Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [65]
We were thrilled when we learned that we would be picked up in our compound by a school bus. The lucky six to attend the school with me were my full brothers Abdullah, Abdul Rahman, Sa’ad, Osman, and Mohammed, the youngest to be registered at age seven. Eight-year-old Ali, our half-brother who was the firstborn son of our Auntie Khadijah, was also enrolled at the same school.
On the first day of school we were anxious but excited. After prayers we rushed home to slip off our thobes and put on our uniforms. The moment we were properly dressed, we dashed to the bus stop to wait for the bus we were told to expect. A very long white bus appeared promptly at 6:30 A.M. Schools in hot climates begin and end early, with school hours from seven in the morning until one in the afternoon. We clambered aboard to receive the biggest shock of our lives. There were girl students on the bus!
My brothers and I thought we must have boarded the wrong bus. Almost instantly we saw that there were boys as well, all dressed in uniforms identical to our own. Not knowing what else to do, we stumbled forward, noting that the girls and boys were not sitting together.
Even so, such a thing would never have been allowed in Saudi Arabia, where everything in public life is segregated by sex, including weddings, parties, restaurant seating, and schools. In Saudi Arabia the girls have their schools and the boys have theirs. Should a girl require a course taught only by a man, the only way she is allowed to take the course is by satellite or pre-taped video. I have been told about some highly conservative female students who even wear their veils when viewing a male teacher on tape.
Many Muslims believe that if an unrelated male and female are in the same room together, there are really three creatures in attendance, the third being the devil himself. Nothing good could come from such mixing, or so we Saudis are taught.
In Sudan, the female students were required to sit on the left side of the bus and the male students on the right. My brothers and I hurriedly found seats, saying little as we glanced around the bus. I admit I cast my eyes more than once on the girls’ section but noticed that most of the girls were careful to keep their eyes chastely averted from the boys. Occasionally a bold girl might lift her eyes and her face would crinkle with a shy smile, but for the most part they talked and laughed among themselves. I never found the courage to attempt a conversation. I soon realized that the bus driver seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and was quick to reprimand any student who made an attempt to converse with the opposite sex. My father’s stern image appeared in my mind. I believed that once he discovered that his sons would be in close proximity to girls not of our own family, we would be unceremoniously pulled from the school.
Would the first day be our last?
My father frowned upon formal education for females. His own daughters were not allowed to attend school, but instead were taught some basics at home by Auntie Khairiah, who was an educated woman.
I wondered if we might share our classrooms with the opposite sex. If so, I knew our school outing was doomed. Thankfully that was not the case, although we did catch fleeting glimpses of the girls as they changed classes. Everything was relaxed in the playground, giving the girls courage to slip away from their assigned area to venture into ours. Surprisingly, none of the teachers sent them back where they belonged. Yet if any boy tried to sneak into the girls’ playground, he would be reprimanded and marched back to our section of the yard.
Our new world was strange, indeed.
To our great relief, students and teachers alike were friendly and respectful. Our Sudanese school routine was simple but enjoyable. Due to the early hour, all the students were fed breakfast upon arrival. After our simple morning meal of boiled eggs,