Naqaanaq and Dew

The school environs adapted with the horde of upper-class, money-heavy patrons of our school with numerous small cafes and sandwich shops to siphon off any disposable income the students may have had. They catered to a wide range of the student's needs. First, there was Cafe Ole, famous for packs of fries, admittedly quite tasty, but with distastefully high price tags. Then there was Abu Haniffa Grocery which was established to cater to the needs of the residentials around Choueifat more than the students that went there. They sold more Polo, Jelly Cokes, Bubblegum, than cooked food, and in the way of real food, more okra, sweet pumpkin, cabbages, tomatoes and eggplant, fresh off the field than anything else.

Then came the Naqaanaq Place. I'm not particularly sure what the word Naqaanaq means in Arabic, or if it is an Arabic word at all. I was told it literally means "chicken frank," but I'm not so sure. Whatever it means to humanity, it means nothing more than an incredibly tasty sandwich to me.

As with many sites of importance and significance, this sandwich shop was so good and sold such tasty sandwiches, that the real name eludes me at the time of this writing. It was "Something Refreshments" but I just can't remember it, because it was called the Naqaanaq Place by us. From here, we bought our Naqaanaqs.

What, pray tell, are Naqaanaqs? They're delicious sandwiches made in toasted hotdog buns, with chicken franks, some french fries, ketchup and a horridly unhealthy helping of mayonnaise. Why do they call it a Naqaanaq? I'm not particularly sure, but it's probably the same reason why they called a milkshake "Titanic." I never had myself a Titanic, but I do remember seeing the name under the beverages section of their menu. No doubt, their others sandwiches bore equally fascinating and mind-boggling names, some of them rip-offs, probably not consistently of Oscar-winning movies, but of other well-known, easily recongisable, super-hyped products of mainstream media.

I respected the Naqaanaq place because of their consistent sandwich wrapping technique, which was flawless and remained consistent for the 2 years I remained a customer of their shop. The bottom end would usually be twisted shut like they seal candy, forming a good, solid base, and the top end left open. Peering down the top of the sandwich barrel, the sandwich stared right back at you, the chicken frank usually tantalizing visible, coated with some mayonnaise that continued out of view into the middle of the hotdog bun.

I consistently tried teaching Shahed, the smart kid we all copied make-do homework off of, to unwrap the sandwich according to the style I pioneered, but he insisted on mangling the beautiful thing. I can't go into the details of the technique, because it would be too much work describing it, and besides, it's intellectual property. In any case, as with most things with me, I took unwrapping sandwiches to a whole new level of anal-retentiveness with the Naqaanaqs.

After a long, hard day at school, trying to decipher French Chemistry or assuming the fetal position in fear of Mrs. Faysan's colourful webcast Physics lectures, we sometimes had after-school study sessions to attend as well, which were compulsory for those of us that failed AMS examinations, something I did quite a bit in my first semester of Grade 11. So, we would all trudge along to the Naqaanaq Place, walk in, place our order with a brief "Two Naqaanaq", emphasized insultingly, in retrospect, with two raised fingers, and go buy ourselves a cold, green-bottled, classic, Mountain Dew which was only available from the Abu Haniffa grocery, and sit around, waiting for our Naqaanaqs to come.

Sometimes I would ask my parents to collect me late from exams, so that I could enjoy some Naqaanaq and Dew with my friends.

The year before I left, a new sandwich store opened, no doubt to capitalize on more hungry AMS failures like myself. It was called, interestingly enough, Ghuwaifat, which rhymed ever so coincidentally with Choueifat, no doubt the shop's prime source of customers. Good to know Mrs. Faysan's policies were chucking out so many after-schoolers, it was actually boosting the economy around our school.