Give me a Hand

I think it is the absolutely absurd when a Muslim man refuses to shake a woman’s hand. Perhaps it’s one of those religious customs I habituated myself to in a more conservative working environment, but now that I’m mostly in a fairly liberal work environment, and that I’ve come to know many facets of Islam, I just think it is one of the most empty and rude gestures to refuse to shake a hand. I think all the gesture does is show the man’s narrow mindedness. A colleague refused to shake my hand the other day when I was thanking him for his hard work. I don’t understand what the withholding of a hand is supposed to avoid – a sexual invitation, the “dirt” of a woman’s body? Please! But this is a country full of meaningless religious gestures….in my all out, no hold back, honest opinion. I prefer the more mundane gestures of showing somebody you think positively of them.


Yesterday, Friday, the only day of the week both my son and I share as a weekend, a friend called us at 8:30 am, and told me she was making crepes, and if it was OK, she’d be at my house with her two boys in 5 minutes to have breakfast with us. I was still in my pjs, there were dirty clothes literally scattered throughout the house (since I was finally getting around to doing laundry after 2 weeks), and emptied packing boxes blocked my front entry. Without hesitation, I told her to come right over! After we ate, we went to my upstairs sunroom and terrace (with the view into valleys of olive trees and down to Tel Aviv) and sipped our coffee as the boys amused themselves with my son’s toys. I told her how glad I was that she called so spontaneously because it’s a custom I miss. It’s a common custom that I think has to do with a combination of being in the Middle East, where these drop bys are expected and usually welcomed, and the fact of living in a small expat community where everybody has a fair idea of where you are and what you are doing at any given time. Life in the States can be overscheduled and these opportunities for sharing mundane moments are more widely-scattered.


This friend, who I met only 3 weeks ago, is a single mother to 2 boys – 4 and 7. Her singling mother days are coming to an end, and even though I just met her, I am madly jealous of this fact. At least, for the moment, it feels nice to know there is somebody nearby who I don’t have to explain the ups and downs of my recent life. Yesterday, she offered me a hand – I could go out and run errands while she watched the boys, give me a break. But because Friday is the only day I have fully with my son, not to mention not much is open on Fridays before noon to “run” to, I declined. There’s lots of things I could use a hand with – trying to find reliable after-school care for my son, getting through these 8 loads of laundry, remembering my son’s bathing suit on the days he has swim class (big woops!), or basically, just listening to my string of rambling worries about how things will settle out here in the next few months.