Henna

I have a very special relationship with the staff here. For some reason, they really love me. The other day, I noticed that Nur had a bit of henna left on her hands. I love the way hands are hennaed here. This morning, after breakfast, we sat near the tandir (a carved hole that serves as an oven) and she put some on my hands. She had some prepared in a bit of plastic wrap. It looked like pureed spinach and alfalfa, but smelled much better. She made circles on my palms, and covered all of my fingertips. Sherife Anna, the round cook who makes the best yoghurt and desserts, grabbed a metal baklava pan from the kitchen and played it like a tambourine/drum. Apparently, before women get married, there is a kind of hen party. The bride has her hands done as mine are, and there is singing and dancing. We laughed a lot. After the henna was in place, Sherife Anna wrapped bits of paper napkin around my fingers, and laid some on my palms. I was instructed to sit in front of the coal burning stove with my hands in a warm spot to set the color. I looked darn funny with my bandaged fingers, hunched over to warm them by the fire.