On Bicadilly, Bersil and Baking Bowder

Ever since the old aunt moved in, a new game has developed itself in our household. It’s called ‘spot the P.’

You see, the Arabic alphabet does not have the letter P. It has a letter very close to it however; the B. Foreign words that are used in Arabic, and that start with a P, are therefore pronounced with a B. Now most Lebanese are fluently bi-lingual if not tri-lingual, and they’ve simply added the P sound to their repertoire. But quite a few Lebanese are most comfortable with Arabic, and they still have the tendency to switch the P for a B. Pepsi becomes Bebsi, parking is barking, you have bassborts, you must bush the button, and the most famous one of them all is that Balestinian beoble want beace.

The elderly aunt is a native Arabic speaker, but Lebanon is a country full of foreign influences, our household adding yet another language/culture to the melange, and so she encounters all day long these foreign words. She sticks faithfully (and rightfully so, I might add) to Arabic, and ventures around the ‘strange words’ without much problem, except for those with that darn letter P.

It was the evil teenager in my house that noticed this peculiarity first. Leave it to a teenager to spot your weak point. Over dinner he would share with us in full color what word the poor aunt had massacred that day.

“Hahahaha, you know what she asked me today? If I could go and bring a bag of Bersil. Hahahaha, Bersil, you get it? Ber-sil!?”

The next day, he’d say: “I asked her if she had something for a headache, and she said; ‘Take a Banadol. Hahahaha, Banadol. That’s so funny.”

The dinner after it would be: "L saw a cockroach today, and she said' Where's the BifBaf? Hahaha, BibBaf, that's a good one, the best one yet. BibBaf!"

Now that the teenager had spotted it, other members in the household would pay attention to this habit as well, and soon a list was compiled. There was Bicadilly, baking bowder and bajamas, Baris and ‘jibneh Barmesan’, Bavarotti, combuter and BC.

The poor aunt, self-conscious as she is, figured out that she had to avoid the ridicule of this evil teenager, and decided to use the P’s. However, in her vigor, she also switched the B’s for P’s in words that actually did start with a B. Faster than a New York minute, the teenager was on it again.

“I was with L. today in a cab, and she told the driver to go by Pliss street. Hahahaha. Pliss street. The cab driver had to laugh too.“

And more words were added to the list. There was peach, Patman, and Pop’s

Sidani Street, Beirut. Monday morning, 7 o'clock

The old aunt was not born yesterday, however. And making fun of her has severe consequences. She has decided that whoever cracks so much as a smile over her speech during dinner has to clear the table. Keeping in mind that the dining room is down, and the kitchen up (don’t ask me), that’s going up and down the stairs with dishes and trays quite a number of times.

The teenager in my household has yet to figure out the scientific fact that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. He just cannot let any opportunity pass, and as a result has been clearing the table for the past 10 days.

I don’t mind. Only the first one who makes fun gets to work, the secondary laugher gets away with it. And the housekeeper is quite pleased with the arrangement as well.

Update: We just finished dinner. Bolice can now be added to the list, and my dear son is hauling dishes, once again.