We Would Like to Inquire of Your Absence

"As we aim to improve educational environment in our institute, We would like to inquire of your absence from sessions?

Your clear answer support us to develop our services." 

اسماء عبدالله صالح قاسم اليافعي'

** 

Dear اسماء عبدالله صالح قاسم اليافعي'

 

Thank you for your email. This is why I stopped attending programs at Fanar:

You cancelled my upper level class after I'd worked so hard to get there

You fired my teachers

You would not allow a conversation majlis (ie, no opportunity to use what I'd learned)

Poor parking around Fanar

Ever increasing, horrendous Doha traffic

I returned to Fanar in Fall 2014 after the summer break ready to begin LEVEL FIVE Arabic. There were just two people in the class, however, and we were told that a day class would not be made available. My classmate and I had worked hard for THREE YEARS and were the last two remaining from a 2011 entry program that had included 30+ students. Our efforts were rewarded with "the possibility" of an evening session but we have families and night classes are not feasible for us.

 

Plus ever increasing traffic in the souk area makes night activities at Fanar undesirable.

 

I paid the 300 QR fee and prepared to retake level four Arabic just for practice. The teacher was MUMTAZA JIDDAN. I liked her very much. But in the end there was too much traffic to make the effort.

 

With the help of your wonderful female staff (ma sha allah) I attempted to gain permission to organize a ladies' conversation majlis. I submitted a handwritten letter in Arabic to the mudier and met with your female staff. This would have been a hour once or twice a week when Arabic speaking staff and learners of all levels would gather, yeshrub shay and SPEAK ARABIC, whether fusha, khaleej or other 'amaayah. This has never been allowed.

 

My teachers were MUMTAZEEN. As I reached higher levels, classroom instruction was always conducted in Arabic. The staff was kind and helpful and often let me sit with them so I could hear and speak Arabic. HOWEVER, as Arabic is generally not spoken on Doha streets and it is difficult to meet locals (especially the ladies), without a majlis there is LOW TO ZERO opportunity to practice what I've learned at Fanar in Doha.

 

It is for all these reasons that I stopped attending Fanar programs.

 

Sincerely,

سندي كنالي

Why I'm Not Posting a Blog Today: New York Edition

photo credit: Lois Kathryn (Kay) Hedrick, Realtor

(http://kayhedrick.kwrealty.com/)

Introducing Lois Kathryn (Katie) Kennaley, Bachelor/Masters of Science, Dietetics:

 

beautiful Lois Kathryn (Katie) Kennaley

prepares to be hooded

 

Katie graduates from D'Youville College in Buffalo, New York this week after which time she'll study for, take and pass her registration exam and begin job hunting in earnest. We're happy to be present for the big event and much too busy visiting Niagara Falls, shopping at Target, jogging in the puddly-muddly street wearing shorts, eating, drinking and generally being merry to post a blog!

 

Katie's proud family (us) travelled from all over the world to beautifully green, heavily treed, dogwood and cherry blossom (or something like it) sweet, rainy, refreshingly cold Buffalo, New York to welcome Katie to her next life.

 

Chris attends a graduation event via photo

 

To read Katie's resume and learn more about her professional experience in Dietetics, health and nutrition, and maybe consider her for a job in your fine establishment, click here: http://katie.kennaley.com. We're so very proud of Katie and her many accomplishments!

 

Camels on Main Street, TP in the Can

display inside Zubarah Fort
reflection of the fort's interior

 

At the Northern tip of Qatar, the desert is sand and dirt with shallow pockets of green, waving grasses. The winter earth is marked by yellow, blue and rose colored flowers. Here, when conditions are right, families comb the brush searching for truffles.

 

truffle hunting

desert near Zubarah

 

Where the land drops away a shore rises, dotted with tiny cone-shaped shells and circling an emerald sea. Nearby is an area pocked with mounds of sand that shield what was once an old pearling village. And standing guard over everything: Al Zubarah Fort. Four walls linked by turrets. A tall door with a smaller door inside it. Visitors may climb into the towers, sit on a cannon, peer into a deep, black-hole well.

 

The old city was abandoned in the 1800s. The fort was built in 1938.  Hardly a relic by Egypt-has-the-pyramids standards. Still, visiting the area makes for a nice family day trip.

 

Kimber, Bob, Katie

inside Zubarah Fort

January 2013

 

We've been to the fort more than once: an hour's drive into the desert. Lunch in the car surrounded by sand. Twenty minutes inside where we'd peer through (weapon holes) at the sea and wonder at the ruins of the old city.

 

No one can say "This is how it is in Qatar." One can only note "This is my experience in Qatar today."

 

It seems that since our last trek into the desert, Zubarah Fort was named the country's first ever UNESCO World Heritage Site. Where once was an empty courtyard, blank rooms and unexplained curiosities, are now signs, interactive maps, displays, photographs, informational materials, puzzles, Legos, tours - and a bookstore! There are security guards, an emergency station, tents, majlis style exhibition space…and a huge, active archaeological dig site.

 

Bob reads up

inside the Fort

 

map of the dig site

 

rebuilt section of the city wall

 

inside an excavation space

 

porous stone is covered with lightweight concrete as protection

from the effects of sand and wind

 

More than a casual trek up country, a tour of Zubarah Fort is now a fascinating adventure into the history and culture of Qatar.

 

unrelated photo I like of Chris

at the singing dunes

January 2014

 

When we arrived in Doha less than three years ago, wind worn streets were flanked by mounds of sand. To escape the ever present crush of traffic, frustrated drivers drove over narrow brick sidewalks and stone medians - and on the wrong side of the street too. Road names changed regularly. A recording played bird calls through speakers tucked into tree branches. Public restrooms featured sanitary spray hoses instead of paper - and if you brought your own tissue you were expected to drop it into a trash can, not flush it.

 

the can is for used tp

yes, really

 

Communion at the Catholic Church meant crowds of people climbing over one another to queue for Jesus in a horde shaped clump - waiting-in-line Middle Eastern/Asian style.

 

Today, an evolving infrastructure offers means to nurture broad swaths of color along multi-lane streets. Some homes and businesses display actual street and building numbers. There may not be structure to the lining up, but there is order during communion. Palm trees play Simon and Garfunkel tunes instead of birdsong and it seems that winged creatures - and trees! - are everywhere.

 

pretty day

Museum of Islamic Art Park

 

In less than 20 years the country has gone from sand, stone and rock to highways, bullet shaped towers and sky high, multi-hued, color changing structures. There's a twisted cone shaped mosque and zig-zag building.  Museums, stadiums, hotels, shops, malls, convention center and, well…lots more.

 

Less than 100 years ago, school meant children sitting cross legged on a dirt floor. Today it's internationally renowned educational institutions like Virginia Commonwealth University, Weill Cornell Medical College and the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service. There is cable, internet and electricity in the most remote areas. Gordon Ramsey and Stella McCartney are represented locally and funnyman Gabriel Iglesias performed here.

 

Wide, modern highways mean drivers rarely need to cruise along the sidewalk anymore and, generally speaking and most of the time, cars keep to appointed lanes.

 

hey guys, welcome!

seen along the highway

 

It's true that restaurants still use Kleenex as napkins and restrooms provide trash cans for disposal of used paper. But more often now…there is paper.

 

Doha is mosques, tents, traditional desert people in traditional attire. But Lamborghini, Porsche and headlight flashing Land Cruisers - not camels - cruise city streets. Flowers, birds, trees, shiny malls, modern buildings, boat races, tennis and golf events, yachts…

 

Kimber, Katie, Bob

before UNESCO

Zubarah, January 2013

 

and a UNESCO World Heritage Site  - with a cannon. Top that, Egypt!

 

Sheikh Faisal's Museum: Not in Kansas Anymore

Dawn, Samantha, Eva, Mary Anne, Lynnette

 

This week - an escorted peek into the vast and diverse assortment of treasures lining the walls, dotting windows and shelves, inside nooks, around corners and behind doors at the Sheikh Faisal bin Qassim al Thani Museum, Qatar:

 

poster on display at Sheikh Faisal's place

yes, really

 

Qatar has museums: the Museum of Islamic Art, Arab Museum of Modern Art (Mathaf), Alriwaq (currently exhibiting the controversial work of artist Damien Hirst), Qatar National Museum (under construction).

 

And Qatar has National Treasures: Sheikh Faisal Bin Qassim Al Thani and his castle sized, floor to ceiling, fantastically diverse, nationally renowned museum of eclectic wonderment.

 

Sheikh Faisal Bin Qassim Al Thani Museum

housed in an old fort just outside Doha, Qatar

 

It started as an assortment of the sheikh's personal and family memorabilia: the desk he used as a child, his crayon masterpieces, watches, money, prayer beads, mom's ancient washing machine, an old mouse trap. Today it's an ever expanding 17,000 piece, personally assembled collection of treasures from countries, cultures and religions all around the world - but especially Qatar.

 

museum entry hall

 

Guns, knives, furniture, photographs, documents under glass. Paintings, statues, gowns, robes, headdresses, carpet, teeny tiny Korans. An actual Syrian house with marble floors, carved and painted walls, lanterns, plus outdoor majlis and (interior) winter room. A family's desert tent, minaret, pearling dhows - and an honest-to-goodness well, dug deep into the earth to demonstrate how difficult it was for early Qataris to acquire water.

 

The sheikh's museum bursts with halls stuffed with ancient plain and ornate Middle Eastern style doors.  Rooms overflow with mirrors. There are swords and guns in the windows. Glass cases packed with precious mother of pearl items, old currency, other-era shoes. An airplane hangs from a ceiling above a model of a desert camp. There is a reconstructed Qatari home, a family wedding display, traditional clothing.

 

plane, cars, camp, dhows, minaret and more

 

But that's not all. There are fossils, dinosaur bones and eggs, a monster's relic skull and teeth encased in rock. A flamingo skeleton, shark teeth, smooth obsidian, desert roses. Limousines. Tiny trucks for little sheikhs.

 

Samantha with tiny truck

 

And vintage cars. Hundreds - literally hundreds - of cars.

 

purportedly Sheikh Faisal's sons take the cars

(any/all/whichever they want) out on Fridays

 

Of course automobiles didn't come to Qatar until oil, the Brits and roads arrived in the 1940s-ish. And Sheikh Faisal's collection is not limited to one era, decade, culture or even a single religion. There is a room full of Jewish memorabilia, another which highlights Christianity and includes an old confession booth. A third space features artwork from other religions.

 

The collection is currently organized according to the sheikh's interests and travels and displayed by acquisition date - which (even with the homey, hospitable carpets placed throughout) means it's impossible to absorb everything in a single visit. Or, well…ever. Unless you're particularly knowledgeable about history, that is…since there are few labels or other expositional materials available.

 

Fortunately, Sheikh Faisal is a forward thinking kind of guy and recently hired an interesting, knowledgeable historian with an internal database that includes analyses of the Ottoman Empire, Muslim brotherhood, history of the pyramids and world architecture plus Ford (the car) and Dorothy (of the ruby red shoes). Who answers questions about money in good humor: "the sheikh does not reveal an item's cost because (his workers) would want more money!"

 

Samantha, Dawn, Eva,

Nabil the Knowledgeable Historian

 

This knowledgeable historian's mission is to catalogue and organize artifacts, ie, identify, designate, tally, tag, classify, label and otherwise notate displays. Also on the horizon: a bookstore, museum guidebook, expanded website and personal tours. Huzzah!

 

Bring your walking shoes.  You're not in Kansas anymore!

 Factoids:

• Qataris arrived approximately 1850 from Saudi Arabia in search of pearls.
• There are nine original tribes in Qatar.
• In Qatar, sheikh and sheikha are titles bestowed upon members of the royal family.
• One should stand when a sheikh or sheikha enters the room, regardless of age.
  

 
Nabil the Knowledgeable Historian,

Eva, Dawn, Mary Anne, Samantha, Lynnette

 

 Sheikh Faisal's Museum is about 30 minutes outside Doha, across the road-under-construction from Shehaniyya and the camel race track. Visits are by appointment only.

Five Moments, Six Pictures

 

Moment One:

 

Cars stream across the road in front of me - traffic moves just one direction at a time in Doha.  When the light facing the flood turns red, a wall of wheels forms a blockade across the intersection.  Now the light is green for those headed left into the barricade.  Vehicles nose forward, plugging holes in the sea of traffic.  The light changes again - and those headed the other direction surge into the morass.  The road is now flush with vans, trucks, sedans, SUVs and exhaust saturated air.  An orchestra of honking horns, squealing brakes, humming engines serenades idling travelers.

 

At the heart of the clog, an SUV's door opens and a man in white emerges.  He adjusts his headdress, smooths his dishdasha and steps boldly into the swell of bleating steel.  He points and cars back up.  He waves and cars move forward.  His raised arms and billowing robe are shadowed by the sun shining through the passage he creates.  He reenters his SUV and disappears into the gap, trailing cars like animals in the Ark.

 

My light turns green and I slide through the wall too.

 

Bird Market, Souq Waqif

"What, me escape?  Nyahh."

 

Moment Two:

 

"There are no wild parrots in Doha," says a shopkeeper at the bird market.  But I've seen them up close:  long green tail feathers, round heads, orange beaks.

 

Evening near Bob's job site; me and my camera comb the darkening sky.  The birds travel at dusk, headed toward the souq.  Dots on the horizon, flapping wings.  Feathers pull close to strong bodies as birds swoop high and fast over the ground.  First a small flock speeds over the sandy lot.  A set of two follow, then three together and one alone.  Like a gang protecting the slower members, a final company zips by.  I blink and they're gone.

 

Too fast for pictures.

 

Katie and Kimber outside Museum of Islamic Art, 2012

not related to anything in this blog, I just like this pic

 

Moment Three:

 

The musky smell of Bukhoor wraps me in a cloud of sweet.  My hostess heats coals in the chalice-like device.  She adds a perfume square and a dark mist rises from the vessel's foil lined hollow.  She places the receptacle under my shirt, holds it there until smoke drifts through the fibers of my blouse.  She removes the chalice, drawing a fragrant circle around me, over my hair.

 

It's the traditional goodbye after my first ever visit to a Qatari home.  Here there is sweet tea in tiny porcelain cups, smooth mango juice, spinach in pita, Omani candy and tasty Arabic cookies.  There is beauty: marble stairs, wood covered columns, crystal chandeliers, down comforters, fiber wall hangings.  There is home: shoes at the door, pillows on the floor, phone calls, family photos, great conversation and children who greet strangers with kisses.

 

sitting area at Weil Cornell Medical College, Doha

 

Moment Four:

 

Behind the wall, in the front yard of the beautifully appointed, villa style home, there is a garden, a bamboo majlis, an outdoor bathroom - and a multi-story chicken coop for roosters and hens.  There is a Little Tykes slide and swing set for the children.  There is a special place for grandma to sit while she feeds the birds and watches her babies play.

 

clouds in Doha: rare sight

 

Moment Five:

 

On the floor, knees crossed and elbows down, I play with the kids in a Qatari home.  Six year old Maryam draws a feel-insaan (elephant person) and the Arabic alphabet in pencil.  She is learning to read and write Arabic, like me, in the same way an American kindergartener studies the ABC's.

 

All around us, ladies chatter.  Tiny porcelain cups clink against plates.  On a wall, an Arab game show broadcasts on a wide, flat screen tv.

 

Maryam sits tall, says in perfect English, "I will test you."  She holds the paper, drawing side to her chest, says, "Say the letters."

 

I neglect to include kaaf.  When it's her turn, she forgets Saad, Daad.

 

"Arabic is called the language of Daad," says Maryam's mother.  "Because no other language anywhere in the world has this letter."

 

Maryam and I practice until we each recite the letters perfectly.

 

psh, easy

Children's Books about Qatar!

Children's literacy is an important topic in Qatar.  Efforts to increase kids' reading skills include mobile and school libraries, contests, clubs, children's television programs.  But - not a lot of local interest books.

 

According to a survey on reading habits in the Arab world conducted by Yahoo! Maktoob Research in 2011, almost 30% of people below 25 years in the Arab world never read. People aged between 46 and 50 were the most frequent readers, followed by those aged between 36 and 45, which makes up 25% of the population.  The youth read less than any other segment of society…

Gulf Times article

 

Limited quantities of popular American children's books are available for purchase in Qatar.  But children's books about Qatar for Qatar?  Rare.  Until now.  I'm thrilled to own both English and Arabic language sets of a wonderful new series of books by Frances Gillespie:

 

Qatar Nature Explorer

by Frances Gillespie

 

"There are about twelve species of dragonfly in Qatar.  They and their smaller relatives, the damselflies, are fierce hunters.  Both have bright colours and similarly shaped bodies, but you can easily tell them apart…" (ages 6+)

From Insects and Arachnids of Qatar, by Frances Gillespie

 

Sets in English and Arabic include six hardcover editions: Birds of Qatar, Insects and Arachnids of Qatar, Mammals of Qatar, Plants of Qatar, Reptiles and Amphibians of Qatar, Sea and Shore Life of Qatar.  Copies of Qatar Nature Explorer will soon be available for purchase in bookstores throughout the country and online.  To acquire your own copies now, contact Fran by email: frandavid@designcoqatar.com (email address provided with permission).

I'm also a happy owner of this gem written for the Middle School aged crowd:

 

Hidden in the Sands, Uncovering Qatar's Past

by Frances Gillespie and Faisal Abdulla al-Naimi

 

"The first book of its kind to be published for a general readership from youngsters upwards, Hidden in the Sands: Uncovering Qatar's Past is the fascinating, fun and educational story of Qatar's heritage and the exciting discoveries being made by archaeologists…" (ages 11+)

Read/Listen/Learn/Order your own copy: HiddenInTheSands.com

 

Frances Gillespie is a British writer and journalist and has lived in Qatar for nearly 30 years.  Before moving to Doha, she taught English in England and Nigeria.  She's a former Chairman of the Qatar Natural History Group and has travelled from one end of the country to the other.  Fran has written hundreds of articles for local and international publications in many countries, including Qatar, USA, UK, UAE, Lebanon.  Her best-selling books, Discovering Qatar and Common Birds of Qatar are well known in Qatar.
 

Run to the Naked Beach

Henna for Eid

 

"You're so cute," says a student.  "Are you Muslim?"

 

I shake my head.  "I'm Christian."

 

"Oh," she says, nodding.  "Not Muslim - yet."

 

Four walls, windows, a smart board, white board, projector.  Student desks in five rows, four deep.  Dark eyed teenage girls in ankle length, shift style uniforms.  I sit on the teacher's table facing the class, legs dangling.

 

At the Madrasa al Thanawiya al Binaat (secondary school for girls) I'd already participated in a science lab (broadly speaking), audited science and English classes and sipped tea in the teachers' lounge.  I'd wandered the building with a special education instructor and chatted boardroom style with group after group of high school aged local girls.

 

Today I would be a substitute Homeroom and Physical Education teacher (apologies to actual US PE teacher, Bernie).  Sort of.

 

Some of my Arabic children's books

 

Qataris are a minority in Qatar and Arabic is not spoken on the streets or in the shops.  The majority of expats don't study the language because there's so little opportunity to use it.  I persist because I like the language and people (and perhaps also out of a compulsive need to finish-what-I-start, no matter how impossible seeming).  I supplement my studies by reading Arabic children's books, learning Arabic nursery rhymes, speaking with Arabs (when found) - and visiting Qatari government schools (where allowed).

 

The gym is closed in the (real) teacher's absence and there are no curriculum notes.

 

"Speak English with them," says the principal.  She smiles.  "Make them bi-lingual."

 

Oh, right.  Mafee mushkilla.  No problem.

 

My escort is a sunny and enthusiastic Egyptian English teacher wearing bright blue eye shadow.  "You girls," she says, in Arabic.  "You are all so sleepy."  She moves to the closed classroom door, pounds on it with both fists.  "You are like, 'let me out of here'!"

 

Laughter.  Students sit higher in seats.

 

"What sports do you play?" I ask.  L'boon ay riyada hini?

 

"Basketball, volleyball, football…"  Smiles.  "With the feet.  Not the American football with hands."

 

"Do you run?" I ask.

 

"Of course.  We wear long pants and tee shirts and run in the gym."

 

"People don't run on the street in Qatar," I say.

 

"No, but you can walk at the Mall or Aspire Park and you can run around the Pearl to the naked beach."

 

Naked beach?  MY beach?  I laugh.

 

The young Qatari shakes her head.  Not funny.  "We call it that because people wear very few clothes there."

 

Oh.

 

Conversation is a rapid-fire mix of standard and dialectical Arabic and colloquial English.

 

They want to know:

 

Do you live in a compound in America?  Do students wear uniforms to school?  Do you have pets?  How old are your children?  Are they boys or girls?  Tell me about your grandchildren?  Have you been to Boston?  Will you go shopping at Villagio with me?  Do you know Adele?  (Sings:)  "Someone Like You…"

 

I smile.  "Will you teach me a Qatari children's song?"

 

A student writes:

 

"mama jabat baby

baby helloo sagheer"

 

"It says, Mama comes with a baby; baby is small and cute.  We sing this when a new baby comes home."

 

"Do you have rhymes?  Silly fun songs?"

 

Of course!  "Twinkle, twinkle little star…Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear…"

 

"Our nursery rhymes are from America, Lebanon, Egypt and other countries," a student says.

 

"And television," says Teacher.

 

The students sing popular American and Arabic music in angelic soprano and rich alto voices, complete with Middle Eastern trills and runs.

 

I offer Baa Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool…?

 

The bell rings and Teacher and I sing (although I only know the first part) a popular Egyptian children's song:

 Mama Zamanha Gaya

 

 

Mama zamanha gaya gaya baedeh shiwaya gayba al'ab wa hagat gayba maha shanta fiha wezza wa bata bi t'mel quack quack quack quack quack   arfel wad el esmo "Adel" gah doctor waamleh eh? eh? eh? laa regleh bao zayel fatal bas shewaya gowa eneh leh? Leh? rah nidiloh ho'na kbira aref edal el ho'na leh?   Leh? Leh? Ma bieshrabsh el laban el sobh we kol eshabo dehko alah ha ha ha! W hoa men yomha shereb w byekbar wetrabalo aadal fi ideh.

Mama is coming She is almost here She is bringing toys and gifts She's also got a box Inside there's a duck That goes: Quack quack quack quack quack.   Do you know the kid named "Adel" And what the doctor did to him? What? What? He found him all tired And looked inside his eyes. Why? Why? He's going to give him a big shot. Do you know why he gave him a shot? Why Why? He doesn't drink milk in the morning And all his friends laugh. Ha Ha Ha! And since that day he drinks milk And grows up And has muscles in his arms.

 

Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon: Middle Eastern Answer Key**

 

The room is large, square, bright and full of little girls. Shoes squeak, children squeal, sound multiplies on the shiny tile. The ceiling is a pyramid of windows that allows the sun to shimmer in the artificially cool air. Alcoves at each corner of the square lead to hallways which lead to classrooms. The space smells of lemon cleaner.

 

I sit on a bench along the wall. One small person speed walks toward me. Two follow, then three and more until all around me are little girls, four, five, six deep: around, beside, above, at my feet.

 

Where are you from?

 

America

 

What is your mother's name? Your father's?

 

Ahhhh. They want to know my secrets.

 

In Arab culture a person's name is a storyboard chock full of information. It reveals lineage, history, life, death and a whole lotta stuff in between. Who, what, when, where…if you only knew how to read it.

 

Here's how it works:

• The eldest son is named after the paternal grandfather
• The eldest daughter is named after the paternal grandmother
• Subsequent children are given names that reflect a desirable trait or commemorate an important person in the tribe
• Following the name comes the word bin ("son of") or bint ("daughter of") and Dad's name
• Following Dad's name comes bin and Dad's Dad's name
• Then comes bin and Dad's Dad's Dad's name
• And so on and so forth, ending with the family's tribal name

Sometimes multiple tribal names are added that include sub-tribe or nicknames that tell more of the family's story.

 

For example, the name of a first son of first sons in the (fictional) Al Nazy tribe would look like this:

 

Ahmed bin

Mahmoud bin

Ahmed bin

Mahmoud bin

Ahmed

Al Nazy

 

Qataris can "read" another local's name and immediately transcribe relationships, rights to one another, familial boundaries and more: how are we related? are we friends or enemies? "marriageable" to one another?

 

It's the Middle Eastern answer key to Kevin Bacon's Six Degrees of Separation.

 

"Any one person (including me, Kevin Bacon) is connected to any other person through six or fewer relationships, because it's a small world."

-SixDegrees.org

 

To protect a person's name and to show extra respect, Qataris call one another by a nickname that describes an achievement (ie, "Hajj" for someone who's completed the Hajj) or use a person's kunya. The kunya refers to a person through their first male child, whether born or unborn.

 

For example, Ahmed Al Nazy (any of them, above) is Bu* Mahmoud (father of Mahmoud). Local men of all ages refer to one another using the kunya.

 

If you want to know an Arab national's kunya, ask, "Abu man?" or "Um man?"

 

Factoids:

• Qatari passports list 3-5 generations
• Women don't change their names when they marry; they are always associated with their fathers and their birth family
• It's traditional to give a gift to the child when a baby is named for you
• A child's kunya is Um/Bu (father's name)
• When a woman marries, her kunya changes from Um (her father's name) to Um (her husband's father's name)
• Women reserve use of the kunya for older women
• A man uses the kunya to address all women
• Qataris do not name children for themselves - as long as they're living
• If a son's name and his father's name are the same, it means the father died before the son was born
• Qataris also refer to one another as "sister" (ikhty) or "brother" (ukhooy) or in the case of older women, "aunt" (khalti) or older men, "uncle" ('ammi)
• A person converting to Islam is not required to change his/her name - unless the name conflicts with Islamic teachings/values

All of this seems pretty complicated when you're from a place where children are named for parents, movie stars or according to the latest trends: North West, Apple, River, Dakota.

 

"You mean it's just a pretty sound?" She shakes her head, takes me on a tour around the table: Noor means light. Ashwaq is a deep, enduring kind of love. Miriam comes from the Bible as well as the Koran. Jooahar is a precious jewel and Loolooah means pearl.

-How are Americans different from Qataris?

 

As for me and that troop of little girls:

 

"I am Lucinda bint Charles bin Charles Hedrick.

I am bint Beggy.

I am Um Chris.

I am Um Katie and Um Kimber.

I am Jedda Krissy and Jedda Killian.

I am ikht wo khaalah."

 

"But you can call me Cindi."

 

 

Beautiful Babies, named for family, in thanksgiving and to make a pretty sound.

They call me "Mom."

 

*In Classical Arabic the word for "Father" is Ab and "Mother" is Um. Gulf Arabs say Yubba ("Father") and Yumma ("Mother"). For the kunya, this is shortened to Bu and Um.
 

**The information in this post comes from personal experience, local interaction and a class I took at Fanar called "Swalif" (Conversation).

 

Chasing the Bus

I drive my car slowly between the line of humming buses parked along both sides of the street.  I take extra care this sunny afternoon not because the road is narrow but because of the men running in front, behind and alongside my (um, Bob's) black xterra.  The men wear boots, heavy blue work pants, yellow vests.  Masks in place over mouth and nose in some cases and in others pulled back to let the hot, dusty air in.  My window is closed to it, but I know there is odor here, too, salty, thick, permeating.  Black, oily, hair bounces in congealed clumps over faces darkened by 12 hours laboring under the broiling Middle Eastern sun.

 

Nearly all the men are from India or Nepal - I knew this not out of prejudicial instinct but because I've come to recognize the physical differences in people from various parts of the world:  stature, shape of the nose and jaw, color and texture of hair and skin…and also because only Indian and Nepalese men are hired for certain jobs in Doha.

 

 

Before you begin name calling, realize it works both ways.  Yesterday, the Arab cashier at the Carrefour counted my change back to me in German.  If I keep my mouth closed, people will sometimes speak to me in French or Spanish, and I was once asked if I was Lebanese…but nobody ever mistakes me for Filipino or Pakistani.  When I speak Arabic to a Middle Easterner, sometimes they don't understand me right away because my hair, face, skin and the way I move flips the switch in their multi-lingual brains to English.

 

On the sand and rock beside the curb where the buses are parked, grown men sit, legs crossed, shoulders hunched.  Some hold hands - a non-sexual, cultural thing - others lean tired heads on another man's shoulder.

 

My swift moving escorts don't give me a moment's concern as they hurry toward the circle of roosting men:  first to board the bus gets to sit for the long drive in traffic to the worker's camp outside the city.

 

Although it's smaller than Connecticut (Qatar: 4,416 sq. mi/Connecticut: 5,544 sq. mi.), Qatar employs more than a million people from all over the world in a wide variety of occupations.  There is no minimum wage, opportunity for advancement (by law, a Qatari must own 51% of every business here), non-discrimination policy, Fair Housing Act, Title IX.

 

There may (or may not, depending upon your political party) be recession in America, overpopulation in India, hunger in Pakistan and Nepal, homelessness, under- and un-employment throughout the world…but in Qatar there is work.

 

Lots and lots of work.

 

If…you're the right sex, nationality, age, speak the necessary language, and are willing to accept the position's wage, work week and living conditions, in Qatar you might be a:  nanny, maid, housekeeper, sweeper, scooper, driver, railing duster, stander, leaner, plumber, electrician, carpenter, builder, hammerer, follow the emir's horse guard cleaner-upper.

 

first comes this

 

then comes this

 

In this category of employment, participation in local activities is limited, wage is low, exit visas are guarded and one is often separated from family for years at a time.

 

If…you're the right sex, nationality, age, speak the necessary language, and are willing to accept the position's wage, work week and living conditions, AND have the education and experience to procure the proper visa, in Qatar you might be a:  doctor, nurse, architect, engineer, administrator, contractor, teacher, librarian, broadcaster, journalist.

 

This category of employment means living allowances, perks like cars, luxury apartments, cell phone packages, funded trips, tuition reimbursement, free stuff.

 

 

It's "rare to doesn't happen" to see even the youngest, hungriest, least experienced (American, British, Australian…) scooping, shoveling, hammering, herding, stand-here-and-wave-this-flag-ing.

 

But it's not uncommon at all for educated, experienced individuals of (every nationality) to earn a living in Qatar as architects, engineers, nurses, doctors, physical therapists, and more.

 

Because even in a place where housing perks - and chocolate - are distributed based upon where you're from…education matters.

 

 

Wealth in England isn't the same as wealth in Saudi Arabia.  Poverty in America does not equal poverty in Nepal.  Children go hungry, men are unemployed, women disrespected…everywhere.  To some, life in a laborer's camp is unfathomable.  To others, it means sleeping on a mattress instead of inside a box, money sent home, clean clothes, a hot meal…and dignity.

 

Life is not "fair" and opportunity is relative.

 

Then again, it seems to me that…if you're lucky enough to be born into a place of possibility and promotion, surrounded by family and friends who love and support you…you should follow your dreams!  But earn that piece of paper that validates your knowledge and experience too.

 

Defaulting to a lifetime of minimum wage jobs, unemployment checks and daytime tv when a smorgasbord of opportunities was bestowed upon you simply because you were born is just another way of…chasing the bus.