Chapter 1: Homecoming

After 18 excrutiating hours of flying, I was exhausted and not glad to be greeted by the thickness of the humidty that surrounded the place I was to call "Home". Going through customs was quite uncomfortable as the young airport officer reviewed our passports and gave us cold glances as if we were guilty of trespassing. My father's smile did not soften the officer, who then harshly stamped our passports and waved us through. As we waited for our luggage at the carousel I watched as the women in their long, black Abayas waited next to their husbands, who wore Western style clothing. There was also men wearing the traditional white thob. Baba had been telling Mom that he wanted to go straight to the tailor upon arrival to get a few thobs made. He wanted to fit right in, and was sure that the light, white fabric would make summer in the Gulf much more bareable. My brothers, Nawaf and Ali, wanted to get a few thobs made as well. Mom had asked Baba, right after he brought up the idea of moving back, whether he would prefer for her to wear Abaya. Mom was always very respectful of Baba's culture and traditions. They had been married for 23 years and not once had he forced her to dress a certain way. He left it up to her to decide. Baba's sisters would probably try to persuade her to wear it, since they have been wearing abaya most of their lives. I'm sure they would try to persuade me as well. I just couldn't bare the thought of being completely covered. The weather was harsh enough, and to be covered in black just didn't sit well with me. Thank God we weren't living in Saudi Arabia, where the women are by law required to wear abaya. Even foreigners visiting the country on business had to abide by the law.

Baba told me much had change in our native country. He said that in the past 10 years, the country had been completely modernised and that we should not have a problem fitting in and actually liking the place. He promised to make our living situation as close as it was back in Chicago. Chicago, now, seemed so far away and distant.

As we left the airport, everything was so different. Aside from the hot and sticky weather, nothing resembled the roads back home. If I thought drivers back in Chicago were always in the rush to get home, these drivers were insane and careless. Women who were completely cloaked and who wore niqab,could hardly see the roads. Children did not even wear seatbelts and sat in the passanger seat. If this was back in U.S, those women would have been stopped and ticketed.

Within 20 mins we arrived to our new home. Uncle Mahmood had made sure that the maids and driver were there upon our arrival. Rosie, our new maid, met us at the gate and welcomed us home. Since Baba had told us about the house he was building for us, not once did I ask to see the blueprints. I knew he was aware of our likes and dislikes, so I wasn't really worried we'd feel uncomfortable here. Most homes in the Gulf are guarded by huge gates and tall surrounding walls for privacy, of course. I was surely amazed. This house was nothing like our house back in Chicago. We live comfortably in Chicago, but by the look of our new home from the outside, I was positive the inside would be just as beautiful. As I walked into the house, it finally began to sink in that we were actually in the Gulf.