z and I joke about uploading it on Youtube. 7 million views over night, we think.

The video’s just the inspiration, though. While we’re sitting in the grounds, in the shade of palm trees, three circles are formed. The men, some distance away. The women, closer to us but still separate.

And us girls.

The kids run around.

My little sister comes running, a little hysterically again.

“THEY’RE STARTING TO SING AGAIN!”

And heaven forbid, the men are belting out another cringe-worthy old Curry song.

To our utmost mortification, the women beside us start singing another cringe-worthy old Curry song, soft and slow. We can’t really hear them too well, because the wind carries their voices away, but just knowing is enough.

Creepy Z looks at me. “I think we should start rapping. Just to add to the mix.”

“Good idea,” I agree. But of course we don’t.

Some birdies welcomed us home.

Peace in,

Laila