#littlekuffiya

Today, it was a mother, with heavily lipstuck/ lipsticked lips who entered the taxi with her toddler, must have been a two year old. The little thing had a pink Hello Kitty backpack on her little back. A white woolen hat, like a Muslim kuffiya covered her untidy braided hair. Oh, when will some mothers ever learn to leave their little ones in peace?
I was one seat behind my favorite seat. This is the one two rows behind the taxi driver's. Mum and Little Kuffiya were in the chair behind the conductor's.
Soon someone shouted "mu maaso awo (I'm getting off)", and since Mum and Little Kuffiya were in the way, they had to get up. By the way, Mum was carrying a handbag which had short straps, a Hot Loaf kaveera, and Little Kuffiya on her lap with the Hello Kitty on her back.
After that person got out, they settled in the seat next to mine. Please note, they were still in a passage seat. Which means that if someone in the back seat wanted to exit, they would have to stand up - again.
Then like a rabbit pulled out of a magician's hat, Mum put her hand into the Hello Kitty bag and pulled out a bib which she proceeded to put around Little Kuffiya's neck (which already had a huge black and white shawl around it).
There was some commotion. Someone was getting out, and once again, the pair had to get out of their seat. I started wondering why she didn't get a permanent place so that she could stop 'mistreating' her little child.
When they got comfortable again, Mum pulled out a pink lunchbox, pink fork and pink juice bottle from the Hello Kitty bag. As she balancing the Hello Kitty, the Short Strap Handbag, the Hot Loaf kaveera, the Pink Juice Bottle, the Pink Fork and the Pink Lunchbox, plus Little Kaffiya, Mum started making a breakfast table out of her girl's lap.
Soon, she had maneuvered the Pink Lunchbox open. The smell of egg wafted out. I did a quick glance at Little Kuffiya- she smiled at the fried egg with green pepper, onions, tomatoes. It was a deep yellow. Curry powder? Tumeric?
Little Kuffiya was fiddling with the fork on her makeshift table. She couldn't spear into the egg so she decided to use her hands. But as she moved the fork to other hand, the lunchbox went hurtling onto the taxi's filthy floor. She let out a high-pitched wail. Mum did not seem bothered. Or was she just feigning calmness? But boiling inside?
 I reached for the lunchbox. Half the egg was in the dirt, the other was still in the container. I picked up the lunchbox. I thrust the fork at her mum, on top of the luggage she was lugging.
Little Kuffiya finished what was left of the egg about 10 minutes later. By this time we were stuck in a traffic jam. Thank God, I thought.
Mum was not done. Out came the juice bottle from under all her bags. I pitied Little Kuffiya. So, what was she going to have for break?
Gorriloz?