DOHA DOINGS.

CATCHING UP!

The reason I started this blog is because I have become a poor communicator with my mates back home. I have embarked upon a round of social activity and work commitments, which leave me with little time to spare for the necessary communiques back home. Sorry to all my friends and relatives who have not heard much since I returned to Doha after Christmas.

Life continues to enchant, stimulate, excite and titillate the senses. Most experiences are positive, but some prove to be negative. My policy of "Determinedly Cheerful" enables me to keep my perspective, so necessary when uprooted from all that is familiar. For those who know (and love) me, you will acknowledge that my social tendencies have me going to the opening of an envelope. I seldom turn down an invitation or the opportunity to experience something new. Mostly this works in my favour. Sometimes it's a bomb - but still broadening. (Not least about the rump! Lol)

Qatar will never be a city to fall in love with. Certain vistas are magical. The city at night is spectacular. The architecture continues to be a source of amazement. Cloaked with electric apparel, Doha becomes an enchantment of spires, domes and outcrops which provides for some breathtaking viewing. It is sheer pleasure to walk the Corniche, gaze on the attractions of this city alight, this woman dressed to impress and seduce. "Look at me!", each new high-rise seems to say, "I am the glitziest in the land!" We stare in awe, we take photos, we critique and compare. We are seduced by the explosion of techno-colour, so at odds with Doha's daytime dress code. Fifty Shades of Sand can be dull by comparison! Daytime is harsher. Decorated with building rubble, potholes, dust, and squat refuse dumpsters,Doha is pungent with malevolent decay (seriously a barf a minute if you walk the streets!). Refuse removal is slow and the heat magnifies the odours to overpowering, which makes for more than a tinge of nausea when 'taking the air'. Street cats abound, trawling the dumpsters in malnourished desperation. 

My flatmate Amanda (bless her!) has taken to purchasing kitty food and leaving it beside each dumpster as we walk to Food Palace, our local emporium and cornucopia of needful things. I call her (affectionately) Cat-Woman of Qatar. She is nuts about animals and has admitted she would save one in a fire before any of us. Thus forewarned, I now know to sprint for the exit when the fire alarm goes off. 

School has undergone some transformation and we wait now to see the effects this transformation has incurred. New management, new ideas and new challenges. Some positive changes have already occurred but will need to be maintained. Mostly this has to do with discipline, which must needs be different here because of the demographic we teach. I am cautiously optimistic at this point. Our HOD has instituted changes which have afforded me with greater opportunity to teach and sink my teeth into larger challenges. I am excited at the prospect of moving into GCSE and also of taking some of the brighter classes. This will mean more time working, so I will need to find a balance between my working and social life! Always a problem for me, I hear my tjommies (friends) say. Yes, yes! But carpe diem, no?

I have not made much headway on the ex-pat society but now have the contact details for Doha Players, an amateur theatre group, so I hope to be involved with that in my spare time. International acts visit Doha. I saw a Globe Theatre production of Romeo and Juliet which I found outstanding. Debbie Simms, I so wished you were here to watch it with me. It transported me straight back to our squandered youth, when we thought we were budding thespians. Ahhh the passage of time! Or the ravages of it.

I have taken the plunge and have rented a car with Catherine, a friend of mine who lives in the same building and works on the same campus. We were just so tired out by the continued abuses of the Karwa drivers. She has been doing the driving since we got the car on Monday, because I need a window of quiet road opportunity in which to practise. This happens on a Friday morning when the call to prayer is answered and the streets of Doha are hauntingly empty. So we are to go out with me driving, first thing. I need to explore the left-hand drive experience. Aaaaarrrgh! Cars are automatic and not manual here, possibly because the driving by locals is so offensively dangerous that it makes for better focus on the road! The circle or roundabout system is a nightmare of reckless driving opportunity. There are just no rules to the circle here and cars cut across three lanes to exit without indication. Bumper-bashings are common. Cars which are more seriously damaged are just left on the side of the road and remain there for weeks, accumulating an air of neglect and a thick layer of dust. No one seems to be responsible for their removal, which is just bizarre. Owners simply move on and purchase a new car. Why fix it when the disposable income is large enough to afford the luxury of new? Prolific consumerism is a way of life that is ingrained into the culture here. For outsiders, it is mind-blowing. Reckless. Wasteful. Earth-hour be damned in Qatar!

I visited the Museum of Islamic Art, which was fascinating. There is an ancient cultural heritage amongst the Arab people, which can only be respected and valued. The beauty of the artefacts and the modern simplicity of their display is truly worth a visit. I will most definitely be returning to visit from time to time, as and when their exhibitions change. 

The temperatures are rising here in Doha. It has become almost unpleasant to be out in mid-day heat. Exercise during the day is confined to early morning and early evening. And 'sultry' is being superseded by 'stultifying'. I dread to think what the advent of summer will bring. Thank the powers that be for air-conditioning and if it contributes to global warming - well, suck it up! I do not  know how Moses led his people for 40 days and 40 nights in the desert! Clearly it was in Winter. Or how Salah al'Din fought with any kind of vigour in Jerusalem. I have a new-found respect for the Knights of the Cross, and Richard the Lionheart, whose pilgrimages must have warranted a dire need for deodorant and must have facilitated great weight loss. Forget weightwatchers - spend three weeks on retreat in the dessert, sans air-conditioning.

For any first-timers in Doha, the DohaTime-Out magazine is a fount of information on what to do and where to go. As with many people living in foreign climbs, groups make their own entertainment and the social playing grounds are almost frenetic with the need to be entertained and occupied. A party lifestyle ensues and could become dangerous if you do not establish a balance. A horrible side-effect of the lifestyle here is the Doha Dough or the Doha Stone. People put on weight if they launch themselves indiscriminately into the round of food and alcohol consumption that seems to dominate. Brunches are in abundance, long boozy afternoons which begin around noon and include loads of banter, unlimited alcohol and a variety of good food. Back home, this would be a high-day or holiday event. Here it seems to be the glue that holds the ex-pat life together. They have even invented the "Dupper", which is the evening version of brunch. Go figure!

So our driving adventures began with a trip to the QDC or Qatar Distribution Centre. This is also called the Booze Souq by the ex-pats. It took us an hour and a quarter to NOT find the QDC in a trip made perilous by roadworks, Qatari drivers and trucks. Kudos to Catherine for her sweaty-footed driving, which got us from A to B safely. And grateful thanks to Dan, whose initial lack of faith in our abilities to navigate instructions proved all too true. I believe he said "Are you sh*tting me? Give you directions? You'll end up in Bahrain." Well, Dan, oh ye of little faith, sadly, your words were prophetic. After an hour, we stopped listening to Joe's rambling assurances that we WOULD find it, admitted defeat and drove to meet Dan who kindly and ably led the way. 

To purchase from this 'esteemed' institution, one must pay the princely sum of QR1000. This is a refundable deposit and you are supposed to get it back when you eventually leave the country. Since there are days when you most assuredly would like to hit the people, hitting the bottle seems a therapeutic alternative and so I paid the amount willingly. I am now licensed to drink, licensed to drive and licensed to thrill! Fifty Shades of Sand by Jamesina Bondage perhaps? 

Had our first party in my apartment. Cooked up roast chicken with trimmings. Ably accompanied by my food partner-in-crime, Joe Gooseberry (don't ask!). He did the vegetables. Delicious and thank you Joe! Janey rolled out a karaoke programme on her laptop and Joe raided my cupboard for Tequila. Oh boy did it get messy from there. To paraphrase a song from yester-year; "Goodbye to you my reputation, we liquored-up and so we sang some songs! Now that the spring is in the air, drunken teachers everywhere.....too much wine too much song wonder how we got along..!" Of course, we thought we were sh*t-hot singers and we had the hairbrush to prove it! The only jober-as-a-sudge one amongst us, beat a hasty retreat upon hearing our efforts. Yes Steve, we know you didn't really need to skype anyone! Needless to say, Joe is banned from my booze cupboard and I am NEVER drinking again! Or until brunch on Friday, at least! 

I have yet to ride a camel. Will certainly post a picture when I do! Laurentia of Arabia, here I come! Poor animal! 

Well, the witching hour is upon me and I must needs to bed! Sleep is required to build up the stamina to cope with tomorrow. A visit to the newly opened IKEA (Hell to the yeah!) and then who knows?

Que Sera, Sera mis amigos!

Love to all my SA tjommies and family! Hope this provides some idea of the hardships endured here! Lol.

P.S. I hit the 3 month wall I was warned about in terms of missing home. Survived it but would love to hear lengthy news from you all. I like skyping but I can revisit communiques, so please, sit down and write an email. :)

Backdated First Impressions

November 2012

Well folks, my first month in Qatar was up last week. What a roller-coaster ride of new experiences and of course, a complete culture shock. Nothing like it to rattle up the juices and throw down the gauntlet to test one's
mettle! Every day brought with it a series of 'firsts'. Every sense reeled and my head spun with the challenges that each new experience brought. And here I am, one month in and beginning to make sense of it all.


The sight of women in their burkha's and abayas was a strange one at first. It challenged every western belief I had. Whereas initially I saw only oppression in the garments, now I see beauty, symmetry and even sexual mystique. I notice men, looking at women who glide by and I read the interest in their eyes. A challenge to the overt advertisement of sexuality in the west, with which I am more familiar. What is it then, that alerts their predatory senses?  The way her eyes flash, the tilt of her head, the gentle sway of her hips, the gracefulness of her movements? Perhaps it is simply the idea of the beauty that potentially resides beneath the uniformity of the outer garments. And let me tell you, these abayas are not so uniform. I now notice the small, beautiful embellishments and tailoring which make some of them unique. Vanity prevails amongst women even in this culture of oneness, and the need to stand out, to be wearing the most attractive abaya, is subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, conveyed.


 Occasionally, I have seen a man holding his wife's hand. Strange how this universal gesture of affection is so absent in Arab society. And the small measure of comfort it has offered me on the few occasions I have seen it, is notable. It reassures me to know that love exists in some fortunate unions. It made me realise a few things. I miss the absence of physical affection between men and women. I even miss the absence of physical affection between women. There are no spontaneous gestures like hugs to welcome friends. I hugged an emotionally distraught girl in my class spontaneously the other day in a gesture of comfort. While she didn't spurn the gesture, she was as stiff as a board, which demonstrated her discomfort and awkwardness in the face of physical contact.


 The men, however, demonstrate physical affection between each other all the time. Friends meeting up in public grasp each other by the upper arms, join hands and arms in a masculine demonstration of camaraderie and then lean in to rub each other's noses! I was shocked the first time I witnessed it. Truth be told, I still feel mildly shocked now. Not least because of the obvious spreading of germs which must prevail! The concept of rubbing
someone's oozing nostrils with mine is anathema!!! Not a Twinsaver moment! Just as well Qatar is not a rugby-playing nation! I was amused after witnessing the action, to contemplate the idea of our burly SA men and what their reaction would be if they were faced with a male who leaned in to clasp them to a manly chest and rub noses with them. "Ek gaan jou moer!" was one of the lighter reactions which sprang to mind!  It occurs to me though, that men are overtly affectionate with each other because they are conditioned from small not to make these displays with the women in their lives. An unacceptable societal practice, it has them being demonstrative
with each other instead. And since there is no physical outlet for their growing physical awareness, one wonders how many illicit male-on-male liaisons emerge as a result of a natural response to the need for physical affection? Interesting! Homosexuality must be present and yet it is so strictly forbidden as to endanger lives, to be so categorized, that one wonders how the men who are 'afflicted' cope with the challenges to remain
hidden. Are they aided and abetted by family members? Is a blind eye turned on them by those close to them? Or is this a society in complete denial and what isn't overtly demonstrated needn't be recognized? I would go with the latter.


 I had my first taste of the cultural divide with regard to gender today. A young pip-squeak of a boy came in to my classroom (I don't teach him) and asked me to remove the acrostic poem that had his sister's photo on it from the display wall. I told him that no girl was forced to put a photo up and they were told to draw a picture of themselves if there was a problem. He told me he didn't like the photo up there and requested that I please remove it. I said I would do so on his parent's instruction. He then pleaded with me saying he would bring a letter from his parents tomorrow. I acquiesced because he was so polite. When his sister came in she said that her mother had given consent for the photo to be displayed but her brother did not like it. I said it was therefore down to her. She reiterated that her brother (who is one year older) did not like it and she would take it home. So a brother supersedes a mother in the authority stakes. She is 12 and he is 13. Alarming is it not? But once again centuries of gender oppression prevail. How does one begin to challenge this? It is too deeply ingrained in their collective psyche.

Taxi drivers! Don't get me started! They are all in this country to make money, like we are. There is a Qatari official taxi-line called Karwa. They are aqua coloured vehicles with official logos and the light on the roof. They never try to rip off a man, but if you are women travelling alone or you have just done a grocery shop then they prevaricate about price and put the meter on the incorrect denomination. You have to hang tough with them
and learn to manage their tricks. It just makes going out a crap shoot in respect of the potential arguments you may have with them. The best thing to do is to learn your routes so you can direct them. This way they can't take the long-way round in order to get more money out of you! And some of the driving skills are hair-raising. Far better, though more expensive, is to find three different private drivers who you can make use of. They generally are recommended by others who use them and will be a reliable and relatively safe form of transport on an ad hoc basis.

Grocery shopping is a nightmare because you have to take a taxi. It helps to shop together so that many hands make light work! I bought a food processor the other day so I can release my Domestic Goddess!  Cost me
R300. Unbelievable how cheap some things are and how expensive others are priced at. On payday it will be a roasting pan and a slow cooker. Then anything is possible! Now to find spray and cook! Am going into the kitchen just now to make a batch of hummus. My homemade hummus is delish! Poor kids - wait till I breathe garlic on them! Hopefully it will have the same effect on them that it has on vampires!


 26/11. In the interests of throwing myself into the life here, I have accepted an invitation to a Quiz Evening at The Radisson! Makes me laugh - not down at the local Beer and Burp but at an upmarket hotel! Hope I will know some answers! With my luck it could be based on Qatar! I am going with a group of Brits. Not a known face amongst them. Horrible teaching day tomorrow so sorry for the kids! I am going to be very puffy-eyed and mean
as a snake on no sleep!


 27/11. We lost! Came about 25th out of 58 teams. Not the brainiacs we thought we were! Good fun though. The last time I had to show my I.D. (passport) at a bar was in the days of the rinderpest. It seems it is mandatory in Qatar. Either they are keeping a database of foreign winos or they are trying to prevent Qatari people from entering these dens of iniquity! You can't afford to become an alky in Qatar. 1 X Johnny Walker Red is QR30 (about R70). Soooo nursed that drink for a long stretch! 

 I am not particularly in love with the lifestyle here. It revolves around money and ostentatious displays of it are endemic. There appears to be nothing to inspire children to progress academically. Because of the Qatarization policy, all Qatari are guaranteed positions of senior management. No Qatari person works in service. These positions are held by Phillipinos and Indonesians, even a really great SA guy working in the
Souq's Haagen Daz! The people actually getting the job done are the South Africans, Aussies, Brits for the most part. They are paid handsomely but not given the title of manager. That is reserved for a Qatari who is largely incompetent and who is a figurehead. A friend of mine's parents work here and her dad was telling me that there is a woman manager (Qatari) who arrives at work followed by a maid (Phillipino) who carries her handbag in then places it on the desk. At the end of the day the maid returns to collect her, walks into the office to pick up her handbag then off they go.


This is about dominance. If they are perceived to dominate those who are underdogs it affords status and recognition as being superior. It is beyond comprehension to me but I have come to realise that these people will never make it in the outside world. Qatar is a bubble of rarefied existence that renders the Qatari people ill-equipped for life in the real world. It also makes them appear backward to the westerners who inhabit their workforce.Sad but true.


 In most Qatari families, there are four or five children. Each child will have their own maid. These maids do EVERYTHING for the children. Interaction with the parents is minimised. They breed but do not raise their children. It is not uncommon to see families out with a frazzled maid on duty trying to keep four children under control, while holding a baby under her arm, as they smear food, shout and bash windows, throw cutlery around, slam doors, harass other customers and the mother will sit silently enjoying her meal! She does not try to intervene. Bizarre! The maid cannot afford to be a disciplinarian because she will lose her job. Children are thus almost pathologically without boundaries. It perpetuates the discipline problems that follow them into high school. Maids or drivers are frequently seen carrying bags into the school for the children. The value of independence is not inculcated and not valued. I find it difficult to accept. If we are South Africans out together and witnessing this we immediately start speaking about them in Afrikaans, slagging them off and calling them Klein Fokkers! All the while the mother remains impassive in her Darth Vader apparel!


 When you question children about their weekends, it always involved going to the malls and spending money. When you see them out they are dressed in full Arab regalia and are flashing huge and expensive watches. They walk with supreme confidence when they are wearing their gutras (the boys) and they seem to hang out together on weekends. Even the adults. The women move around together or stay home. Smoking shisha (hubbly bubbly) is popular and restaurants are full of tables getting their buzz on with the pipe! Cancer of the lungs is a real statistic here in Qatar. Boys start smoking as young teens and it seems not to be frowned upon. We have internet connection finally. Don't know how long it will last because there always seems to be some problem or another. Mostly to do with the ineptness of management at the school or in Qtel! I am staring at my ironing so must finish off to ensure I have pants to wear tomorrow! Would not do to be caught with my pants down!

 For the most part, my life choice to be determinedly cheerful is working. I take most things in my stride and am looking forward to my return in January when I will explore the ex-pat communities. It would be good to have a life away from school. I am really looking forward to coming home in December, even if only for that short period. I need to get a few things. Shoot the breeze with friends. Drink wine. Eat biltong. Eat decent chicken. Hug my family and friends. Oh and did I mention drink wine?


 I fly out on Dec 18th and return on Jan 3rd. Hope to see many of you while I am there. Love to all of you and will keep you posted as I experience each new facet of this new and strange existence.