Osama is an 8-year old boy with a mop of curly brown hair and long, thick, naturally curled eyelashes. Elena and I were at the mall when Osama came up and started talking to us. He had obviously seen "Ice Age" because he came up to Elena in her stroller, pulled down the sunshade and said, "where's the baby?" then pushed the sunshade back and exclaimed, "there he is!" He did this about 8 times and each time his mother told him, "The baby is a girl!" But Osama didn't listen.
He proudly announced that he spoke Arabic, English, and French. So I responded with, "Salam Alaykum" (a standard Arabic greeting meaning Peace Be Upon You). He squinted and stated, "You are American." Bright kid! I must've had a horrible accent.
It figures that it would take a child to be the first person, ever, since I've come to the Middle East, to guess that I was American. It's probably because he could decipher how I spoke English, and my physical looks didn't factor into his assessment. Adults on the other hand, already have all kinds of preconceived notions, and the way I look obviously doesn't fit into their profile of what an American looks like.
Osama was a smart, cute kid, with a friendly, abaya-wearing mom and Elena and I had a good time chatting with them. (I was waiting for my friend who was breastfeeding her baby in the dressing room, so we sat with Osama and his mom for about 15 minutes.) These are the kinds of encounters that I find so enjoyable-- just being able to interact with locals and see the good side of them and how normal and pleasant it can be... because honestly about 90% of the time interacting with locals only brings frustration, confusion, and heartache!
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