Saudi Signs
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Author: John Etheridge
Released 2 July 2005
Saudi Signs
Photograph by Aramco ExPats
His luggage did not come, he told me. I was squatting on the floor in Heathrow Airport, trying to find some toothpaste in my carry-on. He bent down and continued to explain. He had seen me on the flight from Bahrain. His luggage did not come, he repeated.
I heard his words, but I felt the emotions he was trying valiantly to conceal. Taller than I, better dressed than I, not as old as I, he had the appearance of a successful business man. But, behind his words, I saw his distress.
Whatever was in his luggage had given him the idea to share his distress with me, a stranger from a stranger culture. "I will help you," I told him, without thinking. "We will find it. Don't worry. I know what to do." Leaving my luggage with my closest friend, he and I set off in the direction of the nearest airline representative.
He had lost his luggage. No one could help him find it, he said. "We will find it," I said, remembering the times I had been in his situation. He seemed to relax. As we walked, I could feel his fear subside.
I could feel his trust in me. I could feel empathy, not pity, toward him. I could feel his inner strength, increasing with each step. I could feel our relationship to each other defining itself. His chosen profession made him my respected superior.
But, he had deftly set aside any prejudice or pride.
I did the same. For a few minutes, two strangers in an equally strange environment needed each other, equally.
When we came to the airline information desk, I noticed why some people had been noticing us: he was holding my hand.
I will never know why an Arab who lost his luggage chose to speak to me, an Anglo stranger, in the airport that day. "Did you help him?" asked my closest friend when I returned. "Yes," was all I could say... but not as much as he helped me.