Dust and heat
Oct. 27th, 2006 04:18 amThinking about Saudi. Man, I can't believe that some of the things that were so everyday there I've completely forgotten about. Abayas, veils, being afraid to show my ankles in public. That man in Bahrain who touched my shoulder. It's amazing how disgusted that one touch made me feel. I'd like to believe that if I got raped or molested I'd be able to fight, but I think I know I wouldn't be able to. How it was normal to go to a school so surrounded by security that it looked like a jail. The terrorist bombings. Atmosphere of fear and watchfulness. How we couldn't watch 'The Seige' because it was too true, a 'worst-case senario' movie that touched onto real-life feelings in a way that made me want to run away and cry.
So many things could have happened and didn't. We could have been caught going to church and thrown in jail. We could have been in a bombing/shooting. (Salwa got shot in the arm by terrorists. Remember? No wonder she was such a pessimist.)
The very water smelled different. I buried myself in schoolwork so I wouldn't have to realize how different everything was. But I remember walking past the soldiers on the way to band practice and wondering whether I should pretend to disappear or hold my head up high as they look me over like they're undressing me with their eyes. Never looking a man in the eyes in public. Never touching one. How could I? The very thought seems impossible even now. How could anyone here even begin to understand? Sometimes even when us Westerners got together the women would talk in the kitchen and the men in the living room. Sometimes our class would automatically separate; boys on one side, girls on the other.
Heat. Oh the heat. Dust, sandstorms. Slow internet. Being cold at ten degrees. The way the Kingdom Tower seemed to glow on cloudy days. Traffic. Taxis. Shopping. Watermelon. Heat. Dust. Riyals. Souqs. Big sale. Special discount, just for you.
Some of it I miss, strangely enough. Sometimes it seems like a dream. A dream of a place so alien from Canada that I don't bother trying to explain it. They think differently than we do. Which is better? I don't know. There's problems either way. Both cultures tend to view women as objects; it's just expressed in the opposite ways. At least here I'm not afraid of walking to the corner store by myself. At least here I can wear shorts and not feel naked and not have other people think I'm naked. We don't know how good we have it.
I wish I could answer his entry. Thank him for telling the truth. But I can't find the words.
So many things could have happened and didn't. We could have been caught going to church and thrown in jail. We could have been in a bombing/shooting. (Salwa got shot in the arm by terrorists. Remember? No wonder she was such a pessimist.)
The very water smelled different. I buried myself in schoolwork so I wouldn't have to realize how different everything was. But I remember walking past the soldiers on the way to band practice and wondering whether I should pretend to disappear or hold my head up high as they look me over like they're undressing me with their eyes. Never looking a man in the eyes in public. Never touching one. How could I? The very thought seems impossible even now. How could anyone here even begin to understand? Sometimes even when us Westerners got together the women would talk in the kitchen and the men in the living room. Sometimes our class would automatically separate; boys on one side, girls on the other.
Heat. Oh the heat. Dust, sandstorms. Slow internet. Being cold at ten degrees. The way the Kingdom Tower seemed to glow on cloudy days. Traffic. Taxis. Shopping. Watermelon. Heat. Dust. Riyals. Souqs. Big sale. Special discount, just for you.
Some of it I miss, strangely enough. Sometimes it seems like a dream. A dream of a place so alien from Canada that I don't bother trying to explain it. They think differently than we do. Which is better? I don't know. There's problems either way. Both cultures tend to view women as objects; it's just expressed in the opposite ways. At least here I'm not afraid of walking to the corner store by myself. At least here I can wear shorts and not feel naked and not have other people think I'm naked. We don't know how good we have it.
I wish I could answer his entry. Thank him for telling the truth. But I can't find the words.