Free!

Women in Buttoola. The Freej Cartoon. When I don buttoola, I look like Umm Khamas, the stroppy-looking one on the far left.

The very, very big news is that ALL the criminal and nearly all the traffic violation charges against me have been dropped.

Since the penalties for these amounted to 3 months' confiscation of my car at a cost to me of 450 riyals per month (plus rental), a 10,000 riyal fine, 4 months' loss of salary, cancellation of my permit to leave the country, and a possible ban on working anywhere else in the Gulf, I am somewhat relieved.

Simone is free! To roam the roads at will! To piss off the rapidly decreasing number of policemen she has not yet encountered!

What happened was that I met with someone I understand was a very very senior policeman this morning, after much plotting, planning and negotiation by Aref as to who would be the most likely to be 'nice' to us.

Well nice to me. Aref drives a you-beaut red convertible sports car through red lights at extemely high speeds, but manages to stay out of trouble. Confused? Read April's post, Bugger. Qatari. Male. Expensive Car. Yes, I can see that you're there.

So we drive back out to the police station 20km from the uni and ask to see the Big Boss. I am utterly terrified by this point as Aref has informed me that the original cop who had chased me was not part of Police Administration as I had thought, but rather the arm of the police responsible for Presidential & State Security. Oh yay!

He is an older, senior man whom everyone trusts. Oh yay!

There are only two things that are making me feel better. First is that 'we' now includes a guy sent by Mohammed Hussain. Second is that Mohammed Hussain is tracking our movements by mobile phone.

Now you would have to have a really fantastic memory to recall who Mohammed Hussain is, so let me remind you.

When I first arrived in Qatar 3 long years ago, Mohammed Hussain was the guy who organised buses and cars to take us from government office to government office doing police, medical and every other check known to mankind - or at least to bureaucratic Qatarikind.

Not knowing how senior he was at the university (and that would be very very senior), I proposed marriage to him on the basis that while life would be hellish for him, he should take into consideration the fun we would have.

This caused some considerable mirth amongst University Administration, but, while Mohammed Hussain declined my offer - being a man of infinite sense - he agreed to take on the role of Acting Father for the duration of my time here in Qatar.

No doubt I have been the most trying of his several daughters.

But I am surely, too, the most grateful. A single girl in the Middle East does not need a husband as is often claimed. But she most definitely needs her brothers. And a father is a mega-bonus.

Acting father, Mohammed Hussain

Acting brother, Aref.

How many mobiles does one man need? Six apparently. The other two are in the car.

So Aref explains who we are here to see. I hide behind the guys. They inform the Big Boss (BB) of our the situation. I am ushered in to see BB...

Alone.

I explain to BB that a large black BMW had pulled out in front of me at 10kmph, while I was doing about 70kmph.

I explain to BB that had I crashed into the aforementioned car that I would probably be dead.

I explain to BB that while I know I shouldn't have, I beeped the BMW.

And then drove past. Chased by BMW. Flashing his lights. Trying to cut me off.

I then explain the Rock Throwing Incident to BB, tears filling my eyes. No acting involved. One of the scariest incidents of my life. See December 2007 Post: Rock Throwing & Other Fun Things To Do On The Road.

I tell BB how terrified I was that, in the black BMW, I had encountered another homicidal maniac. (The actual words I used were Crazy Young Man.)

BB hands me a a wad of tissues with all the aplomb of a teacher accustomed to giving out dismal Final Exam grades.

I tell BB how, knowing that I was doing the wrong thing, I then left the bitumen road to drive down the space in front of the shops, normally used for parking, in order to avoid both the speed bumps and the homicidal maniac.

BB: You broke the law AGAIN???

Me: Yes, Sir. I'm sorry.

Not being Texan, the Sir thing is hard to maintain, but I persevere. Especially since BB is an Al Thani. Like, what should I be calling him? Mr? Sheikh?

I then explain how terribly terribly sorry I am, that I could not have known he was a policeman (This division only records its name in very small discrete Arabic letters on the side of the car. In gold of course. They wear uniform, but I can't see it because of the darkly tinted windows.)

BB announces his decision. It has all been a miscommunication.

Relief!

Miscommunication in this part of the world is the signal that things are about to be swept under the carpet. In this case, a particularly beautiful turquoise and gold number.

I will not have to go to court.

I will only have to pay traffic violations (BUT WHICH ONES????)

These will be a maximum of QR1,000 [Aussie $344, US$275).

Relief! I decide to push myself that one last step.

Me: Sir, [Continued Perseverance] Can you please tell that policeman that I'm really really sorry? That I would never ever EVER have done that if I'd known he was a policeman? [Damn right]

BB makes comforting noises as I load camera paper and pen into my briefcase.

Me: Oh my god!!!!!! Now I'm stealing your pen!

That was yesterday. Today I get a call from BB asking me to come to see him. This time I don't take Aref, but Amy. Why?

There are times when only a Qatari male can help.

And there are other times when having a young, blonde, beautiful and blue-eyed American women in tow is a better bet. Go figure.

We wait outside BBs office while various gettra-ed and thoub-ed up men are escorted in. [Bugger off. I can create all the verbs I want.]

Me: Maybe the cop who chased me is in there and I have to apologise.

Amy: Well this is going to be an interesting experience.

Young, blonde, beautiful and blue-eyed American women who also possess a brain and make a habit of taking the piss out of fat, middle-aged, rapidly-greying Australian women can be somewhat irritating.

However, I am wrong. There are only the three of us.

BB: I called this gentleman [BB's word for the cop who chased me. I can think of others] and he was very helpful.

Isn't 'helpful' a lovely way to describe the behaviour of a subordinate?

BB then explains that the fine is 1000 riyal...

Me: My mother also says thank you.

...and that the Presidential Security Forces have 'suggested' [you have to admire the man's use of language] that I delete the photographs I have of them.

I duly delete the photos and return the camera to him to demonstrate that I am no longer in breach of the Qatari law which prohibits photographs of any public building or official.

There are still photos on the camera, however, and these cause BB much amusement. So much so that he HALVES the fine to 500 riyal.

Because these are photos of me wearing Qatari and Emirati battoola - the masks only very elderly women wear instead of scarves across their faces.

Emirati Buttoola:



Qatari Buttoola:



Buttoola Wearing Rule: Must wear bright lipstick and "too much eye make-up like us"



BB then offers us chocolates.

BB: No, not those ones! The other ones are better!

Amy: You know what? I'm going to have one of each.

How she manages to make this statement sound sexy, I have no idea, but she does, and when we go downstairs to pay the fine, it has been reduced again! To 300 riyal...

Do you reckon there is a god?

In other Good God-Related News, the Born Again Christians living here have been Saved.

Again.

A senior diplomatic person arrived from Washington (19 out of the 25 families who were to be booted out were American) and asked the Qatari Government the following questions:

1) Would you like us to move the US Military Base here elsewhere?

2) Would you like us to bring in the New York Times to cover Qatar's treatment of foreign businesses and their staff?

In less good news, this is what happens to less privileged and well-connected people than the Americans and me. And this guy is protected by the Belgium Embassy. Spare a thought for the thousands of Pakistanis, Nepalese, Indians and Philippinos who live here in servitude.

I cannot tell you all how much your support meant to me. Thank you more than I can say.

Simone the Supported, Privileged & Protected