On some, their faces can’t be seen at all. On others, just their eyes take furtive glances at me. But on all, they are covered completely in black from head to toe. I am wearing capri pants, a t-shirt and sandals – certainly not what I would have defined as provocative or scandalous. So why do I feel like the strange one?
I am sitting here alone, without the security of family and friends. My husband and sons are in the waiting area for males, the sectioned-off area in the front. The section with the nicer chairs and flat screen TV. What the hell?
We are on the compound. I am not supposed to be segregated on the compound. I am not supposed to have to “cover” on the compound. I am not supposed to feel uncomfortable by the way I dress on the compound. I am supposed to be surrounded by six thousand other Americans on the compound.
We have been to the commissary, the post office, the dining hall and now the medical clinic – all within the compound walls - and I have seen many robed, Muslim women, but only two other non-robed, western women. It wasn’t supposed to be this way!
We have been in China, Taiwan, Japan, Thailand, Hong Kong and of course Mexico. Never once in a foreign country have I felt so alien, nervous and somewhat afraid. Afraid that I am going talk when I shouldn’t. Afraid that I’m going to stare too long at their veils, wondering how they manage to eat while wearing them. Afraid that I will get angry looks by showing my bare arms and shins. Afraid that I might, without realizing it, do something offensive and be yelled at. My anxiety is relentless as we take care of business this morning.
What have I gotten myself into? I didn’t realize the extent of the cultural differences here and the impact it would have on me emotionally. Did I not face reality? Could I have known what reality would be before coming? Shouldn’t someone have told me about this? What else have I not been told about?
“They look like ninjas, Mom,” Jacob tells me in the car. “Do you have to wear that on your face?”
“Nope, I sure don’t honey. They wear the veil by choice, in following the Islamic customs. Some choose to, some don’t, but no one expects me to because I’m not Muslim.”
“That’s too bad, cause I think you’d look very cool.” His lighthearted comments lessen my discomfort, if only for a couple minutes.
2 comments:
I should add that since this took place, I found out that most of the Americans are still in the States, waiting until the last minute before school starts to return. I have been assured that experiences like this are rare once everyone is back.
I also believe that some of the frustration I expressed in this essay is the result of horrible jet lag. Nonetheless, my feelings were very real and unexpected.
Hi Lani and Steven,
Lani, your commentary about feeling most foreign really resonated for me. I am reminded that what we know in our heads about how cultures differ doesn't always translate to how we feel when cultural differences appear. I know this is going to be a great adventure for all of you. Thanks for the commentaries and keep them coming.
Barbara Parker
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