On my Freshman year in University I received a call from the younger brother of my friend Omar who was a friend and schoolmate of my sister. Apparently that weekday a guy and his friends bullied my sister at school and he was kindly calling to let me know. They cut pieces of her hair on which they even threw some piss! Dafuq! My baby sister!
The next day a couple of hours before the school day was over, my cousin, a couple of friends and I headed to Maadi in three separate cars. One had his 20-something year old driver who, apparently, happened to carry a Rambo knife. Yep. The rest of us were 19, some 18. Personally, I knew the boy was a kid and wasn’t expecting to have an actual physical fight. In fact, the couple of guys with us were not the fighting type; they just came for the number.
We also knew the boy’s father as the parents are friends of ours. In addition to all, it was the French Lycée Français after all, where many are foreigners and children of diplomats. So nothing even remotely close to fighting big-ass bouncers as we did in The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On was planned.
Once there outside the school, someone I know saw me and came towards us. I then gave him the message: Please call … by name. About ten minutes through more and more kids had gathered around and finally the boy was “brought”. But he didn’t come alone. Ha. A “surveillant”, who was a foreigner, came along with him — probably for protection. This is when the driver with us took the man aside, instructing him that it was none of his business... in street, thuggish Arabic. First, gently then when he didn’t cooperate he kind of carried him away. During this commotion, I think, is when the driver took the Rambo knife out for a couple of seconds, just to show off, I guess. Or mayhap to put an early end to the fight-to-be. Obviously the kids were petrified from the sight. Mayhem then ensued; while some began screaming, others were running left and right.
As for the 15-year-old bully, I remember standing right in front of him while surrounded by tens of boys and girls and lecturing him. In French, mind you! I then called my sister and asked the boy to apologise to her in front of the entire school. He did. And that was that.
Back home a few hours later, my father wasn’t too happy. It seems someone from the school had called to tell him. “When something like this happens you come and tell me. Not act like a thug at your sister’s school,” he noted.
“Well, you didn’t do anything,” I defiantly cut him off — even though I never told him and took matters into my own hands. Being the youngest of 10 half-brothers and half-sisters, I also did not think he would totally grok the bond between a lone brother and younger sister; the protective role you find yourself assuming as soon as she’s born.
“Now, you are not allowed to enter the vicinity,” he carried on. Apparently I was banned or something. He also took my car keys… for 24 hours.
After this little adventure no one dared to even be mean to my sister for her remaining three years at school. She’s got a wacky brother who carries around a Rambo knife, may have been the impression left; or dare I say, legacy. Oh there she comes. Smile! Smile!
Sadly, almost a decade later the same boy died in an accident. Yeah. That was tragic. May His Soul Rest In Peace.
As with my earlier writings that involve fights, let us be clear that I do not condone violence in any way, shape, or form. The same for carrying weapons. Now, the pen is my sword as my tongue remains sharper than any metal. It still wouldn’t hurt if you remained nice to her. Bwahaha.
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| Protective 5-year-old brother with 1-year-old baby sister, 1982. Keyoot. |
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