so in this land where porn is banned, public displays of affection are illegal, sexuality is suppressed, and the women are entirely covered, quiet, and subdued as shadows, if the vaginas could talk, they would probably write a musical....
this i can report after a trip to the beauty salon in preparation for my weekend in paris. as we all know, a romantic weekend rendezvous with one's lover in the city of love certainly calls for a little tidying up, so i went in to have my eyebrows shaped, my toes prettied, my fingernails french manicured (in honour of the occasion) and to endure hot wax being poured over tender skin so my public hair can be more thoroughly removed. now the fact that waxing even developed as a culturally acceptable practice is a bit odd if you think about it... how did anyone ever, ever get the idea in the first place?!?! what a sicko. and my heart goes out to whoever the brave waxing pioneer women were who experimented with temperature and strength of the yanking of the paper to rip out the hair and all the other subtle unspeakables involved. anonymous sisters they shall remain, but they did us all a great service....
but i digress. i was sent to a salon & a woman - lakshmi - recommended by a friend. as she got down to business and we made the usual small talk [how odd is it by the way that we attempt to carry on meaningless, polite banter with someone who is erstwhile pouring hot wax over our genitalia?!? terribly awkward], she asked what i wanted. i mumbled something about just tidy up, when lakshmi interrupted, saying, in a singsong indian accent "do you want the complete, madam?" i looked confused. "ahhhh," she sighed, shaking her head, "you do not know the complete; many of you english, they do not know the complete when they come. but all the qataris they do the complete. all the locals do the complete. and then after they know, the english they do the complete too and they like it." i asked for clarification that the complete really meant, well, the complete. she assured me it did. and she also let me know that many of the qataris not only did the complete, but would come in for full body waxes - everywhere. which i found a horrific notion. lakshmi said it was very tiring for her.
never one to forgo a cultural experience, after some hesitation, i told lakshmi to go for it, that i wanted the complete. i lay back and braced myself. she paused and asked whether i was married, wand of hot wax poised above me. i decided now was not the time to upset the lady, so i said i was engaged. she said, "oh, so you will be married" and this seemed to satisfy her. then she began.
the complete was, well, it was complete. very thorough. very, very painful. i never imagined that in my lifetime another woman would be in those places, especially not one armed with medieval torture tools, but ooh, the things we do for beauty..... [to be born woman is to know - although they do not talk of it at school - that we must labour to be beautiful ... but who knew the qataris had it on the brazilians in this dept?]
i survived, managed to collect my dignity and my tender bits and drive directly to a ramadan tent reception at the US ambassador's house, where i sipped tea and smiled nicely. as with most mixed events, the qatari men generally do not bring their wives to such things, so the crowd was heavily masculine and the women tended to be foreigners, so the vaginas in the room would have had the typical vagina conversation if they could talk..... however, i couldn't help but wonder then, and in certain moments since, what sort of chaos and cacophony of sounds would be uttered by a room full of qatari completes.....
excessive information indicative of excessive affection,
mattie
Friday, May 8, 2009
perpetual august
so it has been at once a quiet and a booming week. work has been fairly busy, and i feel as though i have not been studying arabic as diligently as i would like. instead i find myself studying the sounds and rhythms of doha - or the various peoples somehow caught in this city.... and it does feel as though people are sort of caught in this place, which paints itself as the epicenter of the region, suspended here before they return to the storm of reality. for there is some sense of "amost" that permeates the air here, not so much with a scent exactly, but with a feeling... or perhaps i only say this because i feel as though i'm living in perpetual august. and being in perpetual august somehow brings all the associations of august as the "almost month" - the month on the edge of things, the calmhazyswinging days before some storm, the month before school and responsibility begins, the month after the fourth and the full-swing fanfare of july, the month before labor day weekend and changing fashions, the month without universal holidays, the month before summer ends and after her excitement tastes fresh, the month when watermelon gives way to peaches, and the month when even puppies calm down. it always feels like august here. and i find myself waiting for life to begin again, in the way one does in august, and sometimes have to remind myself that this IS my life, that i live here and that it is mid-october.....
as for sounds, this week i have noted: stray kittens fighting at dusk (they are always kittens, endless kittens (but i have yet to see a cat)), the subtle ranges of feeling in the call to prayer - sometimes almost melancholy, or urgent, or blissful, or joyous, or secretive (but this may be my imagination), choruses of invisible exotic birds in dense trees in a garden, the gentle lapping of the gulf at the beach, grunts of exertion from foreign ice hockey players on a too-small rink in the middle of a shopping mall and grunts of confusion from a diverse collection of observers.
ramadan has its own rhythms - and adds to the almost / waiting feeling in a way - the days are spent waiting for sundown and for life to begin... this is true even for those of us not fasting - though we wait for a few hours thereafter - nothing is open until 7:30 pm, so even simple errands - like grocery shopping - or offhand fancies - like a vanilla latte or an ice cream - must wait until evening..... but then once evening comes, everything is a circus! ... sometimes literally - on a recent evening trip to one of the most popular malls here, a friend and i wandered into "Circusland" - the food court & general amusement area for kids. i think i burst out laughing at the sight of the larger than life elephants supporting the colourful banner. [my friend was quick to point out that i needn’t worry (in case i had been), the elephants did not have sexual organs and she lead me underneath one to prove it "see? no balls!"] ... the real circus was of course braving the traffic outside the mall, which is like being caught in a poorly-lit parade of luxury beasts of burden (in the 4WD family, species SUV) pawing the ground, growling, and pushing along a narrow dirt path with a thin film of sand dust accumulated on your eyes.
monday night was a mid-ramadan holiday only celebrated in the gulf where children go door to door to get sweets and little presents.... sort of like halloween except the costumes are snazzy versions of traditional local dress.... the university arranged for the foreign students to observe sweet qatari children dressed in dazzling local garb go door to door in the "hertitage village" - a fake village - collecting sweets. it was quite a gathering - complete with an oversized tweety bird being mobbed by swarms of children, a man singing too loudly into a microphone, uncertain music, chanting, men sitting on carpets and eating nuts, and general tidings of candy and joy, candy and joy. it was a curious scene. i'm attaching a picture from said scene (a more general set of pics to follow sometime soon, i promise). the event gave us an opportunity for a partial class photo..... i am standing between ali (very sweet philippino who i almost didn't recognize at the heritage village - he usually wears a white thube gown, but was hanging tough that night) and lil' kim (one of the north koreans); kim kabir (big) is seated (the other north korean, mildly insane and definitely a spy), marouf (nigerian in white pointing) is bossing everyone around as usual; farrid (the fellow from benin who tried to convert me on day one) is behind kim kabir; second from the end (& in pink shoes) is mohammed from ghana [affectionately nicknamed 'the machete' because he's so intense] surrounded by a group of his "brothers" who seemed to multiply daily after his arrival and who all showed up in our class the day after this event (much to the surprise of the professor!) though i am not sure if they will all stay in our class.... i'll send a picture of the sweet children collecting sweets with a general upload, but i thought this one was more illustrative of my daily routine. ;-)
in other news, i had my first occasion to come in contact with the qatari censor recently. i was trying to open an amusing link sent by a friend, when i was denied. a screen appeared saying 'this site has been blocked' with a polite little note in english & arabic that read:
The webpage you are trying to access has been blocked by Internet Qatar as the content contains materials which are prohibited in the State of Qatar. If you feel this is an error then please email us at censor@qatar.net.qa or contact our Help Desk at 125.
Regards,
Internet Qatar
.... i loved how polite it is! ("regards") & at the qataris are so honest about it - the chinese would just throw up firewalls.... i also find it quite sweet that you can email the censor & make your case for seeing a particular site. [though a friend who works at q-tel tells me don't hold your breath if you email or call the help desk - it's no leisurely stroll along the corniche to get a response from the censor!]
i'm escaping the censor and the candy and joy this weekend and taking an ever so impractical but ever so enchanting long weekend in paris!!
tremendous pink sunset,
mattie
as for sounds, this week i have noted: stray kittens fighting at dusk (they are always kittens, endless kittens (but i have yet to see a cat)), the subtle ranges of feeling in the call to prayer - sometimes almost melancholy, or urgent, or blissful, or joyous, or secretive (but this may be my imagination), choruses of invisible exotic birds in dense trees in a garden, the gentle lapping of the gulf at the beach, grunts of exertion from foreign ice hockey players on a too-small rink in the middle of a shopping mall and grunts of confusion from a diverse collection of observers.
ramadan has its own rhythms - and adds to the almost / waiting feeling in a way - the days are spent waiting for sundown and for life to begin... this is true even for those of us not fasting - though we wait for a few hours thereafter - nothing is open until 7:30 pm, so even simple errands - like grocery shopping - or offhand fancies - like a vanilla latte or an ice cream - must wait until evening..... but then once evening comes, everything is a circus! ... sometimes literally - on a recent evening trip to one of the most popular malls here, a friend and i wandered into "Circusland" - the food court & general amusement area for kids. i think i burst out laughing at the sight of the larger than life elephants supporting the colourful banner. [my friend was quick to point out that i needn’t worry (in case i had been), the elephants did not have sexual organs and she lead me underneath one to prove it "see? no balls!"] ... the real circus was of course braving the traffic outside the mall, which is like being caught in a poorly-lit parade of luxury beasts of burden (in the 4WD family, species SUV) pawing the ground, growling, and pushing along a narrow dirt path with a thin film of sand dust accumulated on your eyes.
monday night was a mid-ramadan holiday only celebrated in the gulf where children go door to door to get sweets and little presents.... sort of like halloween except the costumes are snazzy versions of traditional local dress.... the university arranged for the foreign students to observe sweet qatari children dressed in dazzling local garb go door to door in the "hertitage village" - a fake village - collecting sweets. it was quite a gathering - complete with an oversized tweety bird being mobbed by swarms of children, a man singing too loudly into a microphone, uncertain music, chanting, men sitting on carpets and eating nuts, and general tidings of candy and joy, candy and joy. it was a curious scene. i'm attaching a picture from said scene (a more general set of pics to follow sometime soon, i promise). the event gave us an opportunity for a partial class photo..... i am standing between ali (very sweet philippino who i almost didn't recognize at the heritage village - he usually wears a white thube gown, but was hanging tough that night) and lil' kim (one of the north koreans); kim kabir (big) is seated (the other north korean, mildly insane and definitely a spy), marouf (nigerian in white pointing) is bossing everyone around as usual; farrid (the fellow from benin who tried to convert me on day one) is behind kim kabir; second from the end (& in pink shoes) is mohammed from ghana [affectionately nicknamed 'the machete' because he's so intense] surrounded by a group of his "brothers" who seemed to multiply daily after his arrival and who all showed up in our class the day after this event (much to the surprise of the professor!) though i am not sure if they will all stay in our class.... i'll send a picture of the sweet children collecting sweets with a general upload, but i thought this one was more illustrative of my daily routine. ;-)
in other news, i had my first occasion to come in contact with the qatari censor recently. i was trying to open an amusing link sent by a friend, when i was denied. a screen appeared saying 'this site has been blocked' with a polite little note in english & arabic that read:
The webpage you are trying to access has been blocked by Internet Qatar as the content contains materials which are prohibited in the State of Qatar. If you feel this is an error then please email us at censor@qatar.net.qa or contact our Help Desk at 125.
Regards,
Internet Qatar
.... i loved how polite it is! ("regards") & at the qataris are so honest about it - the chinese would just throw up firewalls.... i also find it quite sweet that you can email the censor & make your case for seeing a particular site. [though a friend who works at q-tel tells me don't hold your breath if you email or call the help desk - it's no leisurely stroll along the corniche to get a response from the censor!]
i'm escaping the censor and the candy and joy this weekend and taking an ever so impractical but ever so enchanting long weekend in paris!!
tremendous pink sunset,
mattie
ramadan kareem
i eat through the bad parts of apples. i often wonder why – i do not need to eat through the bad parts, as i am blessed with apples in abundance and could pick around the bad spots or simply toss imperfect apples altogether..... i ponder if it is perhaps some sort of testament to our common humanity – i am fortunate enough to have many apples and have the luxury of choosing, but have shared sky with those who are not... or i wonder whether it is because my eating apples is reflective of living life – we persevere through the rough patches, despite the occasional impulse to throw it all in the bin and give up.... or i ask whether maybe it is just simply because i love apples – even with their imperfections and their overripe soft spots [and no, this is not just because i have read 'zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance' or because i know they have little sugar and lots of fiber – i have legitimately always loved apples (unlike other foodstuffs which i have had to convince myself to enjoy, such as olives, which i began eating because i thought it was sophisticated and cultured, but now genuinely appreciate.... however, given that false pretence of a beginning, can my appreciation be genuine? i'm not sure)]... for whatever reason, i eat through the bad spots on apples.*
i drove straight into a bad spot the other night... i was leaving a rather lavish party at the four seasons, and as i excited the glitter of the four seasons gates, i saw a collection of indian construction workers, waiting in the dusk. exhausted and dirty in their dark-blue coveralls, some with their heads still wrapped in the scarves they use to block out the sun, they were gathered in a variety of postures - standing, leaning, sitting, some half-lying on the ground - all quietly waiting for the bus that would transport them to the rather desolate part of town where the workers live. the sight was jarring - it somehow reminded me of an old photograph in a book about slavery - it brought surprising tears to my eyes and i inadvertently started to slow as if to stop and offer them a ride. but i didn't and i couldn't - there were too many and it would not be prudent or particularly safe for me to do so.... but it reminded me of one of the uglier aspects of this society - this country is built on the blood, sweat, & tears of a completely ill-treated cohort of subcontinent peoples. or rather men - subcontinent men, most of whom have families at home they see once every two years. the workers live in a world apart - there is a vibrant subculture in doha and across the gulf - but i find the blatant racism and degradation difficult. [and of course not all of doha's residents from the indian subcontinent fall into the underclass that support the city - i had iftar (the meal breaking the ramadan fast each day) at a bangladeshi friend's home yesterday; her family has been here over 20 years and her father is an accomplished scholar and is about to publish a book on doha.] and maybe these types of hierarchies of race / class / gender / religion exist in more subtle tones everywhere, but the starkness of the divisions here can be shocking. many of the more prominent families have even outsourced prison time - most have an indian on standby such that if, for example, one of the family's daughters gets in a car accident which causes a death [a crime which generally leads to imprisonment], the standby will be called to the scene, claim he was the driver and caused the death and will serve the prison sentence - to be compensated very handsomely upon his release.... madness.
a more amusing sort of madness was reported in the gulf times the other day. apparently, the hospital has become the new hot spot for illicit encounters between the sexes. women will feign illnesses and their boyfriends will come to the hospital wearing abeyas - thereby breezing into the women's section - and the couples will rendezvous in amid the medicines and the monitors.... apparently this trend was discovered when one of the abeya-clad alpha males in question forgot to get an abeya long enough to cover his shoes and / or wear his heels and was stopped by a nurse.
there have definitely been some good spots of late - i had my first meal in a ramadan tent (though tent is an insult to the opulent splendour of these creations).... endless juices, and food, and shisha and music. there was even a sufi guy who did the twirling meditation like a whirling dervish. very impressive - he spun for a good ten minutes - no spotting and no stopping - and then just walked off the stage....
which is to say the month of ramadan spin has become reality..... the day before ramadan, a few of the africans in class were trying to push qurans on everyone - including me. marouf asked if i had a quran for ramadan [he & mohamed somehow had a shopping bag full]. i told him i wasn't muslim, to which he replied curtly, "i can see that," but proceeded to try to convince me i needed one nonetheless. it was a little unclear whether they were giving or selling the qurans - which were actually quite lovely - and so i just let it go.... it's an interesting time - kind of continuous holiday - work hours are shorter, classes are shorter. nights are longer - all the shops are closed all day and then open from 7:30 pm - 1:00 am. the locals sleep most of the day & live it up at night.... heaven help you if you're trying to drive during the half hour before iftar - it is absolute mayhem on the roads - especially because everyone is hungry and short-tempered and rushing to get to whatever iftar they are going to.... iftar is the beginning of a night of feasting, shopping, strolling, making merry. which i suppose is in order after enduring a day of fasting (or, more accurately, sleeping).... qatar is fairly strict in observing ramadan - it is technically illegal to eat, drink (even water), chew gum, smoke, etc. in public during daylight - even for foreigners and non-muslims. i am respectful and do not eat or drink in front of anyone, but i keep a bottle of water in my car for after class and have a drawer full of powerbars at the office and sneak a lunch in every day.... all in all, it's definitely a quieter time.
things at the office are not so quiet though. the american attorney who brought me onboard has left the firm (and left the country for a month) - and left in the middle of the winding up of a multi-billion dollar petrochemical byproducts deal that has somehow fallen into my lap... it's a little overwhelming to find myself as the Arab Law Bureau point person for this deal (we are local counsel for the sponsors) and it will be a hectic time between now & financial close - inshallah the end of the month. but there's nothing like learning by doing, eh?
and i guess that's about the texture of things here at the moment. good spots, a few bad ones, but generally a pleasantly crisp week.
*please note that this does not apply to any other fruits. i especially abhor bad spots on bananas. but i see no problem with that - as boutros-boutros said in reference to the united nations year on tolerance, "we cannot tolerate the intolerable."
i drove straight into a bad spot the other night... i was leaving a rather lavish party at the four seasons, and as i excited the glitter of the four seasons gates, i saw a collection of indian construction workers, waiting in the dusk. exhausted and dirty in their dark-blue coveralls, some with their heads still wrapped in the scarves they use to block out the sun, they were gathered in a variety of postures - standing, leaning, sitting, some half-lying on the ground - all quietly waiting for the bus that would transport them to the rather desolate part of town where the workers live. the sight was jarring - it somehow reminded me of an old photograph in a book about slavery - it brought surprising tears to my eyes and i inadvertently started to slow as if to stop and offer them a ride. but i didn't and i couldn't - there were too many and it would not be prudent or particularly safe for me to do so.... but it reminded me of one of the uglier aspects of this society - this country is built on the blood, sweat, & tears of a completely ill-treated cohort of subcontinent peoples. or rather men - subcontinent men, most of whom have families at home they see once every two years. the workers live in a world apart - there is a vibrant subculture in doha and across the gulf - but i find the blatant racism and degradation difficult. [and of course not all of doha's residents from the indian subcontinent fall into the underclass that support the city - i had iftar (the meal breaking the ramadan fast each day) at a bangladeshi friend's home yesterday; her family has been here over 20 years and her father is an accomplished scholar and is about to publish a book on doha.] and maybe these types of hierarchies of race / class / gender / religion exist in more subtle tones everywhere, but the starkness of the divisions here can be shocking. many of the more prominent families have even outsourced prison time - most have an indian on standby such that if, for example, one of the family's daughters gets in a car accident which causes a death [a crime which generally leads to imprisonment], the standby will be called to the scene, claim he was the driver and caused the death and will serve the prison sentence - to be compensated very handsomely upon his release.... madness.
a more amusing sort of madness was reported in the gulf times the other day. apparently, the hospital has become the new hot spot for illicit encounters between the sexes. women will feign illnesses and their boyfriends will come to the hospital wearing abeyas - thereby breezing into the women's section - and the couples will rendezvous in amid the medicines and the monitors.... apparently this trend was discovered when one of the abeya-clad alpha males in question forgot to get an abeya long enough to cover his shoes and / or wear his heels and was stopped by a nurse.
there have definitely been some good spots of late - i had my first meal in a ramadan tent (though tent is an insult to the opulent splendour of these creations).... endless juices, and food, and shisha and music. there was even a sufi guy who did the twirling meditation like a whirling dervish. very impressive - he spun for a good ten minutes - no spotting and no stopping - and then just walked off the stage....
which is to say the month of ramadan spin has become reality..... the day before ramadan, a few of the africans in class were trying to push qurans on everyone - including me. marouf asked if i had a quran for ramadan [he & mohamed somehow had a shopping bag full]. i told him i wasn't muslim, to which he replied curtly, "i can see that," but proceeded to try to convince me i needed one nonetheless. it was a little unclear whether they were giving or selling the qurans - which were actually quite lovely - and so i just let it go.... it's an interesting time - kind of continuous holiday - work hours are shorter, classes are shorter. nights are longer - all the shops are closed all day and then open from 7:30 pm - 1:00 am. the locals sleep most of the day & live it up at night.... heaven help you if you're trying to drive during the half hour before iftar - it is absolute mayhem on the roads - especially because everyone is hungry and short-tempered and rushing to get to whatever iftar they are going to.... iftar is the beginning of a night of feasting, shopping, strolling, making merry. which i suppose is in order after enduring a day of fasting (or, more accurately, sleeping).... qatar is fairly strict in observing ramadan - it is technically illegal to eat, drink (even water), chew gum, smoke, etc. in public during daylight - even for foreigners and non-muslims. i am respectful and do not eat or drink in front of anyone, but i keep a bottle of water in my car for after class and have a drawer full of powerbars at the office and sneak a lunch in every day.... all in all, it's definitely a quieter time.
things at the office are not so quiet though. the american attorney who brought me onboard has left the firm (and left the country for a month) - and left in the middle of the winding up of a multi-billion dollar petrochemical byproducts deal that has somehow fallen into my lap... it's a little overwhelming to find myself as the Arab Law Bureau point person for this deal (we are local counsel for the sponsors) and it will be a hectic time between now & financial close - inshallah the end of the month. but there's nothing like learning by doing, eh?
and i guess that's about the texture of things here at the moment. good spots, a few bad ones, but generally a pleasantly crisp week.
*please note that this does not apply to any other fruits. i especially abhor bad spots on bananas. but i see no problem with that - as boutros-boutros said in reference to the united nations year on tolerance, "we cannot tolerate the intolerable."
many worlds, many moments
it has arrived. the moment the sandaled, young, drivers-of-SUVs-like-screams-in-the-night, the twirlers-of-prayer-beads-like-breathing, the wearers-of-baseball-caps-with-their-thubes-in-place-of-headdresses have been waiting for.... drumroll please....... arabian gulf rap / hip-hop is here! the first gulf rap group - army of one - was just in dubai promoting their new hit single - "lapdance" [because that's a common activity in the region, let me tell you] ... i love hearing this song on the radio - the first time i literally laughed out loud - after some beats / intro it begins with the call - "kuwait city!!" .... "yalla!" ... and it just gets better - talking about watching this girl at the club [what club? kuwait is a totally dry country & has no clubs] looking fine & "shaking it like only an arabic lady can" [where is she shaking it? at the nonexistent club? under her abeya? how can he tell? maybe he consumed some non-existent alcohol and is blurry-eyed.] ... kuwait city - yalla!
yalla, indeed. it has been quite a week. some real frustrations, but some important realizations, and lovely moments as well.
i finally acknowledged the toll that constantly being conscious of my gender was taking on me and how frustrating that can be.... there was some sense of relief in being able to just face that - seeing my tension for what it is, taking a break from trying to be tolerant or brave about it all and just saying, this is frustrating and it effects you - each little moment effects you in some small way and it adds up and that's fine... release. i have never been anywhere where i am always, always conscious of my gender - and usually feel punished or harassed for it. and i know there are worlds of complexity here, but i'm expressing how i feel - not what's politically correct. an interesting political note was reading about saudi women telling karen hughes they love the abeya (it's fun and fashionable) & they don't want to drive.... so what do i know? but for every member of the hand-picked saudi audience that expressed that women in saudi have "more than equal rights" [not sure what that means exactly], there are local friends who feel suffocated by a society in which their slightest movements are judged and the showing of a face, a strand of hair, an ankle has all sorts of implications, or where a university administrator running an orientation program for the cornell campus sitting with a male student in the public meeting point for the orientation after he was the first to arrive is enough to cause scandalous gossip and personal shame and anxiety (she was just doing her job), or where the government's efforts to create women's sports teams in time for the asian games which will be held in doha next year are floundering because young women are fearful of the repercussions of playing sports - their mothers wisely counsel it will ruin their chances of marriage as what mother in law would accept a daughter-in-law who publicly wore sporting gear and ran around for all the world to see? ....
i often find myself marveling at how strained gender relations are here when i experience the complete segregation of the sexes as i cross from the men's campus to the women's campus for my international law class. the fault line between black and white i felt in my classroom is real in the division between the two campuses - going from the realm of the white thubes and shwarma in the canteen to the billowing of black abeyas and starbucks pastries. (the women's side has a starbucks on site) ... at least i feel as though i'm navigating my way better in both worlds - a few of the men in class have become more comfortable with my presence and will look at / speak to me directly - and i'm accepted as a curiosity in my international law class (though floundered last class when i was asked (in arabic) to explain the principles of the american revolution (in arabic)!! i got as far as "freedom" when the professor jumped in with chatter about individual rights and self-determination...)
but of course nothing is completely black and white and the more interesting moments are when the different realities of those in my class or of the diverse friends i have come to know here overlap and interact... i always envision it as bubbles sort of gently bumping into each other - sometimes merging for a moment, sometimes causing an explosion, sometimes not quite meeting - always ending up somewhat soapy.
the most touching moment of this week was definitely a soapy, realities rubbing moment. violeta is the muslim woman from kosovo in my class. her husband no longer accompanies her to class and she has even taken her gloves off in class on occasion; she's about six months pregnant - very visibly pregnant actually, but i didn't notice at first under the swells of black cloth. we sit next each other in class and she speaks to me, but not the other (male) students and often looks at my notes because the professor's handwriting is a mess and she can't always follow. we are definitely floating in different realities, but have a funny little camaraderie of sorts. i have even seen her face once. we had to get student id cards and i offered to go with her to the office. her husband came along because he was waiting for her after class. the office turned out to be an odd classroom / photography gig to do the photos & laminating for the ids where a friendly, round man said we needed to be photographed. strangely the wall behind him was covered in a very eclectic set of photos - close-ups of plant organs, operations on mice, and smiling students by an SUV.... violeta's husband had gone to do his noon prayers [each building in has an area for prayers in case students don't have time to go to the mosque between classes]. i did my picture and she had asked that i stay (so she wouldn't be alone with this man). she asked if she could take her picture with her face still covered - her eyes were visible - but the friendly photographer said no. i could see how much it pained her to reveal her face, and i almost wanted to hold her hand. i think i may have touched her shoulder as she removed the veil and walked to the stool. i stayed on the other side of the small room, studying the bizarre photos and tried not to add to her discomfort. after it was done, and she was re-covered, we went and waited for her husband to finish his prayers because i needed to explain to them how to find an office they needed. i did, and we parted. but there was some new, subtle intimacy in our interactions after that - violeta often pulls at my arm when she can't read my notebook and i ask about her baby. the other day she showed up to class with a fabulous new notebook and i asked where she got it. she said she didn't know because her husband had purchased it for her. the week unfolded in class, i found the still point of my frustration during tuesday's class reviewing our writing topics for the term - one of which is writing on the role [singular] of women in society. violeta and i were sitting silently side by side, but i felt bubbles apart... on thursday, while wallowing in grammar class, violeta pulled out a notebook like hers and gave it to me. i was so touched. perhaps all the more so because it had been a challenging week trying to find where i fit here, and this small gesture was somehow an acceptance. it was a soapy moment.
but enough soap. time for some substance - i went to "the doha debates" - a monthly debate where invited speakers debate provocative issues in the arab / muslim world before an audience who asks questions. the debates are broadcast on BBC world (and i think sometimes on cspan as well)... very interesting - both the issues and that it happens here in qatar. the country is really trying to promote public dialogue and two of the emir's children were in the audience asking challenging questions... here's the website in case you're curious - http://www.thedohadebates.com/output/page1.asp . this month's debate topic was - this house believes that arab governments have failed the palestinians ... needless to say, it was an intense discussion. [it will be re-broadcast on BBC world on oct. 1st. 12:10 & 19:10 GMT & on oct. 2nd at 7:10 &17:10 GMT if you're keen]
yesterday i spent the day out on a boat - which was just beautiful. the gulf is very salty, but the water is warm and the sky eternally clear and sunny.... heading back towards shore last night and looking at the doha lights rising out of the dark water, i felt a sense of peace about my progress in this place so far and where i am. it has only been a month.
yalla, indeed. it has been quite a week. some real frustrations, but some important realizations, and lovely moments as well.
i finally acknowledged the toll that constantly being conscious of my gender was taking on me and how frustrating that can be.... there was some sense of relief in being able to just face that - seeing my tension for what it is, taking a break from trying to be tolerant or brave about it all and just saying, this is frustrating and it effects you - each little moment effects you in some small way and it adds up and that's fine... release. i have never been anywhere where i am always, always conscious of my gender - and usually feel punished or harassed for it. and i know there are worlds of complexity here, but i'm expressing how i feel - not what's politically correct. an interesting political note was reading about saudi women telling karen hughes they love the abeya (it's fun and fashionable) & they don't want to drive.... so what do i know? but for every member of the hand-picked saudi audience that expressed that women in saudi have "more than equal rights" [not sure what that means exactly], there are local friends who feel suffocated by a society in which their slightest movements are judged and the showing of a face, a strand of hair, an ankle has all sorts of implications, or where a university administrator running an orientation program for the cornell campus sitting with a male student in the public meeting point for the orientation after he was the first to arrive is enough to cause scandalous gossip and personal shame and anxiety (she was just doing her job), or where the government's efforts to create women's sports teams in time for the asian games which will be held in doha next year are floundering because young women are fearful of the repercussions of playing sports - their mothers wisely counsel it will ruin their chances of marriage as what mother in law would accept a daughter-in-law who publicly wore sporting gear and ran around for all the world to see? ....
i often find myself marveling at how strained gender relations are here when i experience the complete segregation of the sexes as i cross from the men's campus to the women's campus for my international law class. the fault line between black and white i felt in my classroom is real in the division between the two campuses - going from the realm of the white thubes and shwarma in the canteen to the billowing of black abeyas and starbucks pastries. (the women's side has a starbucks on site) ... at least i feel as though i'm navigating my way better in both worlds - a few of the men in class have become more comfortable with my presence and will look at / speak to me directly - and i'm accepted as a curiosity in my international law class (though floundered last class when i was asked (in arabic) to explain the principles of the american revolution (in arabic)!! i got as far as "freedom" when the professor jumped in with chatter about individual rights and self-determination...)
but of course nothing is completely black and white and the more interesting moments are when the different realities of those in my class or of the diverse friends i have come to know here overlap and interact... i always envision it as bubbles sort of gently bumping into each other - sometimes merging for a moment, sometimes causing an explosion, sometimes not quite meeting - always ending up somewhat soapy.
the most touching moment of this week was definitely a soapy, realities rubbing moment. violeta is the muslim woman from kosovo in my class. her husband no longer accompanies her to class and she has even taken her gloves off in class on occasion; she's about six months pregnant - very visibly pregnant actually, but i didn't notice at first under the swells of black cloth. we sit next each other in class and she speaks to me, but not the other (male) students and often looks at my notes because the professor's handwriting is a mess and she can't always follow. we are definitely floating in different realities, but have a funny little camaraderie of sorts. i have even seen her face once. we had to get student id cards and i offered to go with her to the office. her husband came along because he was waiting for her after class. the office turned out to be an odd classroom / photography gig to do the photos & laminating for the ids where a friendly, round man said we needed to be photographed. strangely the wall behind him was covered in a very eclectic set of photos - close-ups of plant organs, operations on mice, and smiling students by an SUV.... violeta's husband had gone to do his noon prayers [each building in has an area for prayers in case students don't have time to go to the mosque between classes]. i did my picture and she had asked that i stay (so she wouldn't be alone with this man). she asked if she could take her picture with her face still covered - her eyes were visible - but the friendly photographer said no. i could see how much it pained her to reveal her face, and i almost wanted to hold her hand. i think i may have touched her shoulder as she removed the veil and walked to the stool. i stayed on the other side of the small room, studying the bizarre photos and tried not to add to her discomfort. after it was done, and she was re-covered, we went and waited for her husband to finish his prayers because i needed to explain to them how to find an office they needed. i did, and we parted. but there was some new, subtle intimacy in our interactions after that - violeta often pulls at my arm when she can't read my notebook and i ask about her baby. the other day she showed up to class with a fabulous new notebook and i asked where she got it. she said she didn't know because her husband had purchased it for her. the week unfolded in class, i found the still point of my frustration during tuesday's class reviewing our writing topics for the term - one of which is writing on the role [singular] of women in society. violeta and i were sitting silently side by side, but i felt bubbles apart... on thursday, while wallowing in grammar class, violeta pulled out a notebook like hers and gave it to me. i was so touched. perhaps all the more so because it had been a challenging week trying to find where i fit here, and this small gesture was somehow an acceptance. it was a soapy moment.
but enough soap. time for some substance - i went to "the doha debates" - a monthly debate where invited speakers debate provocative issues in the arab / muslim world before an audience who asks questions. the debates are broadcast on BBC world (and i think sometimes on cspan as well)... very interesting - both the issues and that it happens here in qatar. the country is really trying to promote public dialogue and two of the emir's children were in the audience asking challenging questions... here's the website in case you're curious - http://www.thedohadebates.com/output/page1.asp . this month's debate topic was - this house believes that arab governments have failed the palestinians ... needless to say, it was an intense discussion. [it will be re-broadcast on BBC world on oct. 1st. 12:10 & 19:10 GMT & on oct. 2nd at 7:10 &17:10 GMT if you're keen]
yesterday i spent the day out on a boat - which was just beautiful. the gulf is very salty, but the water is warm and the sky eternally clear and sunny.... heading back towards shore last night and looking at the doha lights rising out of the dark water, i felt a sense of peace about my progress in this place so far and where i am. it has only been a month.
classes
i can only begin with an image, which was so striking to see and experience that it's demanding description, and will have to work back from there....
the image from my arabic class today - a moment when i found myself outside myself looking in ----
the room is a dusty green-grey somehow, late afternoon sunlight filtering in, and the eternally-broken air conditioning unit moans and croaks at an inappropriate volume - carrying on like a haggling merchant no one wants to bargain with.... having come from work, i am wearing a smart white blouse, black trousers, black heels, a necklace of floating pearls - a mixture of black, pink, ivory pearls - and pearl earrings. to my left sit the other two female students in the class - both newly arrived that day, one escorted by her husband, who is two seats to my right, on the other side of the french-arab student directly next to me.... the husband and wife are from kosovo, and like the other new woman, who is from gambia, came late. i had been lamenting to a colleague just before i left for the university that it was awkward being the only woman in a class which is taught on the men's campus (literally in the "men's building").... i thought about that as looked down at our little arced row of chairs - i'm the fault line somehow, the end of the rainbow - or the beginning - i'm not sure, where black and white meet, overlap, mix and finally give way to colour (or confusion). the men on my right are both in crisp white thubes and sandals, both fully bearded in the untrimmed manner of the very devout. neither will look at me, or even directly in my direction. the women on my right are both entirely in black - almost like voids in the space-time of the class. the woman immediately to my right is completely covered - not even her eyes show, and she is wearing black gloves to cover her hands. they will not look directly at the professor or any of the other students, and they do not look directly at me either. when the professor asks them questions, they sometimes just sit without even answering, and when they do speak their voices are muffled and directed towards the floor.
---- as i look down at this spectacle, the black and white of my work ensemble seems reflective of my jumbled position in the class. on the black side, i had hoped for another female student or two for some camaraderie in the ordeal of tracking down woman with the key to the sole women's restroom in the men's building (which is locked), but somehow their presence - or their seeming absence - makes me more, rather than less, conscious of my gender. for on the white side, my presence was already disconcerting to some of the other male students further along the arc. but there's nothing to be done except be my rainbow self, appreciate the aesthetics of the moment and the social / political / cultural / religious wonder of it all.....
speaking of wonders - classes have begun! the university is really quite lovely - by far the nicest architecture i've seen in doha. it was designed by an egyptian architect whose name escapes me at the moment, but i'll find out for the curious out there... the buildings are all sand-coloured and shaped as a series of hexagons (i think), the insides are a tangle of white walls, dark wooden accents, fountains, and winding staircases. the campus and classes are all separate for men and women. the language classes are in the "men's building" on the men's campus, and i'll be auditing some law classes in the women's campus starting next week which i'm very excited about! after bombing the placement test (which was all grammar and exercises that reminded me how bad i am at scrabble in any language (it included making words out of a list of letters and sentences out of a list of words)), i negotiated my way into the intermediate class. ;-) and what a class it is.... it's a rather diverse bunch - a few other americans (including the inevitable white guy who goes by "abdullah", dresses in " l.l.bean al-arabia" complete with prayer beads, is getting a masters in religion with a focus on islam, and speaks arabic like smashing cake with your fists instead of slicing), a number of africans - from senegal, nigeria, benin, a very slight and soft-spoken philippino, and two north koreans - kim and kim - who it took quite some convincing not to leap out of their seats and stand at attention beside their desks whenever the professor spoke to them... today we added the woman from gambia and the husband and wife from kosovo.... we're quite a bunch. we have two professors & two classes - one for reading and writing, one for speaking and listening. our first class was speaking and listening and our first exercise was interviewing our neighbour & then introducing him to the class - pretty standard first day of language class fare. my interview had a more interesting flavour, however. i was paired with farid, the fellow from benin - very thin with firey eyes. we did the "where are you from" bit and began to move on to how we learned arabic bit - he explained that he has been reading the quran since he was an embryo and has continued in madrasa and began studying standard arabic a few years ago. then he looked at me and said, "you are not a muslim." i conceded that i was not. he asked if i had come to qatar to become muslim. i said i had not. he noted that now that i was here, i had a good opportunity to become a muslim. i agreed but said i came here to study arabic and do legal work, not to become muslim.... you can imagine the rest of our "interview" - he continued on and on about islam while i would futilely ask him questions about his family, his hobbies, or offer information about myself, or both - "i have two sisters and one brother, do you have brothers and sisters?" we didn't get very far. though as luck would have it, i was called on first to give an introduction - and i did garner enough info. to do a passable job of it. then as we moved around the room and he heard other people's introductions and he realized he knew little about me except that i wasn't muslim & wasn't interested in converting, he would lean over and whisper questions about where i went to university, my family, etc... all very amusing. he left the class for another level after that day, which is too bad because he was quite a character and he looked me in the eye....
meanwhile, the beat goes on here.... it's still hot, hot, hot (but at least i'm not wearing gloves!) and the traffic is still maddening.... i've come to really enjoy the sunsets over the sands - especially if i'm leaving the university at that time - red sun, beige sandswept landscape, quiet - very lovely. the ramadan buzz is bzzzzzing already - and i've been invited to the ambassador's ramadan tent, so i'm clearly a mild doha celeb already (then again, that's readily apparent from my daily walk to class through the hallways of the men's building - really every day's music video in doha) - ramadan begins october 4th this year - and i'm looking forward to learning more about the holiday (though less looking forward to not being able to publicly eat or drink during daylight hours - it's actually against the law here - because that will be tricky to hide in our little office).... it should be interesting times - but aren't they all....
the image from my arabic class today - a moment when i found myself outside myself looking in ----
the room is a dusty green-grey somehow, late afternoon sunlight filtering in, and the eternally-broken air conditioning unit moans and croaks at an inappropriate volume - carrying on like a haggling merchant no one wants to bargain with.... having come from work, i am wearing a smart white blouse, black trousers, black heels, a necklace of floating pearls - a mixture of black, pink, ivory pearls - and pearl earrings. to my left sit the other two female students in the class - both newly arrived that day, one escorted by her husband, who is two seats to my right, on the other side of the french-arab student directly next to me.... the husband and wife are from kosovo, and like the other new woman, who is from gambia, came late. i had been lamenting to a colleague just before i left for the university that it was awkward being the only woman in a class which is taught on the men's campus (literally in the "men's building").... i thought about that as looked down at our little arced row of chairs - i'm the fault line somehow, the end of the rainbow - or the beginning - i'm not sure, where black and white meet, overlap, mix and finally give way to colour (or confusion). the men on my right are both in crisp white thubes and sandals, both fully bearded in the untrimmed manner of the very devout. neither will look at me, or even directly in my direction. the women on my right are both entirely in black - almost like voids in the space-time of the class. the woman immediately to my right is completely covered - not even her eyes show, and she is wearing black gloves to cover her hands. they will not look directly at the professor or any of the other students, and they do not look directly at me either. when the professor asks them questions, they sometimes just sit without even answering, and when they do speak their voices are muffled and directed towards the floor.
---- as i look down at this spectacle, the black and white of my work ensemble seems reflective of my jumbled position in the class. on the black side, i had hoped for another female student or two for some camaraderie in the ordeal of tracking down woman with the key to the sole women's restroom in the men's building (which is locked), but somehow their presence - or their seeming absence - makes me more, rather than less, conscious of my gender. for on the white side, my presence was already disconcerting to some of the other male students further along the arc. but there's nothing to be done except be my rainbow self, appreciate the aesthetics of the moment and the social / political / cultural / religious wonder of it all.....
speaking of wonders - classes have begun! the university is really quite lovely - by far the nicest architecture i've seen in doha. it was designed by an egyptian architect whose name escapes me at the moment, but i'll find out for the curious out there... the buildings are all sand-coloured and shaped as a series of hexagons (i think), the insides are a tangle of white walls, dark wooden accents, fountains, and winding staircases. the campus and classes are all separate for men and women. the language classes are in the "men's building" on the men's campus, and i'll be auditing some law classes in the women's campus starting next week which i'm very excited about! after bombing the placement test (which was all grammar and exercises that reminded me how bad i am at scrabble in any language (it included making words out of a list of letters and sentences out of a list of words)), i negotiated my way into the intermediate class. ;-) and what a class it is.... it's a rather diverse bunch - a few other americans (including the inevitable white guy who goes by "abdullah", dresses in " l.l.bean al-arabia" complete with prayer beads, is getting a masters in religion with a focus on islam, and speaks arabic like smashing cake with your fists instead of slicing), a number of africans - from senegal, nigeria, benin, a very slight and soft-spoken philippino, and two north koreans - kim and kim - who it took quite some convincing not to leap out of their seats and stand at attention beside their desks whenever the professor spoke to them... today we added the woman from gambia and the husband and wife from kosovo.... we're quite a bunch. we have two professors & two classes - one for reading and writing, one for speaking and listening. our first class was speaking and listening and our first exercise was interviewing our neighbour & then introducing him to the class - pretty standard first day of language class fare. my interview had a more interesting flavour, however. i was paired with farid, the fellow from benin - very thin with firey eyes. we did the "where are you from" bit and began to move on to how we learned arabic bit - he explained that he has been reading the quran since he was an embryo and has continued in madrasa and began studying standard arabic a few years ago. then he looked at me and said, "you are not a muslim." i conceded that i was not. he asked if i had come to qatar to become muslim. i said i had not. he noted that now that i was here, i had a good opportunity to become a muslim. i agreed but said i came here to study arabic and do legal work, not to become muslim.... you can imagine the rest of our "interview" - he continued on and on about islam while i would futilely ask him questions about his family, his hobbies, or offer information about myself, or both - "i have two sisters and one brother, do you have brothers and sisters?" we didn't get very far. though as luck would have it, i was called on first to give an introduction - and i did garner enough info. to do a passable job of it. then as we moved around the room and he heard other people's introductions and he realized he knew little about me except that i wasn't muslim & wasn't interested in converting, he would lean over and whisper questions about where i went to university, my family, etc... all very amusing. he left the class for another level after that day, which is too bad because he was quite a character and he looked me in the eye....
meanwhile, the beat goes on here.... it's still hot, hot, hot (but at least i'm not wearing gloves!) and the traffic is still maddening.... i've come to really enjoy the sunsets over the sands - especially if i'm leaving the university at that time - red sun, beige sandswept landscape, quiet - very lovely. the ramadan buzz is bzzzzzing already - and i've been invited to the ambassador's ramadan tent, so i'm clearly a mild doha celeb already (then again, that's readily apparent from my daily walk to class through the hallways of the men's building - really every day's music video in doha) - ramadan begins october 4th this year - and i'm looking forward to learning more about the holiday (though less looking forward to not being able to publicly eat or drink during daylight hours - it's actually against the law here - because that will be tricky to hide in our little office).... it should be interesting times - but aren't they all....
mattie makes a music video in the traffic department....
ok, so not really, but today was a little bit shakira-meets-50-cent-satire-arabian-remix for me.... thought i'd share the scene (& maybe throw in some more serious observations at the end for spice (& those who make it there) -
to begin, you must appreciate the blistering backdrop.... it was hotter than hades today. it has been getting cooler (a.k.a. in the 40s (circa 110)) and the evenings have even been on the verge of pleasant-ish, but today was just brutal. the road workers were not even in sight - & this means it's seriously hot - technically under qatari law, the workers cannot work out in the sun when it's 50 degrees or higher, however, as long-suspected by many, if you have more money than god, as the qataris do, you CAN actually buy the weather; miraculously, the official temperature for doha reported in regional papers, on the local news & even on international news networks is always 48, which means the workers must toil on... today, however, i did not see them out as much as usual, which means it was seriously hot.
to continue the setting, you must understand that the ministry of the interior is where it's at in doha - particularly the traffic department between 9 - 12. this mini-mecca is where i headed this morning in this ever-so-serious-and-dramatic heat, escorted by ismail, the firm's driver - a sweet-stubborn indian man with pouty lips and the world's most fabulous sunglasses. after several attempts to locate the sudanese guy we'd hired on our last visit to type up my application & mother-duck me through the process of getting a temporary driver's license - which involved walking back and forth between the traffic dept. building and the little shantytown next door where the sudanese guys who do this have their offices, sunglasses steaming up each time we step into the heat (i swear the glasses also make a "gasp" sound too!), frowning a lot, and me gently suggesting we try him again on his mobile, we meet khalid in his office..... khalid then takes charge and we follow him back to the traffic department.... and now the scene is set and here's where the music really starts....
khalid was wearing the most outrageous shoes i have ever seen - they were literally fuzzy leopard-print slipper-style shoes but with proper dress-shoe soles! mesmerized, i follow. the dust seemed to purr out from under his every step, my sunglasses were so steamed by the sight of the shoes & the heat, i had to give up on them.... we enter the main hall. it's a zoo. a sea of men - awash in long white thubes (robes), a few saudi-style red-and-white-checkered headscarves, a number of foreigners (mostly south asian), a few military guys in the ever-so-subtle qatari purple fatigues [? i don't get it either ?] and combat boots, many slapping sandals moving about. there is chatter, shouting, crowding, crowding, crowding, laughing, sitting around, and generally just chaos. at least four different systems of electronic numbers are displayed and there is a place to collect a number - which we do - but somehow the crowding and pushing and looking for a buddy of a buddy behind the desk seems more the system than the system.... by the time we enter the crowded, rather smelly hall (it's a hot day), i'm as sweaty as i've ever been in a suit (business cas hasn't really caught on in the qatari legal community yet). my gaze shifts from the waves of humanity before me to the meagre air conditioner on the wall. i take a few steps, turn to face it and close my eyes for approximately 2 seconds..... i sense a slight lull in the ocean, and open my eyes to see the sea, all eyes on me. in that moment i realize that i am not in a conservative grey suit, damp and disheveled, standing before a barely-working, yellowing air conditioner, but no! ... flash - i am in a skimpy bikini standing on the fake beach of a hip-hop video set with intense fans blowing on me as i shake what my momma gave me...... flashback to the traffic department scene, the sea resumes its waves. it ebbs and flows, the numbers come and go, the elbows fly, ismail leaves me, i pay 150 riyals, and get a receipt for my license (which i can drive with!) and am told to return in two days for the real deal..... [note - there is a "ladies section" - but they just drink tea there & don't actually issue licenses]
khalid, his wondrous shoes and i saunter boldly out into the sun again. by this time it's late and i have an appointment to meet the US Ambassador in half an hour. there are no taxis, so khalid offers to drive me, but warns his car has no air conditioning. i accept (there being no alternatives)... he approaches a car i had assumed was an abandoned wreck, he turns and says "this is my BMW" ... and flash - it's a pimped out BMW, with an amazing backbeat going on and khalid, in a fabulous leopard-print silk tuxedo, is opening the door... but flashback to reality, and i get in, not sure it will move.... already so sweaty my suit-jacket is sticking to me and i'm swatting my face with a tissue, the car is an oven - even if you stick your arms out for "air conditioning au naturale"... as we drive, i frantically spray on a random perfume sample i discovered in my bag, discarded there after it was forced upon me by an enthusiastic salesman at harrods... we make it to the embassy, though khalid balked at the site of the speed bump in the entrance - unsure that his BMW would make it over... it did, and i tumbled out, feeling rather like a drowned rat, smoothed my conservative grey suit (bikini!), and marched up to the gates.
i have never seen such thorough security - two screenings via metal detectors in two buildings, bag search which literally involved taking the cap off of every pen, and opening every chapstick / lipstick in my bag.... all the while the backbeat is still going, and i'm slowly drying in the shimmering oasis of the embassy's perfect air-conditioning system.... i meet the other fulbrighters, the ambassador, get the security briefing, etc... everybody makes nice and says the right things in the right places and doesn't nod too rigorously... then it was back to the office for a few hours, finally getting a car (i have a lovely little mitsubishi lancer - ice blue), taking matters into my own hands and getting a mobile (i'm at 0974.548.8591), driving with the music at a crescendo, braving the roundabouts-without-lanes-or-rules en route to a reception for the new georgetown campus in doha at the diplomatic club - a rather posh place on the water - where everyone drank apple juice and said nice things about the georgetown campus and education city (the sheikha's project to promote education here - see below), and then off home into the evening darkness, the lights of the cornish glittering away....
quite a day. and quite a video. ;-) as for more serious updates, the education city here really is quite remarkable, i'm sure i've mentioned that education has been a big problem here, basically the qatari education system was rather mediocre-at-best and there was little drive because the local population is so wealthy that they don't really need to work so there was no incentive for anyone to receive a quality education... the sheikha (the emir's 3rd and favourite wife who has done amazing things in this country) decided to bring a number of US universities here and set up top-notch schools in a variety of fields (which are open to qataris and foreigners alike)... by now, texas a & m, cornell, carnegie melon, and georgetown all have campuses here (and maybe some others i can't remember)... the area of town where they're located is "education city"... to further encourage the local population to pursue higher eduaction, the government also established a program whereby any qatari man who graduates from university receives a nice plot of land for building a home and a 1/2 million riyals to do so.... i learned that the swish neighbourhood i live in is one of the areas where these plots are being developed (the area is new and there's lots of construction)... i learned this from the assistant dean of QU (qatar university, my soon-to-be school - classes begin in a few days) when she was driving me home after a meeting... she's a remarkably bright woman - holds a phd in chemistry from a british university, was chair of the chemistry dept before becoming asst. dean, and is still flown around the world in the summers for research. when i asked what qatari women graduates receive, she said "nothing" ... in the silence that followed, she was quick to add that it's men who establish families.... not sure which is better, to be seen as nothing but an object (which is how i often feel here - see video scene above) or to not really be seen....
so now that i've established myself as outspoken, on to more weightier subjects... i had a very interesting conversation with the managing partner in our law firm - al'aa. very bright man - jordanian of palestinian descent, educated in the UK, quite an intellectual (his biggest gripe about doha is that there's no intellectual life - there's not even a library! (that's right, no public library)).... we were having the usual hemming & hawwing about the world, politics, the middle east, america, and the conversation took a more theoretical turn... al'aa said he believed the idea of a "clash of civilizations" was a euphemism for a clash of religions. he questioned whether this clash was manufactured / exaggerated or real. i tried to paint broad strokes of the universal aspects of all the world's religious traditions [god has no religion] and capture in hues of sunset how the essence of all great religious traditions is the same. he would have none of it. [note - he's a secular muslim himself] .... i recalled our exchanges (this was a lengthy conversation) when reading a variety of articles and reflective pieces about 9/11 and where we are today.... even if i do believe in the universal, and find there is more commonality and common humanity in the world than not, it's very easy to see the clash of religions picture - almost paint-by-numbers easy. over time i had forgotten that bush called our war on terror a "crusade", i had forgotten the cold war rhetoric, the light v. dark, good v. evil lines which were scripted against a backdrop of immediate devastation, which made sense in context, but can and have been twisted into words on 'jihadists-r-us' recruitment websites... how can what ought to be humanity's most unifying force - spiritual traditions which teach compassion, forgiveness, generosity - be its most divisive? ....
ok, getting in too deep for an email with a subject line about a music video.... inshallah this finds you all in good spirits.
to begin, you must appreciate the blistering backdrop.... it was hotter than hades today. it has been getting cooler (a.k.a. in the 40s (circa 110)) and the evenings have even been on the verge of pleasant-ish, but today was just brutal. the road workers were not even in sight - & this means it's seriously hot - technically under qatari law, the workers cannot work out in the sun when it's 50 degrees or higher, however, as long-suspected by many, if you have more money than god, as the qataris do, you CAN actually buy the weather; miraculously, the official temperature for doha reported in regional papers, on the local news & even on international news networks is always 48, which means the workers must toil on... today, however, i did not see them out as much as usual, which means it was seriously hot.
to continue the setting, you must understand that the ministry of the interior is where it's at in doha - particularly the traffic department between 9 - 12. this mini-mecca is where i headed this morning in this ever-so-serious-and-dramatic heat, escorted by ismail, the firm's driver - a sweet-stubborn indian man with pouty lips and the world's most fabulous sunglasses. after several attempts to locate the sudanese guy we'd hired on our last visit to type up my application & mother-duck me through the process of getting a temporary driver's license - which involved walking back and forth between the traffic dept. building and the little shantytown next door where the sudanese guys who do this have their offices, sunglasses steaming up each time we step into the heat (i swear the glasses also make a "gasp" sound too!), frowning a lot, and me gently suggesting we try him again on his mobile, we meet khalid in his office..... khalid then takes charge and we follow him back to the traffic department.... and now the scene is set and here's where the music really starts....
khalid was wearing the most outrageous shoes i have ever seen - they were literally fuzzy leopard-print slipper-style shoes but with proper dress-shoe soles! mesmerized, i follow. the dust seemed to purr out from under his every step, my sunglasses were so steamed by the sight of the shoes & the heat, i had to give up on them.... we enter the main hall. it's a zoo. a sea of men - awash in long white thubes (robes), a few saudi-style red-and-white-checkered headscarves, a number of foreigners (mostly south asian), a few military guys in the ever-so-subtle qatari purple fatigues [? i don't get it either ?] and combat boots, many slapping sandals moving about. there is chatter, shouting, crowding, crowding, crowding, laughing, sitting around, and generally just chaos. at least four different systems of electronic numbers are displayed and there is a place to collect a number - which we do - but somehow the crowding and pushing and looking for a buddy of a buddy behind the desk seems more the system than the system.... by the time we enter the crowded, rather smelly hall (it's a hot day), i'm as sweaty as i've ever been in a suit (business cas hasn't really caught on in the qatari legal community yet). my gaze shifts from the waves of humanity before me to the meagre air conditioner on the wall. i take a few steps, turn to face it and close my eyes for approximately 2 seconds..... i sense a slight lull in the ocean, and open my eyes to see the sea, all eyes on me. in that moment i realize that i am not in a conservative grey suit, damp and disheveled, standing before a barely-working, yellowing air conditioner, but no! ... flash - i am in a skimpy bikini standing on the fake beach of a hip-hop video set with intense fans blowing on me as i shake what my momma gave me...... flashback to the traffic department scene, the sea resumes its waves. it ebbs and flows, the numbers come and go, the elbows fly, ismail leaves me, i pay 150 riyals, and get a receipt for my license (which i can drive with!) and am told to return in two days for the real deal..... [note - there is a "ladies section" - but they just drink tea there & don't actually issue licenses]
khalid, his wondrous shoes and i saunter boldly out into the sun again. by this time it's late and i have an appointment to meet the US Ambassador in half an hour. there are no taxis, so khalid offers to drive me, but warns his car has no air conditioning. i accept (there being no alternatives)... he approaches a car i had assumed was an abandoned wreck, he turns and says "this is my BMW" ... and flash - it's a pimped out BMW, with an amazing backbeat going on and khalid, in a fabulous leopard-print silk tuxedo, is opening the door... but flashback to reality, and i get in, not sure it will move.... already so sweaty my suit-jacket is sticking to me and i'm swatting my face with a tissue, the car is an oven - even if you stick your arms out for "air conditioning au naturale"... as we drive, i frantically spray on a random perfume sample i discovered in my bag, discarded there after it was forced upon me by an enthusiastic salesman at harrods... we make it to the embassy, though khalid balked at the site of the speed bump in the entrance - unsure that his BMW would make it over... it did, and i tumbled out, feeling rather like a drowned rat, smoothed my conservative grey suit (bikini!), and marched up to the gates.
i have never seen such thorough security - two screenings via metal detectors in two buildings, bag search which literally involved taking the cap off of every pen, and opening every chapstick / lipstick in my bag.... all the while the backbeat is still going, and i'm slowly drying in the shimmering oasis of the embassy's perfect air-conditioning system.... i meet the other fulbrighters, the ambassador, get the security briefing, etc... everybody makes nice and says the right things in the right places and doesn't nod too rigorously... then it was back to the office for a few hours, finally getting a car (i have a lovely little mitsubishi lancer - ice blue), taking matters into my own hands and getting a mobile (i'm at 0974.548.8591), driving with the music at a crescendo, braving the roundabouts-without-lanes-or-rules en route to a reception for the new georgetown campus in doha at the diplomatic club - a rather posh place on the water - where everyone drank apple juice and said nice things about the georgetown campus and education city (the sheikha's project to promote education here - see below), and then off home into the evening darkness, the lights of the cornish glittering away....
quite a day. and quite a video. ;-) as for more serious updates, the education city here really is quite remarkable, i'm sure i've mentioned that education has been a big problem here, basically the qatari education system was rather mediocre-at-best and there was little drive because the local population is so wealthy that they don't really need to work so there was no incentive for anyone to receive a quality education... the sheikha (the emir's 3rd and favourite wife who has done amazing things in this country) decided to bring a number of US universities here and set up top-notch schools in a variety of fields (which are open to qataris and foreigners alike)... by now, texas a & m, cornell, carnegie melon, and georgetown all have campuses here (and maybe some others i can't remember)... the area of town where they're located is "education city"... to further encourage the local population to pursue higher eduaction, the government also established a program whereby any qatari man who graduates from university receives a nice plot of land for building a home and a 1/2 million riyals to do so.... i learned that the swish neighbourhood i live in is one of the areas where these plots are being developed (the area is new and there's lots of construction)... i learned this from the assistant dean of QU (qatar university, my soon-to-be school - classes begin in a few days) when she was driving me home after a meeting... she's a remarkably bright woman - holds a phd in chemistry from a british university, was chair of the chemistry dept before becoming asst. dean, and is still flown around the world in the summers for research. when i asked what qatari women graduates receive, she said "nothing" ... in the silence that followed, she was quick to add that it's men who establish families.... not sure which is better, to be seen as nothing but an object (which is how i often feel here - see video scene above) or to not really be seen....
so now that i've established myself as outspoken, on to more weightier subjects... i had a very interesting conversation with the managing partner in our law firm - al'aa. very bright man - jordanian of palestinian descent, educated in the UK, quite an intellectual (his biggest gripe about doha is that there's no intellectual life - there's not even a library! (that's right, no public library)).... we were having the usual hemming & hawwing about the world, politics, the middle east, america, and the conversation took a more theoretical turn... al'aa said he believed the idea of a "clash of civilizations" was a euphemism for a clash of religions. he questioned whether this clash was manufactured / exaggerated or real. i tried to paint broad strokes of the universal aspects of all the world's religious traditions [god has no religion] and capture in hues of sunset how the essence of all great religious traditions is the same. he would have none of it. [note - he's a secular muslim himself] .... i recalled our exchanges (this was a lengthy conversation) when reading a variety of articles and reflective pieces about 9/11 and where we are today.... even if i do believe in the universal, and find there is more commonality and common humanity in the world than not, it's very easy to see the clash of religions picture - almost paint-by-numbers easy. over time i had forgotten that bush called our war on terror a "crusade", i had forgotten the cold war rhetoric, the light v. dark, good v. evil lines which were scripted against a backdrop of immediate devastation, which made sense in context, but can and have been twisted into words on 'jihadists-r-us' recruitment websites... how can what ought to be humanity's most unifying force - spiritual traditions which teach compassion, forgiveness, generosity - be its most divisive? ....
ok, getting in too deep for an email with a subject line about a music video.... inshallah this finds you all in good spirits.
more thoughts
so when i sat down to try and express more about my days of late - experiencing this tragedy, as i experienced sept. 11th, from afar - i ended up collecting conversations / feelings more than anything else.... i usually don't share poems / this sort of rambling, but thought i would this time....
"and this is supposed to be america"
the words fall like snowflakes, yet sting,
somehow becoming icicles midair,
stabbing at my already torn and tender skin
"i am ashamed"
the words tumble from my mouth,
lost even as they are spoken,
poor vessels for expressing my quietly raging storm
"you see, this is your great america"
the words spoken to a wide-eyed girl,
who stands, on the edge of womanhood, silent,
with a "bratz" notebook in her hands,
her crisp abyeya hiding all but eyes exclaiming
more than the drifting adult words gathering in the corners of the room
(she had believed in america)
"america this, america that, america for college - this is america?"
the words clucked by her mother to the collected ladies,
all of them pecking away at the america problem
frozen, i escape into a baptism by fire in the Gulf sun –
if i can melt this tempest away,
maybe i can find my faith, my footing,
and find the eloquent, hard, round words needed
to wrap around this hollow,
to tell her to still believe....
but even in the searing sunlight, i am cold
this tiny nation has offered more aid than my own government,
these people have shown more compassion than my so-called leader
as i move through this city of veiled women,
i find myself confronted with a vision of america's veil –
suddenly lifted by the winds of this disaster,
exposing ugliness and dishonesty ever disguised by leaders:
ostensible leaders caught undressed by Katrina's kiss,
without time to scramble for a new veil to shroud our view
"and this is supposed to be america"
has been quite a week here. in less weighty news - you know you're in a whole new world when the weather forecast says 41 C / 106 F (exclusive of humidity) and you think that's refreshing and cool! ... i should be getting my temporary driver's license today - inshallah - and a car by thursday which will mean freedom of movement about this city - joy!
i hope this finds you all in fine spirits.
"Be motivated like the falcon, and hunt gloriously. Be magnificent as the leopard and fight to win. Spend less time with nightingales and peacocks. One is all talk, the other only colour" - Jalaluddin Rumi*
sunlight,
mattie
* ps - a funny thing about falcons - i learned through a friend trying to plan a trip with her dog that Qatar Airways prohibits animals of any kind on their planes - except falcons (!) .... i love it - deadly prehistoric predators - welcome aboard!; toto - back to kansas, you beast!
"and this is supposed to be america"
the words fall like snowflakes, yet sting,
somehow becoming icicles midair,
stabbing at my already torn and tender skin
"i am ashamed"
the words tumble from my mouth,
lost even as they are spoken,
poor vessels for expressing my quietly raging storm
"you see, this is your great america"
the words spoken to a wide-eyed girl,
who stands, on the edge of womanhood, silent,
with a "bratz" notebook in her hands,
her crisp abyeya hiding all but eyes exclaiming
more than the drifting adult words gathering in the corners of the room
(she had believed in america)
"america this, america that, america for college - this is america?"
the words clucked by her mother to the collected ladies,
all of them pecking away at the america problem
frozen, i escape into a baptism by fire in the Gulf sun –
if i can melt this tempest away,
maybe i can find my faith, my footing,
and find the eloquent, hard, round words needed
to wrap around this hollow,
to tell her to still believe....
but even in the searing sunlight, i am cold
this tiny nation has offered more aid than my own government,
these people have shown more compassion than my so-called leader
as i move through this city of veiled women,
i find myself confronted with a vision of america's veil –
suddenly lifted by the winds of this disaster,
exposing ugliness and dishonesty ever disguised by leaders:
ostensible leaders caught undressed by Katrina's kiss,
without time to scramble for a new veil to shroud our view
"and this is supposed to be america"
has been quite a week here. in less weighty news - you know you're in a whole new world when the weather forecast says 41 C / 106 F (exclusive of humidity) and you think that's refreshing and cool! ... i should be getting my temporary driver's license today - inshallah - and a car by thursday which will mean freedom of movement about this city - joy!
i hope this finds you all in fine spirits.
"Be motivated like the falcon, and hunt gloriously. Be magnificent as the leopard and fight to win. Spend less time with nightingales and peacocks. One is all talk, the other only colour" - Jalaluddin Rumi*
sunlight,
mattie
* ps - a funny thing about falcons - i learned through a friend trying to plan a trip with her dog that Qatar Airways prohibits animals of any kind on their planes - except falcons (!) .... i love it - deadly prehistoric predators - welcome aboard!; toto - back to kansas, you beast!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
