Second, I led more or less a sheltered life while growing up in Chicago. I’ve mentioned in previous articles that for various reasons, my parents separated us from Filipino people and things. So I effectively lost my country, my culture, and my native tongue. But, unexpectedly, I found so many Filipinos working throughout the Middle East. I hadn’t been around so many of them, since I was a little boy in Manila. They’d smile that knowing smile at me – knowing that I was their kababayan (fellow Filipino). Funny thing, though, once they’d hear my American accent, they’d get confused and wonder where the heck I was from – Indonesia? Malaysia? Japan? I’ve had Filipino friends in Dubai jokingly tell me to keep my mouth shut and let them do the talking.
I joined this consulting firm, because I knew they had a strong presence in Asia – and more specifically because I thought I’d have an opportunity to make my first visit to the Philippines in ages and ages. Well, I never made it to Asia, while I was with the firm, even though I pushed for a year to join a consulting project there. Instead, I landed in the Middle East. One key reason I felt so at home in the Middle East was the wide presence of my kababayan.
Third – and this is the main reason why I felt more than just at home, but fated to be here in the Middle East – I had a particular series of conversations, over time, with various Saudis. A couple of them, on separate occasions, said I looked Saudi. I was flattered, and thanked them. But another incident made me shudder. Three Saudi men asked me if I had trained them before. I said, “It’s possible. I’ve done many training programs before. Where were the programs held?” “Jeddah,” they replied. “Well, no,” I corrected them, “It wasn’t me, because I’ve never been to Jeddah.” These men were actually not asking to begin with. They were convinced that I had, in fact, been their trainer. When I joked, “Well, it must’ve been my twin brother,” they were not laughing in the least! (Oh, man, I exclaimed to myself, I just had to slide out of that conversation.) What I came to learn was that the Western province of Saudi Arabia, where Jeddah is located, was populated with Central Asians and other Asians. One gentleman said I must be a “Bohari Saudi.” I related this story to a Pakistani driver in Riyadh, and he confirmed that I looked as such.
So I had begun to wonder, Do I have Arab blood in me? I suppose it’s possible that I have ancestors from Central Asia. But what I think is a more plausible explanation is this. I do have Spanish heritage, with Spain having colonized the Philippines for almost four centuries. And we know that Arabs had a strong presence in Spain at points in history. Maybe some of my ancestors – from my great grandfather, and back – were Arab Spanish.
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| My friend Herdie, the most Arabic non-Arab I know. Me, do I look Arab? |
But did fate bring me to the Middle East, because somehow it knew that this region was my home? I’ll tell you, my relationships with the Arabs in the region were more than just about friendships. There was a resonating connection we forged with each other. Honestly, I think they loved me, because I could understand them. I listened to them, with the kind of empathy in which I placed myself mind and spirit in their bodies. In turn, I loved them because they’d share their personal stories and helped me learn and feel comfortable. Over dinner, another Saudi gentleman mentioned having traveled to Makkah in the last few days of Ramadan one year. He had brought his son with him, but he felt the need to be in the mosque by himself, so he had him stay with his sister. He told me about being very uncomfortable sleeping on the floor the first few nights in the mosque. But by the fourth or fifth night, it was a sort of revelation he had. His eyes lit up in the dim light of the restaurant, as he related his story. He said he felt close to God, at that point. Americans don’t often talk about religion. The country is so secular in its separation of church and state that it’s outside business protocol to talk about God or religion. You just don’t do that. But there I was, with this Saudi gentleman, talking about this very thing – the first of many such open conversations I’ve had.
Such talk of God didn’t so much shape my religious ideology and values, but more, I think, it gave a forum for the things that were already inside me, then, to come forth. Interestingly, some friends have not only wondered whether I was Muslim, but have complimented me when I had said something that mirrored Islam. This is my story – I was born Catholic, but gave up this religion in my teens for reasons I talked about in a previous article. I had never studied Islam, except for reading a few articles and a couple of books on Arab culture and history. But clearly what was emanating from my heart and mind, naturally, was Muslim!
We did our best to accommodate prayer times, in scheduling our programs in the Middle East. Besides the curiosity and learning I had around this, I came to pine, quietly, at the relative lack of sacredness in American society. A Muslim friend tells me, his daily prayers help him not only to feel close to God, but also to rid himself of any negative feelings about anyone. How wonderful, I thought. Since arriving in the Middle East, I’ve incorporated prayer in my daily sitting meditation.
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Note: A version of my article was posted on Relativity Online.
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