Home Team

come on in

 

Home might be Egypt, Brazil, France, Doha, Johannesburg, Reykjavik, Kansas City, Missouri. A farm, shack, mansion, apartment, townhome or raised ranch suburban house. It could be a field, rink, soccer or baseball stadium, thobe, abaya, jeans, tennis shoes, heels, flip flops, cleats.

 

next big event on deck

 

The where and who is as different as the people who seek it, but there are a few things your home and mine have in common:

 

Home is the person you can't wait to tell when you pass that big exam. It's the arms you crawl into when bad stuff happens. It's the people who love you through the silent-but-deadlies and other aromatic facts of life and stick by you when you're stupid, selfish, rude, dumb, fat, skinny. The ones who see beyond the sweat, wrinkles and belly wobble to claim your wide smile and rosy cheeks. Those with whom you can eat so many garlic crackers that your skin stinks (Kay?) and celebrate engagements, weddings and new babies. Home is your partner for all night pool tournaments, marathon tv sessions and long, meandering walks. It's who you turn to when the plumbing goes out and you and the kids need a place to stay.

 

serving up comfort at 3am

 

Home is the people who occupy the space where you're most comfortable, especially when you're far, far away from, well…home.

 

not seen in Doha: green and rain

 

In Doha, home is a beautiful (ma sha allah!) 9 month pregnant woman who rises at 1am every day for seven days to serve a multi course breakfast to a crazy bunch of baseball lovers. It's a guy who shows up every morning to eat that breakfast. In his socks.

 

 

 

It's lap-sharing memory-making with three beautiful babes. Watching a video about sharks snuggled up close. Middle of the night smiles.

 

these faces

 

movie star smiles at 3am

 

say it with me: "awwww"

 

It's Turkey Central dinners, surprise birthday luncheons, baby showers, football get togethers, souq shopping, sand golf. It's BMD wives' club, church, Fudd's Thursday, mani pedis.

 

at Turkey Central, 2014

 

And, yes, it's the World Series at 3am - home team playing at home - losing with two outs, bottom of the ninth, tying run on third base. It's the disappointed silence from a packed stadium - as fans buy 2015 season tickets on smart phones before the final score is even posted. (Anybody got tickets to share?)

 

Because we may be way the heck outta Dodge (euphemistically speaking; "Dodge" is Kansas; we are Missouri) but hey Royals! you're our team. And pssh. Doggonit, we love you.

 

photo credit: Matt Mikus, http://postcardsandplaylists.com/

 

Great Season, Royals!

Ballad of the Men in White

photo credit: this pic brazenly borrowed from the web

will be deleted if the blog ever goes public again

 

The rags to riches story is a tale as old as, well - sand. There's Oliver Twist; JK Rowling; con man Billy Ray Valentine (Eddie Murphy) in the 1983 movie Trading Places; Dubai; Qatar (click to read brief history and answers to commonly asked questions); Jed Clampett.

 

American actor, Buddy Ebsen, as Jed Clampett

photo credit: photo bucket, edtombell

 

As the patriarch of the popular American 1960s era tv show, The Beverly Hillbillies, Jed Clampett discovers oil on his rustic (ie, poverty stricken) mountain property. Together with Granny (Irene Ryan), Max Baer, Jr. and sweet, buxom Donna Douglas, Jed lits out for "Beverly Hills, Californee" where the family's lifestyle is dramatically altered by Jed's "crude" discovery. They now live in a spacious mansion with swimming pool and photogenic stairway instead of a one room log cabin. They hang with movie stars and shop for thousand dollar (USD) huntin' togs.

 

If you're unfamiliar with the show and its catchy 40 second musical introduction, grab a listen here: The Ballad of Jed Clampett.

 

Then read my loose lyrical rewrite, below.

 

Dhow festival 2012

local poses for photo wearing

traditional pearl diver attire, sort of

 

The Ballad of the Men in White

 

Come and listen to my story

'bout the men in white.

Once pearl divers sleeping

on the sand at night.

 

Then one day

as they were camping on a dune,

up come the Brits

with startling news.

About oil…

Black gold…

Texas tea…

 

First thing you know

these men are billionaires.

Slipping starchy scarves

over beards and hair.

 

Emir said,

"Our desert's the place to be!

For soccer, building, fun and

fast food KFC."

World Cup, ya'all…

Stadiums…

New downtown…

 

Today instead of dhow boats

there are high-rises and schools.

Foreigners from everywhere

breaking Muslim rules.

 

Clogging streets and malls

with their rude proclivities;

like eating pork, sipping scotch,

baring arms and knees.

Skin…

All colors…

Haraam…

 

Men in white aren't divers now.

They're wealthy businessmen.

Driving fast in SUV's,

hanging out with friends.

 

These multi lingual Western grads

watch American tv,

party on the dunes at night,

eat fast food KFC.

Rolex…

BMW…

Land Cruiser…

 

it says: Dajaaj Kentaacky, drive thru

The Colonel flies high over C-Ring Road

Doha 2014

 

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Baseball and Abayas

Bob, Kyle, Brad, Matt, Dawn (with little Mikus on deck), Aaron

celebrate the home team's ALCS victory 3am in Doha

photo credit: Matt Mikus (read Matt's travel blog: postcards and playlists)

 

Thousands of miles away and across the road too, the rest of my world celebrated the Kansas City Royals baseball ALCS victory and qualification for World Series competition.

 

Go Royals

 

I slid into abaya and hijab to attend Arabic classes at someplace new.

 

Maryam Center "Markazy Maryam" offers courses in Arabic, Quran and Islam

to Muslim women

 

The villa was surrounded by a high wall and tucked into a quiet community near a mosque. In front of the wall, a man guarded the sandy street. Behind the modesty-protecting barrier, shrouded women slipped through a paper covered door.

 

sorry, guys

 

Inside, black garbed women circled a stairwell. Windows covered in stained glass muted the hot sun. Like everywhere interior Doha, the air conditioning was set to "arctic" and the chill raised goose bumps on my blanketed skin. Three ladies worked at computers as dark eyed women rustled in and out of quiet rooms. In a windowless office, a lone woman sat at a mahogany desk, her title etched in Arabic on a wooden nameplate.

 

A brief consultation and the mudiera left the room. When she returned, she said: "Our classes are for women who are already Muslim. But you are so," here she supplied an Arabic word that she explained meant you-seem-Muslim, but might also refer to the preacher kid in me, ie, perhaps-your-dad-was-a-pastor-and-your-mom-a-church-pianist.

 

She handed me a registration packet. "I told him I wanted to give you a chance."

 

"Him" (no, not God): the unseen man who maintains unilateral authority

no matter how grand the boss-lady's desk.

 

For three years I've participated in the Arabic program at Fanar, the upside down ice cream cone minaret lighthouse-for-God at the center of downtown Doha. After a three month summer hiatus, one other woman and myself were ready to begin the final session of Fanar's five level program. That's when everything changed: new leadership, teachers fired, upper level courses moved from mornings to evenings. And new rules: we needed three more students before our class would be scheduled.

 

My classmate, a busy young Muslim mother and French expat, chose to go on to other things. I determined to follow our previous instructor to her new teaching position at Markazy Maryam.

 

abaya and hijab required

 

Here's what it's like to climb stairs carrying a purse and book bag as a newbie in abaya and hijab: sheer fabric clings to jeans, tangles at knees like a bed sheet to pajamas and (especially if it's front snapping) the robe flaps open. You instinctively release the handful of material gripped to prevent abaya from dragging as the skirt extends beyond shoes. Muted hallway sounds increase as you flail at the fly-a-way robe. Meanwhile, hijab slides off ears, slips over face. Disoriented and off balance, you, too, might shuffle over the abaya's hem, drop purse, trip over bag, turn the wrong direction and, blinded by a scarf, face plant.

 

Other activities, like the aerobic event that is the Arab greeting, maneuvering into a student desk or using the bathroom will be left to your imagination.

 

My teacher did not immediately know me with my sun-bleached hair and western attire hidden. Upon recognition she wrapped me in her arms and joyfully praised God.

 

"No, I'm not Muslim," I whispered in her ear as that's where my mouth was at the time. "I'm here for your class."

 

She squeezed me tighter. She kissed my cheeks and introduced me.

 

 

I settled into a front row seat and, along with six other ladies in black, learned about 3, 4 and 5 letter past tense root verbs using examples from the Quran.

 

foretelling baseball future?

Christmas Day Dhow ride, 2012

Go, Royals!

Expats Abroad: Spain

Bob on board

 

Expatriates are people who leave their homes to live in a new place, either temporarily or permanently. Most migrate legally, following the host country's rules and regulations.

 

Expatriate: (one who) leaves one's native country to live elsewhere…

- Merriam Webster

 

Columbus points to sea

where Ramblas meets wharf

Barcelona, Spain

 

Legal expats are subject to different regulations than those at home. Like, for example, covering from shoulders to knees even when jogging, avoiding physical (and eye) contact with members of the opposite sex, not eating or drinking in public during the holy month of Ramadan. A thoughtful Qatar expat, for example, doesn't enter religious spaces with an uncovered head or make negative comments about her host country's leadership online or, well, anywhere, ever. And when the rules concerning freedom of expression change, she renders her blog publicly inaccessible.

 

contemplating the climb

church at Tibidabo, highest point in Barcelona, Spain

 

In the US, legal expats are those who followed US law to enter the country, typically for purposes of work, school or marriage. Sometimes these intrepid travelers take knowledge home to help change whatever caused them to leave in the first place. Other times they remain stateside and pursue the process to become permanent, legal United States citizens.

 

how Antoni Gaudi (gow-DEE)

covered one building's ducts and vents

atop La Padrera, Barcelona, Spain

 

Illegal US expats sneak across the border. They work jobs, raise children, utilize health care, attend and graduate from US schools funded by government grants and, it is said, even vote! They're fast food workers who go on strike to demand that their illicitly-adopted country celebrate their home country's independence as a national holiday. They're back alley criminals, prostitutes - and top drawer straight A students, business owners.

 

Officially there are repercussions to sneaking into the United States, but a lot of people not only get away with it, but profit from the venture too. Some of these dauntless interlopers are eventually granted status as legal United States citizens.

 

"Sagrada Familia" means "Holy Family"

a church designed by Antoni Gaudi

Barcelona's ever-under-construction labor of love

 

there are funky shapes

 

fruit spires

 

wall sized doors that look like this

 

stained glass windows that alter interior color

 

and a flying Jesus

 

Bob loved it

 

In Qatar, illegal expats are usually former service employees (nannies, maids and drivers) who entered the country legally and (in a wide variety of ways) find themselves without sponsorship. Babies born to unmarried (ie, unlawful) parents are on the list of border crashers. Illegal foreigners are also, as in the US, those who sneak across the border hoping for a better life in the world's wealthiest country (per capita).

 

coed bathrooms are common in Barcelona

at the Olympic Stadium

girls use stalls on one side, boys on the other

wash up together

 

In Qatar children born to a married foreign mother and Qatari man are considered Qatari. Children born to a married Qatari woman and a foreign born man acquire the father's nationality. At this time it's not possible to obtain Qatari citizenship (thereby eligible to receive national dividends and land) except by birth.

 

the Ramblas

a crowded, touristy, no-cars, shopping zone

and the heart of Barcelona

 

In Qatar, illegal expats are not allowed to work, attend school, utilize public health care, own a car, rent or buy a home, acquire a driver's license. Illegals' educations are not subsidized by the government. Without papers, they are also unable to leave the country.

 

As a result (unlike the US), very few people aspire to be illegal expats in Qatar.

 

Free Speech on the Ramblas

Barcelona 2014

 

As legal expatriates in Qatar, we have residency permits, government health cards and driver's licenses. We utilize government medical services, buy and sell stuff, attend programs, leave and come back. We drive the speed limit, cover our arms, keep our hands and words to ourselves - and seek the silver lining.

 

Barcelona Water Tower Garden

tucked among a cluster of buildings

in the heart of the city

(Rick Steve's, Barcelona, page 144)

 

It helps to get away.

 

Barcelona from the top of the Sagrada Familia

Nativity Tower

Spain 2014