From My Diaries in America: A Fish Out of Water

Yemeni mp

Ahmed Saif Hashed

Omar Al-Saadi arrived at the agreed-upon meeting spot, parking his white Lexus nearby. He stepped out of his imposing vehicle with a stylish wheeled bag in tow, approaching me while pulling it along. In contrast, my black duffel bag was damp and strapped tightly to my back with two shoulder belts, resembling a mischievous child in elementary school.

He greeted me with a broad smile and a friendly spirit, calling me my dear. We shook hands warmly and headed toward the station, then the train platform, waiting for the train. During our movements, he asked questions and engaged actively, transitioning from one topic to another, while I helped him pull his bag after some hesitation and resistance on his part.

I began to feel a certain fondness for him in a relationship that was still under trial. I appreciate relationships that are free from complexity, pretense, and formality. As soon as I took over pulling his bag, I felt a greater sense of freedom, liberated from the constraints of etiquette that restrict intimacy and hinder the discovery of others.

We boarded the train and searched for our reserved seats in first class. The seats were plush, and the tables elegant. Everything here seemed harmonious and comfortable. He preferred my company and seated me by the window, then moved to another seat and table after a few minutes, especially since there was plenty of space available. The empty seats outnumbered those occupied.

On the train, I wrestled with sleep that sometimes washed over me gently, and at other times hit me like a tidal wave. I tried my best not to miss the stunning views and beautiful nature through which the train was passing.

Whenever the train entered a tunnel, my eyelids would droop, and I would succumb to a delicious sleep, only to awaken once we emerged without preventing the ongoing battle against sleep until I returned to enjoy the beauty of nature and the details of life that I was gliding past.

We arrived at the Washington station. I was surprised to find ourselves in a queue, first one, then the next waiting for a taxi. We moved to the hotel to drop off our luggage, then directly to the conference hall. We raced against time, arriving fifteen minutes late due to transportation issues and a mistake in finding the correct address.

Upon entering the conference hall, Holda rose from her seat near the entrance. She welcomed us with the smile of a child, her face radiant and bright. She greeted us softly and handed each of us a bag containing some conference documents, related brochures, a ballpoint pen, and a notebook.

* * *

In the conference hall, we were supposed to listen to the speakers, but I had no idea what they were saying! There was no translator or headsets providing Arabic translations as is common in many places. Everyone at the conference was silent except for the speakers, all of whom were speaking in English.

My accompanying translator, who was sitting next to me, tried to whisper brief answers to my questions in a low voice to avoid causing any disturbance or distracting the attendees. I strained to hear but to no avail. I felt the need for another translator who could listen to me and explain what was being said. I needed a tool or means to eavesdrop more effectively. Speakers would come and go, and I had no clue what they were discussing! I felt like a fish out of water.

To escape the monotony of this heavy situation, I resorted to a translation app on my phone, trying to grasp some of what the speakers were saying. My appearance in my seat, trying to comprehend, was nothing short of amusing, perhaps even funny at times. I felt that the lack of the local language was like swimming in confusion, amplifying my sense of alienation.

I managed to understand bits and pieces here and there. My head felt like a chaotic jumble grains of barley, corn, millet, and whatever else came my way. A little from this, a little from that, and a little on top of a little adds up. I picked up a word here and a phrase there, and through individual effort using the translation app, I slowly pieced together what I could.

After the first session, finding my companion within the conference became a challenge, sometimes requiring a prize to locate him. He was like a small ball of mercury slipping away between my fingers. I would spot him here, only to lose sight of him again despite his tall stature, large head, broad baldness, and prominent forehead.

I would see him on the first floor, then after searching, find him on another floor or perhaps in another hall, busy with his many calls. My experience with him, after some time and forgetfulness, reminded me of my childhood when I used to play hide and seek with my friends.