Here's a fine example of White privilege. Our friend Ali (we have a lot of friends named Ali, it's true) is married to a White woman. Last week, she was driving and she ran a red light. A policeman saw this and pulled her over. At the time, she was NOT wearing a seat belt. None of her 4 young kids were in child seats. As she opened the car's glove compartment to get her wallet, her husband's gun fell out. (The gun is not registered) And one last tidbit: her driving license had expired.
Now, you might think, that with all these offenses, she'd surely be arrested. Guess again! The police officer gave her a ticket for the red light and merrily went his way. Now, imagine if the driver had brown skin (and maybe a hijab? Or a turban? Or a do-rag?)
Friday, October 11, 2013
So hi-tech it hurts
My husband likes to be "hi-tech" but in reality, he's very low-tech. He likes to buy all sorts of gadgets and continuously upgrades them. Too bad he's not very computer savvy and doesn't know how to use them properly.
Recently, some very good examples of this arose.
Last week, he visited our bank's website. He wanted to view the activity to our account. He was getting frustrated with the site and kept muttering curses. I asked what was the problem.
He said, "This stupid website! It won't show me anything about the account! Only the current balance! Why is the bank hiding information?!!"
I took one quick look at his screen and noticed he was on the "Summary" screen. Very clearly marked, was a link to "Details" One click on that link and Voila! the account details.
(We've had this bank account for a long time and he's used the online banking before, so I don't know why he was so puzzled that day)
A few moments later, he called me over again.
He: "Honey! The bank screen! It just went away! Now I'm on another site! But I wasn't done with the bank! What happened! What do I do?"
Again, I took a quick look. He had 2 tabs open and yes, he had inadvertently switched to the wrong tab. I simply clicked on the 1st tab and he was back on the bank's site.
He's so cute sometimes.
And other times, he's too hi-tech for his own good. Our daughter complained to me one day: "Baba has his iPhone, an iPad, a laptop. He's using all of them and he STILL asked me what time it was!"
I pointed out to her that he was also wearing a watch.
\
Recently, some very good examples of this arose.
Last week, he visited our bank's website. He wanted to view the activity to our account. He was getting frustrated with the site and kept muttering curses. I asked what was the problem.
He said, "This stupid website! It won't show me anything about the account! Only the current balance! Why is the bank hiding information?!!"
I took one quick look at his screen and noticed he was on the "Summary" screen. Very clearly marked, was a link to "Details" One click on that link and Voila! the account details.
(We've had this bank account for a long time and he's used the online banking before, so I don't know why he was so puzzled that day)
A few moments later, he called me over again.
He: "Honey! The bank screen! It just went away! Now I'm on another site! But I wasn't done with the bank! What happened! What do I do?"
Again, I took a quick look. He had 2 tabs open and yes, he had inadvertently switched to the wrong tab. I simply clicked on the 1st tab and he was back on the bank's site.
He's so cute sometimes.
And other times, he's too hi-tech for his own good. Our daughter complained to me one day: "Baba has his iPhone, an iPad, a laptop. He's using all of them and he STILL asked me what time it was!"
I pointed out to her that he was also wearing a watch.
\
Details, details...
My husband tends to leave out key details when giving information. THEN, he gets mad when people misunderstand.
For instance, late last night, he got a text message from his friend Ali.
My husband: "Ali just texted. His car is in the shop and he wants me to give him a ride"
Me: "Wow, it's almost midnight - isn't it kind of late?"
My husband: "NO! He wants a ride tomorrow!"
Me: "Well why didn't you say that???"
For instance, late last night, he got a text message from his friend Ali.
My husband: "Ali just texted. His car is in the shop and he wants me to give him a ride"
Me: "Wow, it's almost midnight - isn't it kind of late?"
My husband: "NO! He wants a ride tomorrow!"
Me: "Well why didn't you say that???"
Monday, November 12, 2012
An upcoming Yemeni village wedding
My husband's family is from a village in Yemen. Everything there is like time stood still. You'd barely know it is 2012 if you were there. No electricity, no running water, no paved roads. The houses are scattered throughout the land. There are rocks, pebbles and boulders everywhere. I'll never understand why no one has taken the time to MOVE the rocks out of the way so people could at least walk safely.
Not only the landscape of the village is frozen in time: The culture is as well. The religion is Islam, obviously, but the local culture is more stringent. This post will address an upcoming wedding in my husband's family.
One of our nephews, I'll call him Ali, is the one getting married. Ali has been living and working in New York City for about 10 years. He is about 30 years old now (not many from the village know their true birthdates) and eager to be married. The majority of marriages in Islam are arranged: The families of the bride and groom meet and discuss the potential nuptials. In our village, they take it a step further (further backwards, if you ask me): The bride and groom usually never meet until the actual day of the wedding. This is the case with Ali. He has not even seen a photo of his bride-to-be. All he knows is her name, and he struggled to remember when I quizzed him. I joked that I hoped she was pretty, but he didn't seem to like my joke. I wonder if he'd divorce her if she weren't! (I hope not!)
For the past few months, Ali has been "preparing" for this wedding. This means, he's been sending over money - lots of it. The bride's family asked for a dowry, as is tradition. Ali sent money for the dowry - but a better term is "bride price" because it's like the groom is paying for the bride.
He sent the money that the bride's father requested. Then, two months later, the father asked for even more. He said the bride needed better gold jewelry and clothing for her special day. Ali sent more money.
In the meantime, Ali expressed to my husband that he didn't want his wedding to be extravagant, overboard, as Yemenis tend to do it - even in the village. He was being sensible, knowing how hard it was to earn a living. He hated the idea of squandering it all for the sake of "showing off" at his wedding. His father dismissed the idea. He wanted his son's wedding to be huge, with singers, musicians, plates and plates of cooked lamb and other indicators of prosperity. The family is far from wealthy; they live on maybe $5 USD a day, but they want their neighbors to think they're well off. Such is the culture: Islam tells Muslims to be modest and humble; village culture says to show off and make your neighbors jealous.
What made it worse was that my husband agreed with Ali's father. My husband said "You can't go against the tradition! What would people think?!!" I took Ali's side. After all, it's HIS wedding. Why can't he have it the way HE wants it? If the people of the village are going to criticize his decisions, they can go jump off a cliff - it's not their business!
In any event, Ali's wishes were ignored by his father, so the preparation continued.
When Ali finally booked his ticket to Yemen, he came to our house (we live about ten hours away from New York) He came here to pick up several enormous suitcases we had packed. The cases were not packed with items for him, but for everyone back home in the village. It was full of clothes, watches, jewelry, makeup and other gifts. Yemenis typically do not visit home empty-handed. The people in the villages have so little, that even second-hand clothing is welcomed.
Ali's flight is tomorrow. Hopefully everything goes smoothly. If not, I'll probably have more material for another post!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Hurricane Sandy
My husband and I used to live in New York City. It's where we met, got married and had our first children. We have since moved ten hours away (by car) but we both still have family members in the city and surrounding areas. New York will always be our home. Our prayers go out to anyone affected by this devastating storm.
On October 28, 2012, the day before Hurricane Sandy made landfall, one of our nephews in New York City decided he wanted to take a bus to come visit us. Just like that: no planning, no preparation. Since his English isn't that great, he didn't know how to buy a ticket so he called my husband to book him one.
First of all, I have to comment that Yemenis tend to do things this way: impulsively. I cannot tell you how many times my husband, or one of his friends/relatives, have just suddenly decided to make a long journey - often to Yemen! With little/no preparation! On the other hand, I am not Yemeni and my relatives never, ever do things this way. My parents planned a trip to Asia almost a year in advance. My sister flew to the Caribbean, planning the vacation at least six months in advance. My other sister traveled to Spain similarly. My point is: a big trip takes big planning - or so it should.
Well, back to this nephew. My husband searched the Greyhound website but all the buses had already left NYC that day. He also tried the train (Amtrak) and also had no success. We were finally able to find an alternate bus line that could make the journey. Unfortunately, with the impending hurricane, the company cancelled all trips leaving NYC and leaving our nephew stuck.
The nephew told my husband "Oh, my co-worker so-and-so drove up to your state yesterday and offered to give me a ride, but I said 'no'"
My husband replied, "You idiot! Now look at all the hassle there is!"
On October 29, 2012, Hurricane Sandy hit the northeast coast of the United States, causing a rising death toll and billions of US dollars in repairs.
Prior to Sandy making landfall, Mayor Mike Bloomberg ordered evacuations of several at-risk neighborhoods. These were close to or at the shoreline and most vulnerable to the onslaught of the strong winds, heavy rains, and impending flooding. These areas were designated as "Zone A"
Our nephew (the same one mentioned above) lives in Coney Island, which is in Zone A.
My husband implored him to leave there as instructed. Our nephew said, "Nah, me and cousin so-and-so are just going to stay and wait. It'll be OK"
Sure enough, Sandy hit with FULL FORCE causing massive flooding and power outages. Our nephew and the cousin found themselves TRAPPED in their apartment building. Water flooded the stairwell up 4 stories. They had no landline phone. They had no food in their apartment (Don't get me started on how poorly they prepared) and with no power, their cell phones were slowly dying.
They tried shouting out the windows, yelling for help. Unfortunately for them, the rest of the neighborhood had already (WISELY) evacuated, so they were pretty much alone - stuck.
They were stuck for 2 days before the waters finally receded. They jumped out of their building starving and frazzled.
A lesson learned, hopefully.
A new mosque
Hubby: "I'm going to pray at a different mosque today"
Me: "Why?"
Hubby: "It's in so-and-so town, not too far away"
Me: "Why?"
Hubby: "I wonder how to get there? Should I take the highway?"
Me: "Why are you going to a different mosque?"
Hubby: "Oh I just want to see what it's like. I heard it was nice."
Me: "Are you going there to meet someone?"
Hubby: "Well, my old friend Adel prays there"
Me: "OK, so when I asked you 3+ times why you are praying at a different mosque, THAT was the answer you could've given me at the beginning"
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Some recent conversations with my husband
Here are some snippets of recent conversations my husband and I have had:
1)
Me: "Have the children eaten dinner?"
Husband: "They didn't want any."
Me: "Did you ASK them if they wanted to eat?"
Husband: "No"
Me: "Well how do you know they didn't want any?"
Husband: "Look, I cooked. If they wanted some they would've asked for it."
Me: "But if you don't tell them you cooked, or you don't ask them if they want to eat, how would they know?"
Husband: ...[silence]...
Me, to our kids: "Kids! Do you guys want to eat?"
Kids: "YES MAMA WE'RE HUNGRY!"
2)
Husband: "I want to buy you the new iPad"
Me: "No, we already have an iPad; I don't need another one"
Husband: "But it's so coooool"
Me: "And it's so expensive! And unnecessary!"
Husband: "But it's so coooool"
Me: ...[walks away]...
3)
At a appointment, the doctor took note of my husband's medical history. She noted his age, height, weight, diet among many factors. She also noted "OK so you're a heterosexual male with one partner" Later, when we got home, he and I talked:
Husband: "I can't believe she said that!"
Me: "Said what?"
Husband: "That I'm a heterosexual male"
Me: "But you are!"
Husband: "Of course I am! Do I look like some makhnooth (Arabic slang for 'homosexual') ??"
Me: "Honey, it's her job to document anything concerning your medical history, lifestyle included"
Husband: "Huh! So you think some men say they take it up the ass????"
Me: "I don't think they'd be so vulgar and tactless. I think they'd just remark that they are 'homosexual' It doesn't have to be graphic!"
4)
Me: "I really wish you wouldn't use your iPhone while you drive."
Husband: "Don't worry! You worry too much! I know what I'm doing!"
A few minutes later, as he was photographing the clouds in the sky as he drove, he nearly crashed into another car.
Me: "What did I just tell you??? Didn't I just say it was dangerous to be distracted by your phone while you're driving?"
Husband: "What are you so angry about? I didn't hit him, did I?"
5)
Husband: "I just spoke to one of my favorite nieces, Lamyah. Can you believe she has a little son now? He's grown so big now, mashallah! She's so proud of him! I'm going to send him some money for Eid"
Me: "That's great! I'm happy for her! What's her son's name?"
Husband: "I don't know"
Me: "You never thought to ask???"
1)
Me: "Have the children eaten dinner?"
Husband: "They didn't want any."
Me: "Did you ASK them if they wanted to eat?"
Husband: "No"
Me: "Well how do you know they didn't want any?"
Husband: "Look, I cooked. If they wanted some they would've asked for it."
Me: "But if you don't tell them you cooked, or you don't ask them if they want to eat, how would they know?"
Husband: ...[silence]...
Me, to our kids: "Kids! Do you guys want to eat?"
Kids: "YES MAMA WE'RE HUNGRY!"
2)
Husband: "I want to buy you the new iPad"
Me: "No, we already have an iPad; I don't need another one"
Husband: "But it's so coooool"
Me: "And it's so expensive! And unnecessary!"
Husband: "But it's so coooool"
Me: ...[walks away]...
3)
At a appointment, the doctor took note of my husband's medical history. She noted his age, height, weight, diet among many factors. She also noted "OK so you're a heterosexual male with one partner" Later, when we got home, he and I talked:
Husband: "I can't believe she said that!"
Me: "Said what?"
Husband: "That I'm a heterosexual male"
Me: "But you are!"
Husband: "Of course I am! Do I look like some makhnooth (Arabic slang for 'homosexual') ??"
Me: "Honey, it's her job to document anything concerning your medical history, lifestyle included"
Husband: "Huh! So you think some men say they take it up the ass????"
Me: "I don't think they'd be so vulgar and tactless. I think they'd just remark that they are 'homosexual' It doesn't have to be graphic!"
4)
Me: "I really wish you wouldn't use your iPhone while you drive."
Husband: "Don't worry! You worry too much! I know what I'm doing!"
A few minutes later, as he was photographing the clouds in the sky as he drove, he nearly crashed into another car.
Me: "What did I just tell you??? Didn't I just say it was dangerous to be distracted by your phone while you're driving?"
Husband: "What are you so angry about? I didn't hit him, did I?"
5)
Husband: "I just spoke to one of my favorite nieces, Lamyah. Can you believe she has a little son now? He's grown so big now, mashallah! She's so proud of him! I'm going to send him some money for Eid"
Me: "That's great! I'm happy for her! What's her son's name?"
Husband: "I don't know"
Me: "You never thought to ask???"
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Why I don't trust addresses from Yemenis
I don't blog nearly as much as I'd like to. This is due to the fact that I'm rarely on an actual computer and I don't know how to blog from a smartphone. I know, I know, #firstworldproblems, right?
Well, here's today's post. This just happened literally minutes ago, so it's all still fresh in my memory.
My husband is visiting an old friend he knew from childhood. This friend, (I'll call him Abda) is a college-educated Yemeni who does a lot of traveling in his line of work.
An hour ago, my husband texted me "I need you to mail something to Abda. It's an important memento from our past + I need you to express-mail it to him."
Abda, you see, is in town but only for today. Tomorrow he leaves for another city and I'm to mail the gift to his hotel there.
I texted my husband back "OK, no problem, just text me the address. Tell him to type it because I don't want any mistakes" (I wasn't kidding)
He handed his friend his cell phone and had Abda type in the address. After I received it, my husband texted me again, "OK that's the correct address. Send it as soon as possible so it'll arrive at his hotel while he's still there. Insure it, track it. Thanks"
Well, being a wife of a Yemeni for many, many years, I knew better than to just trust this information. I entered the address in Google Maps and, what do you know? It didn't exist. The street address existed, but it was in an entirely different town. The Google Maps Street View looked more like a quiet, residential street than a commercial area for hotels.
I told my husband "I don't think this address is correct. Are you sure you want me to mail this there???"
He called me immediately and asked me to wait until he could (again) confirm it. In the meantime, his friend Abda contacted the hotel staff for information.
Five minutes later, I finally got the correct mailing address.
I texted him "You mean between two Yemeni guys, it took you this long to get an address right?"
I cannot make this stuff up.
Peace
Well, here's today's post. This just happened literally minutes ago, so it's all still fresh in my memory.
My husband is visiting an old friend he knew from childhood. This friend, (I'll call him Abda) is a college-educated Yemeni who does a lot of traveling in his line of work.
An hour ago, my husband texted me "I need you to mail something to Abda. It's an important memento from our past + I need you to express-mail it to him."
Abda, you see, is in town but only for today. Tomorrow he leaves for another city and I'm to mail the gift to his hotel there.
I texted my husband back "OK, no problem, just text me the address. Tell him to type it because I don't want any mistakes" (I wasn't kidding)
He handed his friend his cell phone and had Abda type in the address. After I received it, my husband texted me again, "OK that's the correct address. Send it as soon as possible so it'll arrive at his hotel while he's still there. Insure it, track it. Thanks"
Well, being a wife of a Yemeni for many, many years, I knew better than to just trust this information. I entered the address in Google Maps and, what do you know? It didn't exist. The street address existed, but it was in an entirely different town. The Google Maps Street View looked more like a quiet, residential street than a commercial area for hotels.
Five minutes later, I finally got the correct mailing address.
I cannot make this stuff up.
Peace
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Feeding the kids
Making sure kids eat is a responsibility shared by people all over the world. It doesn't matter where you're from: you know you have to provide for your kids. It's part of being a good parent.
There have been many days I have been out running errands and I'll leave my husband home to watch the kids. When I get back, many hours later, I always ask how things went and "Have the kids eaten?"
For some reason, my husband takes this question a little to literally. He'll say, "Oh yeah, they ate" And when I investigate "But WHAT did they eat?" the answer is often "oh you know, cookies, cake, juice, candy..."
Excuse me, but while those are technically classified as "food" items, they aren't FOOD as in nourishment. JUNK food is not what I want my kids eating all day! Especially when they come home from school and haven't had anything nutritious since breakfast.
This is an ongoing thing and my husband and I have discussed this time and time before. He just doesn't get it and he accuses me of "coddling" our kids (as he claims most American parents do)
So, all you non-American parents, you tell me: Would you be OK with your children not having decent food to eat after getting home from school?
There have been many days I have been out running errands and I'll leave my husband home to watch the kids. When I get back, many hours later, I always ask how things went and "Have the kids eaten?"
For some reason, my husband takes this question a little to literally. He'll say, "Oh yeah, they ate" And when I investigate "But WHAT did they eat?" the answer is often "oh you know, cookies, cake, juice, candy..."
Excuse me, but while those are technically classified as "food" items, they aren't FOOD as in nourishment. JUNK food is not what I want my kids eating all day! Especially when they come home from school and haven't had anything nutritious since breakfast.
This is an ongoing thing and my husband and I have discussed this time and time before. He just doesn't get it and he accuses me of "coddling" our kids (as he claims most American parents do)
So, all you non-American parents, you tell me: Would you be OK with your children not having decent food to eat after getting home from school?
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Fruity, trivial conversations
Here are some trivial conversations my husband and I have had recently involving fruits:
Hubby: Honey, do you want some grapes?
Me: No, but thanks.
Hubby: But they're so good!
Me: I'm sure they are! They look great.
Hubby: So how about you try some?
Me: No, really, I don't want any. Thanks.
Hubby: What, you don't like grapes or something????
Me: I never said that! I do like grapes! I'm just not in the mood for them! (Sheesh!)
***
Hubby: Wow, these are the best strawberries I've ever tasted.
Me: Darling, you say that every time we buy strawberries.
Hubby: No I don't! Oh, but these are so goooood!
2 weeks later...
Hubby: Oh my goodness, these strawberries we just bought are the best ever.
Me: .....
***
One day, my husband was in the kitchen while my kids and I were in a next room. All of the sudden, we heard him exclaim, "OH MY GOD!!!"
We all rushed to the kitchen to see what was the matter.
"Baba, what's wrong???"
He was standing with the fridge door open "I can't believe we are out of apples!!"
And therein was the crisis.
Hubby: Honey, do you want some grapes?
Me: No, but thanks.
Hubby: But they're so good!
Me: I'm sure they are! They look great.
Hubby: So how about you try some?
Me: No, really, I don't want any. Thanks.
Hubby: What, you don't like grapes or something????
Me: I never said that! I do like grapes! I'm just not in the mood for them! (Sheesh!)
***
Hubby: Wow, these are the best strawberries I've ever tasted.
Me: Darling, you say that every time we buy strawberries.
Hubby: No I don't! Oh, but these are so goooood!
2 weeks later...
Hubby: Oh my goodness, these strawberries we just bought are the best ever.
Me: .....
***
One day, my husband was in the kitchen while my kids and I were in a next room. All of the sudden, we heard him exclaim, "OH MY GOD!!!"
We all rushed to the kitchen to see what was the matter.
"Baba, what's wrong???"
He was standing with the fridge door open "I can't believe we are out of apples!!"
And therein was the crisis.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
What? Huh? What did you say? Aysh??
My husband does this weird thing. A lot. It drives me and our kids crazy sometimes. It's nothing big or important, really. Just a little irritating.
Often we'll all be in the same room. He'll get up, go to another room, close the door and THEN proceed to say something to one of us. Of course, since he's in the next room, it's hard to hear what he's saying. So one of us has to track him down to get a better listen.
I always ask, "You couldn't think of saying this/asking this WHILE you were in the room with us?"
Similar story with the volume of the radio or TV. I personally like to have the volume a little on the low side, because we have kids and we don't need so much noise going on in our house. However, Hubby will often turn the volume up to hear better. OK that's no big deal. Unfortunately it is usually immediately after he turns up the volume that he decides to say or ask something. Again, as in the previous example, we cannot hear him so either there's a lot of "What?" or "Huh?" or I just take it upon myself to turn the volume back down.
He especially likes to do this when we have someone from Yemen visiting us and we're driving them somewhere. Hubby will blast a Yemeni music CD (it's kind of a way to show off that we have music from back home I guess?) and then try to have a normal conversation with the guest. Neither person can hear the other well, and I'm just sitting in the back seat, doing a facepalm the whole time.
This has been going on for twenty years.
Often we'll all be in the same room. He'll get up, go to another room, close the door and THEN proceed to say something to one of us. Of course, since he's in the next room, it's hard to hear what he's saying. So one of us has to track him down to get a better listen.
I always ask, "You couldn't think of saying this/asking this WHILE you were in the room with us?"
Similar story with the volume of the radio or TV. I personally like to have the volume a little on the low side, because we have kids and we don't need so much noise going on in our house. However, Hubby will often turn the volume up to hear better. OK that's no big deal. Unfortunately it is usually immediately after he turns up the volume that he decides to say or ask something. Again, as in the previous example, we cannot hear him so either there's a lot of "What?" or "Huh?" or I just take it upon myself to turn the volume back down.
He especially likes to do this when we have someone from Yemen visiting us and we're driving them somewhere. Hubby will blast a Yemeni music CD (it's kind of a way to show off that we have music from back home I guess?) and then try to have a normal conversation with the guest. Neither person can hear the other well, and I'm just sitting in the back seat, doing a facepalm the whole time.
This has been going on for twenty years.
Friday, August 26, 2011
To be (considerate) or not to be (inconsiderate)
My husband is a loving father and a wonderful husband. But many times, he comes across as inconsiderate. Here are some examples:
A few days ago, I was out running errands. When I came home, I discovered my husband had left the house. No note, nothing. I asked our older daughter, "Where's Baba?" She said, "I don't know, did he leave?" GRRR So he left the house without telling anyone what he was up to.
I sent him a text asking him where he was. He replied, "I went to visit so-and-so" I asked, "Didn't you think you could tell anyone?" Him: "Why??" GRRR
He had done this earlier in the year. He would take our youngest daughter out for a walk, and not tell anyone. Well, we soon noticed that our girl was nowhere in the house and for a few (frantic) minutes, we thought she had slipped through the door and run away! I texted him anxiously, "Do you have our daughter?" He thought it would be funny to play a trick on me, so he replied, "No, I thought she was with you"
Never toy with the emotions of a mother who thinks her child is missing. The split-second after he texted me that, I was in tears, bawling because she was nowhere in the house to be found. A few seconds later, he texted "Just kidding" - like it was no big deal. Believe me, I played Hell with him when he got back.
Here's what I did yesterday: I was scheduled to go to work as usual. I got dressed, packed my lunch and kissed everyone good-bye. When I got there, I learned I had been given the day off so I headed back home. Before I drove back, I sent a text to my husband, telling him that there was a scheduling issue and I was on my way back.
Why did I do this? Because after I left home, he wouldn't be expecting a car to pull up in our driveway. He wouldn't be expecting someone to unlock the house door. I certainly didn't want to walk through the door with someone swinging a big stick at me! So I INFORMED him, well in advance, so he'd know what was going on. And that he wouldn't mistake me for an intruder and hit me with a stick!
But, my friends, that is what's called being considerate.
A few days ago, I was out running errands. When I came home, I discovered my husband had left the house. No note, nothing. I asked our older daughter, "Where's Baba?" She said, "I don't know, did he leave?" GRRR So he left the house without telling anyone what he was up to.
I sent him a text asking him where he was. He replied, "I went to visit so-and-so" I asked, "Didn't you think you could tell anyone?" Him: "Why??" GRRR
He had done this earlier in the year. He would take our youngest daughter out for a walk, and not tell anyone. Well, we soon noticed that our girl was nowhere in the house and for a few (frantic) minutes, we thought she had slipped through the door and run away! I texted him anxiously, "Do you have our daughter?" He thought it would be funny to play a trick on me, so he replied, "No, I thought she was with you"
Never toy with the emotions of a mother who thinks her child is missing. The split-second after he texted me that, I was in tears, bawling because she was nowhere in the house to be found. A few seconds later, he texted "Just kidding" - like it was no big deal. Believe me, I played Hell with him when he got back.
Here's what I did yesterday: I was scheduled to go to work as usual. I got dressed, packed my lunch and kissed everyone good-bye. When I got there, I learned I had been given the day off so I headed back home. Before I drove back, I sent a text to my husband, telling him that there was a scheduling issue and I was on my way back.
Why did I do this? Because after I left home, he wouldn't be expecting a car to pull up in our driveway. He wouldn't be expecting someone to unlock the house door. I certainly didn't want to walk through the door with someone swinging a big stick at me! So I INFORMED him, well in advance, so he'd know what was going on. And that he wouldn't mistake me for an intruder and hit me with a stick!
But, my friends, that is what's called being considerate.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
What's the point of building a nice house, if you can't live in it?
So my husband knows a lot of Yemenis. Many of them live in NYC. Most of these men either work in convenience stores, or drive taxis around town. Either way, they work very long hours and often work in the most dangerous neighborhoods. (My husband worked in a dangerous Bronx area for years. He was robbed at gunpoint TWICE!)
These Yemenis work 12 to 16 hour days, usually with NO days off. Yes, it's crazy, especially in this day and age in America. But it's the Yemeni way. If a Yemeni doesn't like it, there are a dozen waiting in line to take his job.
Typically, Yemenis who work in NYC live there on their own, sharing apartments with other workers. Their wives and kids usually remain in Yemen. Many people keep their families away from the US so that their kids stay true to the language, culture and faith. Many see the ways of the US as "sinful" or haram. A big problem is, the family is separated for long stretches at a time, often years and years. While my husband lives here in the US with me and our kids, he goes back to visit about every 5 years. This is par for the course. Often, Yemenis work and work, sending hard-earned cash back home (via Western Union) What little extra they have, gets saved until they have pooled enough money to pay for a round-trip ticket, as well as some spending cash. And too often, it's a neverending cycle: Work 4 years, visit wife and kids for a few months, fly back to the US and work another 4 or 5 years... rinse and repeat.
Another thing many Yemenis do with their money, is save up for a nice house in Sana'a. My husband swears real estate in Sana'a is a hot commodity. He loves to talk about so-and-so, who bought a house ten years ago, and now the value has ballooned to triple, quadruple the initial cost. My husband tends to exaggerate. A lot. I can't tell you how many times he wanted to withdraw my 401(k) retirement savings so we could build a nice house in Sana'a.
One of his cousins in NYC, I'll call him Saif, fits the role I described. He has nine kids, one grandchild and two wives. He works long hours to send money to his wife (wives) and kids in Yemen. He also recently finished building a lavish house in a nice part of Sana'a. My husband raves about how successful Saif was to build this house. Like it's some status symbol.
I am not impressed. Sure, it's a nice house. But honestly, since Saif will be spending most of his time in the US (because he has to earn money to support all those kids!) what is the point of having a big, fancy whoop-de-doo house? He's working 14-hour shifts. He's sending all his money to Yemen. He doesn't see his wife or kids. He lives in a tiny hole-in-the-wall apartment in a seedy NYC neighborhood. Tell me, what kind of life is that? I'd rather do it the American way: Live every day with your family. Spend as much time as possible with them. Money comes and goes but you can never get the time you could have spent with your family back. He could have taken all the money he invested on the Sana'a house and made a fine down payment on a modest home here.
These Yemenis work 12 to 16 hour days, usually with NO days off. Yes, it's crazy, especially in this day and age in America. But it's the Yemeni way. If a Yemeni doesn't like it, there are a dozen waiting in line to take his job.
Typically, Yemenis who work in NYC live there on their own, sharing apartments with other workers. Their wives and kids usually remain in Yemen. Many people keep their families away from the US so that their kids stay true to the language, culture and faith. Many see the ways of the US as "sinful" or haram. A big problem is, the family is separated for long stretches at a time, often years and years. While my husband lives here in the US with me and our kids, he goes back to visit about every 5 years. This is par for the course. Often, Yemenis work and work, sending hard-earned cash back home (via Western Union) What little extra they have, gets saved until they have pooled enough money to pay for a round-trip ticket, as well as some spending cash. And too often, it's a neverending cycle: Work 4 years, visit wife and kids for a few months, fly back to the US and work another 4 or 5 years... rinse and repeat.
Another thing many Yemenis do with their money, is save up for a nice house in Sana'a. My husband swears real estate in Sana'a is a hot commodity. He loves to talk about so-and-so, who bought a house ten years ago, and now the value has ballooned to triple, quadruple the initial cost. My husband tends to exaggerate. A lot. I can't tell you how many times he wanted to withdraw my 401(k) retirement savings so we could build a nice house in Sana'a.
One of his cousins in NYC, I'll call him Saif, fits the role I described. He has nine kids, one grandchild and two wives. He works long hours to send money to his wife (wives) and kids in Yemen. He also recently finished building a lavish house in a nice part of Sana'a. My husband raves about how successful Saif was to build this house. Like it's some status symbol.
I am not impressed. Sure, it's a nice house. But honestly, since Saif will be spending most of his time in the US (because he has to earn money to support all those kids!) what is the point of having a big, fancy whoop-de-doo house? He's working 14-hour shifts. He's sending all his money to Yemen. He doesn't see his wife or kids. He lives in a tiny hole-in-the-wall apartment in a seedy NYC neighborhood. Tell me, what kind of life is that? I'd rather do it the American way: Live every day with your family. Spend as much time as possible with them. Money comes and goes but you can never get the time you could have spent with your family back. He could have taken all the money he invested on the Sana'a house and made a fine down payment on a modest home here.
Let's try this again. Re-introducing myself...
I would like to start blogging again. Not that I was really doing it that much before. I actually prefer tweeting Unfortunately, tweets are transient. Not everyone sees them, depending on the time they are posted. And many people, myself included, have short, nano-second attention spans. You might see a tweet you want to address, but your attention has already shifted to the next tweet, so nothing gets done about it. Anyway...
I want to (re)introduce myself, so that I can get my bearings again. I am an American woman, born and raised in the USA. I grew up in a semi-Catholic home. My parents were not very pious, although they wanted to be. I grew disenchanted with the Church. I learned about Islam when I was a teenager and decided it was exactly what I had been looking for. Of course, there are more details along the way, but that's the gist of it.
I met my husband-to-be around that time. He was born in Yemen, raised in the remotest of villages (near Rada) He spent his early teenage years in Britain, so by the time he met me, not only did he speak English, but he was very Westernized. We fell in love, like Westerners do, but we also shared a passion for the Islamic faith.
At this point, we've been married, very happily I should add, for twenty years now. We've had a great relationship. Not a day goes by without us telling each other how much we love or miss each other. There are days we're just like teenagers again, full of loving glances and terms of endearment.
Along the way, we've had 3 children. While my husband and I have been on the same page in just about every aspect of our lives, (our marriage, our finances, our living conditions, our faith, our political preferences...) we tend do differ on parenting issues. I attribute this, of course, to our very different upbringings. What's acceptable in my culture is frowned upon in his, and vice versa. This was a main reason I even started a Twitter account: I wanted to find other families like mine: A mix of an Arab and a Westerner. I've had the Twitter for maybe two years now (?) and I've only found maybe 2 or 3 people who fit this bill. I would call that pretty unsuccessful.
I'm rambling, sorry! This was supposed to be my (re)introduction. Maybe this is why I stopped blogging in the first place: My tendency to ramble and go off-tangent.
In my 20 years married to my Yemeni husband, I've learned a lot about Yemenis and Yemeni culture in general. Some things I like, some I don't and for others, I'm indifferent. I will hopefully, from time to time, address topics I've observed. I want to make this disclaimer: If I make a statement like "Why do so many Yemenis work in convenience stores or drive taxis?" I don't mean ALL Yemenis. Of course, there are many Yemeni teachers, doctors, photographers, singers... I do not mean to fit every Yemeni into a stereotype. What I mean is, "MOST Yemenis, that I (or my husband) know" So, in the above example, it's true, most of my husband's Yemeni relatives and friends do indeed either work in a convenience store or drive a taxi. If I go down his list of phone contacts, I'm pretty sure about 90% of these people will fit that description.
Similarly if I say "Yemeni kids don't get much education", again, this applies to MOST Yemenis that I know personally. It is not a jab at EVERY Yemeni. So, if you're a Yemeni author, baker, computer engineer, clothing designer, lab technician, I am NOT addressing you. Most likely, my husband and I don't associate with people like you (unfortunately for us) This is because, as I mentioned before, my husband is from the village and not many people aspire to become more than farmers, sadly.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
iViva la Revolucion!
Well, well, well... long time no blog. It's been almost a whole year since I last logged in to Blogger. It's a good representation of my laziness, I guess.
So much has happened, and is still happening, in Yemen since I last blogged. Yemen is in the midst of a revolution, an uprising. I can't say I'm surprised: Yemen has been poor and stuck in time for ages. Plus most of the citizens are un/undereducated and/or unemployed. This describes almost all of my husband's family. Poor Qat farmers, raising kids, eating Aseed, marrying off their kids and the cycle repeats.
I met my husband over 20 years ago, and hardly anyone has advanced their situation since that day.
So, I can understand if many Yemenis, especially younger ones, educated ones, feel disenchanted and frustrated. Plus, seeing the recent successes in Tunisia and Egypt, I'm sure they only want to be free and successful like their brethren.
As I type this, Yemen is still in a state of unrest. Protests, hints of civil war, casualties... I have a dedicated Twitter account solely for all things Yemen and in the past few months, my timeline has been little else but revolution tweets. If one was to judge from Twitter, it would seem that most Yemenis are against President Saleh and demand he step down.
My in-laws, as mentioned before, aren't in the educated, informed crowd. They are poor, simple farmers. They have only known Saleh as their president all or most of their lives and many of them regard themselves as loyal to him; they don't know any other way. If they were asked on the spot, I'm sure they would pledge their love and support for President Saleh. They have no reason to believe otherwise.
My husband lives with me, here in the United States. He has access to Twitter and the rest of the internet. He's a lot more informed than his relatives back home. However, he often feels the same sense of loyalty they do. He worries, as they do, that kicking the president out will lead to civil war, between the North and South.
But then, there are other days, when he feels disenchanted with the state of affairs in Yemen, namely the rampant corruption and lack of forward progress. On these days, he seems to empathize with the protestors and shakes his fist at President Saleh's stubbornness. It's a gray area sometimes.
I will hopefully post more often. Until then, my prayers go out to Yemen.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Special delivery
One of hubby's many, many cousins is here for a short visit. He actually drove here because he needed help filling out immigration forms. He drove 8 hrs to visit us. To help him fill out forms.
He did not bring the forms.
He didn't even have a clue what would be needed, like say... important things like a TAX RETURN, or a BANK STATEMENT, or a W2, or a COPY OF BIRTH CERTIFICATE.
So hubby says, "Don't worry about it. Help him fill out the stuff on the form; he can gather all his documents when he goes back home"
So how am I supposed to know what to enter in the field where it says, "income?" Or "taxable income?"
At this rate, I'll be lucky if this cousin knows how to spell his own name.
I AM NOT MAKING THIS STUFF UP
I asked hubby, why on Earth did this poor guy DRIVE here? I could have easily printed the forms off the web (which, go figure, is what I ended up doing) filled out his info and MAILED it back to him. We do have this neat service called the "Post Office" where someone will take your document to somewhere else. No driving necessary!
Hubby says it just shows how grateful the guy is that we're helping him with the form. I said, "Uh no. It shows that you guys have no sense of practicality"
My mother put some gifts in a box last month, and mailed it to our kids. She didn't see the need to hop in a car and drive for hours. She's a smart cookie, my mom!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Parenting
Sorry it's taken me so long to post. I'm having computer issues. I managed to get it powered-on for now, so here goes...
Reminder: I am an American woman. My husband was born in Yemen, but spent time growing up in the West.
One of the few areas where our cultures and upbringing clash deals with parenting. Specifically parenting our teenage daughter. If you cringe at the thought of raising teeange girls, you are not alone.
My husband grew up in a country where girls are subordinate, domesticated, often uneducated and/or illiterate. Girls in his village speak when spoken to. A girl in the Yemeni village has a 99% chance of growing up to become someone's wife to bear his children. Of all of my husband's dozens of nieces in Yemen, I don't know of any who have become anything else. Worse off, none of the girls have any aspirations to be anything else than a wife and mother.
A girl in the village might go to school until her pre-teen years. Then, as has been reported widely in international media, she will be married off, often to a much older man. She'll have a lovely wedding, with gunfire salutes, henna, musicians, dancing, makeup, gold jewelry and cash gifts. But then, after her big day, she'll be a wife like all the others. Live with the mother-in-law, help cook for all the members of the new family. Visit her own family rarely if ever. Bear children and if they are girls, raise them to eventually be just like her.
My husband spent a lot of time growing up in the West. When we had our first daughter, he only wanted the best for her. Not just brand-name clothes and shoes as many parents do. But he was so proud of her achievements in school, her trophies, her awards, her promotion to the gifted program. He wanted our daughter to be the first girl descended from his village to go to college and succeed on her own.
However, our daughter had inclinations of her own. She wanted to do well when she was in elementary school. When she hit middle school, she slacked off, as many students do. She got overwhelmed with the work and found it easier to just not do it. It made us crazy, but moreso my husband. Our daughter had the opportunity so many girls in Yemen didn't, and she was squandering it away????
What made it worse, was that our daughter just wanted to be a typical American teenager. She wanted to dress how other girls dressed. Listen to the music everyone else listened to. Blog about things teenagers blog about.
To me, it hasn't been a big deal. She's a kid, let her be a kid. I grew up in a similar fashion and I'm grateful my parents didn't force me to do anything or behave in a certain way.
To my husband, it's a daily battle. He frowns on her wearing tight jeans. On her wearing makeup and hoop earrings. On her having a Facebook. On her having male friends. On her cursing in e-mails and text messages. On her talking on her phone, late at night, giggling like crazy.
It puts me in the middle. Me, the American woman, married to a Yemeni. I love and support my husband. But I love and support my kids too. I tell him, "Look, you gotta let her be her own person. If you force her to act a certain way, dress a certain way, etc, it will backfire and we will never have her trust and sincerity"
To which he'll answer to me, "What, so we let her do whatever she wants? She looks like a streetwalker in those clothes. You want guys on the street looking at her curves like that? If we let her do what she wants, she'll come home pregnant one day. Pregnant and/or drugged up"
And then I'll retort that we have to trust her, have faith in her. I show him examples of me, my sisters and brothers. We had little interference from our parents and we all turned out to be educated, successful and decent people with solid lives. He brushes this off and reminds me that "it isn't the same for Yemeni girls"
A big part of his problem is that he worries what other Yemenis will think. How would it make him look to others if they knew his daughter hung out with guys in the cafeteria? What would his cousins think if they stumbled upon her Facebook page, with all her dolled-up wall photos? What would people say if they knew she was friends with Blacks and Hispanics? (Oh traditional Yemenis can be a racist bunch. But the same can be said of many cultures. It's an ugly but universal reality)
I often counter and tell him he shouldn't care what people half-way around the world, living in mud-brick huts think. But, for me to say that debases his family and he resents statements like that. In other words, they are family and I should care what they think.
And the cycle continues. Sometimes daily. I try to be the diplomat at each encounter. I advise him to not be so harsh. I tell her to understand where he came from and to not resent what he says. I had to remind her once, that Yemenis see females as beings to be protected, honored and respected. A girl that has lost her respect or honor can never get it back. I told her that when Baba says you're wearing too much makeup, it's because he doesn't want other people to see you as an object on a store shelf.
One of the main reasons I set up this blog, and the Twitter it stemmed from, was that I hoped to see if other people are dealing with what we are. I cannot be the only Western woman who married a Yemeni (and that uses a computer)
Reminder: I am an American woman. My husband was born in Yemen, but spent time growing up in the West.
One of the few areas where our cultures and upbringing clash deals with parenting. Specifically parenting our teenage daughter. If you cringe at the thought of raising teeange girls, you are not alone.
My husband grew up in a country where girls are subordinate, domesticated, often uneducated and/or illiterate. Girls in his village speak when spoken to. A girl in the Yemeni village has a 99% chance of growing up to become someone's wife to bear his children. Of all of my husband's dozens of nieces in Yemen, I don't know of any who have become anything else. Worse off, none of the girls have any aspirations to be anything else than a wife and mother.
A girl in the village might go to school until her pre-teen years. Then, as has been reported widely in international media, she will be married off, often to a much older man. She'll have a lovely wedding, with gunfire salutes, henna, musicians, dancing, makeup, gold jewelry and cash gifts. But then, after her big day, she'll be a wife like all the others. Live with the mother-in-law, help cook for all the members of the new family. Visit her own family rarely if ever. Bear children and if they are girls, raise them to eventually be just like her.
My husband spent a lot of time growing up in the West. When we had our first daughter, he only wanted the best for her. Not just brand-name clothes and shoes as many parents do. But he was so proud of her achievements in school, her trophies, her awards, her promotion to the gifted program. He wanted our daughter to be the first girl descended from his village to go to college and succeed on her own.
However, our daughter had inclinations of her own. She wanted to do well when she was in elementary school. When she hit middle school, she slacked off, as many students do. She got overwhelmed with the work and found it easier to just not do it. It made us crazy, but moreso my husband. Our daughter had the opportunity so many girls in Yemen didn't, and she was squandering it away????
What made it worse, was that our daughter just wanted to be a typical American teenager. She wanted to dress how other girls dressed. Listen to the music everyone else listened to. Blog about things teenagers blog about.
To me, it hasn't been a big deal. She's a kid, let her be a kid. I grew up in a similar fashion and I'm grateful my parents didn't force me to do anything or behave in a certain way.
To my husband, it's a daily battle. He frowns on her wearing tight jeans. On her wearing makeup and hoop earrings. On her having a Facebook. On her having male friends. On her cursing in e-mails and text messages. On her talking on her phone, late at night, giggling like crazy.
It puts me in the middle. Me, the American woman, married to a Yemeni. I love and support my husband. But I love and support my kids too. I tell him, "Look, you gotta let her be her own person. If you force her to act a certain way, dress a certain way, etc, it will backfire and we will never have her trust and sincerity"
To which he'll answer to me, "What, so we let her do whatever she wants? She looks like a streetwalker in those clothes. You want guys on the street looking at her curves like that? If we let her do what she wants, she'll come home pregnant one day. Pregnant and/or drugged up"
And then I'll retort that we have to trust her, have faith in her. I show him examples of me, my sisters and brothers. We had little interference from our parents and we all turned out to be educated, successful and decent people with solid lives. He brushes this off and reminds me that "it isn't the same for Yemeni girls"
A big part of his problem is that he worries what other Yemenis will think. How would it make him look to others if they knew his daughter hung out with guys in the cafeteria? What would his cousins think if they stumbled upon her Facebook page, with all her dolled-up wall photos? What would people say if they knew she was friends with Blacks and Hispanics? (Oh traditional Yemenis can be a racist bunch. But the same can be said of many cultures. It's an ugly but universal reality)
I often counter and tell him he shouldn't care what people half-way around the world, living in mud-brick huts think. But, for me to say that debases his family and he resents statements like that. In other words, they are family and I should care what they think.
And the cycle continues. Sometimes daily. I try to be the diplomat at each encounter. I advise him to not be so harsh. I tell her to understand where he came from and to not resent what he says. I had to remind her once, that Yemenis see females as beings to be protected, honored and respected. A girl that has lost her respect or honor can never get it back. I told her that when Baba says you're wearing too much makeup, it's because he doesn't want other people to see you as an object on a store shelf.
One of the main reasons I set up this blog, and the Twitter it stemmed from, was that I hoped to see if other people are dealing with what we are. I cannot be the only Western woman who married a Yemeni (and that uses a computer)
Monday, February 1, 2010
Village Yemeni men are LAZY
I visited my husband's village a few years ago. The men there do hardly any work. Regular jobs are scarce for the most part. But even so, I only saw women doing all the hard labor, while the men would sit around in the Diwan, chewing Qat, all day long. WTH they sit around and talk about, I couldn't tell you.
My husband said the conversations are about life, politics, memories... like anyone else. I felt, geez, if they have so much time to kill, why not get a job or help your wife around the house?
Seriously, the women got up early every day to make breakfast. And this isn't cereal and toast breakfast. This is fuul, fettah, hubs (bread), sebaya (sweet, buttery, layered bread) and other goodies which I do not know the names of. In other words, breakfast there is like pure, down-to-earth, homestyle cooking. There are no boxes or cans; nothing is pre-packaged. Everything is made from scratch. So this breakfast is quite labor-intensive. The women slave over the stove (is it even a stove? ) while the men lie in bed, or lie on the Diwan cushions, drinking chai (tea) or ghahuwa (ginger-husk coffer, ick!) and wait for breakfast.
After breakfast, the women clean up (of course!) In the village, there isn't running water, so the pots are washed in a pan of water and aired out to dry. There are no toilets, so the chamberpots have to be emptied out regularly. Plus, once the water runs out, the women have walk to the water pump and retrieve more. She's not pushing a barrel of water on a shopping cart. Or pulling it in a red wagon. She's carrying a huge pail of water on her head!!! And she walks back to the house to replenish the supply.
All the while, they are also changing diapers, wiping runny noses, breastfeeding babies, feeding the goats, chickens, whatever, sewing, and other many, many other domestic duties.
In addition to eating, chewing qat and waiting for the next meal, Yemeni village men do little else.
I was there. I was in the village. I saw it all. Yes, they separate the men from women as much as possible! If men are gathered in a room to eat, the women are not allowed to enter the room to serve the food. The women pass the food to a child, who brings it to the guests. If a woman has to walk past a room to get to the other side of the hall, and there are men in that room, she has to get a child to respectfully close that door so that the men do not catch a glimpse of her. This is while she is fully covered, head-to-toe in loose, non-form-fitting attire. Often even her face is covered. Heaven forbid a woman accidentally make eye contact with a non-related man!
This picture is of some of my in-laws, but I am not sure exactly who. This is my husband's home in the village. You can see a woman in the middle of doing some chore, while a group of boys stand by and look down on her.
This picture below shows the large amount of land (and thus water) that is used for qat. Notice the AK-47 pointing at the camera, casually!
And next is an old picture of our Diwan. In this pic, it is relatively empty, except for the few kids who wandered in. The men are probably out shopping for qat and the women are cooking or cleaning.
My husband said the conversations are about life, politics, memories... like anyone else. I felt, geez, if they have so much time to kill, why not get a job or help your wife around the house?
Seriously, the women got up early every day to make breakfast. And this isn't cereal and toast breakfast. This is fuul, fettah, hubs (bread), sebaya (sweet, buttery, layered bread) and other goodies which I do not know the names of. In other words, breakfast there is like pure, down-to-earth, homestyle cooking. There are no boxes or cans; nothing is pre-packaged. Everything is made from scratch. So this breakfast is quite labor-intensive. The women slave over the stove (is it even a stove? ) while the men lie in bed, or lie on the Diwan cushions, drinking chai (tea) or ghahuwa (ginger-husk coffer, ick!) and wait for breakfast.
After breakfast, the women clean up (of course!) In the village, there isn't running water, so the pots are washed in a pan of water and aired out to dry. There are no toilets, so the chamberpots have to be emptied out regularly. Plus, once the water runs out, the women have walk to the water pump and retrieve more. She's not pushing a barrel of water on a shopping cart. Or pulling it in a red wagon. She's carrying a huge pail of water on her head!!! And she walks back to the house to replenish the supply.
All the while, they are also changing diapers, wiping runny noses, breastfeeding babies, feeding the goats, chickens, whatever, sewing, and other many, many other domestic duties.
In addition to eating, chewing qat and waiting for the next meal, Yemeni village men do little else.
I was there. I was in the village. I saw it all. Yes, they separate the men from women as much as possible! If men are gathered in a room to eat, the women are not allowed to enter the room to serve the food. The women pass the food to a child, who brings it to the guests. If a woman has to walk past a room to get to the other side of the hall, and there are men in that room, she has to get a child to respectfully close that door so that the men do not catch a glimpse of her. This is while she is fully covered, head-to-toe in loose, non-form-fitting attire. Often even her face is covered. Heaven forbid a woman accidentally make eye contact with a non-related man!
This picture is of some of my in-laws, but I am not sure exactly who. This is my husband's home in the village. You can see a woman in the middle of doing some chore, while a group of boys stand by and look down on her.
This picture below shows the large amount of land (and thus water) that is used for qat. Notice the AK-47 pointing at the camera, casually!
And next is an old picture of our Diwan. In this pic, it is relatively empty, except for the few kids who wandered in. The men are probably out shopping for qat and the women are cooking or cleaning.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Suitcases
When my husband's nephew came to the US for the first time, he got off the airplane with one small suitcase. He was only about 17 at the time, but he was moving to the States. I was amazed that he only had one little suitcase. And it wasn't even full!
I guess the mentality was: Everything is available in America, your dirty, raggy clothes won't cut it anyway. You'll just get newer, better stuff in the US
In fact, this is how almost every Yemeni I know, gets off the plane: With minimal possessions. The suitcase is more ornamental than anything.
However, when Yemenis go BACK to Yemen, that's a different story. Every single time I've known a Yemeni to go back home, he will take at least five huge suitcases. Often these are filled with clothing for children, wives and other family members. And friends will ask them to deliver goods for their own families.
So, the equation goes like this: Yemeni to US = 1 suitcase. Yemeni back to Yemen = 5 suitcases. Yemeni returns to US = 1 suitcase. And the cycle repeats.
My question is: WHERE ARE ALL THE SUITCASES ENDING UP?? I've asked my husband, "Is there a huge mountain of suitcases somewhere in your village?" He thinks I'm joking, but it just baffles me!
So, when one of his friends/relatives (the collective term is "cousin") goes back, we sometimes end up buying him a suitcase. We will fill this suitcase with clothing for my husband's nieces and nephews. But when I'm in Walmart shopping for these suitcases, I always have to ask, "Didn't so-and-so JUST go to Yemen and didn't we just get a suitcase for him too?"
See, my family is not Yemeni. When my mother goes to the Bahamas for a vacation, she takes 2 suitcases. When she comes back, surprise, she brings the same 2 suitcases back. Sometimes, she'll bring an additional bag back because she bought souvenirs. She has had to purchase suitcases maybe once in the past 20 years. I can't even imagine telling her how/why we buy suitcases almost every year.
I guess the mentality was: Everything is available in America, your dirty, raggy clothes won't cut it anyway. You'll just get newer, better stuff in the US
In fact, this is how almost every Yemeni I know, gets off the plane: With minimal possessions. The suitcase is more ornamental than anything.
However, when Yemenis go BACK to Yemen, that's a different story. Every single time I've known a Yemeni to go back home, he will take at least five huge suitcases. Often these are filled with clothing for children, wives and other family members. And friends will ask them to deliver goods for their own families.
So, the equation goes like this: Yemeni to US = 1 suitcase. Yemeni back to Yemen = 5 suitcases. Yemeni returns to US = 1 suitcase. And the cycle repeats.
My question is: WHERE ARE ALL THE SUITCASES ENDING UP?? I've asked my husband, "Is there a huge mountain of suitcases somewhere in your village?" He thinks I'm joking, but it just baffles me!
So, when one of his friends/relatives (the collective term is "cousin") goes back, we sometimes end up buying him a suitcase. We will fill this suitcase with clothing for my husband's nieces and nephews. But when I'm in Walmart shopping for these suitcases, I always have to ask, "Didn't so-and-so JUST go to Yemen and didn't we just get a suitcase for him too?"
See, my family is not Yemeni. When my mother goes to the Bahamas for a vacation, she takes 2 suitcases. When she comes back, surprise, she brings the same 2 suitcases back. Sometimes, she'll bring an additional bag back because she bought souvenirs. She has had to purchase suitcases maybe once in the past 20 years. I can't even imagine telling her how/why we buy suitcases almost every year.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Yemenis in NY
Many Yemenis live and work in New York City. In my opinion, these are mostly men, who are here to work off-the-books so that they can send money back home to Yemen. Often, they are sending money to their wives and children. Sadly, this is very common, meaning they are here apart from their families.
I know of a lot of guys who work in delis, convenience stores, bodegas, newsstands and the like. I'm not exactly sure what draws Yemenis into this line of work. I guess it might be similar to why there are so many Vietnamese nail salons, Chinese dry cleaning and Sudani cab drivers? Maybe everyone else is doing it
Anyway, the life of the "bodega" Yemeni isn't ideal. Usually he'll work seven days a week, 12 hours a day. No days off, no vacations, sick days, half-days, holidays, weekends. Seriously. I suppose it's a similar story for a lot of people who came to this country, working long, hard hours, in search for a better life. But I digress...
He will work at the cash register and/or stock shelves. A lot of times, I've seen these guys come off the airplane, straight from the village and thrust into work. Yemen is an Islamic country. Not ultra-conservative, I don't think, but fairly conservative. Yet these Yemenis will come to NYC, and start slicing ham and salami for sandwiches, stocking beer in the coolers, selling scratch-off lottery tickets and maintaining inventory on newspapers and magazines, including X-rated reads. All of these were haram where they came from, so it's an understatement to say it's a culture shock.
Many guys suck it up and deal with it, maintaining the values they grew up with. They realize it's part of the job, earning a living to send money home, all the while asking God for forgiveness.
For other guys, they can't deal with it, and succumb to the pressure, to the "sins" and guilty pleasures.
My husband and I know of people on both ends of the spectrum. The ones who fall are such sad, pathetic creatures. Drinking, doing/selling drugs, cavorting with prostitutes. Interestingly enough though, I've never known of a Yemeni to eat pork. I guess some haram is worse than others!
Of course, like anything, there are exceptions to the people I've described. We also know of Yemenis who have their families here, raising their kids. Eventually, there are Yemenis (Yemeni-Americans) going to college and working 9 to 5 jobs just like any John Doe. However, these really are the exception. My husband and I only know of few people who don't fit the mold and they are usually the younger, rich generation, offspring of government elite.
I mentioned earlier that many Yemenis in NYC work in convenience stores. I think the next job of choice is taxi-cab driver. The ones who save up for a taxi or limousine license, learn enough English to get by, learn enough of NYC traffic patterns.
To me, working in a convenience store or taxi-cab are 2 of the most dangerous jobs they can pick. Cash transactions, dealing with the general public. Convenience stores are often near train stations or bus lines. It's too easy to get robbed in a deli or a taxi-cab.
My husband worked in a convenience store in NYC and he's been robbed at gunpoint TWICE This shouldn't be a typical workplace danger, unless you work in a combat zone.
I know of a lot of guys who work in delis, convenience stores, bodegas, newsstands and the like. I'm not exactly sure what draws Yemenis into this line of work. I guess it might be similar to why there are so many Vietnamese nail salons, Chinese dry cleaning and Sudani cab drivers? Maybe everyone else is doing it
Anyway, the life of the "bodega" Yemeni isn't ideal. Usually he'll work seven days a week, 12 hours a day. No days off, no vacations, sick days, half-days, holidays, weekends. Seriously. I suppose it's a similar story for a lot of people who came to this country, working long, hard hours, in search for a better life. But I digress...
He will work at the cash register and/or stock shelves. A lot of times, I've seen these guys come off the airplane, straight from the village and thrust into work. Yemen is an Islamic country. Not ultra-conservative, I don't think, but fairly conservative. Yet these Yemenis will come to NYC, and start slicing ham and salami for sandwiches, stocking beer in the coolers, selling scratch-off lottery tickets and maintaining inventory on newspapers and magazines, including X-rated reads. All of these were haram where they came from, so it's an understatement to say it's a culture shock.
Many guys suck it up and deal with it, maintaining the values they grew up with. They realize it's part of the job, earning a living to send money home, all the while asking God for forgiveness.
For other guys, they can't deal with it, and succumb to the pressure, to the "sins" and guilty pleasures.
My husband and I know of people on both ends of the spectrum. The ones who fall are such sad, pathetic creatures. Drinking, doing/selling drugs, cavorting with prostitutes. Interestingly enough though, I've never known of a Yemeni to eat pork. I guess some haram is worse than others!
Of course, like anything, there are exceptions to the people I've described. We also know of Yemenis who have their families here, raising their kids. Eventually, there are Yemenis (Yemeni-Americans) going to college and working 9 to 5 jobs just like any John Doe. However, these really are the exception. My husband and I only know of few people who don't fit the mold and they are usually the younger, rich generation, offspring of government elite.
I mentioned earlier that many Yemenis in NYC work in convenience stores. I think the next job of choice is taxi-cab driver. The ones who save up for a taxi or limousine license, learn enough English to get by, learn enough of NYC traffic patterns.
To me, working in a convenience store or taxi-cab are 2 of the most dangerous jobs they can pick. Cash transactions, dealing with the general public. Convenience stores are often near train stations or bus lines. It's too easy to get robbed in a deli or a taxi-cab.
My husband worked in a convenience store in NYC and he's been robbed at gunpoint TWICE This shouldn't be a typical workplace danger, unless you work in a combat zone.
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