Mohammed: Meeting #4

I immediately regretted asking the question as soon as I saw an expression of alarm shoot across Mohammed’s face.  Our conversation had been flowing so freely, but one momentary lapse of caution, one question, had rebuilt the cultural barriers between me and Mohammed.  The conversation leading up to the question had been casual enough.  Mohammed and I had been discussing one of our favorite topics: soccer.  He explained how in Saudi Arabia, he and his friends would play soccer three times a day every day of the weekend (Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday).  Due to the heat, groups would assemble at nearby fields beginning at 4:00 in the afternoon.  After playing the first game, he and his friends would seek sanctuary from the sun, loading up on food and water before the next set of games began.  Mohammed told me that he and his friends would often stay up until 2:00 am playing soccer during the summer, enjoying the cool night air in comparison to the daytime temperatures typically measuring 45°-50 °Celsius.

Suddenly, I remembered a game of pick up soccer I had played before Spring Break.  One Friday night, me and two of my male friends had been passing a soccer ball around the TCU commons.  Three young men, carrying soccer balls approached my friend from India, and using hand gestures, asked if we wanted to play 3v3 with them.  Luckily, my friend knew enough Arabic to communicate with the young men and agreed to a game.  Before playing, my friend from India introduced the two teams to one another, explaining that the three strangers were students from Saudi Arabia.  The only girl present, I stood back and watched the boys from both teams greet one another, somehow left out of the emphatic hand shaking between the male players.  This should have been my first sign that something about my presence in the soccer game was a little unusual to the Saudi Arabian boys. 

Dismissing this thought from my mind, I eagerly asked Mohammed if he knew the three boys, attempting to pronounce their Arabian names.  Mohammed smiled and nodded, signaling that he knew the Saudi Arabian boys we had played against.  However, a look of curiosity overcame him and he asked how I knew his friends.  When I explained the encounter, Mohammed looked slightly bewildered; unfazed, I continued to boldly recount how much fun the game was and how I would love to visit Saudi Arabia just to have the chance to play similar games of pick up soccer.  Shaking his head slightly, Mohammed quietly told me that my experience in Saudi Arabia would not be like his own recollections, that I would not have the opportunity to play the pick-up soccer games I found so fascinating.  Without thinking, my curiosity overcame my cultural awareness; I blurted out “Why not?”.  

This was the question that made Mohammed uncomfortable, that made me regret ever pursuing the topic.  Without making eye contact, Mohammed explained that girls were not encouraged to join the boys in games of soccer, that he and his friends had never played soccer with females before. 

I should not have been surprised at this announcement; however, nothing could have prepared me for the numbness which spread throughout my mind and body.  My thoughts drifted back to that night in the commons, recollecting memories from that night I had never thought about before.  I suddenly remembered looks of shock on the faces of the Saudi Arabian boys when it became clear I was playing.  I suddenly remembered looks of surprise when I scored the first goal of the game.  I remember the Saudi Arabian boys shaking hands with everyone except me, an American girl.  As I remembered, Mohammed sat across from me, looking down at the table, nervously trying to explain that the gender differences were simply a part of long standing Arabian customs.  I knew these gender distinctions existed, but the personalization of the remark sent me reeling. 

Knowing there was no way to salvage this topic of conversation, I turned the conversation to something safe: the weather.  Yet as we discussed tornados and humidity, my mind remained focused on the concept of gender segregation.  I began to think about how blessed I am to live in a country where I can play a game of pick-up soccer with individuals of the opposite sex without fearing social repercussions or criticism.  I thought about how much fun I have playing soccer with my Co-Ed intramural team, about how every player respects each other despite gender differences. 

No matter how hard I tried to understand the gender inequality of the Arabian culture, I simply couldn't accept it.  I can understand the differences between cultures; I can understand how long standing traditions are respected and followed.  I can understand from a detached standpoint that women and men are different in Saudi Arabian culture, fulfilling different roles and adhering to different societal expectations.  Yet as much as I can understand the gender inequality, I have trouble accepting it.  As a female who has grown up in a country of equal opportunity, I am not sure I will ever be able to look on instances of gender inequality with an open mind; this may be seen as intolerance towards other cultures, but I view it only as intolerance towards segregation and inequality.

On a lighter note, our conversation ended quite amiably despite the earlier tension we faced.  At the end of the meeting, Mohammed and I logged into the library computers so we could become "Facebook Friends".  I found this an important milestone in our developing friendship.  When I wish to communicate with my other friends, I simply message them over Facebook or call them on their cell phones.  Previously, Mohammed and I have been conversing through email, a reflection that our meetings were strictly professional.  After 15 minutes of searching for each other, which consisted on switching my Facebook settings to Arabic and his to English, we were able to become “Facebook Friends”, a reflection of our growing friendship.