Austyn couldn't help but laugh. The two men in front, although they didn't speak English, were in stitches at what appeared to be the end of the joke.
"Okay," she whispered. "Don't encourage them."
"Why?"
"Because they probably have a hundred Arab jokes each up their sleeves."
As if on cue, the younger Peshmerga started another one. This one was a short one, and both men burst into laughter afterward.
"Tarjorneh," they chanted at Fahimah.
She tapped the driver on the shoulder and said something to him sternly.
"Baleh, khanoom."
"What did you say?" Austyn asked.
"I said that this will be the last one."
"There's no harm in this," he said, smiling at her.
"Right now, maybe not. But when they start telling jokes that are otherwise inappropriate, I'm the one who turns eighteen different shades of red."
He nodded in understanding, holding back the comment that she was already turning eighteen shades of red. And actually, he thought, she looked quite beautiful in all those shades.
"Okay, tell me this last one."
She gathered her hands on her lap. "Two thieves broke into an Arab's house. The Arab woke up and asked them, 'What are you looking for?' The thieves told him, 'Money.' Hearing that, the Arab jumped out of bed and responded, 'Wait a second, I'll help you.'"
Again, there was a burst of laughter from the men in front.
The passenger made another casual grab at the wheel since the driver was laughing so hard that he'd closed his eyes. Austyn looked at the thin, foot-high guardrail that was the only barrier between them and what was probably a thousand-foot drop off the side of the mountain.
He tore his gaze away from the road when an argument broke out between the two fighters and Fahimah. Austyn didn't think it was anything too serious, though, as they were smiling and Fahimah had her teacher's voice on.
They started chanting. "Yek. Yek. Yek."
"What do they want now?" he asked, totally entertained.
"Yek. Yek Yek."
"They are reneging on their promise."
"They want to tell another joke?" Austyn asked.
"No, they want you to tell them an American joke."
"Okay, I can do that."
"Oh, God," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Seriously, I'm a good joke-teller."
"Only one," she agreed reluctantly.
"Yes, ma'am," he told her. "Give me a second to think of one."
"Keep it clean," she warned him.
Austyn decided to use some one-liners. "This is all one joke. Just translate after each line."
She nodded.
"Do you know what a redneck is?" he asked.
"A redneck." She thought and then nodded. "No education. Lives in the woods. Not very bright."
"Right. Okay, here we go… you know you're a redneck.. Tarjomeh," he reminded her.
She did as she was told. Her translation of redneck took a couple of minutes, and the two men in front nodded politely.
Austyn continued. "You know you're a redneck if the only tooth you've got left is the one you're wearing on a chain around your neck."
She simply stared at him.
"No, wait a minute," he said. "I'm not remembering that one right. It had something to do with your hound dog's tooth."
She looked at him. "You know, most of these people live in the mountains. They've never seen a dentist in their lives, and if they ever have seen one, it was for the sole purpose of having their teeth pulled."
"I'm sorry. That was insensitive," he said, feeling the heat rise into his scalp. "Okay, try this one for them. I've got it. You know you're a redneck when your dad walks you to school because you're in the same grade."
Fahimah smiled and translated. There were some nods and polite smiles. She didn't have to say anything more.
"Okay, I'm done," he said quietly.
The two men in front started making noises, motioning to him to continue. "Come on, you can come up with more." She spoke to him gently, as if she wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt.
"You know you're a redneck when you keep your food stamps in the icebox."
She shook her head. "I don't know what a food stamp is."
Rather than explaining it to her, he decided to try a new line. "You know you're a redneck when you and your wife get divorced and you're still cousins."
Fahimah shook her head again. "There are a lot of marriages in the same tribes and families among the Kurds. They won't find that funny." She lowered her voice. "In fact, you might insult them."
"I'm not doing too well, am I?"
"You're doing great," she said encouragingly. "It's just a different humor."
"Do Kurds love their mothers-in-law?" he asked, remembering another line.
"No. Not always. There are a few jokes about that."
"Then try this on them. You know you're a redneck when you're always hoping to find your mother-in-law's picture on the back of a milk carton."
"Why would they put anyone's picture on the milk carton?" she asked.
"Missing people's faces…" He shook his head. "If you have to explain it… it's not funny anymore. Guess I won't be going on the comedy circuit anytime soon."
She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "Well, perhaps not in Kurdistan, anyway."
Jokes forgotten, the driver pointed straight ahead and said something to Fahimah. The other man said a few words as well. Looking in the same direction, Austyn caught a glimpse of blue waters ahead.
She turned to Austyn when the two men finished. "They were telling me about this famous resort at Lake Dokan."
Along the way, Fahimah had told him about Dokan being a beautiful resort town northwest of Sulaimaniyah.
The man-made Lake Dokan was a large water reservoir that supplied drinking and irrigation water to many towns and agricultural areas in the region. In addition to that, the dam's turbines generated enough power to provide electricity to a large area.
"The Ashour Hotel is a luxury accommodation. It has been around for a while," she told him. 'The place has absolutely stunning views of the lake. It has terraces with pools and stone walkways that wind through beautiful gardens with flowering trees. It's really one of the most striking places in Kurdistan to stay."
"Did something happen to it?" he asked.
She shook her head. "They were telling me that American troops rented the entire hotel a couple of years ago for a few months. No Kurds were allowed to use it or even step foot on the grounds. I guess the people weren't too happy about that."
Over and over, Austyn was hearing the message. The Kurds loved Americans, so long as they didn't act like an occupying army.
"Do the Americans still have the place?"
"No." She shook her head. "The owner must have made a great deal of money, though. They say he's done some major renovations. Now it's open to the public again."
Austyn saw her look in the direction of the lake again. "Did you ever stay there?"
She smiled, nodding. "After I came back from England and Rahaf was back from America, we would try to go away, just the two of us, for a week during Norooz."
"Norooz?"
"The first day of spring. That's what the Iranians and Kurds celebrate as the new year," she told him. "We always took a week off and came here. Kurdistan is prettiest in the spring."
"How was it that the two of you ended up going to different countries for your education?" he asked. He knew the source of Rahaf's educational funds, but he had no idea how Fahimah had gotten to England.
"Our parents died in Halabja during the bombings," she explained. "Our brothers, all three of them, were taken away a few months before that. They were killed by Saddam's soldiers."