When the Memories Remain

In the mid-80s in Saudi Arabia, Middle East, the culture was different than in the United States. My childhood memories were established in Saudi. My Mom and Dad decided to divorce. I was a little child and I didn’t realize what “divorce” means. I felt lonely and lost after my mother married another man. My grandparents insisted on raising me, their oldest grandson. After I moved to my grandparents’ house, my grandmother Gouzail played the role of both a mother and father in my life and this left me with great memories. My grandmother became the most significant person in my life because I learned from her kindness, organization, patience, and much more.

I still remember the first time I entered her house. The black front iron door, the wide living area with holy pictures hanging on the wall, the blue and brown carpet. I can even remember the smell of her Cambodian fragrance touching everywhere in the house. She usually put a black cover on her face which is called the Burqa. This Burqa cover had eye holes through which I could usually read her eyes. Her eyes were big, dark brown with a sharp look and she had heavy eyelashes, and everyone tells me my eyes look like her eyes. The clothes my grandmother Gouzail wore cover her from top to bottom. She is only 5'2" tall. She walked straight and her face held forward. She is a “Bedouin”; Bedouins live in the desert and they herd camels, sheep and goats. My grandma looked like most Bedouin women, powerful, smart and active. She fed camels, milked them and took care of their calves. My grandmother Gouzail had many home duties; cooking three times a day and cleaning the house every morning. Although my grandmother Gouzail didn't go to school and couldn’t read, she had the strongest memory...

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... and I thought I would never recover. Everybody in my town liked her because she was honest and generous. In fact, they still like her. I still keep a box that contains her belongings: her black hair comb, camel yard keys, a deer’s horn my grandfather gave her, gray fur from a wolf she killed, old kohl eyeliner and white textile she made from sheep’s wool. Whenever I miss her I open that box to see her belongings which became mine.

My grandmother, Gouzail, played the part of both a mother father role. Even though she was from a Bedouin culture and couldn’t read, she knew how to deliver her messages. She chose the time and place to import her wisdom. My grandmother had a wonderful personality that made me proud of her. Also, she loved me and gave me all tenderness that I needed. That loving disposition and a caring soul made her the most significant person in my life.