This weekend I visited a UN gender expert that has been working on women's rights in the Arab region for over 30 years. I knew this would be an interesting meeting when the taxi driver - through an exchange of broken Arabic (me) and broken English (him) - managed to explain to me that taxis do not go into this neighbourhood. I need to write a post here dedicated to the taxi drivers of Jordan. They are the most interesting personalities in the country.
Anyways, I plugged in my iPod to avoid the comments and horn honking that usually resulted in my walking down the street. However, I heard none. This neighbourhood was silent. Looking around, I could finally understand why. The houses around me would put the elaborate ones used in Bollywood to share. They were extravagant, to say the least. When I found my house number (88), I found it to be designed like a pyramid. No jokes, it was a pyramid, a giant one, with a stream of glass windows running down each triangular wall, with a garden filled with hundreds of lovely flowers.
My host greeted me at the door and took me inside to a beautiful home full of Arabic artwork, books and music. We immediately began talking about the Egyptian elections, rooting for Amr Moussa to win and knowing that it was hopeless to wish for this. That definitely broke the ice. Over a strong cup of turkish coffee, she began telling me about her time with the UN.
She heavily criticized my research approach and preyed on my obvious lack of experience in the field. While I was originally mortified, I realized that these comments came from a place of passion and frustration.
I found out that she was originally from Saudi Arabia. So gender equality was not just a social justice issue for her, they defined her story. Girls could no longer be educated beyond the grade level in the country, so she left behind everything she knew at such a young age to travel to Lebanon. She could have chose to do anything in the world, travel far and wide, settle anywhere. However, she has dedicated her entire life to women's issues and the welfare of her country, despite all the persecution and negativity attached to it. It made me reflect on my own situation.
I am 15 000 km away from India, a place plagued with social inequity issues. It's time for me to remember the important things: leave behind all the ambitions of heavy titles and global organizations and focus on the change itself and where I want to work towards it. Not a day goes by when I don't remember India. Perhaps it's time to go back, if not now, very soon and work in a small NGO, one that works directly with the people it's trying to help. It feels like unfinished business. There's something magnetic about it, calling me back. It's a feeling I have to explore for myself.
Anyways, I plugged in my iPod to avoid the comments and horn honking that usually resulted in my walking down the street. However, I heard none. This neighbourhood was silent. Looking around, I could finally understand why. The houses around me would put the elaborate ones used in Bollywood to share. They were extravagant, to say the least. When I found my house number (88), I found it to be designed like a pyramid. No jokes, it was a pyramid, a giant one, with a stream of glass windows running down each triangular wall, with a garden filled with hundreds of lovely flowers.
My host greeted me at the door and took me inside to a beautiful home full of Arabic artwork, books and music. We immediately began talking about the Egyptian elections, rooting for Amr Moussa to win and knowing that it was hopeless to wish for this. That definitely broke the ice. Over a strong cup of turkish coffee, she began telling me about her time with the UN.
She heavily criticized my research approach and preyed on my obvious lack of experience in the field. While I was originally mortified, I realized that these comments came from a place of passion and frustration.
I found out that she was originally from Saudi Arabia. So gender equality was not just a social justice issue for her, they defined her story. Girls could no longer be educated beyond the grade level in the country, so she left behind everything she knew at such a young age to travel to Lebanon. She could have chose to do anything in the world, travel far and wide, settle anywhere. However, she has dedicated her entire life to women's issues and the welfare of her country, despite all the persecution and negativity attached to it. It made me reflect on my own situation.
I am 15 000 km away from India, a place plagued with social inequity issues. It's time for me to remember the important things: leave behind all the ambitions of heavy titles and global organizations and focus on the change itself and where I want to work towards it. Not a day goes by when I don't remember India. Perhaps it's time to go back, if not now, very soon and work in a small NGO, one that works directly with the people it's trying to help. It feels like unfinished business. There's something magnetic about it, calling me back. It's a feeling I have to explore for myself.
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