An Outsider Looking Within

It was my third day of lying around in the sticky, blistering hot weather. I never imagined that I was going to spend my summer in Sudan. My mother came into my room and attempted to get me up from my lethargic state. After she realized I wasn’t getting up she yelled, “Esraa, Goumi (Get up)!” I sluggishly got up and got ready. My uncle was patiently waiting for me in the living room.

He briefly said, “Salaam (greetings)! Are you ready to go to the doctor’s office?” I had a scheduled appointment for an eye exam so I could get a pair of glasses. I answered, “Yeah, sure.” We went outside and entered the car. I was really jetlagged and decided to fall asleep during our trip. My dreamless sleep seemed to end as soon as it started, when my uncle woke me up. The sun baked my skin as I walked into the doctor’s clinic. It wasn’t anything like the clinics back in America. The ceramic tiles were old and worn out. In addition, a loud and creaky air conditioner tried to cool the extremely hot room. There were chairs scattered here and there, but they all wore the same random spots of dirt and dust on them. I chose to sit at the chair closest to the air conditioner.

Suddenly, a woman strolled in with a little boy by her side. She was dressed in a wrinkly, thin toub (traditional Sudanese female outfit). As she passed, I tried to be nice and waved at her son. Her son shyly looked at me and grabbed onto his mother’s toub. His eyes were filled with fear and sadness. He looked down then gave me a quick glance and I knew that look; I’ve seen it before. People have given me stares like that before. They all assume I’m foreign. That issue never affected me till that day. His look burned in my memory. I never knew the fact I was raised in another country was so noticeable. To them I was equivalent to an American or a German who came to visit Sudan; I was someone with nothing tying me to the country, no family, friends, or identity. The fluent Arabic I thought I speak was looked upon as broken and is often mocked. My jeans were too tight and my shirts were too short. I was an outsider of a country that both of my parents call home. Although I was considered an outsider, I still knew that Sudan was an important part of my life. Sudan is a part of me and it’ll never be erased.