Yemeni Men

It is time. I must analyze the average Yemeni male for the benefit of my readers. In spite of the general segregation between the sexes here in Yemen and the fact that I either live with two girls or ten, I have spent a lot of time with men the few weeks while I was stuck in Aden. My favorite of these men is not actually Yemeni. He may not even be human. Possibly he is a story-book character come to life. Later I will have to dedicate an entire entry to Captain Roy and his awesomeness. He is worthy of it. It is so difficult for me to tear myself away from showering Capt. Roy with accolades, but I will return to the subject at hand, Yemeni men.

Fortunately for me and other women here, Yemeni men are much less likely to approach a woman on the street. They will rarely make rude comments and after 2 months here, no one has tried to touch me at all. I really appreciate this on public transport when I would never be expected to sit next to a man. I usually stand haughtily outside the door and wait for the men inside to rearrange themselves so that I can sit far away from them. When riding in ADRA cars with coworkers, I sit alone in the wide front seat made for two passengers while 5 men cram into the back seat. But I do not feel sorry for them. The benefits of being a man here far outweigh the minor inconveniences of being squished in the car. They don’t wear long black dresses that cause lots of tripping, and they swim in the beautiful sea with impunity. I only get to do that after a long run/hike with Capt. Roy and Matt through the remote rocky mountains on the edge of the city where no one might accidentally see me in my long shorts (borrowed from Matt, thanks man!). And I’ve come back to Capt. Roy already…how does that happen?

Last week I had several men-only experiences. First I went to a restaurant. Yemeni women rarely go to restaurants, or if they do, they eat in the “family section.” Most of them wear the niqab (face veil) and they would never be caught taking that off to eat in front of strange men. But being the scandalous loose woman that I am, I went with my coworkers (all men) to a restaurant for lunch. It was crowded with Yemeni men who could not stop staring at me. We went upstairs and kicked off our shoes to join the rest of the patrons on the floor while busy waiters ran back and forth bringing rice and meat to everyone (there was a very limited menu…I think that was our only option). I mentioned to my friends that I, at least, was not worried about someone accidentally on purpose running off with my shoes. In spite of the joy that I got from that experience, then I declined the next invitation to eat with the boys. It felt creepy accidentally looking up into the shocked eyes of fellow floor-diners.

Here men and women who are not related rarely interact. Still, foreign women are sometimes considered the exception to this rule. I can sometimes use this to my advantage. In my neighborhood grocery store, there is always a shortage of my favorite whole-wheat pita bread. The man in charge of the bakery has become my friend as I often ask him for the bread. We have multiple exchanges in which he tells me to come back after sunset when the bread will be there. I do, but inevitably it is not. Then he tells me to come back in an hour. Still nothing. Finally, he is feeling very embarrassed so he ends up going to the bakery himself to retrieve the desired bread. I am almost positive that he never does this for any other girl. Once when I hadn’t visited the store in a while, I walked in and he came right over to me, asking if I had been ok because he hadn’t seen me in a week. He had been worried that something might have happened to me. He is not the only guy in the store who “looks out” for me. One time this random guy came up to me, telling me that he was my neighbor and asking why I don’t keep better control of my noisy kids who keep banging on his door and running away. I am pretty sure he is one of the Egyptian guys who live across the hall from me, and we DO have noisy kids in our building, but I really like them so I don’t care. I told him that they are not my kids, but they live above us. “What about your kids?” he asked me. “I don’t have kids,” I told him. “Oh,” sudden interest, “You don’t have kids? You aren’t married?” “Nope. See you later.” I decided this would be the moment to find somewhere else to be. But a minute later one of the security guards came up to me and asked if the other guy was bothering me. “No,” I said, “I think he’s my neighbor.” “Well, men are not supposed to talk to girls they are not related to. That does not happen here in this store. It’s forbidden.” I guess he forgot that he is also not related to me, but even though he was little too excited about playing my knight in shining armor, I’m glad to know that at least people are watching what guys in the store are stalking me.