I remember last
semester taking a culture test that graded you on your culture awareness. At
the time I thought, “These questions are dumb and a waste of my time.” I
breezed through the true-false questions similar to “In your opinion, America’s
culture is better than other cultures” and “in your opinion, America is the
best country in the world” with my obvious true’s. At the end of the test,
naturally I received the results saying I was not very accepting of other
cultures.
After
recent experiences, I considered it wise to write down some of my thoughts
after spending four months in Oman, three of them living in an Omani home with
an Omani family and daily experiencing Arab culture. Have my perceptions
changed?
Throughout
my time here, I have been asked many times which country is better, Oman or
America. And it is not a simple question. But my answer is always the same.
America is the place I have and will always call home. I was born there, I live
there, I’m proud to say I’m American, and it is the only country I would ever
give my life for. But I have enjoyed the last four months in Oman, and I really
like the land and its people. While I do love America very much, this does not
mean that it is alone the greatest with every other country a lesser. At the
end of the day, we’re all human. Regardless of what color or religion or
background you have: no one’s better than anyone else, and it’s silly that any
one man or government would think themselves superior to another.
Oman
has been a great experience for me, and I am going to miss all the friendships
I have made. My host brothers: Salim – the evolving punk Omani with a quick
texting hand, a slick car, and a right foot that likes to lie heavy on the
pedal. Ahmed – the “studious” Sultan Qaboos University students who likes to
leave his books on the kitchen table and educate himself through osmosis.
Doolie – the sixteen-year-old who likes to include me on a lot of good fun.
Osama – he has been great in making me feel like a part of the family. And
Laith – Laith… the Nesquick-stealer, Snickers-looter bundle of joy who loves it
when I’m around to play and drink tea with him. The house servant Rouanna – the
kind housemaid who still has almost two years left in Oman until she sees her
husband and kids in Sri Lanka again (a six month deployment isn’t the worst
thing in the world). Huzaim – our Arabic media teacher who has been willing to
help me out at any time of the day. George – my American friend from the
Academy who I’ve gotten to know better over this trip and went on many
adventures together in order to get the most out of this experience. The many youth
I have met on the soccer field. The many relatives of the Aghbari tribe that I
have shared meals with. The many taxi drivers that I have ridden with and talked
about life with.
The
many amazing experiences I’ve had in Oman were only because I embraced their
culture, wore their clothing, spoke their language, acted like them. Had I done
anything else, my time would have been wasted.
In
order to remember the experiences I’ve had, I have been consistent in keeping a
journal and writing in it almost every night. Not a research journal, just an
account of my daily activities, people I have become good friends with, and
leadership lessons I have learned. I don’t want to forget Oman and its people,
but more importantly I want to remember the valuable perspectives on life I
have gained and apply the lessons I have learned.
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| Joe, Huzaim, George, and I |
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| Guy, my UK friend |
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