Free
June 16, 2007
Free, free, free. I’m leaving Saudi Arabia. It shocks even me how intense the feeling is, like that image of the prisoner dramatically walking out the gates of the prison, squinting in the sunlight and awed by the new-found freedom. (I’m writing this from the Bahrain airport and I already feel this way.) When I try to tell other expats who live in Saudi how I feel, I often get the attitude that I’m being negative. But the short-term life in Saudi of single (non-Aramco) females should testify to the fact that it’s not a good place for us. It’s simply not the same experience for single men or married men & women.
Nick has been my salvation this past year. I don’t know how I would have survived without him on so many levels – as a friend to talk to, shop with, eat with, climb with, laugh with, bitch with. It has probably moved my life half-way between the single status and what it might be like if I was married here. It’s not so bad with a man around, especially this generous man: rides offered whether I needed it or not. Someone to do things with that I either couldn’t or wouldn’t do on my own. But that has died out quite a bit in the last few months and I’ve felt that “prisoner” feeling again stronger than ever. It’s hard to describe this to anyone who isn’t like me: I need freedom and independence. I need it like oxygen. I feel like I’m being suffocated sometimes. I live for spontaneity. I want to go where I please, when I please. I want to explore. I want to do something as simple as get up on a Thursday morning (my Saturday) and say, “I think I’ll go down to Starbucks for a coffee and read a book,” but then remember that this little excursion means calling for a taxi and paying an extra $10 for that cup of coffee. All because I’m a lowly female and not allowed to drive here.
Consider this common problem. Because I can’t drive, the most common activity of shopping becomes an exercise in frustration. I’m not a shopper and I’m cheap, so I don’t like having to spend an extra $10-20 to go to one shop to buy something. I make lists of things I need from various stores and then make the trip out in the taxi. The problem is that it means separate taxi rides between each store with the cost running up. I’d like to walk between some of the stores, even if it is up to 12 blocks, but can’t do it with an arm load of purchases that keep piling up between each store and have to be carried into the next store on the list. The only solution is to hire a taxi for several hours to stay with you the whole time. No matter how you look at it, that little shopping trip ends up costing a lot of extra money. To top it all off, I'm required to wear a polyester black robe in 110 degree heat. I just lose steam.
I’ve started to become a bit defiant about the abaya. My friend Kimm Leeman said she got like this at the end of her 2nd year too. I still wear it but I get out of the car or bus or taxi without it on and then slowly put it on like a cheap strip tease in reverse. I glare defiantly at the men who watch and think, “go ahead…just try to say something to me about it.” I rarely button it all the way anymore. I wear shorts under it and don’t care if the wind blows it open and my legs show. One of my blond Australian students told me that she has been stopped by Mutawa (the religious police) and she has said to them, “you can’t arrest me because I’m a woman, and you can’t make me wear a scarf because I’m a foreigner.” And according to her, they just walk away because they know it’s true. I haven’t tried that yet, but I haven’t been stopped yet either.
I am free as of today. For 2 months. Time to celebrate.
Free, free, free. I’m leaving Saudi Arabia. It shocks even me how intense the feeling is, like that image of the prisoner dramatically walking out the gates of the prison, squinting in the sunlight and awed by the new-found freedom. (I’m writing this from the Bahrain airport and I already feel this way.) When I try to tell other expats who live in Saudi how I feel, I often get the attitude that I’m being negative. But the short-term life in Saudi of single (non-Aramco) females should testify to the fact that it’s not a good place for us. It’s simply not the same experience for single men or married men & women.
Nick has been my salvation this past year. I don’t know how I would have survived without him on so many levels – as a friend to talk to, shop with, eat with, climb with, laugh with, bitch with. It has probably moved my life half-way between the single status and what it might be like if I was married here. It’s not so bad with a man around, especially this generous man: rides offered whether I needed it or not. Someone to do things with that I either couldn’t or wouldn’t do on my own. But that has died out quite a bit in the last few months and I’ve felt that “prisoner” feeling again stronger than ever. It’s hard to describe this to anyone who isn’t like me: I need freedom and independence. I need it like oxygen. I feel like I’m being suffocated sometimes. I live for spontaneity. I want to go where I please, when I please. I want to explore. I want to do something as simple as get up on a Thursday morning (my Saturday) and say, “I think I’ll go down to Starbucks for a coffee and read a book,” but then remember that this little excursion means calling for a taxi and paying an extra $10 for that cup of coffee. All because I’m a lowly female and not allowed to drive here.
Consider this common problem. Because I can’t drive, the most common activity of shopping becomes an exercise in frustration. I’m not a shopper and I’m cheap, so I don’t like having to spend an extra $10-20 to go to one shop to buy something. I make lists of things I need from various stores and then make the trip out in the taxi. The problem is that it means separate taxi rides between each store with the cost running up. I’d like to walk between some of the stores, even if it is up to 12 blocks, but can’t do it with an arm load of purchases that keep piling up between each store and have to be carried into the next store on the list. The only solution is to hire a taxi for several hours to stay with you the whole time. No matter how you look at it, that little shopping trip ends up costing a lot of extra money. To top it all off, I'm required to wear a polyester black robe in 110 degree heat. I just lose steam.
I’ve started to become a bit defiant about the abaya. My friend Kimm Leeman said she got like this at the end of her 2nd year too. I still wear it but I get out of the car or bus or taxi without it on and then slowly put it on like a cheap strip tease in reverse. I glare defiantly at the men who watch and think, “go ahead…just try to say something to me about it.” I rarely button it all the way anymore. I wear shorts under it and don’t care if the wind blows it open and my legs show. One of my blond Australian students told me that she has been stopped by Mutawa (the religious police) and she has said to them, “you can’t arrest me because I’m a woman, and you can’t make me wear a scarf because I’m a foreigner.” And according to her, they just walk away because they know it’s true. I haven’t tried that yet, but I haven’t been stopped yet either.
I am free as of today. For 2 months. Time to celebrate.
posted by LuAnne at
3:40 PM
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