My First Proposal

Posted by IngridGiles on November 14th, 2007 | Categorized as Stories | 1,220 views and 36 Comments

I sat reading in the lounge at a Community College. The semester would be over in only one more week.

“Hello.”

I looked up. I recognized him from my speech class; a tall thin black man. “Hi,” I replied, and went back to my book.

“You and I are in the same speech class.”

“Yes,” I said, and turned to my book again.

“How old are you?” he asked.

I realized that reading was not going to be possible at the moment. I closed my book and looked at him. “Twenty-two,” I replied.

“Oh.” He looked a little surprised. “I’m twenty-four… but that’s ok.”

I didn’t know quite what to say to that, so I just said, “Ok.”

“Let me tell you some things about myself,” he went on. “My name is _________. I am from Saudi Arabia. I am a good student, and very responsible. I come from a wealthy family. My dad sent me to study here because I am so responsible. I have one brother who is younger than I am. He probably will not be sent here, since he is not as responsible as I. What can you tell me about yourself?”

Caught off guard, I grasped for information. “Well…” I began, “I have one brother…” I stopped there. Why should I tell anything about myself to this person? “Why do you want to know?” I asked him.

He looked a little embarrassed, but he did not look away. “I wanted to ask you if you would marry me.”

I almost laughed, but the look on his face stopped me. He was serious! I didn’t know how to respond, although he stood silently waiting for me to say something. Finally I said faintly, “I don’t know you.”

“Yes, that is a problem. We’ll have to get to know each other afterwards.”

I stared at him speechlessly. I had thought that sort of thing happened in books, not in real life in an American suburb.

After a while, he said, “I think you are a Christian, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So am I. I am the only Christian in my family. If I go back to my country, I will have to marry a Muslim. The only way for me to marry a Christian is to do it while I am still in America. Will you be my wife?”

Dumbly, I repeated “But I don’t know you.”

“I’m sorry about that. Perhaps I should have approached you sooner so you could have had more time to think about it. It’s just that I had to think carefully to be sure I was making the right decision. I think you would do well because you have experience with other cultures, and it would not be as hard for you to adjust to your life in Saudi Arabia. I have to go back in two weeks and I would like to take you with me. Otherwise my father will make me marry a Muslim woman.”

Something in my dazed brain responded to his “two weeks.” “My parents are coming to visit me in one month.” I offered.

He considered. “I think I could probably get an extension on my visa, so that you could say goodbye to your parents.”

The finality of his words hit me. He was asking me to do something that would result in never seeing my parents again!

I stared at him, aghast.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he said, “Look, I don’t know your culture and you don’t know mine. We are in America now, and we know that Americans are direct and honest. Let’s use that culture so we can be sure we understand each other. If you don’t want to marry me, say ‘no’. Then I will walk away, and I will never talk to you again.”

I looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and said, “No.”

He held my eye contact for about one second more. Then he nodded his head and walked away. I watched him until he was out of sight.

He never spoke to me again.

I was born in the Andes of Ecuador and raised mostly in Central Mexico. I am American and lived for several years in Minnesota as an adult, but I live and work in Mexico again now.