2. Iftar at Aref's

Aref (Head of Payroll) and his small daughter in traditional dress.

Iftar at Aref's. Kiwi, Mandy, in background.

October 2006

Happy Eid and Greetings from Doha, the home of Al Jazeera TV, the Asian Games, and 1000 new roads which are all supposed to be built by early December when the Games kick off – fat chance department, I would say, as they constitute about 70%-80% of the road network and they are chock full of people actually getting to and from work which makes them difficult to build – and even more difficult to drive on since Qatari drivers are as seriously into extra lane creation (why form 2 lanes when 3 or 4 are so much fun?) as they are reluctant to use their indicators which might have the dual negative effect of hampering lane creation while denting their ego and other cars on the road (I see, on average, 3 minor accidents a day).

Still, optimism is a fine thing and I could use some myself having just got back from the first Eid break (the holiday that happens at the end of the Ramadan fasting period) to find that there is still no A4 paper, no photocopy access (have persuaded the guards to let me into a photocopying room owned by another department at night), overhead transparencies or chalk, nor any intention of apparently ordering these things.

I am trying to remember that the important things are to have control over what I do in the classroom, to have no fear of being sacked on the spot for opening my mouth (intentions of keeping a low profile lasting all of 3 minutes as they did) and to have a life outside work but this gets harder as the semester goes on, and especially after coming back from a little jaunt to Egypt.

What a truly extraordinary place that country is. This time I got to see the Karnak Temple built by a number of Pharaohs about 3,200 years ago in an attempt to outdo the Joneses (or other Pharaohs as the case may be) and to explain to the Nubians that such a piddly little race did not deserve independence or a share in the wheat available in Egypt. It’s so monumental that it’s almost impossible to take in or to see the other temples as the incredibly impressive structures that they are.

Then I got to Cairo to discover that the 3-4 trips I have made out to see the best medieval remains in the world (mosques, fountains, schools and houses) mean I have seen about 5% of what there is to see, and will, sadly, have to go back in order to see more! ‘Entrance fees’ (the Cairo version of the baksheesh you are constantly paying out in the rest of the country) took me inside mosques, and up into an elaborately carved stone minaret where you can see the spires of Old Islamic Cairo amidst unbelievable piles of rubbish (is there garbage collection? there must be, surely, in a city of 20 million) and the petrochemical haze which you can actually smell.

But it is just so beautiful that it’s difficult to contemplate holidaying anywhere else in the second Eid break at the end of the year – although Jordan or Iran might be nice.

The girls have mostly re-emerged after Ramadan looking a hell of a lot more healthy and beautiful now that they are getting some sleep and eating regularly, but they seem to have forgotten anything we did prior to the break and as the mid-semester exams are a week or two away, this is a little worrying. We have to read short stories, and I have photocopied a chapter of Sharon and my mother-in-law, a savage but funny account of life as a Palestinian under Israeli occupation – the Sharon of the title being Ariel Sharon - in honour of the Palestinians in my class. Free speech is truly a wonderful thing. This would have got me sent home last year.

So Ramadan is over, eating and drinking in public is no longer a crime (yes, that’s literally true), Dr Phil is back on TV (banned along with other impure thoughts during Ramadan!), I am a good dress size smaller and therefore almost the same size I was before I started the PhD (despite the fact that my treadmill is STILL in Sharjah) and I had the extraordinary privilege of being invited TWICE to iftar (the break-fast at the end of each day of fasting) at two Qatari homes.

The first invitation was from a male colleague (truly I did well getting the Head of Payroll onside since it means I can actually get hold of a payslip every month) so I spent the evening in the men’s section of the house which the male relatives, small daughters who popped in to spend time with Daddy and two other female guests while we discussed fast cars and tearing off other cars’ mirrors when involved in overtaking and additional lane creation activities (yes, I failed miserably in this interaction). Only after dinner did the female guests get invited into women’s section of the house through another “front” door to meet Aref’s mother, wife and sisters-in-law and their most recent offspring.

The second invitation was from a female student and so I spent the time in the women’s section of the house with the grandmother, mothers, aunts (one of whom was Texan), sisters, female cousins and unbelievable numbers of small children who bounced from the lap and arms of one person to another kissing and expecting to be kissed in an extraordinary display of confidence and physical affection. Imagine being brought up with that level of love and attention? It was truly amazing to see and a great insight into the lives of the girls I teach here and taught in the Emirates.

The only time I heard anything of the men that visit was when they stood outside the door to the women’s section and chucked a couple of daughters back in, and when some of the smaller boys came back from the men’s section at the end of the evening (I was told they generally go across permanently when they are about 8 or 9 years old).

The break-fast, in case you’re wondering, was the same in both places. Everyone sat around a sheet of plastic that was laid on the floor. On top of this they put biryani, (Indian rice and chicken), cream of chicken soup, salads, vegetable and meat stews, creme caramel and something that looked like old-fashioned glue called harees which is apparently mashed lamb? mixed with what tastes like condensed milk? – or something! Everyone has a spoon but no individual plate (except that I was given one as a foreigner) and they dive in and help themselves, eating dessert in mouthfuls at the same time they are eating the savoury dishes until they are full in what seemed like a very sensible system! How lucky was I to get to see all this?

So that’s all my news really except that I flew through Sharjah on the way to and from Egypt and caught up with a few friends which was completely wonderful and very validating. This week I have to buy a car, get my health insurance and liquor licence (I had to get an exit permit to leave the country!!!!!), apply for telephone and internet access (although Q-Tel hasn’t discovered where our newly built compound is yet, so I’m not holding my breath), dye my hair pinky-purple and find somewhere to get it cut. The girls have recommended a place (and expressed horror at my choice of colour) but they are unable to read or draw maps (it’s not a universal form of literacy here) so it will be interesting to see if I can find it. I have been employing a peculiar but successful form of navigation that involves pointing the car in the general direction I wish to go, waiting until I hit a roundabout I can recognise, and being very careful not to run into other cars when I do. Works for me!

Hope you’re well and happy,

Simone