In the mid-1980s in Saudi Arabia, the Middle East, the culture was different from that of the United States. My childhood memories were established in Saudi Arabia. My mom and dad decided to divorce. I was a small child and didn't understand what "divorce" meant. I felt alone and lost after my mother married another man. My grandparents insisted on raising me, their eldest grandson. After I moved to my grandparents' house, my grandmother Gouzail played the role of both mother and father in my life and this left me with great memories. My grandmother became the most significant person in my life because I learned from her kindness, organization, patience and so much more. I still remember the first time I entered his house. The black iron front door, the large living room with holy cards hanging on the wall, the blue and brown carpet. I even remember the smell of her Cambodian fragrance touching the whole house. He usually wears a black covering over his face called a Burqa. This Burqa covering had eye holes through which I could usually read her eyes. His eyes were large, dark brown with a sharp look and he had thick eyelashes, and everyone tells me that my eyes look like his eyes. The clothes my grandmother Gouzail wore cover her from top to bottom. She is only 5'2" tall. She walked straight and her face turned forward. She is a "Bedouin"; the Bedouins live in the desert and raise camels, sheep and goats. My grandmother looked like most Bedouin women, powerful, intelligent and active. He fed the camels, milked them and took care of their calves. My grandmother Gouzail had many household tasks; she cooked three times a day and cleaned the house every morning, even though my grandmother Gouzail didn't go to school and couldn't read, she had the strongest memory... halfway through the paper... and I thought I would never recover. Everyone in my town liked her because she was honest and generous. In fact, they still like her. I still have a box that contains her things: her comb of black hair, the keys to the camel yard, a deer horn that my grandfather gave her, the gray fur of a wolf that he killed, an old kohl eyeliner and a white fabric he made from sheep's wool every time I miss him, I open that box to see his things that have become mine. My grandmother, Gouzail, played the role of both mother and father. Even though he came from a Bedouin culture and couldn't read, he knew how to convey his messages. He chose the time and place to import his wisdom. My grandmother had a wonderful personality that made me proud of her. Furthermore, he loved me and gave me all the tenderness I needed. That loving disposition and caring soul made her the most significant person in my life.