Her Side of the World

Chapter 3

The man's voice is deep, probably from smoking for so long - I assume. He wears a uniform that I have seen around the campus. He is one of the staff, for sure.

"Hello."

His accent is fine, a little different from the others I have talked to.

"You work here?" I ask, not minding him thinking that I am stupid. I did not know how else to approach him. I had to.

"Yes."

There is a silent moment.

"You want a cigarette?" he opens the box for me.

"Oh no, no. Thank you. I don't smoke. Not anymore."

"You study here?" he asks me, sounding like he is trying to find and say the right words.

"Yes."

He shakes his head and inhales from his cigarette. He looks around 45 years old. His facial features look very much Arab. He is your typical middle eastern man. The one you see in every corner here.

"Problem of my life, this university." he tells me.

"What do you mean? Why? Do they not treat you well?" I ask concerned. But I sound more concerned than I truly am. In reality, I feel a little more curious than concerned.

"They do. They treat me okay. My son is the problem actually. Not them."

I am a little confused. And it seems like his English is not helping him relay his thoughts out to me. Or maybe there are expressions in Arabic that he is trying to translate? I am not sure.

"I don't understand." I tell him.

"My son does not want to come and take classes here."

I still do not get it.

"Yeah?"

"I work day and night here. I am a janitor." He opens his arms showing me his uniform. "I worked this work my whole life." 

A tiny part of me wants to laugh a little about the way he is trying to explain things to me and the words he is using, but I push it away and focus on his point.

"You know when you work here, your children can attend it for free. You know how high AUB tuitions are? They are too high! People cannot afford them. People kill over getting a little more financial aid. The students struggle to receive scholarships. Every year, students fight over the top five ranking positions when they do their exams in their last year of school. Because the first five get a scholarship here. I know a girl who took her exams twice in order to become one of the top five even though she ranked sixth or seventh the first time. But it is really not about the rank you see. It is about this university, and being able to come here!" he explains, a little emotional and a lot of hand and body gestures. I can tell this means a lot to him. Even if I do not completely see the point or agree with the logic, I feel a little empathy for the man. 

"My son can come here for free because I work here. And he says no thank you?! Part of why I have worked here since forever is to give him this chance that few others have. And he wants to let it go. My working years' purpose. Psh! Gone. Like that." he claps his hands together and moves them against each other.

"I fight with him every night." he tells me. "And he still says no."

A child beggar comes towards us and starts talking to us. I do not understand a word he is saying. But I can tell from his gestures and the way he holds one hand in the other and opens it, that he is asking for money. I put my hand on my pocket and am about to take some out.

The man starts talking to the child and the child leaves without taking anything.

"What did you tell him?" I ask.