Growing Up International

BY: Brooke Bullock, American School of Doha

Five countries, nine schools, sixteen years, and millions of friends; does that sound familiar to anyone? When you’ve grown up the way I did, you probably know what I mean. I’m only sixteen years old, yet I’ve seen more of the world than all of my family combined. So far I’ve lived in the United States, the United Arab of Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, and Qatar. I would never have expected so much when I was born into a small home in Katy, Texas.
My first overseas assignment was the most exciting. Dubai was a giant fantasy land that I was more than happy to explore. I spent the weekends at the indoor amusement park riding the mini rollercoaster and eating too much with friends. At night we all ran around our “fishbowl” neighborhood where the employees from my dad’s company lived.
The true culture shock came with the second assignment. Five months after the 9/11 attacks we moved to Khobar, Saudi Arabia. It was right next to Dubai, yet everything was so different. My mother was required to wear the abaya, a full –length black polyester robe that Muslim women wore and was not allowed to drive. We had to sit in certain sections for women and families at restaurants that were only open between the five different prayer times. Every morning at four o’clock we were awoken by the call to prayer from the mosque next door. Our compound was guarded by men with AK-47s. Our cars were bomb checked before entering school. Our classes practiced lockdowns in case some radical decided to target our school. By December of the same year, however, we were back in Texas because it was simply too dangerous to stay.
Once back in Katy, it was obvious I had been affected by our adventures in and around the Middle East. Texas no longer felt comfortable. Most of my friends had been together since kindergarten and very few had been out of the United States. I was a foreigner in my own hometown. No one wanted to hear my stories about other countries, but they were all I had. My friends had all been talking about past spring vacations where they went to the beach or to Dallas, so I thought I could share, too. “Last spring break when I was in Africa…” I had started, but before I finished the sentence they were glancing at each other and started to get up. The international community had become my home, and quaint Katy didn’t fit the bill anymore.
A year and a half later I was welcomed back to the overseas family. The new assignment was Jakarta, Indonesia and was far from our previously sandy residences. While there, I grew accustomed to having friends from a handful of nations. My closest friends were kids from India, South Africa, Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia. I began to pick up cultural oddities from them, and they picked some up from me. I would eat pizza with a fork and knife and I developed a taste for sambal chilies. After a few months my friends were saying, “Ya’ll” like me. Life had become a cultural melting pot that was boiling over with new experiences. All I had to do was soak each one up.
I was not the only one changed by all these experiences. My entire family had developed into multicultural people. Once, when my family was visiting Beijing, I was walking and talking with my father. All around us people were speaking Mandarin while we held a trilingual conversation alternating between Bahasa Indonesia, Spanish, and English. For us, it was entirely normal, but when our family back in Texas heard, they were stunned.
Our latest assignment has taken us to Doha, Qatar. The cultural differences do not take any time to get used to now; even the Friday to Saturday weekend seems normal. Growing up among a diverse group of people in a multitude of schools and situations, I grew accustomed to the quirks and foibles of foreign countries. I know to always wear pants or skirts past my knees when I go out and to keep my crosses and Bible hidden when going through the airport. As weird and insignificant as this may seem, it’s a norm that I don’t even consciously remember.
The wide world will always be my home, and hopefully my own family’s home. After living overseas so long I want to make sure my own children will get the same experiences. There is no way I could deny my future family the adventures that I have already had.