Why Saudi Women Need Drivers

It seems my interest in the Saudi Arabian justice system is becoming a repeated blog topic for me. As I mentioned in 2 previous posts here and here, I lived in Saudi Arabia two times so my interest is more than casual. My experiences living in the middle east and in other parts of the world give me perspective on many issues we deal with here in the United States, especially as they relate to our individual freedoms.

A couple of months ago I wrote about several brave Saudi women who were audacious enough to DRIVE!! The nerve! That's right. Women in Saudi Arabia are not allowed to drive, so they must either have male family members take them everywhere or hire personal drivers at several hundred dollars a month. No soccer moms there, maybe soccer drivers, but the point is that it is a really really bad idea to drive in the country if you're a woman unless you're willing to go to jail. That's exactly what happened to the women who decided to drive in protest.

Now one of the women, Shaima Jastaina, will receive 10 lashings by whip for driving without permission. One of the religious mufti who enforce religious law in the country said about the ban on women's driving, "It's for women's good.". Apparently it's to protect them from having too much freedom which would lead them to sin. I have to say if there's anything that has led me to sin, it hasn't been driving a car. Sometimes my car was my escape from a questionable situation. And now that I'm a mom, staying home in isolation with no means of escape would be much more likely to lead me to do something crazy than being able to get in my car and just drive. Although having a driver sounds swanky, I often find driving therapeutic, except for driving in Korea which is a story for another day.

The Saudi ban on female driving applies to foreign women, too. Yes, my mother had to use a driver who was shared with other foreign women at my dad's company. Imagine the scheduling nightmare, just saying. No impromptu trips to the store or last minute errands. My mother handled all of that pretty well considering she had 3 children and my dad was gone nearly half the time on business trips. Her attitude was that we were guests in the country and we had chosen to be there. True enough, but for Saudi women this is a way of life not a two- year stint in some exotic country.

If you'd like to read more about this wave of Saudi women taking to the streets, you can read this article from the Associated Press and this previous post on my blog Suffrage Saudi Style

Suomi

Tomorrow (actually today since I tend to blog in the middle of the night) my parents arrive for a visit. I'm excited for them to see our new life in Denver. We've been here for almost 3 months now, and I can't wait to share the things I love about Colorado. I'm also glad that I'll get a chance to see them because they are on their way to Utah to prepare for a mission to Finland.

My mother is from Finland and this will be her first time living there again after 47 years. She has visited several times, but now she's returning to her homeland, to Suomi (Finland), to live and I am so happy to see her come full circle. My mother grew up in a small Finnish town the youngest of two children in very humble circumstances. She told stories of living in a two room apartment which consisted of a kitchen and a second room divided by curtains into quasi-bedrooms. There was no indoor plumbing so she had to use an outhouse to answer nature's calls even in the dead of a Finnish winter. You know those stories that parents and grandparents tell of walking uphill both ways in horrible weather? Well, in my mother's case her stories aren't exaggerations used to humble her children. It's just how things were. As a teenager my mother converted to the Mormon church which later prompted her to move to the United States to attend BYU in Utah.

Fast forward 47 years and my mother's life couldn't be more different in mostly positive ways. That's not to say she wouldn't have had just as wonderful of a life in Finland as she does now, but this was her path and now that path is leading her back to her homeland. This will be my parents' third mission but I think this mission will be the most meaningful to my mother. I'm so proud of her for the woman she is, my Finnish mama. She has taught me how to face life's challenges and how to be an unconditionally loving mother to my own children.

Rakastan sinua Mom.

Suffrage Saudi Style

Having lived in Saudi Arabia as a young teenager and then again in my early twenties, I was immediately drawn to a news article "Defiant Saudi women get behind the wheel". I often forget what it's like there, even having lived in the country myself, until I read an article like this one.

When my family lived in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia in the early 1980s, many of the same laws and religious fatwas existed as they do today, but in general things were a bit more relaxed. As a western teenage girl, it was recommended that I wear the abaya (black robe covering my clothes) and veil, but I didn't always have to. We all knew that whether or not you wore an abaya depended entirely on where you were going and for how long. If you were going shopping in a street market, you'd better wear that abaya and head scarf if you didn't want to be harassed or even beaten; I was never threatened physically myself but I knew of women who had been. On the other hand, if you were going directly to a store with your parents for a quick trip, you could go without the head garb and possibly without the abaya. That is, if you didn't mind being glared at.

My family moved back to the United States in 1986, but they returned to Saudi Arabia in 1992 right after the Gulf War. When I moved there in early 1994, things had changed. There was a shift to the hard right which at the time I didn't understand. On September 11, 2001 of course I did. It was nothing short of a miracle that I was even able to get a visa to enter the country in 1994 as a 22 year old single woman. Although my father was working there, and his company arranged for my visa, a young single western woman was not usually granted entry especially for an extended time. I was thrilled to be able to return to Saudi. I had many happy memories of my time living there a decade before, and I longed to visit the places that meant so much to me: my old school, our house, the city of Riyadh. I missed Saudi Arabia.

As soon as I arrived, I asked my father if we could travel to Riyadh. My parents were then living in Dammam which is quite a distance from the capital city of Riyadh. My father was hesitant and explained to me how hard it would be for him to get permission for me to travel in the country as a single woman. He said he'd have to get special papers allowing me to travel between the two cities as well as documentation proving that I "wasn't a prostitute" as he put it. Even though I am his daughter, I wasn't allowed to share a hotel room with him, and I had to be completely covered the whole trip even during the 4 hour drive from Dammam to Riyadh in the middle of nowhere.

My father did arrange for me to travel with him on business to Riyadh, and I was able to visit my old haunts. I loved being back in that beautiful city. And, it truly is beautiful. I relived so many good memories in that short trip and was grateful for the chance to be there. But, there was also a sadness I had for the changes that had occurred politically. The sense of oppression was palpable to me although I couldn't understand at that time why things had changed so much in 10 years.

Today, however, reading about these brave women getting in their cars, albeit with their husbands as protection, and driving...driving!... something we take for granted every day of our lives...I felt hope that one day the Saudi people will enjoy greater freedom and peace.

Cairo, Business Trips and Bad Dreams

Doesn't it seem like the world is in a frenzy this last month or so? All of the protests and political upheaval in northern Africa and the Middle East, massive floods and a hurricane in Australia, blizzard after blizzard in much of the United States. The world is in commotion. I remember in the fall of 1999 when I moved to Seoul, Korea there was a similar string of crazy weather and political incidents. I think it's God's way of reminding us how small we really are and who's really in charge. We love to feel like we have control of everything, but one big earthquake or storm reminds us that "having control" is actually an illusion.

I'll have to keep that in mind in the next 2 weeks since Kent is leaving today for a business trip. He'll be gone most of this week and then he's going on another work trip the following week. Anyone who thinks they have control in their lives only has to spend a short time taking care of four small children to be reminded how little control they actually have. There's no controlling the accidents, the arguing, the diapers, the screaming, the whining, the stuffy noses or the general chaos that exists when you're outnumbered 4 to 1. Thankfully, my mother is coming next week, so I really only have to do one week on my own.

I think that all of this commotion both generally and personally are making me very aware of how little control I have in my life. I woke up this morning from probably the worst dream I've ever had. I dreamt that my oldest, Maija, had been kidnapped. It was terrifying, heart breaking, and I ended up thoroughly freaking out my husband who had to calm me down and remind me that Maija was peacefully sleeping in her room. After finally making that transition from nightmare to "Oh good. It was just a dream." I tiptoed into Maija's room. Watching my beautiful girl sleep gave me a moment's peace, and I realized that as long as I have these 5 people in my life, my family, I'll be able to weather the storms and the chaos just fine.

MLK's Dream

Last night our family had a little celebration of Martin Luther King Jr.'s life and all he did for Americans of color, and consequently for all Americans. Because our children are so young, we decided to read them a children's book about King's life entitled "Martin's Big Words" by Doreen Rappaport and Bryan Collier. It is beautifully illustrated and so perfect for small children mixing the story of his life with many of his own words.

As soon as I opened my mouth to start our lesson, I started crying, and I cried throughout; Kent had to read the book to the children because I was too emotional. How can I put into words how much the Civil Rights Movement has affected me personally and our family? How can I not shed tears thinking of my children being treated as unworthy and less-than? How do I explain to my little ones that the pure love they have for each other is so uncommon and unknown in much of the world? Maija said it best, "Mommy, thinking of this makes my heart sad. I don't think skin matters except to hold in the insides of our bodies." Couldn't have put it better myself.

Even Kent shed a few tears when he read the following while reading Martin Luther King's own words:

"I have a dream that one day ... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers."

At least that part of his dream has been fulfilled in a very real way right here in the walls of our home. If only we could all see each other's insides (metaphorically speaking) and be able to love one another truly as brothers and sisters. If only we could see men's hearts as our savior, Jesus Christ, does and truly judge not "by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

What Qualifies as Rich?

With all of America's financial woes lately, I've been thinking a lot about how easy it is to take for granted what you have. So many people have lost jobs (and are still looking), homes, cars and life seems much harder than it used to be. But, what is poverty or wealth for that matter? The United States for the last half-century or more has been the wealthiest nation in the world, so I always have trouble with discussions of America's poverty, especially since I've seen poverty in other countries beyond anything imaginable here.

As I stumbled upon this article tonight, The New Rich: How Much Does It Take?", I thought again about what true wealth or true poverty really is. Growing up I saw extravagant wealth in places like Saudi Arabia where some people literally live in palaces. I also saw in Indonesia, Thailand, Africa, China and several other places, poverty like nothing seen here in the U.S.A. I remember one trip to Indonesia seeing entire neighborhoods filled with shacks that literally had only 3 walls. The open would-be 4th wall faced the dirt road where traffic rushed by and children played with empty coke bottles and trash. It was shocking then and still is to me now.

So, when I read in this article that having a million dollars really means you're middle class, and that in some parts of the country you can't even buy a home with a million dollars, all I can think about is that we're not so bad off after all. In America being poor means you only have 1 car and you can't buy name-brand clothes, but let's face it, that's not poverty in a life-threatening sense. That's just inconvenient.

I submit that true poverty has less to do with money and more to do with quality of life, happiness and personal peace. There have been times when my husband and I were poor by almost every American measure (although in other countries we would've been considered middle class) but I never felt deprived because we had peace and happiness with each other and our children. Our priority was not on having a lot of things, but on having a happy family. Now that we are more established, I don't feel any richer than before. We are just as "rich" now as we were back then. We love each other, love our children and love God.

So, while the world concerns itself with just how much it takes to be rich, I can't help but feeling like they're missing the point entirely. You can have billions of dollars, everything your heart desires, and still be miserable and alone. In contrast, you can have no material things to speak of but be entirely at peace and happy if you have what really matters...those things that DO go with you after this life: family, friendship, love, faith, knowledge and peace of conscience.

Here's my definition of wealth:

You Know You're a TCK When...

A good friend I knew in high school in Hong Kong sent this to me. All I can say is, that after reading the list, I am definitely a TCK, Third Culture Kid.

http://www.tckid.com/group/you-know-youre-a-tck-when/

You know you’re a TCK when…

- You’ve heard this ‘textbook’ definition of a TCK before: “A third culture kid is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside their parents’ culture. The third culture kid builds relationships to all the cultures, while not having full ownership in any. Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the third culture kid’s life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of the same background, other TCKs.”

- “Where are you from?” has more than one reasonable answer.
- You’ve said that you’re from foreign country X, and your audience has asked you which US state X is in.
- You flew before you could walk.
- You speak two languages, but can’t spell in either.
- You feel odd being in the ethnic majority.
- You have three passports.
- You have a passport but no driver’s license.
- You go into culture shock upon returning to your “home” country.
- Your life story uses the phrase “Then we moved to…” three (or four, or five…) times.
- You wince when people mispronounce foreign words.
- You don’t know whether to write the date as day/month/year, month/day/year, or some variation thereof.
- The best word for something is the word you learned first, regardless of the language.
- You get confused because US money isn’t colour-coded.
- You think VISA is a document that’s stamped in your passport, not a plastic card you carry in your wallet.
- You own personal appliances with 3 types of plugs, know the difference between 110 and 220 volts, 50 and 60 cycle current, and realize that a trasnsformer isn’t always enough to make your appliances work.
- You fried a number of appliances during the learning process.
- You think the Pledge of Allegiance might possibly begin with “Four-score and seven years ago….”
- Half of your phone calls are unintelligible to those around you.
- You believe vehemently that football is played with a round, spotted ball.
- You consider a city 500 miles away “very close.”
- You get homesick reading National Geographic.
- You cruise the Internet looking for fonts that can support foreign alphabets.
- You think in the metric system and Celsius.
- You may have learned to think in feet and miles as well, after a few years of living (and driving) in the US. (But not Fahrenheit. You will *never* learn to think in Fahrenheit).
- You haggle with the checkout clerk for a lower price.
- Your minor is a foreign language you already speak.
- When asked a question in a certain language, you’ve absentmindedly respond in a different one.
- You miss the subtitles when you see the latest movie.
- You’ve gotten out of school because of monsoons, bomb threats, and/or popular demonstrations.
- You speak with authority on the subject of airline travel.
- You have frequent flyer accounts on multiple airlines.
- You constantly want to use said frequent flyer accounts to travel to new places.
- You know how to pack.
- You have the urge to move to a new country every couple of years.
- The thought of sending your [...] kids to public school scares you, while the thought of letting them fly alone doesn’t at all.
- You think that high school reunions are all but impossible.
- You have friends from 29 different countries.
- You sort your friends by continent.
- You have a time zone map next to your telephone.
- You realize what a small world it is, after all.

Eye For An Eye

Having lived in Saudi Arabia twice, I learned from firsthand experience the cultural differences that exist between the "western" world and the Middle East. Americans have a very hard time understanding why Muslims do things the way they do and how an extremist movement like Al Qaeda could have emerged from that culture. For me, it's not a mystery at all. There is one main difference between our two cultures that is so fundamental that it's almost taken for granted - Christianity and the New Testament.

The ideas of social justice, kindness to your enemies, and forgiveness are "western" ideals for one main reason; our society is based on Christian teachings. It was Jesus Christ of the New Testament who turned mosaic law on its ear when he preached:

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

- Matthew 5:43-44

I personally experienced great kindness and generosity from Saudi friends and other Muslim friends I have. I know of their capacity for kindness and hospitality. I also have to add how beautiful that part of the world is; Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, United Arab Emirates, Oman. There is much good that exists in the culture. You literally can leave your car running with the door open, and it will still be there when you get back. If you drop your wallet, it will most likely be there on the ground when you go to look for it. Why? Because the punishment for theft is having your hand cut off. Islamic law is very much part of the Old Testament world where an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth is the guiding principle.

We cannot understand the Muslim world if we assume they have the same basic core western values which really are Christian values (no matter how much some try to ignore our Christian roots.) Muslims are good people, but guided by different principles. There really is a place called Chop Chop Square in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia where corporal punishments are carried out in public.

This article from the Huffington Post illustrates my point:
"Saudi Judge Considers Paralysis Punishment" -by Salah Nasrawi from huffingtonpost.com

Velkommen Hjem

Welcome Home! to my parents who are returning from their mission in Norway tomorrow. They spent a year in a small Norwegian town called Arendal on the east coast. The picture above is of Arendal. You can see what a quaint seaside town it is. We never did get a chance to go and visit them, but my mother was good to share lots of pictures on her blog.

Our whole family is excited to have Mummi and Grandpa back on the same continent and even in the same state for the next month. At the end of June, they'll return to their home in North Carolina, but we'll enjoy having them here until then. I'm sure my mother will return to her previous schedule of coming to Arizona every 2 months. :-) We hope.

My sister's wedding is less than 2 weeks away. I know she'll be happy to have my mother around to help with all the last minute stuff. I can hardly believe that we've already made it to June. What a crazy few months it's been. Having some family events will be a good break.

And Happy Memorial Day! Here's to the many soldiers who have lost their lives defending our country.