Jaime CP5

A couple of Wednesdays ago I met up with TEFL, Saudi, and Kuwaiti friends at Aladdin’s shisha café. The night consisted of several interesting conversations that really struck me.
First of all, when I talk to Hassan and company 9 times out of 10 I am left trying to defend that I have some sense of normality. For example, all of the guys will tell you, if you go to the Gulf countries, should you see nothing else, go to Abu Dhabi. Go to the Emirates. This is emphasized with a tour-guide-like zeal. In turn I excitedly told them, “Abu Dhabi hosts the world jiu-jitsu tournament!” Video followed with a short explanation and then …silence. Although far too polite to say it, the look says it all. “Jaime you go to Abu Dhabi for the grandeur, for the culture, and for the pomp… not to roll about on the ground wrestling.”

Since then I have tried to explain to them different martial arts that I am perfectly capable of playing on the same soccer field as them. I’ve explained the concepts of waterskiing, tubing, wakeboarding, and kiteboarding. I showed the guys the scars on my legs from a ‘kitemare’ incident a couple of years back. The guys have accepted the assault on traditional gender roles with a fair amount of grace, but I am always at a loss for words when they ask how many women are like me. “Many. And no Hussain, I cannot give you an exact percentage.”
As the other end of the table began a conversation about dating, Hussain talked to me about his wife. Despite his quiet, traditional ways, Hussain is a romantic. He told me the story of how he met his wife, I was shown pictures, he proudly told me of his daughter, of Kuwait, and of his family. He told me he was excited that his wife and daughter would be coming at the end of summer, and that he wanted to plan a trip for them. We talked about places to go to, and Abdullah showed me clips of a karate style he used to study.
As I was leaving Albraa challenged me to a soccer game, asking whether I thought I could keep up with him. Without missing a beat I answered ever so sweetly that if he ended up being that much better than me, then I’d simply knock him down. We all laughed, but Albraa has yet to invite me to a soccer game…

I think that expressing my tomboyishness has also pigeon-holed me with the guys. After talking about how I liked martial arts Hassan told me, “uhh-huh. [pause] It would seem like you all are good at something. Camille, she is good at singing. And you, [pause]you are good at fighting.”

Last Thursday they were a little surprised that I was capable of wearing a dress and looking a wee bit better than busted. We all attended Camille and Brian’s culture class on improv. And Hussain, clever bugger that he is, waited for me to improv a scene with one of the Ali. Camille asked for scene suggestions, and without missing a beat Hussain went in for the set up. “Fight scene!”
Hussain was giggling. GIGGLING. (He’d probably insist it was a chuckle…) Ali went in to hit me, I thought he was being serious- and had expected me to be a girl about it and run, faint, or such- Alas, no. I went in for the block and was surprised to see the shock register on his face when I made contact and blocked his forearm. I heard Hussain roaring in his corner and chanting “kick him! Kick him!” Poor Ali. I figured it was best to end the scene with him beating me, so that he could preserve his masculinity in front of Hussain and the guys.
After class, I accused Hussain of setting me up. He grinned and with a fake air of innocence said, “Who me? No no no no no.”