repeated.
“We’re in the Middle East now,” she said factually. “So, aside from pretending to be affianced, I should probably also know, you know, how not to offend people… with my American-ness.”
“You’re trusting stereotypes and American propaganda?” he asked, only partially joking. “You’re not seriously concerned are you?”
“No,” she shrugged, dancing around the pool. “In fact, I’ve always wanted to come; I just want to make sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He made his way to the poolside and held onto the edge as the floor dropped to a deeper area. “Ask away.”
“Tell me more about the culture here,” she said simply. “Is it… strict? Do people hate Americans?”
“Oh, come on!” he laughed. “No, not at all. My father has been the ruling monarch for as long as I can remember, and he’s always been fairly progressive.” He paused, as if wondering what else there was to tell. “Rabayat isn’t so strict about tradition; you’ll find things are a little more relaxed here than in some other areas in the region.”
“So… do I have to cover my face?”
He thought for a moment. “Not if you don’t want to; especially not here, or out in the markets. If we approach any spiritual grounds or temples, you might want to cover yourself—just out of respect.”
She nodded at this, taking a mental note as he continued.
“Saying that, you may want to cover yourself, anyway—if only to avoid the sun. Temperatures are usually in the mid-to-high 90s here.”
“Yeah,” Amie said, splashing some water on herself. “I’ve noticed. And what about my clothes; can I show my ankles?”
“Ha-ha,” he mocked. “People here tend to dress modestly, but ankles are definitely in the clear.”
“Okay, and what about being touchy-feely in public?”
“Well,” he mused, “Obviously people should know we’re a couple, just follow your common sense, and be polite. Easy, right?”
She smiled. “Okay, and what if someone flirts with me?”
“If anyone is flirting with you, don’t worry about kicking up a fuss,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “He’ll leave you alone. However, you’ll be with me…” he laughed, “Pretty much all the time, so I doubt anyone would hit on you with me standing right there. Our culture generally isn’t like that.”
“So, wait…” She paused. “All the time?”
He laughed. “Mostly. So you’d better start liking me soon!”
When it came to cultural differences, there were so many stereotypes Amie had never given a second thought to; what one person thought of as oppressive, others found respectful. When speaking of his mother and the experience of Rabayat women, Malik explained that a husband is to protect his wife as he would protect himself, because she is the guardian of his honor. When asked if women were oppressed in Rabayat, he scoffed playfully and told her that the women here were strong, proud, educated professionals. He spoke of his mother and sister with the utmost respect, telling Amie how these strong figures were the main influences in his early life.
However, he said, when he arrived in America, the notion of female friends seemed preposterous when a woman could be a lover. The respect he spoke of his mother with, and the blithe attitude he held regarding his playboy ways back in Chicago made Amie wonder how these two opinions could be held by the same person.
Re-focusing on the conversation at hand, Amie began, “I read that in the Middle East the husband gets the final say, and if he puts his foot down on an issue,” she paused for dramatic effect, “well, the wife had better listen!”
Malik frowned; his lips then softening to a gentle grin. “Sure… in theory, that’s true. But to be honest, Middle-Eastern men like peace in the home as much as Western ones do. Happy wife, happy
“We’re in the Middle East now,” she said factually. “So, aside from pretending to be affianced, I should probably also know, you know, how not to offend people… with my American-ness.”
“You’re trusting stereotypes and American propaganda?” he asked, only partially joking. “You’re not seriously concerned are you?”
“No,” she shrugged, dancing around the pool. “In fact, I’ve always wanted to come; I just want to make sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He made his way to the poolside and held onto the edge as the floor dropped to a deeper area. “Ask away.”
“Tell me more about the culture here,” she said simply. “Is it… strict? Do people hate Americans?”
“Oh, come on!” he laughed. “No, not at all. My father has been the ruling monarch for as long as I can remember, and he’s always been fairly progressive.” He paused, as if wondering what else there was to tell. “Rabayat isn’t so strict about tradition; you’ll find things are a little more relaxed here than in some other areas in the region.”
“So… do I have to cover my face?”
He thought for a moment. “Not if you don’t want to; especially not here, or out in the markets. If we approach any spiritual grounds or temples, you might want to cover yourself—just out of respect.”
She nodded at this, taking a mental note as he continued.
“Saying that, you may want to cover yourself, anyway—if only to avoid the sun. Temperatures are usually in the mid-to-high 90s here.”
“Yeah,” Amie said, splashing some water on herself. “I’ve noticed. And what about my clothes; can I show my ankles?”
“Ha-ha,” he mocked. “People here tend to dress modestly, but ankles are definitely in the clear.”
“Okay, and what about being touchy-feely in public?”
“Well,” he mused, “Obviously people should know we’re a couple, just follow your common sense, and be polite. Easy, right?”
She smiled. “Okay, and what if someone flirts with me?”
“If anyone is flirting with you, don’t worry about kicking up a fuss,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “He’ll leave you alone. However, you’ll be with me…” he laughed, “Pretty much all the time, so I doubt anyone would hit on you with me standing right there. Our culture generally isn’t like that.”
“So, wait…” She paused. “All the time?”
He laughed. “Mostly. So you’d better start liking me soon!”
When it came to cultural differences, there were so many stereotypes Amie had never given a second thought to; what one person thought of as oppressive, others found respectful. When speaking of his mother and the experience of Rabayat women, Malik explained that a husband is to protect his wife as he would protect himself, because she is the guardian of his honor. When asked if women were oppressed in Rabayat, he scoffed playfully and told her that the women here were strong, proud, educated professionals. He spoke of his mother and sister with the utmost respect, telling Amie how these strong figures were the main influences in his early life.
However, he said, when he arrived in America, the notion of female friends seemed preposterous when a woman could be a lover. The respect he spoke of his mother with, and the blithe attitude he held regarding his playboy ways back in Chicago made Amie wonder how these two opinions could be held by the same person.
Re-focusing on the conversation at hand, Amie began, “I read that in the Middle East the husband gets the final say, and if he puts his foot down on an issue,” she paused for dramatic effect, “well, the wife had better listen!”
Malik frowned; his lips then softening to a gentle grin. “Sure… in theory, that’s true. But to be honest, Middle-Eastern men like peace in the home as much as Western ones do. Happy wife, happy
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