Personal Space

If you take any anthropology class one of the first things they'll teach you is how much Americans enjoy personal space and how little Arabs are aware of such a concept. If you take a train in Chicago it is almost guaranteed that each person with take up at least two seats (one for them and one for their bags). In America it is general knowledge that there needs to be a safe distance between two people engaged in a conversation. If you get in someone's face you are viewed as a big, creepy weirdo. In the Arab world, said distance is unheard of. Not only will they stand and talk to you at an uncomfortable nearness, but they will unabashedly ask you why you haven't plucked your eyebrows that day and freely suggest some home made cream that would remedy your enlarged pores. Do you see my point? As an Arab-American I've grudgingly succumbed to the multiple cheek kisses but after moving to Saudi, I've recently realized how much I refuse to relinquish my cherished personal space.

Caged Birds

Today I taught Maya Angelou's poem, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," which moved a lot of my seniors. The poem is literally about two birds who lead incredibly different lives. One bird soars the sky from morning until dusk, dipping in and sipping from natural springs. The other bird sits in a cage filled with rage with tied legs and wings that are clipped. While the first bird dreams about fresh air and big, fat worms, the other bird sings and dreams about freedom. The imprisoned bird longs for the unknown, a life beyond the cage.

While my students sympathized with the caged bird, few could imagine injustice. Metaphorically speaking---they could not fully grasp that there are people in the world who do not "own the sky" as the free bird does. I don't blame them, I suppose. In their short lives my students have soared academically, they have dipped their feathers in oceans across the world and have tasted the most expensive worms this world has to offer. With that being said, they are still young birds, trapped in grand palaces, caged in privilege.

Today we got the day off from school because of a terrible sand storm that has made its way into Riyadh. Last Saturday we got the day off in honor of a kind and generous King. Next week I'm hoping for some heavy rain (fingers crossed!).

I spent my morning reading some much need Pablo Neruda while drinking coffee and nibbling on some biscuits. Sigh. Why did I want to work again? Anyway...Neruda, a Chilean poet, always wrote in green ink because he believed that it was a color of hope. Today I'm typing with shades of green because I'm filled with all sorts of hope these days.

we men,

touch the water,

struggling

and hoping,

we touch the sea,

hoping.

And the waves tell the firm coast,

"Everything will be fulfilled."

-excerpt from "Ode to Hope" by Pablo Neruda.