The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

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The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Thu Jul 28, 2011 10:52 am

The fairgrounds were crowded. People followed by people came in. All types of people could be seen this afternoon. There were men, all types of men. There were children, boys and girls, usually accompanied by a parent or two. And there were women. So many women. Some were on their own, some were with friends of the same gender, some were with children, and some were with men.

Shirin had entered this country only a few weeks ago. She had joined the carnival only a few days ago. This place was so vastly different from her home. Or maybe it wasn't? Because ever so often, she would meet people, or she would see things, or she would do things, and she would be reminded of her life at home.

So maybe these two countries were more alike than Shirin could imagine.

"Miss, miss-" Taking hold of the opportunity given to her, Shirin moved towards a group of women. She had found them to always be the most generous, and the most susceptible to their whims and desires. She picked out one woman, the tallest, and prettiest of the group. "The Evil Eye has been cast on you by an envious friend. Please, please, come with me, let me get rid of it."

The woman did not know how to respond to such confrontation. She was confident, well, she exuded a certain air of confidence, that must have come naturally with her beauty and apparent wealth. But she seemed unsure of how to respond to this 'beggar boy.'

"Here..." One of her friends handed Shirin a nickel. And they took her off.

The women here, they were different, very different, but also similar. They seemed confident, yes. They seemed in control, yes. But Shirin had seen women with their husbands. They too, often had to suffer that silent oppression that the young Afghan girl knew so well. It was difficult to be a woman. It was difficult to be one in Afghanistan, and it was difficult to be one in America.

Which was why, Shirin could no longer call herself a woman.

Dancing the nickel through her fingers, Shirin smiled slightly. She was hungry. Yesterday, she and her older brother had to spend their money on something else. She ate, yes, but that was from the generosity of friends and families. Today she wanted a meal.

But from who? And from where? Maybe someone from the carnival would know...? And so she looked around for someone who might know.

((Which gender pronoun I use--, be free to come in. B) Also lamee, sorry ))
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Re: The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Sat Jul 30, 2011 12:47 am

It had been quite some time since Faraz had seen this many people attend Ragtags.  It wasn't just the buzz in the crowd that excited the boy, but the prospect of a raise.  Given a small one, but a raise nonetheless.  Normally, their revenue was a trickle compared to the cash flow that Mystique reveled in.  Apparently Ragtags held the advantage of being in a low-income area compared to the bigger cities were locals with deeper pockets would have flocked to the bigger, more dolled-up carnival rather than the humble Ragtags.

The Persian boy leaned foreword on his arms, frustrated that he wasnt allowed to venture forth into the crowds, but was instead put in charge of his mother's food stall while she performed and then took her usual nap. The sun was sweltering but it did little to hamper the crowds. Faraz felt drowsy under the shade of the tent, but he knew the consequences if he fell asleep on the job that his mother had entrusted him with. He tried his best to look attentive, even sneaking a wrap or two out of the small cooler. The freshly baked pita wrap the cold cuts were the perfect snack on a day like this.

He swung his legs above the chair, chatting occasionally with a customer while preparing their order. It was mostly just a pattern of nods and questions about the impression of the carnival. He wasn't the most talkative of people, but he had quickly learned that most patrons liked friendly service. As rewarding as the act if semi-entrepreneurship was and the sense of responsibility was, Faraz, like any other child his age, would much rather play than work. Even though being all work-no play Jack was tiresome, at least it put food on the table.

Wiping crumbs off the rickety counter, Faraz glanced furtively at the people passing by, trying to spot a familiar, friendly face. Who knew? Perhaps actually socializing would help ease the few hours he had left to finish. He waved at a group of pretty women, inquiring if they would like a snack, which sone took up his offer and left him a few cents wealthier. He smiled broadly at the minor profit before sticking it into the mason jar-turned- cash register. It wasn't much, but maybe he could buy something in the next town?

In the middle of pouring over the various knick-knacks he could purchase, he almost missed that new boy who had just joined the circus. This new fellow looked a little older than Faraz, but that hardly mattered to him. He just wanted a new friend close to his age to goof off with. It was not often that he saw youth of his age or gender workig around Ragtags. It was almost a blessing. What was this guy's name again? Sher? Faraz had seen the boy talking to Arash or Shahnaz, and sometimes he would s
eat over, but he hadn't gotten a chance to know him better. The only thing that Faraz knew was that he was from somewhere in Afghanistan and another one of his half-siblings. Maybe this sibling wouldn't be as much of a headache as Arash? Faraz hoped so.

Hey!" Faraz waved furiously in the boy's direction. "Hey! How are you doing?" He brushed off the seat next to him, Faraz smiled broadly. "I haven't seen you around too much lately. How have you been?"
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Re: The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sat Jul 30, 2011 2:24 am

There was so much noise invading the young Afghan's mind, she only knew it all as strange words. Even a particularly loud 'Hey', did not earn her attention. It must have been to someone else. All this loud chatter, it was all to someone else. Few people spoke to her here. Less people knew her here.

But when she saw that short, kind of scruffy boy (who looked too much like her father for comfort) flail his arms at her, and shout something else, she knew she was being spoken to. Or at least, when they made eye contact, she knew she was being spoken to. She shied away from the eye contact at first. She let her glance down, as a woman ought to. She even blushed a bit in embarrassment.

But that was not right...

It was difficult, adjusting to being a man again. She had been a man before, but that was so long ago. And even then, even if she was still a woman, this boy was her younger brother. She couldn't say she had seen him before, or she couldn't say she remembered seeing him before. Did he know of her gender? She was unsure... which was enough of a reason for her to avoid him.

But she was being called to now, so she came. The boy was chatty and friendly. He asked questions quickly, and then offered a seat to her. It was difficult interacting... A response did not instantly come to her. It was difficult to comprehend how to. Again, it had been awhile.

"Salam, Faraz..." She figured that she now had the authority to look him in the eye. Her fierce, but also very tired looking eyes almost gave hints of some of her secrets or experiences- but revealed much too little to take away. The hint could easily be dismissed. "That is your name, yes?" She continued on, in her Dari, not different at all really from her brothers' Persian. Her voice, though she tried to keep it low, sounded soft and feminine. But boys did sometimes speak like that.

"The carnival, being here is well... It is a pleasure to meet another brother of mine here..." But with a smile, not quite as broad as Faraz's, she pulled out the nickel she had earned. To her, it seemed like such a great sum.

"But can I buy some food. I did not know you made food... But you run this?" It seemed odd. She knew Arash or their father could not cook... But the one could? Maybe there was some other gender reversals here, as well.
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Re: The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Sun Jul 31, 2011 12:33 am

For a brief moment it seemed as if Sher had not heard his shouts as the Afghani kept at the same pace as before. His shoulders fell but for a moment as Faraz persisted in addressing his half-brother until he relented albeit with some embarrassment.

Words could not describe how elated Faraz was to have more of his family at the same carnival as he. Even though he was mostly a solitary lad, probably more so than most boys his age, Faraz was more than happy to spend time with some relatives more than others. To some people that unusual clinging would be labeled as annoying, but to him it was safety. These being the precious few people he could trust or rely on. Even though he put on a straight face through most of the events that had transpired between leaving home and joining the circus, he was still very much afraid of being left absolutely alone. He wouldn't admit that sometimes he took his family for granted, but he looked out for them as mug as a boy of his age could. That was the least he could do.

"Salam to you, too," Faraz grinned and took a seat across the table from his sibling. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he spoke in his own Persian, "It's not as glamourous as thy other place, but who needs bells and whistles when you have a place like this?". He gestured to the rough, but homey surroundings in his line of sight. "And it's great rivers you, too, what with Mirza moving back and all," Faraz finished somewhat despondently.

The appearance of the nickel snatched Faraz out of his doldrums as he slowly pocketed the small coin with a growing smile. "And what? Well, I'm not that good seeing as I can only make rice, but my maman taught me how to make these kind of wraps, from her country," Faraz slid one of the least chipped plates to Sher along with a cup of freshly brewed tea, which he insisted was free of charge. "The food here is alright, but I'd much rather have the food back home, but Shahnaz has been nice enough to prepare our favorites," he smiled warmly.

"And haaa! I'm just doing this for some extra money! Most of the time I perform with tigers- real tigers!" He shrugged a little, "but it's really tough sometimes, especially when they don't listen to you. Trust me, you can't force a tiger to do something it doesn't want to do." Finishing up the rest of his food, Faraz leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide with expectations, "so what do you do? I haven't seen you around much except before or after shows. Do you work out here? Or are you a stagehand?"
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Re: The American Dollar [Afghanistan/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sun Jul 31, 2011 12:40 pm

To have such youth! Shirin knew her little brother was not that much younger than her, but he seemed so much younger. It was probably because of that mixture of his size, his attitude, and his words, it all seemed so young. She paused, looking into the tea cup presented to her. Or maybe he was not that young, she was just too old. Her youth must just have left her too early. She couldn't possibly think or act like this boy.

But she smiled, because she enjoyed it. There seemed to be so little happiness in her family nowadays. This was refreshing. Whispering a thank you, she took the food and the tea offered to her.

"Tigers...?" She asked him, as if she had heard his occupation wrong. And he seemed much too young for that. "They... they are not very scary here, though?," she continued, toning her voice down to attempt that boyish arrogance. "I work out here, telling fortunes, granting blessings... God willing, that is-..." And a slight smile peeked up. Really, though, she could make a profit with or without God. People believed everything, here. "Maybe it is not as much as your job..." She shrugged, taking a bite of th wrap. It was not quite the meal she expected... But any food was good.

"You're cooking is very good..." No, she knew that she could cook better. But still, it was impressive that he at least knew how to cook. "How did baba ever raise a son that could cook, I wonder? I would think it would be too feminine for a tiger tamer..."
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