Secret handshake

“Ahh Emily!” Job, a French teacher at my school says as I walk into the boutique near my house. He holds his hand out to me. As we let go, he snaps my middle finger with his thumb, as I snap his middle finger with my thumb.

I’ve seen this handshake numerous times. We used to practice is amongst ourselves during training. Generally, it’s used amongst male friends to greet each other. As a female and still a relative outsider, I have rarely been offered this handshake since I moved to village.

The great thing about this handshake is that the ability to complete it is entirely dependent on both parties mutually acknowledging your relationship or else one of you ends up awkwardly stroking the end of the other’s fingers. (Which is actually dangerously close to a handshake that signifies something else.)

I have been searching for this handshake amongst my staff, of whom I am the only woman; it is the first sign that I have been accepted into this boys club.

In the boutique, Job and I execute it perfectly. The crisp snap echoes in my head as I walk back to my house.