Panic not, dear friends. This is just a post to let you know that I am off to the Homeland to dance around trees for a week. I'm going to go back to my village and smell the soil, walk in the green wheat fields, pray on my grandparents' graves, play with my baby cousins, spend lazy afternoons in my desert-border hometown chatting to the people I grew up with, take walks down the streets I played on as a child, bargain tactfully in the old market and eat my aunty's delicious curry breakfasts. People think curry for breakfast is an insane idea, but I think it's a much gentler wake-up than the screaming matches on TV with a fag and a coffee.
My cover story is already set up for me and all I have to do is stick to it. The official line is that I still live and work in the UK. Because in the country I am from, boys can do what they want, but girls who step out of line are done for. The fact that I am in a loving relationship and us living together in a supportive unit should be cause for a family's happiness. Unfortunately for me, the man happens to be the wrong colour and religion and also not married to me.
I have male cousins who got blind drunk, slept with prostitutes and generally indulged in appalling behaviour but none of this tarnished the family's honour. However, if anyone from back home found out what I am doing here in Greece (forming a relationship I plan to keep for life) all hell would break loose. My immediate family have been understanding, but back home is a whole other story.
If word got out, I'd be excommunicated faster than you can say "Dishonour". No more aunty's curries, no more warm welcomes, no more fields in my village. So even though it makes me angry, I will stick to my cover story because I don't want my father's reputation to bite the dust along with mine. Aren't you impressed that I can still dance with all the weight of a family's honour on my slender shoulders?
Anyway, keep my blogspot warm for me till I get back and I'll share my tales upon my return.