Did I ever tell you the story about Isabella? This story of mine was first published in an Egyptian magazine years ago. It was entitled, “What’s in a name?” It’s pretty long but I’ll give you the short version of it here.
I woke at 7 a.m. to a loud banging sound coming from my front apartment door. I opened the door to find a girl about eleven or twelve smiling at me. She pointed to a wicker basket on the floor and said, “Isabella.”
What do you think I thought it was? I kept waving my hands and told her to go away. I thought she was trying to sell me a baby. She grinned and kept repeating herself, “Isabella.”And I kept telling her to go away.
The girl shrugged and gave me that “suit yourself” look before going upstairs to the next apartment.
Later, at work, I told a few people what happened that morning. Everyone laughed at me. I soon found out why.
You see, “Isabella” or “Zabella” as the Egyptians pronounced it, is the Arabic and Greek word for trash. The girl had come to check if I had any trash to throw. She was an independent garbage collector.
Days later she appeared again. This time, I didn’t shoo her away. In fact, I followed her outside to see her father waiting on a horse cart.
