There’s no exact English equivalent for the word tansheer.
Hanging-the-laundry-out-to-dry
or
Hanging-the-laundry-on-the-clothesline
is an awkward mouthful
that doesn’t quite spin like “dryer”
tansheer
is a woman in a floral galabiya
with a round tub of wet laundry next to her feet
checking to see if the neighbors downstairs
cleared their clotheslines
tansheer
is mama reminding you
to hold out the shirts at arm’s length and snap out the wrinkles
tansheer
is groaning that you’re late for work
can’t I do it when I get home?
tansheer
is panties on the nearest line
behind the towels and bed sheets
tansheer
is the gunshot of thunder
that signals a hurtling stampede towards the balcony
to rescue dry clothes from the gray sky
tansheer
is a pair of furtive eyes
in his undershirt and slippers
clumsily hanging clothes in the belly of the night
tansheer
is a middle-aged engineer
wringing his mother’s nightgowns
in the golden sunlight
tansheer
is the flap in the evening breeze
your wardrobe on display
colors, colors, colors
tansheer
is the stars overhead
and prayer on your breath
water stinging your palms
like redemption
tansheer
is when water droplets
tap out your name
and I smile.
Nermeen Hegazi is a twenty-nine-year-old Egyptian. She enjoys writing, food, taking pictures, cuddling with cats, discussing critical theory, and reading novels and non-fiction. While she doesn’t write as often as she would like, some of her poetry and prose pieces have been published in the Egyptian literary journal Rowayat, Mada Masr—an Egyptian news site, and a collective online writing blog called The Clairvoyance Collective. She recently obtained an M.A. in postcolonial literature from Alexandria University, Egypt.
