On my 11th birthday, my father gave me a necklace. It was a simple chain, and in its center, golden curved lines spelled out my name in ornate Arabic. I couldn’t read the script, but I knew how to make sure it hung correctly on my neck by a small mark on the back. I was reassured it was worn right when the men in the stalls of the old souk called out “Claudia” as they vied for my attention as my father and I walked through the noisy, narrow alleys and bargained for pistachios, brass bangles, and spices.1
The other Westerners in the Arab city who were hired to build hospitals, roads, and businesses, bought their wives and daughters similar necklaces. These men came to the Middle East to work, building the infrastructure necessary for a new, booming society founded by oil. They brought wives and children with them to maintain a sense of normalcy and head off the loneliness that came from being a foreigner in a strict Muslim society. To these expatriates, family was everything and tight friendships were necessary. They lived together in protected compounds surrounded by high walls and guarded by Yemeni immigrants with machine guns. Their children went to special segregated company-run schools. Each day, the men went to their jobs, and the women stayed home, isolated and contained. Daily life was controlled and repetitious. Females could not work, drive, or even go into town; they had to wait for the men to come home before they ventured out in the evenings, properly chauffeured and chaperoned. Just after sunset, after the muezzin had finished his prayer call and the heat of the day was over, the old city came alive. The market was packed with shoppers and the concrete boardwalk along the sea was crammed with families released from the day’s confinement. In the old port city, Arab, Westerner, women, and children alike, all lived for dusk. 2
This was my childhood: living, waiting, observing. Every day, I wore the gold gift from my father. It symbolized who I was and where I called home. Through the years as I traveled with my father to London, Athens, or Bombay, I saw women with necklaces like mine and knew that they, too, had a link to the old world. Perhaps they visited the same ancient souk and loved the smells of sandalwood and cumin.3
I still wear this necklace. Over time, it has been soldered, repaired, and buffed, but it is still as pretty and distinctive as the day my father gave it to me. It keeps me connected to my family and serves to remind me of a childhood I can’t explain to most people, a childhood which shaped my priorities, politics, and outlook on life. I have other jewelry, and sometimes I wear it for special occasions, but once home, I always put my gold name back around my neck. 4
Author notes
I am not really attached to many things in my life; people and relationships are more important. But my necklace is special to me.
A contest entry
- What I value most. by Adelaine.
200 points, ended September 3, 47 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Well done! At first I thought, "A story about a necklace? Puh-lease!" As I continued reading, though, I was taken in by the story behind the necklace, and what it truly means to you.
I think that you really described beautifully what you witnessed as a child, from the mere waiting for dusk to the smells. I am highly interested in other cultures, esp. those different from my own. I'm glad to see that you gave me a glimpse into one.
Again, well done and good luck in the contest!
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I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. I loved the glimpse into a foreign culture as well as the sounds and smells you evoked with your words. I could visualise you strolling through the souk and even smelled the cumin and saw the vibrant colours!
Bernic
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Beautifully expressed.
Very well done.
I appreciate your this contest entry because you are one of the few who has bothered to write an answer that explains why and in a very interesting manner.
Thank you for joining.
- Adelaine
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Oh my, I'm totally transported! I love how you described the waiting for the end of the day, and the release into the scented evening. The smells and sights, the sound of the muezzin...it was all swirling in my head, and I wasn't really here in my chair anymore!
The glimpses of Yemeni culture were fascinating. Usually I don't feel this strongly about cultures here on Earth (as opposed to fantasy ones) but there are a few that mesmerize me, and the Middle East is one of them. I absolutely loved your recollections, and I think it's beautiful that you still wear the necklace.
p2 expatriates
the ellipses in the last paragraph should probably be commas. Taking out the section within the ellipses does not leave a complete sentence behind.
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Thank you for your comments...I appreciate your insights and have made the changes.
Thanks,
CN
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The things we value the most are often the simplest of things - especially if they were gifted to us by a parent or other significant family member. However, this necklace seems to signify a lot more to you than just a gift - it also represents that section of your life - growing up in Arabia, with its unique customs and culture. The inclusion of other sensory descriptions really made this piece come alive.
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Not really a story
A vignette. An enjoyable one, too
This reminds me of my own childhood, my own father.. My father gave me a lot of things, and I lost a lot of them
it makes me feel bad because those were special items to him.. x.x I don't think he knows that I've lost a lot of them..
Your writing made me see even a bit of the life the necklace connects you with
Beautiful, because it's reflective of your past and your heritage..
Anyway, thank you for this delightful read. I wish you luck with the contest
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A very inspirational story
Its wonderful to hold on to one piece and let it symbolize so many things in your life.
Good story
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What a beautiful and fascinating story! I would love to read more about how you grew up in Arabia. And wonderful imagery.
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This is such a beautiful story.
It is so well written I could virtually 'see' the bazaars and throngs of people in the market place. I could 'smell' the old sandalwood.
I suppose in a way, your childhood must have been very different from your contemporaries living in the Western world and the restrictions imposed due to the culture must have been burdensome.
I found nothing in this wonderful write to critique.
A beautiful story, well written and explained
Lawrie
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Claudia, this is a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it with us. Your descriptions and emotions attached to this story are very warm and heart-felt. It flows easily and kept me interested right until the end. You are right in saying that we are probably unable to understand your upbringing but I see that it has shaped you into the wonderful woman that you are. Educated, articulate, kind and talented. Good luck in the contest.
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THis is a lovely write and well wriiten. It is very descriptive and it draws the reader in. I enjoyed reading this, it was a complete delight. (:
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