The Lady With The Crash Helmet

On a recent trip back from the States, I realised I had uncovered one of the best conversation starters on an aeroplane or in an airport. Carry a hard hat on top of your hand luggage.

Trust me, it works a treat!  Especially if you are a Muslim chick…

I didn’t quite fit the above stereotype…perhaps fortunately?

I think about 4 people asked me straight out: “So why are you carrying a crash helmet on to this plane?  What do you think is gonna happen?”.

It took all my self control not to crack an awful joke every single time; I am not sure if they would have appreciated my dark sense of humour in this particular situation.

A few others were just curious: “What’s a girl like you doing with steel caps and a hard hat?”

“Oh well, I work on the field…”

Quite a number of interesting conversations followed, and to be honest, one can sometimes forget how interesting the people on the plane can be!

I ended up meeting all sorts of people; some who work in the motorsport industry, some guy who works as a professional tree climbing equipment supplier (and got there in the most random fashion…) and another guy who used to work on oil rigs in the same area, in the 1980’s!

That was kinda a cool one.  He had a few stories, a couple of permanently crooked fingers and a life story which he prefaced with: “All we wore were steel caps and shorts…”

Ah, OH&S has moved on a bit since then.

It was a nice reminder in general though, that instead of walking around airports with headphones in my poor abused eardrums and a “don’t talk to me” look on my face as I struggle through jetlag while carrying too many pieces of hand luggage as per usual…I should take more notice of the people around me on a more regular basis.

You never know who might be sitting next to you…and the stories they might have.

***

Something occurred to me today.

Faces I sometimes forget, names I often do if I don’t write them down or spell them out.

Stories however… they sustain me.

Stories are the colour to the tapestry of life; the details are the richness of the pigment, the texture, the intricacies to something bigger than ourselves.

Stories are what make people people, and everyone has their own story that is worth listening to. 

Isn’t is a basic human desire to have our story be heard?  Perhaps not by everyone, but at least someone.  Perhaps…you.

Suitcase Memories

“This is such a cold town,” I said to my mother, in between blowing my nose. But it took me a while to learn their reaction wasn’t a sign of disrespect or indifference, not the way I took it anyway. New Yorkers are unshockable, it’s true, but they also know that no one gets private space, and the best they can do is to leave you alone and at least pretend you have privacy, even if the crowded sidewalk affords you none. When I see someone in tears on the sidewalk, my instinct is not to rush over and help them—what would I do, anyway?—it is to offer them the dignity of not staring.”

Here is everything I learnt in New York

For years growing up, all I remember saying I wanted to do was travel.  I had this image in my mind of backpacking through hostels in Europe, traipsing about in the Amazon and long, dusty road trips into the sunset…but knew that would never really happen, because that wasn’t part of the “plan” – I had school, university, a career to get onto…

Sometimes when you get what you have been working towards for a long time, you don’t realise you are there until it is over.  Sometimes you realise half way through…and if you are lucky enough to do that, never forget to stop and enjoy it.

I realised in a conversation a little while ago that my dream of travelling frequently and often had been granted, Alhamdulilah.  The penny hadn’t fully dropped yet, but taking a step back and appreciating the larger picture was what I was missing.  It was happening; perhaps not in the way I had imagined, but in a way that was equally enriching, exciting and intriguing.

What have I learned? Ach, I ask this of others but don’t ask myself this question enough.  What I do know, right now, lying on a bed in a room that alternates between freezing and boiling (because hotels don’t like open windows?!) is that at the end of the day, you rely on yourself and whatever (or whoever) you believe in. 

You have to decide what is important to you and base all your decisions around that – if you have your priorities straight and truly believe in them, then decisions are easy.  Just join the dots.

Loneliness is a frame of mind… but it is always nice to have someone to come home and tell stories to, even if it is a fish or an uninterested sibling.

Pack light (easier said than done) because you will definitely go shopping (or maybe that’s just me?).

You are no where near as important or significant as you think you are. There are billions of people in this world, and travelling, in whatever capacity, opens your eyes to what is out there…if you are willing to let it.

That doesn’t mean that your life, my life or anyone’s life isn’t important in itself per se, but the world doesn’t revolve around us…and that is okay.

YOUR world revolves around you, but your world isn’t everyone else’s world.

What a penny to drop! That is honestly, more like a pound… but once I realised that, I began to appreciate how exciting life really is.

How every person you meet is an insight into a totally different way of thinking, a totally different life perspective, a totally different paradigm…and totally different world.

How is that not exciting?  It simply…*is*.  It means every single person you or I ever have the fortune to meet has their own story… and you have been given the gift of interaction, so why not find out what their story is?

After all, some of the most profound lessons I have learnt are from random interactions with people I only met once… and never seen again.  A chance interaction with another world.

***

I won’t ever be able to experience everything there is to experience in the world.  However travelling a little myself, and travelling a little through the eyes and minds of others…well, that is a start for now. 

Pandora’s Box…

Isn’t it interesting that the smallest things are what remind you of how far away from home you are? 

The odd choices in the grocery stores, the strange shows on television and the news anchors you don’t know if you should trust?

Need I say anymore?

The slightly different social expectations, like choosing to drive instead of to walk?

Even the time the sun sets.  It is all…new, and, well, different.

That is exciting, and also slightly uncomfortable.

But I am beginning to think only the uncomfortable forces you to grow and see how far you can stretch.

Isn’t ironic that we think of life lessons as hackneyed phrases and disregard only to appreciate their significance when we experience it directly.

It’s like we sometimes think we are the only ones who have ever experienced such difficulties and trials, and forget there is an entire history of humanity that has gone before us, generations of billions of people who also saw themselves at the center of their own worlds…

It is natural I guess, as we see the world through our own eyes, to think of only our experiences, but we should step back every once in a while to examine our own insignificance.  Scary, perhaps.

Also slightly liberating… 

Women in the East, Women in the West: Finding the middle ground.

Have you ever had your fundamental beliefs about your role in society challenged?

I never thought it would be so…confusing.

Having recently returned from a four month stint in Sudan, I have been trying to reconcile what I saw and experienced there with my experience growing up in Australia as an Aussie chick.  I think I am still figuring it all out…

I never really considered myself a true victim of the “identity crisis” issues that were said to plague first and second generation migrants that make Australia their home.  I considered myself ‘Straylian through and through, from the way I talked and thought, to my mates and sports of choice (except for cricket…soccer girl all the way).  I loved the fact that I could walk into a pump shop at a mine site in central Queensland as a hijabi-wearing-Sudanese-born gal and instantly relate to the old mates working maintenance because, well, I grew up here. This was my country, these were my people.

I felt comfortable with the choices I had made: my degree and career (mechanical engineer, pretty butch), my sport (boxing: yup, as feminine as they come) and the belief that my gender played no part in the role I was to play in society.  My mantra was pretty much “well if the boys can do it, I can do it too”.  My father was naturally horrified, but hid it well and mostly accepted that was who I had become.

Boy, was I in for a treat when I got to Sudan.

My first month was…interesting.  Not because of the heat, or the conditions or the lack of system…but because of the cultural expectations that were placed on me that I just wasn’t accustomed to.  I understood and accepted the bare bones of it all (after all, my parents brought me up as a Sudanese woman), but what frustrated me was the clear discrepancy between the roles of men and women and the unwritten rules that I was expected to adhere to.

Sport was a big one – my grandmother couldn’t understand why I wanted to train on the local track, competed with my uncle in pushups or was so interested in exercise.   It wasn’t even the obviously masculine things that were different: Apparently the way I walked, sat, talked, laughed…the issues I wanted to debate (politics isn’t for women!) and the interests that I had were all unfeminine and undesirable in a respectable Sudanese woman. 

I used to joke to my aunt: “Someone should write a rule book on “How to live life as a Sudanese woman” so I don’t keep putting my foot in it and doing the wrong thing”

She would just laugh.  “This is how it is here…”

At first, I found it funny.   I loved being the odd one out, flying in the face of what was acceptable, just being me.  Then it began to frustrate me.  Why was I being judged on things that had nothing to do with my true character? Why weren’t my cousins fighting for their rights as women!

It isn’t as if my cousins were “oppressed”.  Hardly.  My cousins are all studying or working and my aunts all have higher degrees.  Their English is great and they are all well educated and well read.  In fact, one aunt is running one of the biggest businesses in Sudan!  So the opportunity for women to do things is there. Yet… I still couldn’t understand how the women were living with such cultural restrictions.

My cousin shed some light on her perspective one night and said something that I had never considered before.

“It is so cool that you are travelling and doing all this stuff and seeing the world Yassmina, but that is your world.  You have to accept what we have accepted that this is our world and we have to operate in it.  It’s not as bad as you think! We know what we have to do and the role we have to play to be a good woman, a good wife, a good Sudanese and a good Muslim, so we do that.  We don’t want to make our lives harder by looking for things that we don’t really need…”

My aunt echoed a similar sentiment.  “You might look at me and say woah, she has a degree but she is sitting at home taking care of the house, how oppressed is she!  But I love doing this! I love taking care of the house, cooking and being there for my family, and many others do as well.  I work [she has a teaching job], but I work hours that will suit the family because at the end of the day, the family is most important.  You might disagree Yassmina, but the woman is better suited to bringing up a family; you can’t have a home without a mother…and I am happy to fill that role”.

Hold up! I thought.  Yes, there were some societal inequalities that women had issues with and were wanting to have resolved…but by and large they were happy with the role they were playing in life? They **wanted** to be caregivers and homemakers? Wait…does this mean our entire definition of success differs? Huh? Didn’t they want to be liberated?

Yikes.  Now I was confused and I began to wonder…

Maybe there is some validity in the way my family see the role of a woman. Maybe it is too crazy for me to expect a man to have an equal share in the housework. Maybe, as a woman, I have to think about my role as a procreator and a homemaker as just as, if not more important, than my career…

If you know me at all, you would know those thoughts are truly at odds with how I tend to see the world.

There is another aspect to it too, one that I haven’t talked about here, and that is how the women see it as their Islamic duty to be the caregivers and the homemakers.  This was harder for me to deal with, because I don’t have the scholarly Islamic knowledge to confidently refute what they were saying.

So I reached a point where I was at a loss.

Do I forget about everything I saw and learnt in Sudan and continue living life the way I had been in Australia, with gender not being a factor in my decisions because “that’s how I grew up”? 

Or, do I follow the path described by my cultural background, where all my decisions are largely based on gender and gender roles… because that is “where I am from?”

I had – and sometimes still have – difficulty reconciling what I grew up with and what my background encourages. The thing is, I think the expected role of a Sudanese woman in society is at odds with the expected role as an Australian woman in society.

How does one deal with that?

***

I guess for me, I think I am beginning to realise that the idea that “women can have it all” is fair enough, but perhaps for me should be amended to “women can have whatever they want”.  If they want the house and kids that’s great, and if they want the career that is within their rights as well.  Having it all at the same time though… that might be a little more difficult.

I don’t have a concrete answer to my mental dilemma just yet. All I do know is that I feel there needs to be a middle ground, and that is the one that I choose to take, inshallah. A path that takes into account that I am a woman, but that doesn’t limit my choices, it informs them.

If there is one thing I took away from the trip, it is this: It is important, as a woman, to recognise that if (and inshallah when) you choose to have a family, the role as a mother is invaluable and cannot be substituted… and that gender does play a factor in the family dynamic, whether we like it or not.

***

How it will all play out and how much will I take from that lesson? I guess only time will tell…

What about you? How do you see the role of women in society? Have you ever had your views so challenged?

***

I Dare You To Move

I have been offline for a couple of weeks now, but I am glad to be back.

I welcome you back with a short video that inspires wanderlust...

Cultural Sh-Sh-Shock. Part II

As I mentioned yesterday, traveling brings out the differences in our social fabric, and sometimes these differences are a little more difficult to get used to.  Even though I was brought up in a Sudanese household, there are a few things that are extraordinarily different when you actually live in Sudan, as I quickly found out, and some of those differences are illustrated below... (Note: I love Sudan, I really do. I was born there and am a proud Sudanese. Some of the below have a slight ironic tone, please take it all in good humour).

1. Communal or family based living

This is a theme that underscores many of the societal differences that I have found in Sudan.  Even though I think my parents did try to engender this concept in their kids while living in Australia, it didn't quite hit home like it does now. In Australia for example, everyone looks out for themselves.  Everyone largely lives their own life, as the individual unit is seen as the most important.  The complete opposite is true here in Sudan and many other "Eastern" nations; the family unit is what matters, or at least the "community" and the concept of doing things for individual success, pleasure or improvement is largely foreign.

This manifests itself in a number of ways, such as:

2. Everybody knows (or needs to know) everything

I am used to being a relatively independent person and making independent decisions.  However, in a community and family unit based society such as Sudan, this isn't how things are done.

If I want to go anywhere or do anything, everyone in the house seems to need to know.  

In my case, it needs firstly to be cleared with the grandma of course. We then check if the place is safe, known and reputable.  An aunt, a cousin or two and another member of the family (maybe even my parents in Aus) also need to be told before I leave, just in case.  If I am late by a minute or two... the phones start ringing.

They tell me this is for my own safety, and I am sure it is, as I don't know the lay of the land.  However for someone used to just "doing things", the level of familial bureaucracy can be slightly ...odd.

It is all part of protecting my reputation of course... because:

3, Your reputation is your life!

There are two parts to this: As I was duly informed by my grandmother when I arrived, my reputation is my most important asset, and if I ever want a good husband (oh lol) and accordingly a good life, I would do everything in my power to be "bit naas", or "a respectable girl".  

This includes:

1. Only going or being seen at "appropriate" places (this includes university, my family's house... and restaurants, with family of course)

2. Not being out at night (sunset curfew, unless I am at a sanctioned event with family)

3. Being able to serve (i.e. Bring tea/drinks/appropriate food out, clean quickly and quietly etc)

4. Being "agreeable"...and so on and so forth.

You get the point.  This emphasis on my "reputation" is quite important you see, as it dictates what people "think about me" and my "marriage prospects"...

Again, for someone who is used to "just doing things because I want to", having to think about what others think of me and what my actions say not only about me, but my entire family is quite a lot to take in while planning an outing.  

The issue is also, not only doing the right thing, but always appearing to do the right thing. So if there are actions that are right but might be misconstrued (e.g. returning home at night, even with family) this is to be avoided at all costs, lest the neighbours talk!

4. No Concept of Privacy

So I have definitely had to get used to a new sense of "sharing", in two different senses.

Firstly, at the University I attend, my property seems to be everyone else's property as well! 

For example, if I leave my bag unattended (or I look away briefly), and I will return to find someone going through my bag to "borrow" a pen or rubber or drink my iced water (which you can't buy at uni....). A classmate once borrowed my phone to listen to a song, and continued to, unapologetically and without permission, browse through all my messages and photos! I was rather shocked, until I realised this is seen as normal!

I stopped her when she started critising my photos ("why are you taking photos of the street?"   "...") and she genuinely looked offended at my taking offense.  It truly seems that there is no such thing as "mine only"...

The second aspect is the concept of personal space.  Being used to (in Aus) having my desk and study space where I zone out and work, not having similar "alone time" here has been quite interesting, as people are around you all the time.  In fact, taking yourself away from the conversation or a get together is seen as odd, because people are very social and community based.  I think of myself as an extrovert, but I do need my space to think...

Maybe all that Australian space makes me spoilt :P

5. (This is a big one) The difference in expectations and opportunities for men and women.

I could write an entire post about this topic and how it has made me feel while living in Sudan.

Suffice to say, as a women who is a mechanical engineer, I am not stranger to people telling me "that's not what women do".

But truly, the limitations placed on women simply because they are women!!! in this society boils my blood.

"It is not safe for women!" They tell me.

"Respectable girls don't do that!"

"You will never get married if you don't learn how to cook!"

"What kind of girl are you if you don't roll your hair!"

"Sport isn't for women!"

"Be more sophisticated!"

....

Never have I felt more powerless or incapable purely because of my gender.

(To be continued...)

(NB: All this makes me sometimes wonder at my claimed ethnicity. I didn't realise I was such a "first worlder!")

Have you guys had any experience with culture shock, especially from a culture you thought you knew really well??

Now for something a little different...

Skater fashion from around the world. I bring to you, the Skartorialist.

Reflections

“I love the sweet feeling of catching the last plane to Brisbane. The people remind me of home; guttural accents and board shorts and sportsgirl and country road, a slight dishevelledness and chilled-ness that I don’t really find anywhere else… Or maybe it’s just because Brisbanites are my homiea, my people. Its strange, to realise you feel one place is home. Only travelling really has allowed me to realize what I consider home, familiar… And even tho traveling is exciting… It always feels like my life is on hiatus until I return. How will I ever make a new home? I guess when I return one day…and it’s no longer familiar…” -- Written in my travel diary, 2011.