Anyway, after purchasing more village friendly clothes (for some reason I keep thinking of the village people and the clothes they wore- I don't think that would have been very suitable here...), I wandered into one of the few internet cafes-BIG mistake. It was basically boiling with puffs of smoke clouds more common than air. Walking in hesistatingly, I had no idea whether to run out, but I stood my ground. Eventually an old man (the owner I presume) asked me if I wanted to sit down. One of the guys sitting down, asked whilst his jackal like friends cackled in the corner "Why don't you tell her the rules. You know, the one that we're not allowed to look at naked pictures of women on the internet". More grins. Then nothing, absolutley nothing could have prepared me for the answer or rather action of the old man. He walked up to the guy, and slapped him around the head, hard, and said "Respect yourself and apologise!". After the apology i tried my best to close my gaping mouth. I felt almost eternally grateful to the internet cafe owner, as I sat down quietly closest to the door. Maybe I should open an internet cafe when I'm older. I mean the respect and the power that comes with it- why bother going through university education? Internet cafe owners get more respect than doctors these days. :D
On my return to our house, I realised we had guests. I prayed it wasn't the family that I slept over with the day before. It wasn't. It was neighbours who had known us for decades, but not seen us for years. Everyone talked, with the focus being placed on everything and anything. After a while, the talk turned to politics, and the sheiks of Diyala etc etc. I remembered the yashmaghs and male abbayat in the other room, so I ran out, and drew on myself with a marker pen, a mustache that would put saddamists to shame. I then decided to dress up as a sheik, with all the added extra, like the sibah they usually carried. i them made my entrance back to the women's seating area and made a few stereotypical jokes. Unfortunatly, the men in the other room were curious to see what the laughter was all about and walked in. At that point I could do nothing apart from cough and choke. The worst thing was seeing the eyebrows of people disappearing off their faces. I took off the agal and yashmagh and abbaya, and walked out of the room, my fake black mustache refusing to be wiped off.
One day, when I get over the embarrassment, I may post the photos that everyone enthusiastically took. But until then, I will simply pretend that none of that day actually happened, and I dreamed it all. The worst thing, was having to go back after I had tidied, and look them in the eye seriously, as they asked after school and other trivial subjects.