Dr. Khaled M. Batarfi We were in a class that teaches students intercultural dialogue in the University of Oregon. The question our Native American award-winning professor expected each of us to answer was: Would you agree to a dam project in Brazil that would benefit millions, but evict the residents of a historic native village? When it was my turn, I answered: “Yes, I would agree, considering the huge benefit to the area development, but provided a similar, if not better, place is given to the villagers, with some sort of compensation.” Few more rounds, and it was the turn of a Bangladeshi student. He empathetically pronounced: “I am not surprised that our colleague, from Saudi Arabia, would feel it was acceptable to rape a whole village. In their country, they rape foreigners all the time. No maid is safe in their homes.”
The class was shocked, and expected me to respond in kind. Instead, a French colleague answered him back. After addressing the question at hand, she said: “It was not fair to blame our colleague, Khaled, for whatever abuse that may happened in some Saudi homes. Besides, the attack is beyond our discussion.” The rest of the class nodded their agreement. When it was my turn again, everyone was expecting trouble, including the professor. Instead, I announced that: “On behalf of all good Saudis, I would like to apologize for any sin some of our citizens may have committed against their maids. This is not acceptable and goes against our Islamic values, Arab hospitality and code of honor. I hope and pray they get punished for their deeds, and for the bad name they gave us all, and wish the best to their victims — our dear sisters-and their families.”
When my Bangladeshi brother turn came up, he was in tears. “I am so sorry to have taken it on you, dear Khaled. Please forgive me. I just remembered my mother and sister's experience in Saudi!”
We hugged, and he told me about his family's ordeal, but admitted it was not the norm and that Islamic Shariah had given the victims justice.
Again, in the Islamic Center, I was faced with another case. This time it was a Pakistani engineer who told me how he was captured during an anti-residence-violators campaign, in a hot summer day. Since his residence ID or “iqama” was sweat-wet, and the writings were not clear as a result, they suspected it was fake. He tried calling his sponsor but the man was enjoying a summer holiday with his family abroad. Months later, the sponsor missed his engineer. He looked around and found him in the deportation prison, almost cooked in heat and squeezed in the over-crowded place.
After releasing him, he was offered a promotion and compensation, but refused. “All I wanted was an immediate exit visa, with no return. I had gone to the States, and was immersed immediately in its society. My wife and children made friends right away, and were welcomed in schools and invited to social events, even though we were Muslims and Asians. That was something that never happened to me in your country! I miss Makkah and Madinah, and won't deny that my sponsor and colleagues were kind to me, but otherwise I live here more as a human being with rights and dignity. Now you know why I avoided you and every Saudi brother, here. Please forgive me, I should not have stereotyped and generalized. But … I can't help it … I am still angry!” The last episode was, thankfully, happier. When I landed in Singapore, two months ago, the Head of the Passport Department in the airport met me at the airplane door. He didn't have to, as the Foreign Ministery representative was already there. But he explained to me on our way to his department: “When I was notified to expect you, I couldn't just wait till you reach my counter. You came from the Land of Islam, with the blessings of the Ka'aba and “Alrotha Alsharifa.” How could I miss the opportunity to meet and greet you, brother!” Then, he went on and on about his last Umrah. He told me how impressive the new expansion to the holy mosques was, and how he was treated nicely by everyone, especially in Madinah. After processing my passport, he went along with me to get my luggage. Finally, as we parted, he hugged me and kissed my shoulder, saying: “You Saudis have taken care of our holiest places, and carried your holy duties like no nation ever did. Your hands and shoulders are blessed, my brother in Islam.” I kissed his head, to show my respect and gratitude, and … to hide my tears! If we just knew what great honor we are blessed with, we would all act with greater care and not waste the wonderful investments our country and leaders are making to deserve the greatest titles of all: Custodian of the two Holy Mosques, servants of Alrahman Guests, in the holiest of lands on earth. And our image would have been more in line with our sacred values! — Dr. Khaled M. Batarfi can be reached at [email protected] and followed at Twitter: @kbatarfi
