25
September 2011
Frustration
and Elation
My frustration at being steamrolled by
bronchitis and pneumonia has given way to elation: Today’s headlines trumpet
the decision by King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia to enfranchise Saudi women and,
unbelievably, allow them to run for local public office, beginning in 2015.
I worked with Saudi Arabians for eight years
(1977-1985) in Cupertino, California.
Hired to teach in a corporation that contracted to train Saudi Arabian
men in computer skills (yes—we still had keypunch machines and computer
languages at that ancient time), I was the first female instructor assigned to
the two-man (Ron L. and B. Clay) ESL “department.” It seemed like a strange
job, but after two years of sporadic part-time jobs, I grabbed the incredibly
well-paid position as soon as it was offered.
What was it like getting to know Saudis and
working with them at close range?
In my first weeks at Sysorex, I was
terrified. Young and clueless about
Arabs and their culture, I found myself in a sleek, modern high-tech classroom
surrounded by friendly tanned faces above crisp white robes. The strange men babbled
loudly in a language I could never begin to fathom, never mind speak. The
Saudis were very curious about me because many of them had ever seen an
unveiled female adult outside of their homes.
Their curiosity daunted me and posed a
problem to my stiff Anglo-Saxon expectations regarding personal space and
allowable distance between two people. (For more info, look up proxemics.) In terms of body language,
the Saudis seemed invasive and brash, even to the extent of making sexual
come-ons. I felt constantly on the
defensive, wary of every word, smile or move, both theirs and mine.
As they approached, I took several steps
back. As I stepped back, they approached even more closely. As their voices got
louder, my answers squeaked out, expressing my startled emotions as being half intimidated
and half angry. Soon I was face-to-face—even nose-to-nose—with strange men I had
barely made acquaintance with. Though I was grateful they were very friendly
and vocal and therefore easier to teach language to, I was beginning to think they were being too
friendly for the wrong reasons.
Word went round the company that while I was
an excellent instructor, I seemed not to like my students enough to really
engage them. Not like them? I liked them fine. It was they who were the
problem, not taking me seriously because I was a woman. Right?
Wrong. I had so much to learn about myself
and others! Someone took the time, I believe it was Art C. our institute
director, to instruct me in intercultural differences. The cultural gaps between Americans
(especially American women) and Saudis were immense: For example, Saudis position
themselves at a very close physical distance from their interlocutor, almost
nose-to-nose or from 3 to 9 inches; this translates as either intimate or belligerent
space to us Americans, who are used to about 4 or more feet between our physical
public space bubbles. But my Saudi students were only trying to be polite, not “pushy,”
when they came up in my face and spoke loudly to me. And I, I was showing them
with my backwards tango steps that I didn’t like them and didn’t want to listen
to them.
There were many other “little”
misunderstandings built on miscues of body language that enlightened me over
the months and years. One such gem to know is that when Saudis are agreeing
with you or indicating “yes,” they will move their head from side to side as we
do when we mean “no” or we disagree. Another had to do with the etiquette of
eye contact. Most Arab peoples prefer to maintain fairly intense eye contact
while talking at such range. My being on the shy side and often gazing into
space or at the floor did not help my cause. Learning to maintain nearly
constant eye contact was very exhausting to me. Yet for the love of learning
and teaching, I did my best.
Then a miracle occurred. I learned a cultural
“secret” that changed my life: Most Arab people are adept at interpreting other
people’s degree of eye dilation so they can tell what’s going on with your
emotions, specifically the emotions of like/dislike, love/hate. If you don’t like them, they know without
your ever having to say a thing.
This is one reason that you will always see
photographs of Gadhafi and the late Yasser Arafat wearing sunglasses at all
their meetings and negotiations, even indoors. They do not want to be read like open books.
So maybe my eyes were not lying—the students made
me feel uncomfortable, which surely translated in my eyes, or my pupils, to
make a pun. Over a long weekend, I contemplated what to do with this stunning
new information. Sunglasses were out, since the average person wearing
sunglasses indoors is an insult to most Arabs, for now obvious reasons.
By the next Tuesday I was a changed person. My
students immediately sensed it. Before encountering a student, I made myself
think that the love of my life had just surprised me with a visit and plane
tickets to Paris, or that Pavarotti was serenading me personally with Che Gelida
Manina, or some similar fantasy-imbued
thought I could sustain for a while. As I did this, I could feel eyes and my
face relax into twinkles and smiles, and soon my whole being glow with joyous
feelings. Then I looked the person in the eye and greeted them warmly. Magic!
Now I held the keys to two great mysteries. Not only did this joyful thinking re-train my
neural-synaptic responses—and my eye dilation—to express genuine liking for
another (for I did not confine this to only my Saudis, but used it with
everyone), it created a genuine liking and affection for self and other
in my psyche! It wasn’t a trick—it was a major life transformation. I truly did genuinely like and care about each
of my students now. This “secret” brought me a cache of fabulous gifts, among
them a new patience, curiosity and openness in my daily interactions with all. This
secret made me quarry out a genuine Maria-self from the deeper character strata
hidden within me.
Frustration had given way to elation.
From this time forward, I never doubted that as
a teacher and instructor, I gave to my students some important content information
about language. But, conversely, the real beneficiary of an education is and
was always me, with all my students being the greatest teachers I ever had or
hoped for.
So what was it like teaching Saudis? A great
honor and beyond my best expectations.
What were they like? My Saudis were as
diverse and multi-faceted as any group of people can be.
Most were warm, friendly, fun-loving,
respectful, intelligent, and personable. Relationships come first for them, so
they were very forgiving and could never stay angry or upset for very long. Some
were stand-offish, some foolhardy, some hard to get to know, some lazy, some
hyper…just like any other group. But I don’t recall one who was a fake. These
Arabs led me to demand such genuineness of myself. Though such genuineness leads
to vulnerability and therefore many more opportunities to get hurt, a two-dimensional
life is much more tragic than instructive pain. And so my learning evolved.
The Saudi students’ religious views on women were difficult for me
to accept, but I remember one thing: with a few exceptions—and I know this
sounds like a sterotype of the Controller but—I never heard one of my students
talk about women with disrespect. In fact, their conversation regarding their
wives or woman in their culture was amazingly elevated and glowed with complete
respect. Their control over women was, in their minds, all about protection
from “harm” (which, granted, included normal living, but we have many centuries
to make up here), not about oppression.
And
most curiously, though I remember them having celebrations at the birth of a
son, they spoke of their daughters more frequently and adoringly, expressing
their desire for them to find the highest happiness in life, even if that meant
she took the rare course of never marrying but becoming a doctor or
professional instead.
You go Saudi women! And may Allah bless you,
King Abdullah Al Saud.
