Are you really that racist?
A question crossed my mind few weeks ago, while I was chatting with my sister. She was telling my a story about one of her friends. I don’t know why I decided to write about this now, but I just want to get your opinion. The issue might be sensitive, and might bother some, but it is real and exists in our society. It is actually two main issues. Here is the story, and after reading it, you can understand which issue I am referring to. I won’t make any comments, I will just tell you the story.
Sarah is a beautiful young Qatari woman; she is an engineer and is very successful at work. She comes from a very good family, moderately rich, educated and open minded. She lives her life to the full, but she has a secret that was tormenting her for the past few months. A new guy came to work at her department and she fell in love with him. She was observing how he behaved with his colleagues, how he spoke, how he took good care of his image and health. How rare, she thought, he is so different. Sarah is very confident, yet shy. She never dared to approach him, or show her feelings. However, with time, she noticed that he was noticing her too. Her heart would flutter like a bird whenever he spoke to her. The thing is, Sarah did not know that Ahmed, the one who she is in love with, is also in love with her. He had butterflies in his stomach every time he sees her or smells her perfume. Sarah wants to marry and settle and so does Ahmed. And finally, the day came when Ahmed told her that he would like to come and propose to her. Of course, Sarah did not show that she was about to faint as she heard him utter these words. She just said that she will think about it, and that he should speak to her family if he was serious.
Sarah flew home, everything was light, everyone seemed nice, even the heat of Doha seemed so easy to handle. How would she tell her father though? She can’t tell him that the guy spoke to her directly, so she decided to say that a friend of hers tld her about him. So, she sat both her parents in the living room and told them the good news. “My friend called me today and said that there is a man , works in our company, is interested and wants to propose to me. He saw me several times and asked about me”. Her parents couldn’t be happier; they asked her “really? That is good news, what is his name?”. “Ahmed al-****” answered Sarah. Her parents suddenly were dead silent. Sarah did not like this reaction. She looked at them as they were looking at each other looking surprised, and asked “What is wrong?”. Her dad said “he is not suitable for us”. Sarah was confused, us? “Why isn’t he suitable, you did not even know what his job is, whether he was educated or not, rich or not”. Her dad said firmly, “his name is enough, he is not from a family that we would consider for affinity”. Sarah then realized the reality she lived in, how discriminatory her society is, even against each other. Her mother said “They have Persian blood mixed in them, they are not pure Arab”. Sarah felt furious, she said irritated “That was hundreds of years ago, aren’t they Arab who went to Persia and came back? Didn’t they live here for a long time, didn’t they grow up here, worked and ate on this land, what makes them so different or not suitable for marriage, and what are we, created from a different material? Aren’t we all Muslims? What does this matter? I thought that you would ask about his morals, his reputation, his education, not how many races he has in his blood?” . Her dad said “well my dear, society doesn’t work this way, what would we tell people?”. Sarah got up at this point and said firmly “society are not going to live my life, it’s me who is going to live it”. As she was leaving the room, her dad said “ok, let’s ask about him, he might be a good man”. Sarah said “what is the point, you rejected him before you even know anything about him, how prejudice”, she then said “it’s funny how everyone interfere in this decision, how everyone must give his blessings and approval for my marriage, while it’s me, only me and the person I will marry who will be in this marriage, who will live this life together”.
Writing Club BQFP
Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation is sponsoring a Writing Club for all students across Qatar Foundation as well as at Qatar University as part of it’s Reading and Writing Development program. For the inaugural activity, BQFP will offer workshops on November 9th and 10th on memoir writing in conjunction with UK author Shelina Janmohamed’s visit to Qatar. Registration is free and open to all students and alumni of the QF or QU communities. Based on avaiablity there may also be a few spots reserved for interested faculty or staff.
Shelina, the workshop leader, is an award winning author, blogger, and speaker on Muslim identity in the UK. More information about her work is available at: http://www.loveinaheadscarf.com/.
Please RVSP by email for one or both of the sessions to bqfp.events@qf.org.qa.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Workshop One:Telling Your Story or Introduction to Memoir
3:30-5:00 p.m.
Open to all interested in learning about memoir, generating material for fiction, and the differences between various genre style writing
Tuesday, November 10th 3:30-5:00 p.m.
Workshop Two:Telling Your Story 2
Generating your own material in a workshop setting with the experience of the author.
**All workshop sessions will be held at the BQFP villa 3 at Qatar Foundation**
–
Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation Publishing
PO Box 5825
Villa 3
Qatar Foundation
Doha, Qatar
+974-454-2431
www.bqfp.com.qa
bqfpublishing@gmail.com
I hate you for ruining my first visit to Mecca!
I was so excited to go to Mecca. It was going to be my very first time to see the Ka’ba. Well, I went once when I was six years old, but that does not count. My family was going to do Omra and we all started preparing weeks before departing Doha. My mother, sisters and I all made custom made Abayas for the trip. They were EXTRA wide, and we even bought that sticky band that is worn underneath the Sheila to ensure that our hair does not show even if the Sheila accidently falls. So I guess what I am trying to say is that we all looked super decent and properly covered. My mother memorizes the whole Quran and she knows a lot about Islam, so she was mentoring us during the whole trip and giving us advice on how to seek every second of this spiritual experience. My dad was very excited and was asking me to take pictures so that we remember this trip as our first family trip to Mecca.
We arrived safely to Jeddah airport and took a taxi to our hotel in Mecca. I still remember the taxi’s driver’s name, it was written on this huge white board behind the seat. I thought that was weird and so I took a picture of it. I also took pictures of many weird signs I saw during the trip which I might add later.
I couldn’t see the Ka’ba from the hotel window. We all hurried up to catch the afternoon prayer. As I was entering the Haram, my heart was pounding and my eyes were looking straight ahead waiting for its first encounter with the Ka’ba. I felt a rush of blood in my body the moment I saw it. How great, how peaceful. Finally, I am here. As my eyes were fixed on the Ka’ba, I kept praying in my heart and asking god to accept this Omra.
Anyways, the story I want to tell you actually begins with the first prayer inside the Haram. It was the afternoon prayer and while we were trying to find a nice spot to pray a man, who apparently was one of the religious police, shouted at us “THIS KIND OF CLOTHING IS FORBIDDON, ITS HARAAAM, HARAAAM, THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO HELL SISTERS”. Of course, everyone within teen feet of our radius heard that and stared at us. I was very confused, why this man was shouting at My mother said “Just ignore him”, I asked her “what is wrong with our cloths?”, she said “oh they just mean that we should wear the abaya on our head and not shoulders”, I asked again “Why?”. She said “Because they believe that this defines the body’s shape, and this is forbidden”. I did not know if I should laugh or be mad, but I was really bothered by the way he spoke to us. Plus, I decided to get rid of all negative feelings and concentrate on this spiritual experience. But that was impossible!
What happened was that in each prayer, one of those bearded men would shout at us. If not them, the religious police women would do. I did not understand why they were doing that. Is really my cloths so !!!! I do not even know which word to use. How can an extra large black abaya is not covering, or proper enough for them. How do they look at it? Do they think that my shoulder line will actually seduce someone? Or that it seems sexy and appealing? The thing is, I was wearing Sheila that falls over my shoulders, so what was their problem. Or is that they just like to shout at women? At one point, a very scary looking man, his beard was so long that it reaches his navel, and his clothes were too short that the almost reached his knees was speed walking after me shouting “THE PROPHET HAS PROHIBITED THIS UNPROPER CLOTHING”. I was walking really fast that I almost started running trying to get away from him. These kinds of things happened with each prayer, five time a day for three days. How can I concentrate on this spiritual experience while those scary looking men are pointing fingers and shouting that we will go to hell! Who are they to say that! On top of that, while we were doing 6awaf, circling around the Ka’ba, one of those men was hitting his stick on the flour and shouting “cover your face, cover your face”. I thought, that is it! Everyone knows that covering the face while doing tawaf is forbidden! Seriously, those people has gone too far forbidding things that are allowed in Islam. One of the ladies was already wearing niqab, a face veil, and the man shouted, cover your niqab! The woman just snapped at him and started shouting! Maybe we, women just ought to kill ourselves!
Do they really think they are doing good when they are embarrassing people and ruining their spiritual experience like that? I tried so hard to shut them out, but once I control my anger one of them start shouting again and the femenatzi monster in me just struggles to come out.
What we have noticed is that these shouting are only for khaliji women, Arabian gulf women, who are dressed in black. If I was wearing a colofull abaya, they would assume that I am Egyptian or Lebanese and leave me alone. When I asked my mother, she said that they know about this issue since they were young. I was really surprised. I also remember mentioning this story to one of my friends in Doha and she agreed with my mom : “my older sister knows about this, so every time she goes there she wears a green abaya and no one bothers her at all. I went once with her and saw the difference in treatment myself because I was wearing a black abaya and she was wearing a green one”. This made me conclude that this shouting is about their own backward traditions and has nothing to do with religion.
What hypocrisy! They pretend to by holy and religious and know everything about god. And then you find them all standing in front of the women entrances; the religious police and the regular ones, all gathering there. Staring so bad at women. They think we cannot notice that from our sunglasses, but I can see you scanning me. Damn it I can see you scanning me, I can almost see what goes on in your head! Damn it, respect that long beard, and respect this holy place! And then, if I try to escape their looks and go through the public entrance they start shouting again.
Even my dad and brother were not left a lone. My dad is a heavy smoker, so he was looking for some cigarettes. When he asked in one of the shops, the shop keeper shouted “KAFER (ATHIEST) , GET OUT OF HERE”. My dad was shocked and did not understand what happened, he went to another shop and the same thing happened. He then saw a man smoking down the street and asked him about what was going on. The man said that cigarettes are not allowed near the Haram and he must go to the suburbs to buy one. Couldn’t the shop keepers simply explain that to my dad instead of shouting at him and accusing him of being an atheist? Why this exaggeration?
My brother on the other hand found one of his friends there. They decided to go shopping for souvenirs together. In the market they were both talking on the phone which apparently was a very suspicious behaviour to the religious police. One of the bearded men approached them and said “Brother, I will have to ask you to leave the market right away because it is a family place”. My brother said “but I am here with my family, plus this is a public place you cant ask me to leave, I am doing some shopping”. The man replied “ I don’t see any shopping bags with you, and you are talking on the phone and flirting with women, fear god brother”. My brother just snapped, he said “listen, if I want to flirt I wont do it in this place. Do you think I have no manners that I would do such thing only few steps away from the house of god. And I am not leaving”. The man became nervous and said “I will have to call the police”. My brother said “ok call them”. A police man was already waiting behind the bearded man, he approached my brother and said that he must obey and leave. My brother just ignored them and went to another shop.
And to give the perfect ending to this story, I must tell you about the last incident. My little brother and I wanted to get some souvenirs before departure. So we went to the market which was only few meters away from the Haram. The moment we entered my brother and I felt very uncomfortable. Shopkeepers were staring in a way that made me feel naked. We both decided to go back to the hotel and not buy anything. On the way back (the hotel, the haram and the market are all few steps away from each other) an old man stopped his car next to us, rolled down his window and sticked his head out, he had white hair and white beard, so I thought he was 70 years old or something. He said “hey little boy, shall I give you a ride”. I looked at him and saw him licking his lips and biting them, then rolling his eyes between me and my little brother. My mouth and eyes were wide open form the shock! He repeated his words and said “Hey, let me give you a ride, come on, get in the care”. My brother, not realizing what was going on said “no thank you, we live right here”. I grabbed my brother’s hands and started walking really fast to the hotel. The man was still licking and biting his lips. I don’t know if he was perverting over me or my brother.
I was really put off by people there. I almost cried for not being able to pray in front of Ka’ba because of those extremists who prevented that. I hated that I was struggling inside me to keep my anger instead of focusing on prayers. They distracted me and ruined my first Omra. Other than that, Mecca was so beautiful. I enjoyed visiting the historical places that were mentioned in the Quran. But I felt so bad for those who were living in poverty. I could not believe that there are people living in such conditions in an Oil Producing state. They were living in small houses on the mountains that were in real bad condition. The roads were a disaster and even kinds clothes were torn and worn out. I guess, the most important thing I learnt was to wear a green abaya to be left alone. I hope to go there again soon.
Random thoughts in London
One:
Ok, so how to reassemble this table? Where is the screwdriver? Oh damn! They didn’t include one. Ok let me just try to do it with a knife. Hmmm. This looks easy, wait. No its not. The nail doesn’t go all the way through. Ouch, I just cut myself. Ouch, i cut myself again. Ok this is not working, i better go find a hardwear store or something.
Two:
I am not sure if I have enough credit on my Oyster card. I should remember and apply for the student one. Here is the bus. In the name of God, in the name of God, please don’t beep red, common its late and I want to go home. Oh, no its red. Hmm the bus driver doesn’t seem to notice let me just go in. Thank you god
Three:
Why is this old man doing this! I feel sorry for him. Someone in his age should be enjoying life with his family not having a student job. I wonder if he feels humiliated carrying this sign that dangles all over his body about a souvenir shop. Oh god, he is also holding flyers. He looks 70 years old. Why didn’t they give him a more respectful job? Poor man, he is not even looking up, his eyes are on the floor the whole time.
Four:
What is that? Oh no, did someone die here and police is surrounding the place. No wait, what is that noise. Let me ask that police man “excuse me sir, what is going on here?”, “ its a premier of a movie and all the celebrities are coming” hahahahah and I thought it was a murder, I better not tell him what was on my mind. Oh, cool, let me call the girls and tell them about it.
Five:
This man is still standing in front of the museum handing out flyers. It hurts me to see him. I wish that he finds someone to take care of him.
Six:
Oh nice, pomegranate. The fruit from heaven. I should get some. What? 2 pieces of pomegranate is for 4 pounds! That is 24 QR! I can buy a whole Kilo of pomegranate in Doha. Maybe I should look for a Sunday market and buy my food from there.
Seven:
Oh gosh, I hope they do not know that I am Muslim, now they will force me to be part of their activities. Thank god my place is nearby and I don’t have to go to the prayer room here. I had enough of those people lecturing everyone about everything. They should lecture themselves first. Why is this girl looking at me? “hello there, do you know about the fresher’s dinner?”. “no”. “well, you should come, its going to be fun, we also give the money we collect to orphan charity”. “ok, how much is the ticket?” “3 pounds”, “alright I will buy one but I don’t think I will come”. “oh you really should, we will have the Imam of Finsbury park”. Hmmm isn’t that the mosque where all the extremist came from? “ok, I will try but don’t promise”.
Eight:
I really don’t feel like reading this book for our book club. The printing is bad and it hurts my eyes. Plus I hardly have time to finish reading for school. Maybe I should just watch the movie. Who will know? I hope Tuga wont be upset with me. Maybe I should give it a try this weekend.
Nine:
- Hi where are you from? – Qatar -Oh Qatar, yes yes – Do you know Qatar – I know about the race – Why did you ask? – Your eyes look different – What is your name? – Carlos – Where are you from? – Brazil – Here give me your pen – Wow this is nice, what is that? – Your name in Arabic – Wow! This is amazing, wait a minute – What is that? – Can you write it down here in this note book – Ok – This is Hebrew, is it the same as Arabic? – No its different, wow you have different phrases from different languages in this page – Yes I gathered this from people I met – Ok Carlos, this is my stop, nice meeting you – Nice meeting you too have a nice day.
Ten:
- I just saw a girl holding a Qatari passport leaving the police station – Oh, lucky here she is done, we still have two more hours to wait. – – Hello, are you from Doha? – (oh no, here we start) yes – Did you hear about what happened? – What happened? – They estimated 2 million cases of swine flu – (we don’t have 2 million people in Qatar) so? – Yes it is serious – Ok, I don’t really care – You don’t, I do …. so what is the procedure here? What are we supposed to do? – So you want to tell me that you have been waiting here for 4 hours in the cold and have no clue what is going on? – No I don’t – (shall I say, me neither?) …. you only need passport and 34 pounds – Ok thank you
Eleven:
- See, I did all of this myself. I built two chairs, a lamp and a dressing table that has three drawers and a mirror – This is a really bad job! It is loose. Look at this, it will fall on you. You have to do it again – Again! You know it took me 7 hours to do it. And now you are telling me to do it again – You probably used the wrong tools. Which screw drivers you used – These – Hmmm, these are very bad ones. See, they do not fix the nails properly – No way, I wont do it again. If you want me to take every piece off, then you do it – Ok I will just get me the right tools. We will do it tomorrow
Twelve:
Yeah right fix it with me tomorrow. Here I am building this all again myself. But I have to admit that it’s much better now using the correct screwdriver.
And many more to come.
CNA Advanced Writing Center
Personal Interest Courses offered at the Advanced Writing Centre
Hearing Our Voices: An Introduction to Oral Storytelling (LADIES ONLY)
Date: October 10 and 24 (Saturdays)
Schedule: 2 sessions x 3hours (11.00am-2.00pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: No materials required
Memories of our lives should be shared and preserved for future generations to enjoy and learn from. Through oral storytelling we have the opportunity to tell these special stories in our unique voices. Participate in this workshop to discover your own storytelling voice and to share your experiences.
Release the Writer in You!: Using a Journal as Inspiration (teen session on Sat Oct 17th 1-4pm)
Date: October 12 and 14 (Monday and Wednesday)
Schedule: 2 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Journal notebook and pen
Keeping a journal is a great way to relax, reflect, and discover your creative self. Join this session to (re)discover the joy of writing. A series of writing exercises and discussion will help get you started! New and experienced journal writers welcome!
Convince Me: The Art of Persuasive Writing
Date: October 19 and 21 (Monday and Wednesday)
Schedule: 2 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Writing paper and pen or laptop
The most important step in getting others to see your point of view is getting them to listen. Explore the writing processes that will help you use thought and language to appeal to the experiences and emotions of others, and then write a convincing letter, essay, or speech.
Working Together: Communication Across Cultures
Date: October 25 and 27 (Sunday and Tuesday) OR
November 8 and 10 (Sunday and Tuesday)
Schedule: 2 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Writing paper and pen or laptop
One of the attractions of living in Qatar is the diversity of cultures among the people who call this country home. Join this workshop to explore the skills and characteristics required to work effectively with international clients, customers and business partners, or to work inside any team, department, or organization which brings a wide range of cultural perspectives to the workplace.
Get the Edge on Admission: Writing the University Entrance Essay
Date: October 26 (Monday)
Schedule: 1 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Writing paper and pen or laptop
You’ve worked hard. You have the drive and the grades that prove you’re a good student, and you’ve chosen the university you want to attend. Help the admissions officers get to know the real you and all you have to offer by writing a killer entrance essay. This session offers tips and techniques for writing that may help make entrance to your dream school a reality. Senior high school students/parents welcome.
Discover Your Voice: Using Language to Create Effect
Date: November 2 and 4 (Monday and Wednesday)
Schedule: 2 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Writing paper and pen or laptop
Carefully crafted writing captures the subtleties of speech and allows readers to “hear” our voices. Join this workshop to identify your own writing voices and to learn to use them to control the tone and feelings that come through to your readers. New and experienced writers welcome!
Write Me a Story!: The Short Story and You (Teen session, 14-17 on Sat Nov 14 at 1-4 pm)
Date: November 9 and 11 (Monday and Wednesday)
Schedule: 2 nights x 3hours (5.30-8.30pm)
Cost: No fee
Materials needed: Writing paper and pen or laptop
Write Me a Story! is a session for writers who want to improve their story writing ability. The session will combine discussions of the basic elements of fiction—plot, character, point of view—with short, timed writing exercises. In a positive and supportive small group environment, participants may also have the opportunity to share and critique each other’s work. New and experienced writers welcome.
**Please note that there is limited capacity for these sessions – 15 participants – and registration will be on a first-come, first-served basis. To register, contact the Advanced Writing Centre directly: awc@cna-qatar.edu.qa
New Writing Project: Letters from Qatar
From the sucess of the Qatar Narrative series, a new writing project is on the way. This time it is going to be letters from Qatar. The idea of this project was created during a previous writing workshop by its participants. My friend Linda is helping to collect the essays and this is what she wrote to us :
The letters could be letters to your mother, father, sister, brother, Government, Teacher, grandparents, step parents, enemies, friends, laborers any one you felt you needed to send a letter to.
This was such a wonderful exercise it filled the room with such emotion, strength, knowledge, and passion. We all felt so good about these letters we thought wouldn’t it be great to have a book full of letters from different people in Qatar. Qatari’s and Ex-pats all nationalities living here in Qatar. Imagine what an interesting book. A look into so many hearts expressed through words written in letters. So Carol and Mohana have taken the decision to go forth with this verbalized thought. We will be putting together a book called Letter from Qatar. Hopefully ready to go to publishing in the spring.
Now this is where you come in. I of course would love you to summit your letters, but I want you to pass the word to others outside our circle of writers, to join in this project of voice, this project of passion, this project of heart and of course of words. Letters can be submitted to me at alsaigelfain@hotmail.com, I will then pass them on to Carol and Mohana for viewing, selecting and editing.
I also need your suggestions for potential donors to fund the project. This is a new challenge for me, one that I am willing to endure but it is better as a team. If anyone knows of an institute or business that would be interested in donating educational funds towards our project please let me know. I would appreciate your help so very much. Anyone wanting to come forward and help drop me a line or a letter.. Letters for the book should be submitted during October. Thank you, I hope you will join in.
Sincerely,
Linda
My London, don’t break my heart
Yesterday was 30 September. It’s been a week. I have not finished anything yet. I am still running here and there trying to get papers signed and carrying heavy items in my extra large suitcase. I haven’t started yet and I am already exhausted. For some reason when I looked at my phone and saw 30 September I remembered myself when I was a teenager wearing a peach dress to my aunt’s wedding. I never thought that few years later on the same day I will be living in London. It was a dream that I never even thought of dreaming! Who imagined that this little girl in that peach dress will be on her own in a big city for many years? This date also reminded me of something, but I didn’t remember. For some reason I was thinking of one of my friends and texted him just to say hi. Few hours later I realized it was his birthday. Maybe this is why he crossed my mind! I thought that moving to London would be as easy as moving to Colchester. But I was wrong, very very wrong! Things were complicated even before I start my course. Finding a place was exhausting; it took too much effort and time. I ruined my significant other vacation by dragging him to every apartment viewing I had. I had to settle for the last apartment I saw the night of my departure back to Doha. And now I ruined my sister’s vacation dragging her with me to finish paper work and buying necessary things. Luckily for her, my other sister came down from Cardiff to spend a weekend with her. She also saved herself by learning how to use the bus and underground and went by herself sightseeing.
Silly me, I thought I could finish buying all the necessary things for my flat in one day. So I got my extra large red suitcase and went to Primark. I bought all I can and then dragged the bag from Marble arch all the way to Tottenham court road while making few stops for more shopping. The bag was so heavy that i felt like crying. When I reached Argos, I got so disappointed when most of the items I needed were out of stock. I got whatever I found and called my sisters crying for help. We got a cab back to the flat. I still have to go on another torturing trip. But this time with no one helping me.
My university is very disorganized! Not like Essex at all. I asked for a campus map and I was told “we are not that sophisticated”. It took almost 3 hours to register, and I am not 100% registered yet. And yesterday, was a day I will never forget. I waited for six hours and a half to do police registration. The problem is that I had to do it on that day or I will pass my seven day permit. The queue went around the building all the way to the Borough tube station. The officer told me that I can come tomorrow morning and start queuing at 6 am and I will be done by 10:30. I thought it would be more or less the same so I decided to wait. There was a starbucks nearby so I got myself some coffee. I was standing for four hours and sitting on a chair for two and half hours. My number was 273, and when it was my turn, it took less than 5 minutes to be regestered! When I went out I congratulated myself by doing “tololish”, which is a traditional way of expressing joy in weddings or someone’s return. it is a sound that is made by moving the tongue very fast from opposite ends of the mouth; it’s similar to what native Indians would do when they go around the fire. I was like “kolololololololiiiiiish”. I felt so sorry for myself yesterday, I also though life was hard. My back is aching from standing in long queues and carrying heavy bags. The bank however, was the most complicated of all. They all need different papers with a gazillion proof. I had to order this from uni but you already know how organized my uni is, so it will take few weeks to get it; which means I have to wait for few weeks to get a bank account which means everything else is put on hold. Since I cannot do anything or finish any paper work without having a local bank account.
Life in London is so expensive. I had to pay six months in advance for my “bird cage” one bedroom flat. Money which I didn’t have. Especially that Supreme council of education are so smart and think that living cost in big cities like London and New York is the same as living in small villages in the country or India! I pay 1400 pounds per month excluding bills and internet and transportation. While I only get 1200 from the government. My sister who lives in Cardiff gets the same amount while she pays 800 pounds per month for a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartments. I really think that the supreme council of education should add a new rule about that, they seem to be great about adding rules that complicate things, why not add one that helps student. And on top of that, my work had cut down my salary! Aren’t they supposed to encourage their employees and give them incentive instead of making it harder. We are there to study and get straight A’s and come back. Not to worry about finance and look for part time job! So don’t blame us if we didn’t get straight A’s. Honestly, I am better than so many students who do not have any allowance and still have to pay fees. I am thankful for the scholarship and my father and sister and brother who are always helping me financially. But I am a grown up now, my father should enjoy his money, and should not worry about us anymore. I feel bad every time he gives me money. So technically, my father is paying the rest of the rent plus my living expenses.
On the day of my arrival, I had a fight with the cab driver. I agreed with the company to pay 45 pounds. When we arrived to the hotel he said he will charge me extra because I was late. I don’t like being fooled. I asked him on what basis, he said I had to pay for parking ticket which was 6 pounds and waiting time. I said that I have been in this country longer than he has – he was from an Asian country- and that this never happened before, the customer doesn’t pay for parking ticket. To be fair, I said I will pay only 5 pounds extra. He was suddenly rude and shouting, so I argued back. It was not about the 10 pounds, I just don’t like it when people try to fool me and take advantage. I told him “I will pay not 10, but 1000 pounds, you better speak to me properly” I then called the company and complained. They offered to pay me back and that the manager will speak to me to apologize. I said I don’t want the 10 pounds or the apology; I just want to make a complaint. I was frustrated from the moment I was on the plane. For the first time ever I was sad, I was not happy for leaving. I left all my friends and loved one back in Doha. I realized that London is nothing without them. And in the middle of my sorrow that stupid cab driver started shouting at me, so I took it out on him.
It’s been a week. I wonder what this year holds for me. I wonder who will be my friend, who will think of me as a B****? Which coffee shop will be my regular spot? I wonder if my friends will come from Doha to visit? I wonder what will I do in my lonely moments? I wonder if you will come?
Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation: London Event
Hanan Al-Shaykh talks to Peter Florence
London, October 7th, 5.30pm
Following the success of the inaugural meeting of the Bloomsbury Qatar Literary Salon on July 30th with the novelist Ahdaf Soueif talking to Peter Florence, and the Arabic Poetry Iftar hosted at the BQFP villa in Doha on September 9th, Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation Publishing would like to invite you to the third meeting of the Bloomsbury Qatar Literary Salon with the Lebanese novelist Hanan Al-Shaykh and Peter Florence on October 7th 2009, at 5.30pm, again at The House of St Barnabas, No 1 Greek Street, Soho Square, London, W1D 4NQ, in The Library. Refreshments will be served.
The event is open to all with an interest in writing from and about the Arab world.
To reserve a place please RSVP to Safaa Mraish:
Telephone: 020 7494 6349
Post: Safaa Mraish, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY
Hanan al-Shaykh was born in Lebanon and grew up in Beirut. Her novel, Only in London, was shortlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. In 1975 she left Beirut because of the civil war and moved to the Arabian Gulf, dividing her time between London and the Gulf States for the next nine years. Since 1984 she has lived in London with her husband and two children.
Hanan al-Shaykh writes in Arabic and her work has been translated into sixteen languages and is now published around the world. Hanan al-Shaykh is widely regarded as one of the foremost experts on Arab womanhood.
Peter Florence is the Director of the Hay Festival Group, running projects in Britain, Spain, Colombia, Kenya and now Lebanon which will host the Beirut 39 celebrations in April 2010.
Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation Publishing: BQFP is a partnership of Qatar Foundation and Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. Its focus is on publishing books of excellence and originality in six main areas: fiction and non-fiction for adults and for children, educational books for schools, academic books for universities and researchers, classics of Arabic literature, and reference books.
The Ugly Duckling Says it’s Final Goodbye :’(
The Ugly Duckling Says it’s Final Goodbye :’(, originally uploaded by aBa™ , Planing.
Torture days are over
Today is my last day at work. I would like to say that it feels like I just started yesterday and that time has passed really quickly, but that’s not the case. Yes, time passed by, but very painfully and unbelievably slow and boring! I had so much enthusiasm and energy when I started, but it was all crushed by the “great” mentalities of the “Big Bosses” and the very “effective and efficient” bureaucratic system. There is no place for creativity, no place for development! How many young talents that started their lives after graduation with high hopes to give back to this country but were eventually crushed! Crushed so bad and so hard! Crushed everyday! Every second of the day!
I spent two years of my life in this job! Two years wasted! Two years that I wont get back. I tried to make the most of this experience, but there is really no chance to get anywhere in this place. The first year I worked here, was by far the worst in my life. I got seriously depressed, I lost my appetite, I lost 8 KG in less than two months! I looked like a ghost. I was shocked at first by how unequal women are treated. We have a different entrance, a different elevator and are shoved into one floor. All the guys who graduated with us got promoted in less than a year. And we, the girls, finished two years and might need to finish ten more to get one promotion! I went down to see the manager and requested work, requested to attend meetings, requested to be working with my male colleagues to learn, to just do something for God’s sake! Month passed by and I wasn’t given any work. I speak with the manager every two days requesting work. He wants me to be with them at the department, he wants me to attend meetings, he wants to give me as much work as possible. But because women are not allowed to attend meetings or work with men he can’t help it. And even if I was given work, it takes forever to go from the men’s floor to the female’s floor. And many times it gets lost! Very disorganized! Very retarded! After months of nagging, I was able to prove myself, that I was capable of doing some real work! So I was given few things to do! I got so excited. Then I realized that I am too quick. Whatever takes two days, takes two hours with me. They didn’t know what to give me anymore. I also realized that the kind of work I was given doest require a degree! It only requires simple basic reading and writing abilities. It got dull, nothing is challenging nothing is new. And on top of that. Women are not allowed to have training courses abroad! Even some of the training courses in Doha are strictly for men! Is this Qatar! I cant believe it. I feel suffocated. Two years wasted. I don’t even have work experience because there was simply no work. The only thing I have learnt is how to deal with frustration and get over myself and stop feeling sorry for myself for being in such disappointing place. !
I feel like a layer of mud has covered my brain. I panicked! I seriously stopped thinking! Holly S***. This place has the ability to turn you into a vegetable! I started bringing books, loads of books. They started to pile on my desk and in my room. Too many books I have read because I don’t have anything to do. I started skipping work or leaving early. I didn’t respect it anymore. I didn’t even care about the image of my desk. Pens and papers are scattered around, showing no personality or reflection of who sets behind it. Even the chair I am siting on has someone else’s name and i don’t care. The second year got better. Or I got used to the situation. The amount of work I do does not exceed two hours a week. I am really not exaggerating. I am supposed to be a researcher, and in those two years, I have only done two researches. And guess what! It was my idea! I started to stop hoping that work will get better or that I will have equal opportunities as my male colleagues. I shifted my focus on myself and my life outside working hours. I focused on improving the languages I speak and my writing skills. I started going to events and meeting new people. I started doing different projects and occupying myself with books and gym. I started growing out of my shell and became a happier more positive person. I didn’t care about work anymore. I decided that I will leave. But I will fight one more time, I will give this place a chance one more time. And if I was not allowed to be given an opportunity. I will leave. And no one can blame me then! I don’t understand why young talented people are not being used to their full potential here. Even if we wanted to improve things and be creative, the bureaucratic system stops us. We keep fighting and fighting, but at the end we are humans. We give up, we resent this place, we hate it. We try to prove ourselves, show that we are capable professionals, but while we suffer from the system, foreigners are being brought to work as “professionals” “! and we leave!
