Expat Eyes

This blog contains the photographs, observations and reflections of Rena Diana, an educator and writer, during extended stays in the Arabian Gulf, China, and Mongolia.

Archive for the tag “Qatar”

11 Jun 2012
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Souq Waqif

“Shopping with these merchants is not merely the going through of certain forms for the acquisition of necessary commodities- it is an art… an amusement…a study in character and national characteristics.”
Gertrude Bell, 1894

My favorite place in Doha, in addition to the Museum of Islamic Art, is Souq Waqif, which literally means “market standing.” It is located along a dry riverbed, the musheireb, near the corniche along the Arabian Gulf. In olden times, this was the center of town, and the vendors would stand by their temporary market stalls, ready to move them as the river rose and its waters encroached.

Journal Entry, March 2010: “It is dusk in the souq. The long afternoon siesta is over. As I park my car between two mosques, the solemn chant of the Call to Prayer rings out, ricocheting between the speakers.  Muslims, mostly men, file into the mosque, leaving their dusty sandals in a neat row beside the entrance. Women have set up tables to sell their wares. Jewelry, fabrics, snacks. Some have bowls of eggs they will fry on iron skillets. I search for one particular store, which sells handsome, rugged old furniture. No one can give me directions, even the policeman standing on a crate in the middle of a small traffic circle. I take this as an invitation to simply wander around some more. Who knows what else I might discover? As the sky darkens, colorful lights come on, and the market comes to life. This is when the real action happens. I sit down at the Lebanese café on the main pedestrian boulevard to sip delicious mint lemonade, people gaze and jot down notes in my journal. This is a popular gathering spot for locals and expats alike. Next to me,  men and women are smoking shisha.”

The souq , a maze of narrow alleyways, twisting among simple mud dwellings,  captures the flavor of the Arab world. Fragrances of incense, perfumed oils, and spices. Ginger from China, teas from Ceylon, cinnamon from India, medicinal herbs from Iran, cardamom, saffron and Oudh (sandalwood.)  Wooden carts display dyes, kohl, hookah (“hubbly bubbly”) pipes, mubkhari (mud incense burners), pumice stones,  brass dalla (coffee pots) and even small pets in cages. Closet-size shops brim with wares: pashminas, cookware, tools, Aladdin Lamps, tin lanterns, daggers and stacks of Bedouin cushions and camel blankets woven in bright primary colors.In the distance, stately minarets and chedis of mosques, topped with the crescent moon symbol, form striking silhouettes.

Muslim Qatari families meander about. Lively brown-eyed children climb over and under benches and tables and bolts of cloth.  Women are gliding- not walking- in their graceful, flowing abayas.  Young Muslim couples stroll along beside each other, their private emotions well concealed by their attire and demeanor. There is something enchanting about how some of the women, their faces entirely covered by a simple black scarf, whisper to their companions.

I purchase a few items. Several pashminas. Bronze camel candleholders. A book of essays written by young Qatari women. It still feels strange to me to bargain down the prices, especially since they are so low by American standards. It is expected, however, so I am refining my approach with the right phrases: “Oh, no, that is much more than I want to spend.” Or “But I saw this at another shop for much less.” Or- and this line works the best-“I do not have that much money with me.” Thus the bantering continues and a mutual price is agreed on. A friendly young man urges me to purchase some of his Omani silver jewelry and silver crown-type headdresses by putting them on me. I appease him by buying a couple pieces. They will always remind me of this day, this place.

An unfamiliar sight: old men sitting or lying in wheelbarrows, which they use to ferry about shoppers’ purchases. Human camels on wheels. They seem remarkably cheerful.

A familiar sight: a young adolescent boy, around twelve, still soft, smooth and pudgy in the cheeks, proudly wearing a thobe and ghutra, but awkward and self-conscious, flipping his head-scarf this way and that to get the right effect, tripping a bit over his gown.  A rite of passage. A man-child trying out his new identity. Like a young American boy wearing his first tie.

Journal Entry, April 2010:  “I have come to the souq to pick up some silver necklaces for my daughters and nieces. The designer, a Qatari man, has fashioned their names in Arabic on them. The mid-day Call to Prayer begins. Shopkeepers shut their doors to rest. Some head to the mosque or kneel on their prayer rugs. As I leave, I notice a South Asian man, probably a Pakistani, sweeping the street in the glare of the sun. I wonder when he gets to rest….”           Next Post: Our Global Family:Glimpses

Posted in Architecture, Middle East, Souqs and tagged , , , , ,
28 May 2012
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Lessons from My Students Part 3

“ I hope I will not disappoint (any)one who has trusted me and gave (given) me full confidence to send me to this wonderful university and who  (has) help(ed) me (with) useful tips to supplement my career and to show me the right way. Both of my parents are (did) not complete there (their) study, so it (they) will (be) proud when I join (the) university …I will be the only one (of) my brothers (to get) a university degree and (it) will be (a) really happy (day) for me and I want to make them happy.”
Basim  prospective student, Education City, Qatar

 (Corrections in parentheses are mine.)

So these seven men and I carry on together. (See May 14 and May 21 Posts: Lessons from My Students Parts 1 and 2) We use the texts and other ESL instructional materials provided, and I improvise with my own worksheets, writing assignments, and reading comprehension exercises, based on their interests and skill levels. In class, we try all kinds of approaches, including the old tried-and-true ones, like reading aloud in a circle; describing our weekends, families, and daily schedules; giving short spontaneous speeches on various topics. My supervisor, Mary, is a technology whiz and, with her help, we watch and analyze TED talks together and complete listening quizzes after watching simple cartoon narratives. They make steady progress. And my own learning curve is sky high.

It is the informal exchanges that we have, however, that stimulate us the most. One day Siraj complains about taking timed tests. They make him nervous. He feels that he has to rush and make superficial choices. The scores do not reflect what he has mastered, what he understands. “In my profession,” he remarks, “it is necessary to take my time to make wise judgments. I like to consider all options. Hurrying would be dangerous.” He sees these standard assessments as unfair. Good point, Siraj.

One day Abdul asks me to explain the meaning of step-sister and half-sister. After I do, they all jump in saying they just don’t get it. Their fathers take new wives and sometimes their mothers even remarry. They all live together. They think of their new siblings as simply brothers and sisters. They call their new mothers and fathers aunts and uncles. No big deal. “We are all just one big family.” An over-simplification, perhaps, but, thought provoking nevertheless…

As my departure for the United States for the summer draws near, the students want to put the books away and “just talk.” I am curious – about what? Certain topics, such as religion and the royal family are off limits. I welcome this opportunity for dialogue, but I will follow their lead.  They are never critical of the United States. In fact, they are unfailingly respectful and genuinely open as they ask about our political system and about what they perceive to be multiple stereotypes about the Arab world and Muslims. We unravel some of the misunderstandings about our respective cultures. These are smooth flowing, relaxed conversations. It is times like this when I wonder why there is such violence, hatred, and fear in the world. But I cannot dwell there. Each of us can only make peace in our own small ways, wherever we are.

Arab Spring is in full gear at this point, and they are constantly paying close attention to the news on their smart phones and other sources. Although there is essentially no unrest in Qatar, where the citizens are comfortable financially, united in their faith, and proud of their rapidly developing country, they are aware of the implications of these revolutions.

Journal entry: March 15, 2011: “A Qatari journalist for Al Jazeerah who was shot by Qadafi loyalists in Libya was a neighbor of one of my students.  He is very upset. This group is against Qadafi. They are excited about the Arab Spring, inspired by the events in Tunisia and Egypt. On the other hand, they are distressed by the conflict in Bahrain. Too close. And they are all Sunni.  Can’t discuss this.”

Hani has been reading as much as he can about post-tsunami Japan. He is fascinated by how the country has handled the devastation. Especially how there has been no looting whatsoever. He shares with us a news story where a reporter tried to make it easy for some Japanese to steal his obviously full wallet. No one did. Dozens of people looked at it and left it alone. One finally turned it in to a train station attendant.  We are all uplifted by this.

On the day before I leave, they ask my opinion about Muslims having more than one wife. I respond by asking them questions, so I can better understand their take on this volatile subject. I will elaborate on this in a future post about women in the Middle East.  We end this conversation laughing and laughing as Shihad expounds on the absurdly high costs of modern weddings in Qatar. “This has become a competition among our families now.  Ridiculous!  Extravagant! What has happened to the old simple ceremonies?” Does this sound familiar?

 “Finally, I assure the university that I will share enthusiastically my practical experience of the last eleven years with my colleagues and teachers which will help us to grow together. I am sure that the excellent quality education system in the University will promote my career. The students here are very helpful and this helps new students to achieve their requirements seamlessly. From my heart I hope to be able to overcome the difficult stages of entry to this university and graduate with an excellent performance.”
Hani

After the last class, Naseem stays behind to tell me how kind Americans were to him when he accompanied his father to the United States for medical treatment.  Not just in the medical setting, but everywhere, as they struggled to get around. “They did not ignore us or look down on us. Total strangers took time to patiently give us directions and ask how they could help.” The surgery did not work. His father died. But Naseem remains grateful for how they both were treated with such dignity. And I am grateful, as well, for being an American, and also for Naseem, as he gives me his amber prayer beads so I can feel their warmth. And for Abbas, Siraj, Basim, Abdul, Shihad, and Hani…and all that I have learned from them.  Next Post: The Expat-Multipat-Repat Life

Posted in Customs, Education, Expat Life, Growth, Middle East, Religion and tagged , ,
21 May 2012

Lessons from My Students Part 2

“Building good citizen (s) is the aim of each country that plan (s) to develop itself and provide  (a) good life for its people. Education is the main and only road to have good citizen (s). The more the country provides (an) advanced education system, the more the country achieves progress in all fields.”
Abbas , prospective university student
Education City, Qatar

(Corrections in parentheses are mine.)

Once again, in this post, I am protecting the privacy of my students. These are not their real names. (See May 14 Post: Lessons from My Students Part 1)

So here I am with my remaining seven students. Abbas, father of a four-year-old boy and twins – boy and girl- aged two. He is serious, hard working, and earnest, often asking the questions that fuel further learning for the entire group. Siraj has two boys and a little girl, whom he calls “his heart”. Siraj is a charmer, our class comedian, with an open and endearing manner. Very witty, ambitious, quite anxious about his skills in English and his prospects academically. He calls me “Teacher”, and I call him “Student”, in an on-going playful banter. Quiet, mysterious and dignified Naseem is the only unmarried one in the group. He has very little confidence in his ability in English and tends to miss class often. His deep, expressive eyes speak volumes.  I get the feeling he is overwhelmed with his life in general these days. Basim has an easy smile and a sweet disposition. He has two young sons. A first he stays virtually silent, as if he cannot believe he will ever be able to utter a word of English- much less read and write it- but as the weeks move along, he speaks out more and more, and smiles more and more. The most confident student in the class is Abdul, who puts in many hours revising his essays and taking practice tests in both reading and listening comprehension. At first, he politely rebuffs me, as if he needs no teacher. He is proud and intense, the father of two daughters. As the class proceeds, he relaxes, participates more, and begins to ask for help. This pleases me because his contributions to our class conversations are helpful.  Hani is the cool dude in the group.  Another charmer.  On a couple occasions, he arrives in class in jeans or some neat, casual outfit, which always throws me, as I am accustomed to seeing him clothed in Arab attire. He is very smart, a quick study, deceptively so. One of those students who appears to be distracted, then excels on an assessment.  Hani is warm, kind, clearly a leader, and totally devoted to his three young children, sometimes showing me their photos on his iphone. And, finally, there is Shihad, the oldest of the group at 37. Indeed he seems like “an elder” to me as well, with his direct, intelligent gaze and his no nonsense, mature approach to all assignments. The others respect him and look up to him as a sort of spokesman for the group, and so do I.

“Finally, I could pave my way to my dream to study to get a degree in my favorite subject at one of the most well known universities. I believe that this will give me a tremendous opportunity for my future career. I am committed to being a student at University. I promise to study hard  and do my best in order to encourage (other) young Qatari (s) to join  (a) university and also to be an ideal example of my company. I am sure that the excellent quality education system in the University will be very helpful to my career and my life. Also (it will) contribute (to) the growth of education in Qatar and … the well being of the people here.”
Abdul

 

These are grown men in a traditionally male-dominated culture. They are vulnerable in this class, however, and I am aware of that, so I tread lightly. I cannot exactly tell them what to do in the same way I would the American middle schoolers I have taught (although how much even they complied is certainly debatable!) I am with these seven students for as many as five hours a day, several days a week. Everyday there is a break to observe the Call to Prayer- and to smoke and drink coffee. Sometimes these breaks extend to 45 minutes. After a couple weeks of this disappearing act, I decide to exert a bit more discipline and control in the group. One day, as they leave, I say, “Okay, gentlemen. Take your break, but be back here at exactly 3:00 o’clock.” Within a split second, Siraj responds, “3:00 P.M. or A.M.?!” –At that moment, I know we are all going to get along just fine…

Next Post: Lessons from My Students Part 3

Posted in Customs, Education, Expat Life, Growth, Language, Middle East and tagged , | Leave a comment
16 Apr 2012
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Round and Round She Goes

“…And Where She Stops,
 Nobody Knows!”

Isn’t that the little rhyme that goes with Pin The Tail On The Donkey, played at children’s birthday parties? When players take turns being blindfolded and spun around, then released, in a dizzy whirl, to find the donkey? This is a perfect metaphor for getting places in Dubai and Doha. It does feel like a game.

When I arrived in Dubai, my husband told me not to be concerned when I get in a taxi and the driver heads off in the exact opposite direction of where I am headed. That is just the way it works here. The roads loop around in all directions and on top of themselves, often into detours at building sites, eventually ending at the proper destination. There may be some deeply engrained Arab rationale for this, but I have not figured out what it is. You go north to go south, east to go west. It is all one big circle anyway. (I will resist the temptation to play with this as a literary allusion or a religious theme.) No- when it comes to snarled traffic, vague directions, roads to nowhere, and drivers who speak no English, it is hard to wax poetic. A sense of humor is, however, imperative. As is trust in your fellow human beings. “The kindness of strangers…”

In Qatar, I actually got my own driver’s license and joined the throng of cars. Here is the traffic picture in Doha. Main thoroughfares called C Ring and D Ring – except they are straight, not circles. Roads named after members of the royal family, becoming extensions of each other, that disappear into nowhere (i.e. the desert). Slip roads, marginal lanes, underpasses, overpasses. And- most important- the ROUNDABOUTS, that have colloquial names not marked anywhere on them or on most maps, so references to them as landmarks are not helpful at all for at least the first few weeks of driving yourself places.  Then there are drivers who zing from the inner to the outer of the three to four lanes inside roundabouts to exit, with no warning, seeming unconcerned about cutting you off. 360-degree vision is essential. And nerves of steel. I possess neither.

Here are some directions to friends’ homes, with addresses like  Palm Beach Residences, Falcon Street and Al Jazi Gardens, Al Dafna, Gate 6, Villa 32, as they were told me verbatim, written in my journal.

“From West Bay go as if you were to go to the Ritz. At the Intercon Roundabout go straight ahead. (When you are approaching a circle, which way is straight?) At the next roundabout go left. Go straight again through the next roundabout and then right at the next, the West Entrance of the West Bay Lagoon. Go into the Lagoon and go straight ahead at the roundabout over the bridge….”(It took me a while to find that one.)

“When driving from Rainbow Roundabout to Qatar Sports Roundabout, take the 2nd right turn. At the end of this road, turn left and the compound is along the road a bit on your right.” (Better.)

“Start at Rainbow Roundabout (which way?) Go straight across Intercon Roundabout and turn left. Do not carry on over the bridge. At the next roundabout, go all the way around and come back going the opposite direction. There will be a mosque and and two embassies on your right. Look for a walled villa with umbrellas in the courtyard.” (Found it on the third try.)

“We are in Villa 19, Al Fardan Gardens, near the airport slip road, opposite the Lulu on D Ring.”

Here is one final journal entry, from March 2010: “Yesterday I got lost. I needed to get lost. It increased my confidence. I followed a friend’s directions to the new Lulu Hypermarket beyond Landmark Mall, where I was told they have the best selection of fresh fruits and vegetables in the city. Once I got going, I realized, too late, that he had been approaching it from another part of town. Thus, I got all turned around. I missed the necessary slip road and went many miles out of the way. At one point I was pretty far out in the desert, but I could not do a U-Turn due to a construction barrier. Since I am rarely in a hurry here- no appointments to make, no particular schedule- it was all right. I figured as long as I could see the tall towers of the West Bay peninsula, where we live, in the remote distance, I would be able to work my way back there.”

Mission accomplished. The fresh produce was delicious!
Next Post: An Exalted Space

Posted in Customs, Expat Life, Middle East and tagged , ,
26 Mar 2012
2 Comments

Windtowers to Skyscrapers

 

“To arrange three stones in a fireplace on which to set a pot was the only architecture that many of them required.”

Wilfred Thesiger

The Past: For centuries, the dwellings of Gulf Arabs were virtually non-existent. Home for Bedouins was where they slept that night, either under the stars or in simple tents of woven goat hair blankets. Royal families lived in more elaborate tent structures consisting of several “rooms” divided by drapes, made comfortable with thick carpeting and cushions. Modern desert camps for tourists resemble those traditional compounds.

The first distinctive architecture in Dubai appeared relatively recently, in the late 19th century. It was imported by merchants from a town in southern Persia called Basta, who were re-settling in the tiny fishing, pearl diving, and trading village of Dubai on the creek opening into the Persian (now Arabian) Gulf.  That creek is still simply called The Creek by the locals. The Persian immigrants built handsome homes with windtowers and courtyards, designed to adapt to the harsh desert climate. Green, sustainable architecture, before those terms were even used. I have never seen anything like them. They are stunning.

The windtowers are designed to capture the breezes from The Creek and the sea, funneling the air down to the rooms below.  The houses and towers are made of petrified coral blocks dug from The Creek and bonded with sarooj- a mixture of clay, manure, and water.  Ceilings and roofs are constructed around hardwood beams finished with a mixture of straw and silt. Since it rarely rains, the roofs are flat, providing another gathering and sleeping area for residents, depending on the season. They serve as exterior rooms, designed to maximize exposure to winds for cooling, as they are surrounded by perforated parapets. When it does rain, the run-off spills through spouts and can be collected for other purposes, such as  washing clothes or watering plants.

The elegant functional form of the windtowers is beautiful in itself. The Arabs, however, with their love of elaborate mosaics and decorative patterns, have added geometric and floral designs wherever they can.  Thus, there are finely carved ventilation screens, arches and balcony balustrades made from limestone slabs covered with chalk and water paste. Intricately carved wooden doors, with fanlight panels over them to diffuse the light and increase airflow, enhance the artistic effect. An intriguing side note: the stone balconies on traditional homes in the Middle East, with Arabesque motifs cut into them, are meant to both let in air AND to conceal the women sitting on them.


 

The Present: My previous posts have alluded to the impressive energy and imagination fueling the emergence of Dubai and Qatar as cosmopolitan international centers. Nowhere is that spirit more evident than in the bold, innovative architecture in these cities.  The pictures below tell the story.  These gleaming steel and glass buildings, in such extraordinary shapes, make a striking contrast to the limestone, coral and mud structures of olden days. When known, the architect’s name is in the caption on the photograph, which you can read by moving your cursor over the image.

The Future:  In December 2010 Doha was awarded the World Cup for 2022.  Most people on the planet are skeptical that they will be able to pull this off, this miniscule dot of a country, with summer temperatures of over 125 degrees Fahrenheit! Well, here are just a few of their plans, already underway: lodging for tourists on floating hotels off the Pearl Island; free public transportation throughout the city on a “People Mover”; covered stadiums made comfortable by vast cooling systems and remote control clouds (stadiums which they will then fold up and donate to Third World countries).

Big dreams. Smart ideas.  I, for one, hope they succeed, especially if they are sensitive to the environment as they proceed. If they do, we are all winners. Look at the pride on this young girl’s face on Qatar National Day soon after the awarding of the  World Cup!       Next Post: Wandering through Bastakia

Posted in Architecture, Middle East and tagged , , , ,
13 Feb 2012
4 Comments

What’s In A Name?

“No race in the world prizes lineage so highly as the Arabs and none has kept its blood so pure.”

Wilfred Thesiger, Arabian Sands, 1959

One of the first challenges in arriving in the Middle East is trying to decode and pronounce the long names. It seems rude and lazy to mumble them or to avoid saying them altogether, and worse yet to call people by the wrong names.  When I first started teaching, I was so daunted by the fifteen seemingly identical men in white gowns (thobes) and headscarves  in my class with their complicated names, that I wrote notes to myself about their appearance and my own version of a pronunciation system, so I could sort them out. Saleh: “SAY-luh, with the sharp wit and expressive face”.  Jalal: “Juh-LAL- easy-going manner and  smiling eyes”.  Ahmad: “AH (with a little coughing sound)-med, who asks many questions”.  Fortunately, one only needs to call them by their first names!

I soon learned that there is indeed a pattern to Arabic names.  For men, “bin” ( or “ibn”) following the first name  means “son of” and is followed by the father’s first name, which is then followed by “al” which means “from the family of.” For example, the sheikh of Dubai is Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum.  His father was  Rashid bin Saeed al Maktoum.  One of Sheikh Mohammed’s sons is Hamad bin Mohammed al Maktoum. The Qatar “emir,” another term for sheikh used more frequently among Qataris,  is Hamad bin Khalifa al Thani.  His father was  Kahlaifa bin Hamad al Thani. One son of the Emir is Tamin bin Hamad al Thani. There are only a few Arab names. Mohammeds, Khalifas, Thanis, Hamads,  Abdullahs, and Hassams abound. Therefore, this naming system allows one to unravel the puzzle of a person’s lineage. And family is absolutely central in the Arab culture, the key to a person’s identity, the most important of all qualifiers.

It is interesting to note that women keep their father’s family names when they marry. After a woman’s first name is “bint” followed by her father’s first name, then “al” referring to the father’s family name. For example, the third wife of Sheikh Mohammed is Haya bint Hussein. (She is the daughter of the late King Hussein of Jordan.)  The second wife of the Emir of Qatar is Mozah bint Nasser al Missned. This custom means that a couple never has the same family/last name, unless they are cousins, a common arrangement in royal families, which makes things even more confusing! A child never takes on his mother’s family name. In fact, it is impossible to determine who the mother of any individual is in the Arab world unless you are a personal acquaintance or it is a famous, usually royal, family who has made its records public, which is rare. Thus, you will not be able to identify the mother of any individual.

At first, I found this strange, but I quickly realized I was over-simplifying, tangled up in cultural nuances and assumption. Many women in the United States keep their so-called maiden names and give their children either hyphenated last names or only their husbands’ names. In other words, they are joining what is called the patrilineal genealogical structure of Asia and the Middle East, where there are no recorded birth lines to the mother’s family. It is easy to get trapped into dualistic thinking. “They do it that way in the East. We do it this way in the West.” The lines are blurred. And there is no one right way.

Next post: Construction in a Caravan Culture

Posted in Customs, Language, Middle East and tagged , , , ,
23 Jan 2012
2 Comments

Five Frequently Asked Questions

“It is really HOW and not WHAT one sees that matters…”

Freya Stark, Baghdad Sketches

1.Do you, as an expat, have to cover your head? -No. In Dubai, Qatar, Oman, Jordan, and all other Muslim countries EXCEPT Saudi Arabia, the only place it is required for all women, regardless of their faith, to cover  their heads is inside mosques. Non-Muslim women can wear their normal attire everywhere else, but it is appropriate to dress modestly.

2.Can a foreign woman in Dubai and Qatar go anywhere alone?-Yes.

3. Can a Muslim woman in Dubai and Qatar go anywhere alone?-Yes, I frequently see Emirati and Qatari women shopping and driving alone or with their children. They are, however, more likely to dine out with small groups of women  or their families rather than alone.

4. Is it expensive?  Yes and No. Real estate is expensive. Prices for food, clothing, and other amenities are comparable to what I am accustomed to paying at home. The cost of services, such as home cleaning, taxis, childcare, salon care, etc. are quite inexpensive, which is what gives the life of the expat the image of ease and luxury. People can afford domestic help, including chauffeurs, here, which would be unthinkable back in the United States. And, of course, the price of gasoline is cheap: 45 cents per gallon!

5. Are you ever afraid for your safety there? –No.  Due to the more progressive attitudes toward women in this part of the Arab Gulf,  the family-oriented, slower-moving culture, a large security presence, and the no-tolerance policy on crime, which is strictly enforced, I am never uneasy in terms of my physical safety. It is much more dangerous in US, UK, and European cities!  What surprises most visitors to Dubai and Qatar is how clean and civilized these cities are.  Some would say sterile. A friend who visited us in Doha repeatedly commented on how “gentle” and cordial the people are, both the women and the men. There are exceptions, of course, but the general impression holds. Certainly there is an understory, however. The no-tolerance toward crime mentality has a dark side to it, for sure. And the English language newspapers undoubtedly cover up a lot of what goes on. Nevertheless, it is ironic that in a part of the world associated with terrorism and violence, we feel safe.

These questions reflect the stereotypes that Americans have about the Arab world in general. It seems that many people think that all Muslim countries are like Saudi Arabia, which receives much media attention. Before I lived here, I thought the same!

Next Post: Visions of Utopia

Posted in Customs, Middle East and tagged , ,
09 Jan 2012
5 Comments

Welcome to Expat Eyes!

 Leave the familiar for a while.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
Greet Yourself
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
Back home.
All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
You. 

From “All The Hemispheres” by Hafiz, Sufi Poet- c. 1315-1390

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On October 13, on an Emirates Airline flight from Doha, Qatar, to Dubai, UAE, I read the following statement in The Khaleej Times, one of Dubai’s local English language newspapers. It was in an article about an international literature festival: “Iceland is a nation which has always focused on story telling. We think something has not happened as long as it hasn’t been written down on paper.” That describes the way I have felt for many years. Most of my life, in fact.  Compelled to record and chronicle.  I have kept journals- or notebooks, as I now think of them-for as long as I can remember. Just for my own pleasure and to make sense of my life. The writer Joan Didion has commented that she writes in order to understand what she thinks. I like that! Her explanation resonates with me. Then, on that same flight, I read a remark made by Flannery O’Connor: “You may write for the joy of it, but the act of writing is not complete in itself. It has to end in its audience.”  True. And this was the final nudge I needed to  begin writing a blog.

For the past few years, in Dubai and in Qatar, and now in China and Mongolia, I have been filling notebooks with observations and musings. Living abroad is like attending a fast-paced graduate school in a variety of subjects simultaneously. The experience is stimulating, unnerving and enriching.  My notebooks have served as my center, my compass, the place where I go to unwind and digest. In all this traveling, making new nests in new worlds, becoming a part of foreign communities, however fleeting, I have struggled to figure out my role in all of it. Who am I, other than a privileged tourist, a “trailing spouse”? How can I be productive and contribute something worthwhile? Recently, I realized that the answer is actually quite simple. My role is to tell my story and to be an ambassador of sorts, sharing what intrigues and inspires me, from daily interactions to the broader cultural context.

I chose sections of a poem by the Sufi mystic poet Hafiz and a slide show of a whirling dervish performing in the desert outside Dubai to launch this blog. They beckon us to let go, to lose balance, to stretch our identities and our world views. A spirit of play  and adventure permeates both art forms. The poet and the dancer are inviting us to enlarge our circles. I hope you will join me!

Next Post: Traveling Inside Out

Posted in Middle East and tagged , , , ,

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