Biography 45: kids were in Saudi Arabia

 Our next neighbour was living in a two-storied building. One day, my mom and I went there to see a newborn baby. We went inside the house. The baby was covered with a blanket. My mom asked something, and they removed the blanket. I saw the baby rolled up with a rope. Something like a mommy. The kid was fully dressed and sleeping. My mom was arguing with them. She showed me, too. I didn't understand Arabic, but I could understand what was happening there. 

According to Saudi Culture, they think if they don't bind up babies like that, the hands and legs won't go straight. Like a newborn baby, it will keep bending even after growing up. My mom showed me, for example, that even if she let her grow me free, I'm 100% OK. But tradition can't go with one lecture. So, they kept their baby like that. I asked my mom later why the baby also looked comfortable. She replied, "Babies like to stay cozy like that, so they kind of enjoy that."

In those days, VCRs were new. We didn't have that. My dad's boss (A Saudi) told us that if we wanted to see any movie, we could bring a video cassette to their home, and both families could watch it together. So, one day, we went to their home. After dinner, we started watching the movie.

In general, Saudi families don't have any beds to sleep in. Their whole house is covered with carpets. Whenever kids feel sleepy, they fall asleep wherever they are. In that home, kids started to fall asleep here and there. Their dad dragged them by their hands to a single room to sleep in for the rest of the night. Generally, Saudi families have lots of kids.

Our parents watched the kids' situation and told them we had better go now. We will watch the movie later.

When I was a kid, I could go to any room, for men or women. Everybody liked me. They liked kids. And wherever I went, I got some gifts. 

One day, one uncle (Saudi host) gave me footballs. Small in size. I took. He asked my name. I told him. He opened the ball and wrote it down on the shell of the ball in Arabic. I didn't understand; my dad said he wrote your name. Actually, it was a radio. I never could use it. When we brought it to Bangladesh, it wasn't working. My parent kept it for a long time, probably because the battery was inside it, which damaged the whole thing. Poor me.