Hospitality: The Middle Eastern Way

by Kaitlynn Kopeski

Public transportation in this Middle Eastern country is accessible, cheap and highly disorganized. There are no bus stops and bus maps are treasured as rare finds. To get on a bus you must simply be on the correct street and hop on. So, when I arrived in the capital city and learned I would have to ride the public transportation, I was a bit nervous. I'm directionally challenged with maps, so without maps, I figured I would just be plain lost.

After riding the buses with success for a couple days, I decided to meet some friends who live about an hour away. I took one bus to a halfway point then switched to a second bus. Everything went fine and when the sun went down, I knew I should be heading home. What time the buses stop running at night is a debatable question. Luckily, I found a bus that was heading back to the midpoint where I switch buses. It was dark at I did not know where I was, so I decided to ask the passengers, which consisted of three men. I attempted to ask them if we were at the midpoint, but they did not speak English, and I speak only about 20 words of Arabic, none of which were helpful.

After a few minutes of strained communication, they decide that we have passed the place where I am supposed to switch buses. The men immediately begin to talk with the bus driver. They were all speaking hurried Arabic, and I had no idea what was going on. The bus driver stopped his bus on the street and a man gets out and motions me to follow him. We walk into a shop, that is obviously closed, but he yells for someone. Another man comes, but he doesn't speak English either. So he then calls to a woman upstairs. She walks downstairs and says hello. I tell her my problem and that I don't know how to get home. She walks outsides and begins to translate my problem to the bus driver. Apparently, all the other buses have stopped running, but he will take me to a place where I can get a taxi. I thank the woman and get back on the bus.

Suddenly, the bus stops and a different passenger gets off and tells me to come with him. I still don't know where I am or what is happening, but I follow. We cross the busy street and then he starts waving down taxis. He tells them where I need to go and even bargains the prices for me. When he finds one with a suitable price he motions for me to get in. “Shukran,” I say over and over. “Thank you.” He shakes his head as to say, “Of course. It's not a big deal.” But to me, a lost girl in a foreign world, every act of kindness is a big deal. For him, and all the people who helped me safely home that night, hospitality is in their blood. This is the Middle Eastern way.