What they could not steal

[starfielderParticipant]

I’m reading the book “A House in the Sky” by Amanda Lindhout. The words she uses cause the story to vividly stir, move and carry the reader along. She was held captive for 460 days by Muslim extremists. The first 8 weeks of her captivity were scary. And then the book twisted in a way I didn’t expect. It reminded me of stories from my childhood. I have lived a story similar to hers.

Her story is one of repeated sexual violation that stir my own stories from my childhood in Saudi. Many times I felt held captive in the Middle East. As a foreign blonde girl who was non-Muslim, no matter what I did to be modest there was always an Arab man or teenage boy, showing his penis and masturbating while watching me, or touching my body through my clothes in the crowded market place as if I wouldn’t notice, or stealing a caress of my butt cheek, or trying to slide his hand between my legs through the folds of my long dress and cloak. Never mind that I was 9 or 10 or 11 or 12 or 13 or 14 years old. Men would take action and then nonchalantly stare.
This constant harassment grew an alertness in me. I developed an acute ability to assess my surroundings, who was present and who was not.
My mother who has brown hair and brown eyes did not get the same attention and was forever telling me to not cause a scene. Lindhout describes in her book, as an infidel or non-Muslim it was always assumed we were at fault. I lived the weight of my powerlessness. As a woman my powerlessness was compounded. Arab men saw me as less than. The only time we weren’t harassed was when we were with my Dad who towered over most Arab men. Once when we were driving to school a carload of young men hyped-up on road rage slammed their car to a stop and blocked us hopping out of their rather small Toyota Corolla smacking their wooden bats, starting towards our Jeep. I can hear my Dad calmly saying, “Stay in the car.” As he stepped out of the Jeep, these small Arab men quickly realized how imposing my Dad was. They backed away saying, “Sorry. Sorry. No problem,” jumped back in their car and zoomed off.
My years living in Saudi Arabia hold many good memories. I have written about some of them. We lived with a sense of community I have found nowhere else that I have lived. The people in my community, going to school and working and traveling together looked out for each other. The sense of adventure, the sights I was able to see some people don’t get to experience their entire lives. I experienced amazing vistas, people, and places. I have listened to Afghan refugees who flooded across the border into Saudi when Russia invaded. I knew Palestinian friends who pined for a homeland of their own, living in exile in Saudi working along side my Father. I met Somali people looking for a better life who had come over on a boat across the Red Sea. My Sudanese neighbors sent their money home to pay for their families. Yemini men worked at our school providing a better life than what Yemen could offer. I was in school with members of the upper class Saudi society. Their palace homes were astounding.
I’ve explored abandoned royal palaces. In my home I have a mahogany table from one such Palace that my Mother bought in the junk souq in Jeddah.
These are the stories of my childhood in the Middle East. I get comments every so often from Arabs saying that it is different and not like I have written. I assure you my stories are true.
These stories helped form me. These stories have given me a broad worldview.

And all these years later, I know a steely resolve within, no matter what those men stole from me, they could not touch the essence of who I was. I did not know back then the strength of my own choices. I did not know then that those stolen gropes, that those men living out their own deprived pornographic lechery would not rob me of myself or a beautiful life. As a child I was hesitant to speak of these stories. As a woman who has overcome the dark side of Arab culture I have proved my resilience.

Here’s the Blog link: http://starfieldertrue.wordpress.com/2014/07/30/what-they-could-not-steal/

 

[irreveranceParticipant]

Good story. It’s terrible that young women have to deal with that. I’m glad to hear that it made you stronger in the long run, though.

[TraceyParticipant]

Thanks for sharing . . .I came of age in a culture where old men liked to dump their wives for young teens. My city statistically rated the highest of capital cities in the frequency that children witnessed sexual violence. I felt very threatened sexually . . .and the wariness is hard to leave behind. Conversely, when I came to the US and just blended in with the crowd in my Goodwill clothes, I didn’t like how I was a non-entity.

[starfielderParticipant]

Thanks for your comments.

[SaraJParticipant]

Love reading your blog. <3

[David HaywardKeymaster]

It is good to see how you’re doing now Star. It would be easy to never get over this. I can’t imagine how vulnerable and exposed you must have felt as a little girl in a foreign land. I’m proud of you.

[Author]

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