Well, family and friends, my apologies for waiting so long to write a post. No excuses. I just didn't do it. Here's an entry I wrote in one of my many journals about my a part of my experience in Dubai for Ashoora break (slash my most favoritest birthday ever! Rock on 26!):
We crammed into the back seat of the small buss, all four of us American women set apart from the sea of caramel- and carob- colored faces in front of us. It seemed two separate families from different parts of the world filled the seats like water moves into the cracks and ditches of macadam. They were foreign to us, and we felt apart from them, a spectacle, perhaps.
When the second family had taken its seats directly in front of ours, they began to look at us, the two men who were clearly the patriarchs of the family chattering amongst themselves between glances our way. The bolder one turned around, and in his broken English, asked from where we came. We replied with the usual, "We're from the United States." Eyes widening, he said, "Oh!" and along with the other man, began to laugh. I was puzzled. Was this emotion true? Were they happy to see us or were they making fun of us in this unknown mother tongue of theirs?
Several other questions were asked, as the men searched for ways to communicate with us, to understand us and have us understand them. Again, the first man asked where were were from. We replied again, this time saying, "We're American." A true look of understanding washed across his face, and he excitedly began to chatter again in this foreign language. He signaled the young girl who was sitting in the seat in front of him, and after a few seconds, she told us, "We're from Iran." Understanding now washed over our faces as we finally comprehended why they did not respond to our brief attempts to speak in, admittedly, broken Arabic. Farsi, after all, is the language spoken in Iran.
With further chatter and excited laughter, the entire family got involved, all seven of them. "You know Ahmedinijad?" the first man asked us. Yes, of course we did. He was the ruler of Iran. "Bad man," the second man responded, "Terrorist." Ah, so they were just like us, used to taking the blame for their government's wrongdoings. To our great surprise, President Obama's name came up and soon a chant began, spanning the entire length of the bus. Was this for real?
As we neared our stop, it became clear they were staying and we began our goodbyes. Sincerity rang out in their voices and spread across their faces as they bid us well for our last day in Dubai and welcomed us to visit Iran. Oh, if only one day; I would love to come, I thought. We likewise encouraged their visit to the United States, and with smiles on our faces, we exited the bus.
How different this interaction was compared with those I had four years ago in Ireland, the Netherlands, and Italy. Perhaps it was the interaction of two groups of people just trying to live the happiest lives possible, trying to understand others and have others understand them, as individuals, in spite of the work their governments have done to ruin these possibilities. Whatever the reason, it became clear to me that there are good people everywhere. If we shut out people based on their color, creed, mother tongue, or any other grouping that can separate people, we miss wonderful opportunities for interactions like this one, and we fail to see the world for what it really is in favor of our own skewed image. I choose to let people in, and that may hurt sometimes, but experiences like this far outweigh the pain I suffer, and in the end, I know I will be a better person because of them.
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