Small World Part Two

This is a continuation of my Aunt Carrie's story, depicting her time in Libya during 1960. If you missed it, check out part one.

It is a given that Arab men don't respect women - especially American women. My first experience with that happened when the water tank which supplied the apartment building sprung a leak. As it happened, the water take was situated in an enclosed sunken atrium off my living room. One of the guards came to the Embassy and said I should get there quick to tell the men to turn off the water before it flooded out of the atrium. I made a mad dash to the apartment where four Arabs were splashing around in two feet of water - just having a big time with water running and all. I yelled "Imchi, imchi" which means get out. I may have been talking to the water. Finally, one of the locals who worked in the Embassy appeared and they listened to him.

(A herd of camels in the middle of the desert)

Another incident happened on a bicycle ride. Several of us rented some bicycles and headed out for an afternoon pleasure trip. All of a sudden I felt a thump on my back, and then another thump. Looking behind we saw several kids about 10 years old throwing stones at us shouting "Imchi, imchi". They had a pretty good arm but by the grace of God no serious injuries. You could say I was properly stoned.

Another semi-scary moment happened walking to church which was about eight blocks from the apartment. In those days, it was customary to wear dress, stocking/shoes, and hat to church. So off I went. About four blocks from the church, broad daylight, I encountered four Arab women in burkahs with only one eye showing**. They were all talking about something and pointing at my hat. I have no idea what they were chattering about but they pointed at my hat and followed me all the way to the church. I felt that if I had had to go much further, they would have snatched my hat. I did feel a fear of them.

(This is what the average Libyan home looked like. This was the view from my Aunt Carrie's 4th floor apartment. She says the houses were open in the center so the men could come out and face toward Mecca to pray)

Now, about going to church. The service was done in Italian - It wasn't too difficult to follow because the Holy Mass was the same universally. So, with my Latin/English missal in hand I followed pretty well. The problem was with the sermon. The monsignor was quite vocal and I had no idea what he said. The only two words I can remember him saying is "A tuta, a tuta" and with each "a tuta" his arms would flail in the air.

Can you imagine? I don't know how well I would have handled those situations! Join me tomorrow for the final installment of Aunt Carrie's adventure. She shares about the weather, tourist destinations and food!

**I believe the one eyed burkah Aunt Carrie was referring to is a niqab.