In my opinion the family is the basic nucleus of our society and it’s the determiner of the conscience and behavior of its members. So I will talk about my perspective of family bonds in Saudi Arabia and of their importance in Saudi culture.
Saudi Arabia is characterized by large family communities, where the average family consists of 6-10 members who have very strong bonds between them. They usually gather together everyday at sunset, drinking Arabic coffee and chatting. They talk about everything, including their work and friends. So I always return from work at 4:00 PM, sit with my parents, my sisters, and my brother. We drink coffee together and talk of plans for the day. Sometimes we discuss family problems, trying to find solutions. On the weekends we attend a family meeting, where all of the family members attend to maintain the bonds of our relationships. Most Saudis also show a lot of respect for their elderly. They take care of elderly relatives and these relatives get help without asking for it. The bonds between members of a Saudi family are not limited to close relatives, but can also extend to the workplace. Often families are involved in joint business ventures. The strong bonds in the community come from the Islamic religion. I learned from Islam that it is important to be compassionate towards parents and children and to take good care of them. It is also important to forgive them and show fairness between children. I think that the strong bonds and relations between individuals and their families creates a safe community.
Growing up Chinese American, the lunar New Year was a holiday I grew up with at home. But it did not feel special at all. Usually I would still go to school, and my parents would still go to work. It was a day just like any other. For sure, my parents would figure out a weekend that worked with my aunts and uncles to gather for a new years meal, and we ate food that Hong Kong people would traditionally eat for the new year, like pun choi (click here for a Wall Street Journal article about this dish), and fish (the word for fish in Chinese, yu, sounds a lot like the word for surplus or extra, so the saying nian nian you yu - year after year there is fish - is a play on words that symbolizes extra wealth and happiness). I enjoyed these gatherings, as I enjoyed all of our family gatherings.
But like I said, it did not feel special. Thanksgiving felt special, because we talked about it in school, we enacted skits with pilgrims and Indians in it, and we watched the Charlie Brown special on TV every Thanksgiving. Christmas felt special, because for an entire month leading up to it you would hear Christmas music on the radio and in the malls when you went shopping for presents; and my parents played out the whole Santa Claus and stockings on the chimney thing, so my brother and I believed in Santa Claus, and we partook in the magic feeling of meeting him at our local mall. Best of all, we had nearly two weeks off from school!
It wasn't until my junior year of college when I went to Hong Kong to study abroad that I felt the magic of the lunar new year. For Chinese people, the lunar new year is what Christmas is for us. For the entire month leading up to it, there is lunar new year music in the malls, and in the streets. But even better! They have these flower markets that pop up throughout the city. They are a great joy to walk around with friends or family, because they have games like we do at the fair, and you can warm up from the cold with hot snacks like noodles, or meat on a stick.
And of course, the time off! No school! No work! On the day after New Year's, Hong Kong shuts down some of their busiest streets to allow pedestrians free reign, and to make their way to Victoria Harbor to watch the fireworks! Traditionally, in small towns and villages of China, families set off firecrackers and small fireworks in their local streets to scare away ghosts. Hong Kong continues this tradition, albeit in a less intimate and more controlled fashion, but it's just as fun when you see how great the fireworks are, they are some of the best I've ever seen.
For the next several days, kids and adults still don't have school or work, so you take this time to visit your extended family. We call this in Cantonese baaih nihn. Young people have to make their rounds to their aunts' and uncles', grandmas' and grandpas', to wish them a happy and healthy new year. In turn, your elders will give you lucky money in red envelopes. The rule on who gives lucky money and who receives is simple: if you're single, you receive. If you're married, you give. Age doesn't matter. Another interesting phenomenon is that people only want to give cash that is fresh off the money printing press, so you'll see lines out the door of all the banks, as people trade their old dirty wrinkled bills for fresh and clean new bills in preparation for the new year.
These are just some examples of what happens in Hong Kong for the lunar new year. It wasn't until I was immersed in this cultural practice that I understood the magic of this holiday. Now, even when I am in the US, and there aren't the flower markets, or the lunar new year music, or the fireworks, it feels special to me, because I experienced it in Hong Kong, like my parents did.
A flower market. I took this photo back in 2003, the year of the goatI took this photo in the Festival Walk Mall (又一城), located in the Kowloon Tong neighborhood, in 2008, the year of the ratAlso at the Festival Walk Mall (又一城), in 2008, the year of the ratFlower market - 2008, year of the rat. Those are balloons depicting a character from Super Mario BrothersFlower market - 2008, year of the ratFlower market - 2008, year of the ratAnother tradition is to write new year wishes in calligraphy. These were written by my cousin and cousin-in-law, and their young children. You can see they got creative and drew pictures instead of the Chinese characters in two of them. Can you spot them?2008, the year of the rat! This was part of the Watsons Storefront. Watsons is like the CVS of Hong Kong.
It was late at night. No one was awake to share with this huge decision I just made. I walked nervously around my room, giving my decision the time to sink in.
I looked closely at my self-reflection in the mirror. I noticed my white skin, my slanted Asian eyes, my hand holding a green passport that says (a citizen of Kingdom of Saudi Arabia), and my heart, filled with love and sense of belonging to all Arab countries.
I had a puzzled look on my face, and my head was spinning with thoughts. I was wondering how could all these different identifications form a person? What am I? Am I a Saudi? An Arab? An Uzbek? I stopped questioning myself and remembered my decision. I had one last happy and relieved look, because I ended up choosing humanity. I could wholeheartedly say that I belong to one race, the human race.
During my childhood, I was always looked at as the Uzbek girl in school. My friends and classmates found it interesting that I didn’t have their beautiful wide brown eyes, but instead, I had really small black eyes. Also, they picked on me because of my last name, Tashkandi, which is taken from Tashkent, the capital city of Uzbekistan. They were sure that a girl with my eyes and my last name could never be Saudi, and will definitely have to go back to her original country. They kept asking questions about Uzbekistan and promising to visit me when I go back. No matter how hard I tried to tell them that I am Saudi, that I was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, and that I will not go back to Uzbekistan, they just decided not to believe me.
As I grew older, the tone got harsher. Instead of promising to visit me in Uzbekistan, people started asking me to go back to Uzbekistan. Whenever I tried to contribute in anything as a Saudi citizen, opponents of my opinion would just pull the Uzbek card on me. “You’re not originally Saudi. Go back home!” They spread their poisonous words all over me. Right then, I knew that I would never be looked at as a Saudi, so I might as well stop trying to be one.
After that, I decided that If I couldn’t be a Saudi, then at least, I’m going to be an Arab. When the Arab Spring began back in 2011, I felt that I finally belonged to something. I could feel my soul flying over Tahrir square in Egypt, participating in a march in Tunisia, and protesting in the streets of Libya. But after a few months, when the protests got harder, and the killing and arresting were on a daily basis, I knew that I could never possibly identify myself as an Arab, since I have never actually tasted the bitterness that they have tasted. I didn’t know what a martyr’s mother’s sad tears, or even a victorious revolutionist’s happy tears felt like. Maybe I can’t be an Arab after all. But then what can I be?
For a long time after that, I was worried about figuring out what I can be, and finding the race or the ethnic group that I belong to, and I forgot to just be myself. I forgot to just simply be a person who has ideas and beliefs, without all of the other complications. All of these previous incidents made me realize that I do not need to fit a certain criteria. I could just be myself, and be identified as a human being whose identity was shaped by going through a lot and experiencing many things. This decision has helped me a lot, especially after coming here to the U.S. and meeting people from many different races, and cultural backgrounds. Now, I feel confident enough not to let anyone label or classify me into a specific group. I am who I am, and I belong to only one race, the human race.
