Status Updates From Come, Tell Me How You Live

We arrive at the house in pitch-black darkness. Mansur and Ali run about with torches and light the primus and spread out blankets and get in each other's way. I long for the quick and efficient Subri. Mansur is incredibly slow and clumsy. Presently Michel comes in and criticizes what Mansur is doing. Mansur stops and they argue. I hurl all the Arabic I know at them. Mansur looks scared and resumes operations.

Women, children, hens, cats, dogs--all weeping, wailing, screaming, shouting, abusing, praying, laughing, miaowing, clucking and barking--depart slowly from the courtyard like some fantastic finale in an opera.

We also have long and complicated dealings with the Bank. I am struck, as always in the East, with the reluctance of banks to do any business whatever. They are polite, charming, but anxious to evade any actual transaction.