Stay updated on my adventures in Argentina as a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar.
May. Springtime, right? Well, not exactly. Today is the coldest day in Buenos Aires this year. Why? Well, for those of you who haven't realized it, Buenos Aires is deep in the Southern Hemisphere, so it is entering a very frigid winter.
Several weeks have gone by since I have written and I am not really sure why...with the exception of this past week, I really haven't been that incredibly busy. A few interesting things have come up, but I hesitate to share too much of my life on-line. In deciding not to share certain things on my blog, I am also saving a chunk of my personality and life for the people that I am actually friends with.
Last month, Nahir, an Argentine convert with a Syrian husband invited me to her father's birthday party. It was an incredible time and I felt almost like a thief there because I was doing and seeing things that I honestly didn't feel like I deserved. It was such a deep honor to have been invited to such an intimate family gathering of about 20 people and her father made me feel so welcome, stating several times that any friend of Nahir's is like his own daughter.
It was an interesting juxtaposition of experiencing Muslim life in an Argentine family. Nahir and her brother, Yamil, are the only Muslims in her family. In fact, Yamil is currently studying to become a sheik in Saudi Arabia. The amount of respect and affection that this family, including their extended family, has for their Muslim children and Islam in general, was unlike anything I had ever seen. Nahir's mom even proudly showed me the the Arabic certifications that Yamil had earned.
Later on in the evening, all the ladies in Nahir's family locked me in a bedroom insisting that I show them how I look without my hijab. I just thought that was adorable since they all were conscious of the fact that this would have to take place with women in a private area. Little gestures like that mean a lot to a Muslim in a non-Muslim family since many of my hijab donning friends, including myself, have been asked on repeated occasions by unaware Argentine men in social situations to take off our hijabs.
At nearly three months into my second year here, I can say with certainty that I am just so comfortable and happy here, al'H. I really do miss my family and the Sunday and Wednesday evening conversations I have with them have become something I look forward to, but alas, in order to make the most of my time here, I can't think too much about what I am missing in the States.
It is unbelievable to realize that in about six months I will be on a flight back to Alabama and my life after this experience will be perpetually influenced by its memories and people. SubanAllah. That to me is incredible. A Rotarian once told me that me as an Ambassadorial Scholar the notion that I am here to represent the US as an ambassador is a lie. Instead, he told me, that after my time in Argentina, I will represent Argentina as an ambassador for the rest of my life. What an amazing honor. SubanAllah.
In the seven weeks I have been absent from writing, I did something that could have disappointed both my mom and dad. I cut off my marriage bun. What? Well, in college, right before I graduated, I had long hair almost down to my waist and I was in the mood for a change. So I got a really cute short hair cut that came up to my neck. My mother freaked out and told me that I must never do that again, for on my wedding day, I'll need to have a nice bun underneath the veil of my sari. And with such short hair, such a voluminous bun is just not possible.
Three years later I found myself with hair down to my waist, hijab, and still no wedding veil to worry about. For many in the Desi Muslim community this is just tragic [the no wedding veil part]. I'm fine frolicking about in Buenos Aires and harnessing my relationship with God and myself, but my parents, bless their hearts, are worried. And they certainly have let me know over the phone, and this just stresses me out. So one day after one such conversation, I did the unthinkable: I cut off my hair, also referred to as my marriage bun.
I'm not bashing my parents or marriage. My parents are concerned for a very legitimate and good thing. But I have to be honest, it felt good to cut it off. A windfall of all this is that it no longer looks like I have another head growing out of the back of my head under my hijab, so it's a lot more comfy :) Cutting off my bun, released me of the expectations of what the next step in my life should be. I look forward to getting married one day iA, but I don't need a marriage bun to prepare me for this occasion. All I can really do is be comfortable with what I am doing right now.
When I told my mom I cut off my marriage bun, she told me something incredible, "Good for you." And with those words the stress that I had been harboring in my chest melted away.