Romance a la Islam

Fayez called me every few days to see that I was alright as I traveled south through Jordan. I had met him in Amman through his friend Hassan who had sold me a new cell phone after diagnosing my blank screen as terminal. The three of us had explored Amman's "nightlife" (coffee shops and restaurants) and taken a day trip to the salty Dead Sea. I enjoyed their company and appreciated the introduction to a city thats entertainment scene was a bit elusive. They enjoyed my smile and spirit that, in stark contrast to the Arab girls they knew, was free and without agenda. As I left for Petra, they insisted that I return to Amman. Fayez offered to cook Jordanian culinary specialties - maklube and mensaf.

About a week into my stay in Petra, Fayez suggested that he might come meet me in Aqaba or Wadi Rum. His sister lived in Aqaba and he loved the desert of Wadi Rum (or maybe moreso loved testing whatever 4WD SUV he owned at the time). On the third day of my desert stay, he drove 5 hours to join me. He brought me chewing gum and chocolates. His new Land Cruiser out-performed its predecessor in the sand and got us around the desert and then to Aqaba for an evening with his sister's family.

At this point I began to wonder what was going on. Was this shaping up to be a romantic weekend getaway? Was this part of a courtship that until now I had been oblivious to? Or were we really just visiting his sister while "in the neighborhood?" I enjoyed his company despite the occasional challenge with language. I found him attractive with his tall stature and strong character, but our interactions had been quite sterile by Western standards. An Islamic romance was so foreign - I didn't even know what signs to look for.

Fayez was/is thirty-two and born to Palestinian parents (one of 9 children by 2 wives). He's business-minded and successful, well-respected by those around him, has traveled and lived in Europe and a devout Muslim. He doesn't drink, doesn't eat pork, doesn't touch women. He subscribes to a text message service that provides him with the day's prayer times. He wakes before 5 am every day to pray. With me he was respectful and attentive - sans sexual advance. I put my curiosity aside and enjoyed his company only occasionally speculating about his intentions or about my growing interest.

As we arrived in Aqaba I began to think about where I would sleep that night. Would we stay with his sister? In a hotel? Separate rooms? (I had arranged separate tents in the desert.) We pulled up to a hotel and I waited in the car, my curiosity piqued. Fayez returned speaking of two rooms, but interestingly it turns out that in Jordan not being married poses a problem for not only those sharing a room, but also those requesting two rooms in the same hotel. After checking 2 hotels and offering a 20 Dina bribe ($25 USD) we were shown to our rooms - one on the 1st floor and the other on the 3rd. We showered and rested before heading to his sister's. I debated wardrobe, wondering which would be more offensive: my rank long-sleeved shirt that had been stuck to my sweaty body as I hiked through the desert for 4 days and didn't shower or (gasp) a short sleeve shirt leaving my forearms exposed. I opted for the latter.

One weekend in Wadi Rum and Aqaba turned into a week exploring Jordan. He took me to his friend Sami's farm in the north where they both raised livestock. By day we explored ancient Roman and Byzantine ruins, a cave where Jesus lived for 40 days, Jordan's 2nd largest city (Irbid). He practiced English and taught me Arabic. We developed our own thread of private jokes. By night we shared a room with two twin beds, sleeping with the door open. We rarely sat next to each other on the couch.

Every moment was for me. Work was postponed. All requests met. I had everything and anything I wanted except...a kiss. At first this was confusing. Then it was frustrating. By day 5 I realized the unexpected. The most extreme physical abstinence charged the smallest interactions with sexual excitement - a hand on my back to show me through a door, an arm around my chair at dinner, a smile across the room.

In the Muslim religion Zina is what prevents relations between unmarried men and women (I looked this up on day 6). Intercourse is prohibited and everything else from an innocent kiss to direct eye contact can be considered a gateway or path to temptation. It is why women are covered, stay in the home and generally do not interact with men who are not related. It is why I was having one of the least physical yet most interesting courtships of my 28 years.

On the 6th night I announced that I would leave for Egypt the day after next. This affected Fayez more than I expected. That night as we settled into our beds (now back in Amman, but still in two twins), his eyes welled, stopping just before tears. He asked if we could share a kiss. It was then that I became Fayez's first physical contact with a woman in five years. I worried that he had compromised his values for me, but it was his choice and the kiss, however a little stiff, was nice.

The kiss was followed by a lengthy and comfortable embrace. The embrace was followed by a shock to my Western sensibility. "Go to Egypt and come back," Fayez proposed. I could have anything I wanted. He confided in me about the properties he had accumulated around Amman, his plans for development, his ability to provide. The conversation was strange. It was as if both of us knew that this scenario was unrealistic. We both knew I wouldn't stay, but he cared enough to try and I cared enough to discuss.

I'm not exactly sure if I understood everything we talked about. Our conversation flowed between the specific (me) and the general (the typical Muslim bride). I/she would be expected to spend days at home caring for the house and children. The first year (before kids) I/she would spend most days at Fayez's mother's house to prevent loneliness. If plans differed he would have to know ahead of time where I/she would be. Talking to other unfamiliar men would be inappropriate and cause problems for all involved. I held nothing back - this sounded boring and oppressive. Fayez seemed open to compromise, but I don't think realized the level of compromise that this particular woman (I) would demand.

The next day he drove me to buy my bus ticket and then again to catch the bus at 6:30 am for my departure. We embraced at the station (in public) with a promise to keep in touch, the possibility that I would return to Amman (briefly) and a proposal that will go unaccepted.