My Life in ICouldGiveAF**kistan
Chapter 1: fictional account in the life of expats
We met at a camel farm in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates, in the 110 degree heat, the tops of our heads on fire, feeling like we were standing in an oven, with the stench of camel dung in our noses and sand blowing in our eyes. But I recognized his American, Southern, central Piedmont Carolina accent and realized we came from the same territory, 7,000 miles from home and nearly two oceans away, to this odd country on the Arabian peninsula where expats and laborers comprise more than 80 percent of the population.
“Howdy, friend,” I said. “I believe by your accent that you are from the Carolinas? Do I have that right?”
“Shore thing,” he replied, clasping my right hand and grinning wide.
“Where ‘bouts?”
“South Carolina. Clio, to be ‘xact.”
“How about that. I know ‘xactly where your from,’ I replied, excited. “I grew up about 40 miles from there, over the North Carolina border. Clio, a beautiful little town with big, elegant homes of folks who made their fortunes when cotton and tobacco were king. My granddaddy grew up near there, in Marlboro County, back in the 19th century — before I was born o’ course. Small world, huh? What brings you way over here?”
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