In nasrani Arabic, inshallah means maybe, walahi means of course

Gare du Nord, Tunis

I could dissolve into giggles for the idiocy of my dumb luck. Honestly, I don’t know how I get away with such lackluster planning, and get away so well. This morning, I woke leisurely, repacked my bags and had a lazy breakfast. I went to the train station with six bags in hand (and in other hand, and on back…) hoping to cram them into a rental locker. Would there be available lockers? Would they fit? Inshallah turned into walahi.

Then, ignorant of the train schedule, I approached the counter hoping to get a ticket to El Kef. No trains, go to Information. No information, go to Tourism Office. Finally, success: “You’ve got nothing to worry about, buses go to El Kef all the time.” Inshallah turned into walahi.

I took a poorly drawn map and strolled toward the metro stop. Crammed between dark haired strangers, I realized I had no idea where my stop was. Through scratched metro windows, I could see un readable dirt-caked street signs and worn places where station signs used to hang. Then, miraculously, hidden on some half hidden, wooden marker, Bab Saadoun. My stop.

I grabbed my bags, jumped on the platform, and commenced guessing. My poorly drawn map indicated a train station where one obviously did not exist. Donning my cutest “I’m lost” face, I asked a shop owner. He indicated the bus station is “hewn-ak,” or over there. I walked until my intuition got too nervous to continue. Stopped to ask at bank. Waited. Waited. Too many people. Stopped at bistro number two, whose recommendation was simply, straight ahead. Vague, but I contented myself with his directional certainty. In the distance, I saw large green Arabic script: a good sign. Beside me, women passed, burdened with suitcases: a better sign. I heaved a sigh of relief as the street opened up to a taxi-crowded lot. Inshallah turned, finally, into walahi.

With false confidence, I proceeded to the ticket counter, still ignorant of the bus schedule. “Is there a bus to El Kef today?” “Sure,” he grins broadly, “one leaves in a half hour.” Perfect. As I slipped a few dinars under the window, I returned the smile and wondered: would my providential streak continue? Inshallah. No, walahi.