Past Fajr and I had been good for exactly a day and a night now. It was time to get out. Shrugging on an abaya, hastily pinning on a scarf and exactly half a minute later out of my hotel and onto the streets of Madinah. The sun had risen by now and the thousand stalls were laid out.
Women do not walk alone in Saudi and I wound my way through the streets hoping that I wouldn't attract any attention. Never look an Arab man in the eye. Even if he's really good looking. Also never look a policeman in the eye.
A boy in shorts grinned and waved at me as I walked by. He called out 'I've seen you before.' and I turned around to frown at him. 'Yes.' He said, smiling because now he had my attention. 'In the mosque. Your scarf was falling down.' But of course.
He asked if I smoked and I took a cigarette. 'When you are with me it's fine, you can smoke. They'll think we're married.' He said nonchalantly (I almost choked) 'When you are alone you must hide the cigarette under your scarf.' I nodded, pretending to speak little English. 'You haven't asked me my name but I will tell you Muneer Isaac. From Palestine. Are we friends now?' A laugh escaped me. He smiled, encouraged, and I realized he had no idea exactly how beautiful he was.
We sat there, on a random street in a side of the city that was almost empty of tourists and talked. He was studying to be an engineer and had moved here three years ago. He asked about my life and gradually I opened up. Sentences turned into stories as I told him about Karachi and how I may be in London next year. He was the first person to ask me whether I was scared to go.
Hours later, I got back to the hotel. This city too, despite it's effort to dismiss them, had it's secrets.
And so I'd made a friend.
Women do not walk alone in Saudi and I wound my way through the streets hoping that I wouldn't attract any attention. Never look an Arab man in the eye. Even if he's really good looking. Also never look a policeman in the eye.
A boy in shorts grinned and waved at me as I walked by. He called out 'I've seen you before.' and I turned around to frown at him. 'Yes.' He said, smiling because now he had my attention. 'In the mosque. Your scarf was falling down.' But of course.
He asked if I smoked and I took a cigarette. 'When you are with me it's fine, you can smoke. They'll think we're married.' He said nonchalantly (I almost choked) 'When you are alone you must hide the cigarette under your scarf.' I nodded, pretending to speak little English. 'You haven't asked me my name but I will tell you Muneer Isaac. From Palestine. Are we friends now?' A laugh escaped me. He smiled, encouraged, and I realized he had no idea exactly how beautiful he was.
We sat there, on a random street in a side of the city that was almost empty of tourists and talked. He was studying to be an engineer and had moved here three years ago. He asked about my life and gradually I opened up. Sentences turned into stories as I told him about Karachi and how I may be in London next year. He was the first person to ask me whether I was scared to go.
Hours later, I got back to the hotel. This city too, despite it's effort to dismiss them, had it's secrets.
And so I'd made a friend.
Wow. The posts make me look at the country in a totally different light. I should probably go again.
ReplyDeleteAmna! I loved this so much. Really brought a smile upon my face. Great writing- beginning to end. :)
ReplyDeleteAlso, beautiful Palestinian boy? I'm so jealous! :P
ReplyDelete<3 call you soon love
ReplyDelete