Hello everyone! I just want to thank all of you who have been commenting on my blog and also those of you who send your comments via email. It really has been helping the homesickness, and it has reminded me about how many people I love and care about - no wonder we are homesick!
Today was our Sabbath, and it was good once again to meet with the saints. The combined Relief Society/Priesthood Meeting was quite interesting. There were five different men who spoke about living in Doha (the legal system, how to pay tithes and offerings, how to respect the people here). One man spoke about the strict rules we are to follow concerning missionary work, and basically, there is no missionary work allowed. Because our church is not recognized by the government here yet, we cannot advertise meeting times and places. At our first week of church there was a petition going around that we all signed. Now it is on its way from the American Embassy to Qatar's Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We are petitioning the government of Qatar to formally recognize our church. In Dubai and Abu Dhabi the church has been formally recognized, so the ward members can meet openly and they can list the church address and phone number in the phone book. Here we cannot even put a sign on the villa we meet in. Basically, if anyone coming to Qatar wants to find out where our church meets, it is only through word of mouth that they can find us. Our bishop told us today that there have been many miracles where people have recognized someone wearing garments or noticed a CTR sticker on someone's car and been able to ask them where church meetings are held. It reminds me how important small examples are. If you look on the church web site, you cannot find Doha 1st ward, because it would be breaking the agreement that our church has made with the Qatari government.
Another interesting thing: the villa where we meet is owned by a Qatari citizen who is constantly hassled by the other residents in the neighborhood who want him to kick us out and not rent his villa to our church. But even though most of those neighborhood residents are embassies and very influential, he is totally supportive and sympathetic to our desires to worship. He often visits during meeting times and every so often has a barbecue dinner for everyone. Last week I saw him there smiling and patting the Primary children on their heads as they changed classes. Qataris love children, and I could just see that love and joy in his eyes. I know the Lord is at work here in this Muslim country. We were also warned not to take any photos in the area. One sister in our ward and two of her sons were detained for a few hours by guards with machine guns after they took a photo of a beautiful flower close to one of the emabassies. We often remember that we aren't in Kansas anymore.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Being Homesick
Since we have been in Qatar the homesickness has come in intervals. One day Abbey will be really sad and ready to go home to her kitty. Another day will be my turn to shed a few tears over missing my purple petunia basket on my porch in Bountiful. Then Brett has a turn aching for the green Rocky Mountains of Northern Utah.
Until someone goes away from home, they don't know what will trigger feelings of homesickness. The strangest things will remind me of something I miss, and then I find myself impatient about this new life I am trying to maneuver through. One night I had a dream I was shopping in Target. I woke up in despair, realizing I really couldn't walk into that store of plenty. Maybe that is a sign I haven't been here long enough! Brett and I have gotten to a point now where we don't feel like we are simply trying to survive, so we have had time to reflect on the simplest things we miss about home. Here are just a few things we miss:
Brett misses seeing facial expressions. (All his students are women, and most of them wear the abaya with the berkha.)
Abbey misses hugging her friends.
I miss my Bosch mixer and cooking up something good for Ben and Mary or the neighbors.
Brett misses reading the Deseret News in the morning.
Abbey misses her brother throwing her on the couch when they wrestle. (When we Skyped with Ben he told her to throw herself on the couch for him, and he would punch himself in the arm for her. It wasn't quite the same, but it helped.)
Even though we get to see our grandsons almost every day on the web cam, I miss holding them, running my hand across Thomas' sweaty, thoughtful brow, or squeezing the cottage cheese thighs of Kimball - there is so much more to squeeze these days! There is nothing like kissing tiny baby toes.
The list could go on and on, but you get the idea. There are things I miss that I can't even write about yet, because it hurts too much. Homesick feelings can be large and they can be minute, but no matter what, they have to be acknowledged and discussed at some point. It is a good thing the homesickness has come in waves and we have taken turns comforting each other on the bad days. I don't know what we will do when we all come home and lose our cools at the same time because we just can't stand the sight of sand anymore. Tonight Abbey said, "Mom, tomorrow we are going to the airport and getting on a plane to go home to Utah." It took quite a bit of self-control to not agree and book the flight. Instead, Brett and I threw her on our bed and surrounded her with cuddles. Thankfully that is one thing I don't have to miss here. Our Abbey is an expert cuddler. When you are away, what are you homesick for?
Until someone goes away from home, they don't know what will trigger feelings of homesickness. The strangest things will remind me of something I miss, and then I find myself impatient about this new life I am trying to maneuver through. One night I had a dream I was shopping in Target. I woke up in despair, realizing I really couldn't walk into that store of plenty. Maybe that is a sign I haven't been here long enough! Brett and I have gotten to a point now where we don't feel like we are simply trying to survive, so we have had time to reflect on the simplest things we miss about home. Here are just a few things we miss:
Brett misses seeing facial expressions. (All his students are women, and most of them wear the abaya with the berkha.)
Abbey misses hugging her friends.
I miss my Bosch mixer and cooking up something good for Ben and Mary or the neighbors.
Brett misses reading the Deseret News in the morning.
Abbey misses her brother throwing her on the couch when they wrestle. (When we Skyped with Ben he told her to throw herself on the couch for him, and he would punch himself in the arm for her. It wasn't quite the same, but it helped.)
Even though we get to see our grandsons almost every day on the web cam, I miss holding them, running my hand across Thomas' sweaty, thoughtful brow, or squeezing the cottage cheese thighs of Kimball - there is so much more to squeeze these days! There is nothing like kissing tiny baby toes.
The list could go on and on, but you get the idea. There are things I miss that I can't even write about yet, because it hurts too much. Homesick feelings can be large and they can be minute, but no matter what, they have to be acknowledged and discussed at some point. It is a good thing the homesickness has come in waves and we have taken turns comforting each other on the bad days. I don't know what we will do when we all come home and lose our cools at the same time because we just can't stand the sight of sand anymore. Tonight Abbey said, "Mom, tomorrow we are going to the airport and getting on a plane to go home to Utah." It took quite a bit of self-control to not agree and book the flight. Instead, Brett and I threw her on our bed and surrounded her with cuddles. Thankfully that is one thing I don't have to miss here. Our Abbey is an expert cuddler. When you are away, what are you homesick for?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Kristy's Request
Here are more pictures of our life here - Kristy begged, so here they are. Abbey loves her room, especially having her own bathroom. Our bedroom here is three times as big as the one we have in Bountiful. The whole house is way too big for a family of three, but that is how it goes here. We have four full baths and one half bath. There are four bedrooms, one a maid's quarters off the kitchen that we use for the ironing room. The stackable washer and dryer are in the kitchen and not quite up to the standard of the beautiful Kenmore set I have at home. There are no garbage disposals here, so it feels like the Stone Age, but our dishwasher is sparkly wonderful. The tile work is amazing - the kitchen and bathrooms are floor to ceiling tile, because it is cheaper to tile the walls than it is to put dry wall up. And there are nine foot ceilings! The whole house is made of cement, so the walls are not easily decorated. Brett wants to paint, but we will see. Abbey still thinks our home here is"weird," but we are slowly getting used to it. If any of you come to our neck of the woods, you are welcome to stay, because as you can see, we have plenty of room!Monday, August 18, 2008
Images of Doha
Here are a few photos we took of our home here. The cute American Fox Hound making himself at home with Abbey is Riley (he eats carrots), and he belongs to our neighbors Jesse and Felicity. Check out the shot from my hallway window I took as the sun went down tonight. The spire on the left in the photo is called "Aspire" and it was built, along with beautiful facilities, for the 2006 Asian Games that were held here. The locals call it the torch, and it is very helpful to those of us used to navigating with mountains to the east. Because we are so close to the equator, the sun sets here at about 6:30 PM and comes up at 5:30 AM. In the photo you can also see the big construction project they are working on next to our complex. There is a housing shortage in Doha, and to rent a two bedroom villa it is about $5000. After I took this photo I went to turn on the hallway lights and noticed a thick layer of sand had blown in through the small spaces where the window panels come together and had settled on top of the light switch box. That is one of the fun challenges of the desert life.Sunday, August 17, 2008
More on Mohammed and Some Corrections
Okay, so I think I am obsessed with this fascinating man who works for VCUQ. I've heard more about Mohammed Ali's background, and he definitely is more than just the "go-to guy" for the university. I heard tonight that he used to be one of the bodyguards for the former emir of Qatar. This emir was deposed by his son in the 90's, and since then the country has undergone a remarkable renaissance. The country is booming with expansion, money, and western influences. When this emir was deposed there was no coup attempt or subversive activity. The emir just left for a holiday out of the country, and when his airplane landed on foreign soil, there were officials there to tell him that he was no longer the king of Qatar, because his son had taken over. Then it was as if he just shrugged his shoulders and accepted his forced "retirement." So I guess after that, Mohammed Ali needed a new line of work, and that is when he started working for VCUQ.
I also heard tonight that in the beginning days of the university here, there was a committee meeting going on, and the dean and professors were discussing a certain individual in the community who was making things difficult for the school to get established. The dean said something like, "Oh, I wish he [meaning the man giving the school difficulty] would just go away." Mohammed Ali spoke up and said that it could be arranged if that is what she wanted. She quickly told him she did not mean it that way, but it certainly stopped the meeting cold. This story borders on mythical, and yet believable at the same time.
I guess Mohammed Ali is a polygamist - Yes, they do exist outside of Utah and Texas. Another story circulating around campus has to do with Mohammed Ali and one of his wives who also works at VCUQ. I guess one day he and his wife were fighting and doing it loudly. Mohammed Ali asked one of the professors to come into the hallway. Then in front of this witness and many others, Mohammed Ali spoke directly to this wife and said, "I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you!" So by Qatari and Muslim law, he had legally divorced his wife. It sounds quite severe, especially considering the other side of that law which does not allow a wife to do the same - women cannot divorce their husbands, but men only have to speak those three sentences, and it is done. I was concerned for this abandoned wife of Mohammed's, but she still works at VCUQ, and she and Mohammed Ali have reunited. It was only for a few months that she referred to him as "the bad one" when speaking of him to other co-workers.
Just a correction in closing. After talking to more informed people, I have learned a little more about the garments Muslim women wear. An abaya is the long black dress they wear, not the head scarf as I said before. A shayla is the head scarf, and the head scarf with the veil is called a burkha, and the burkha can be long in front to cover the whole torso or shorter, just around the shoulders. I'm sure there are more specific words, and I will make more mistakes along this learning experience, but it is interesting and enlightening. This extensive covering of the body might be a strange part of the country, but I do know that Brett has expressed more than once how nice it is to walk in the mall and not have to avert his eyes because some woman is dressed immodestly. Interesting!
I also heard tonight that in the beginning days of the university here, there was a committee meeting going on, and the dean and professors were discussing a certain individual in the community who was making things difficult for the school to get established. The dean said something like, "Oh, I wish he [meaning the man giving the school difficulty] would just go away." Mohammed Ali spoke up and said that it could be arranged if that is what she wanted. She quickly told him she did not mean it that way, but it certainly stopped the meeting cold. This story borders on mythical, and yet believable at the same time.
I guess Mohammed Ali is a polygamist - Yes, they do exist outside of Utah and Texas. Another story circulating around campus has to do with Mohammed Ali and one of his wives who also works at VCUQ. I guess one day he and his wife were fighting and doing it loudly. Mohammed Ali asked one of the professors to come into the hallway. Then in front of this witness and many others, Mohammed Ali spoke directly to this wife and said, "I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you!" So by Qatari and Muslim law, he had legally divorced his wife. It sounds quite severe, especially considering the other side of that law which does not allow a wife to do the same - women cannot divorce their husbands, but men only have to speak those three sentences, and it is done. I was concerned for this abandoned wife of Mohammed's, but she still works at VCUQ, and she and Mohammed Ali have reunited. It was only for a few months that she referred to him as "the bad one" when speaking of him to other co-workers.
Just a correction in closing. After talking to more informed people, I have learned a little more about the garments Muslim women wear. An abaya is the long black dress they wear, not the head scarf as I said before. A shayla is the head scarf, and the head scarf with the veil is called a burkha, and the burkha can be long in front to cover the whole torso or shorter, just around the shoulders. I'm sure there are more specific words, and I will make more mistakes along this learning experience, but it is interesting and enlightening. This extensive covering of the body might be a strange part of the country, but I do know that Brett has expressed more than once how nice it is to walk in the mall and not have to avert his eyes because some woman is dressed immodestly. Interesting!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Doha First Ward
Today was our second Sabbath in Qatar. I say "Sabbath" because here we go to church on Friday instead of Sunday. For Qataris, Sunday is the first day of the work week. It is going to take awhile for us to get used to that. I keep thinking today is Sunday when it is really Friday. So our Thursday night is like a Friday night and our Saturday night is like a Sunday night back home. Get it?! For a planner like me, it has been driving me crazy. Part of keeping the Sabbath day holy now requires me to make sure and shop on Thursday.
The ward here is bigger than I imagined it would be, and there are still many people on vacation in the states right now who will be coming back in the next few weeks before school starts. I am told that the Primary has just over 30 children when everyone comes back. We belong to the Arabian Penninsula Stake, and get this - there are about 2,000 saints who live in Saudi Arabia. All the women there must wear the shayla (head scarf) or an abaya (long black robe/dress), and they are not allowed to drive. I cannot imagine being that dependent on my husband to just get groceries.
There are two wards here in Doha, and we meet in a large villa downtown that has been remodeled inside to serve the purposes of a meetinghouse. The Doha First Ward is made of all types of people from all over the world. Last Sunday, oh, I mean Friday, when I sat down by a sister named Minika, I received the largest and longest hug of my life. She smelled of spices and her British accent welcomed me to Qatar. She soon told me her background about how she had emmigrated from Nigeria to Great Britain and then from Great Britain to Qatar. She has three grown sons all living in England. Today her son, who is in his early twenties, was here visiting. Minika's very handsome son stood and introduced himself. His mom was very proud to mention that he is the Young Men President in his ward back in England. Last week a sister from India spoke and talked about her remarkable conversion story. The Doha Second Ward is made up entirely of Filipino saints. It is amazing to me to see the world represented here in Qatar, and I marvel at how the Lord has brought all these people together to lay the foundation for a new frontier in missionary work.
It is illegal for a Muslim person to attend church anywhere but the Mosque. So we are very restricted about who we speak to about our faith. In Utah there is a joke when you give directions. You say something like, "Make a left at the LDS meetinghouse." It is funny because there are so many meetinghouses. Well, the same joke stands here, only you replace the meetinghouse with the word "mosque". Knowing the restrictions placed on the people here makes me so grateful for a country where I can worship how and where I choose. Hopefully someday in the near future the Muslim people will also receive that kind of freedom. In Qatar the call to prayer is sounded six times a day and it can be heard from the loud speakers on the Mosques and the loud speakers in the grocery stores. So for now, I am choosing to use that time to remind myself of my blessings and my Savior, even when I'm trying to decipher the Arabic on a package of soup mix.
The ward here is bigger than I imagined it would be, and there are still many people on vacation in the states right now who will be coming back in the next few weeks before school starts. I am told that the Primary has just over 30 children when everyone comes back. We belong to the Arabian Penninsula Stake, and get this - there are about 2,000 saints who live in Saudi Arabia. All the women there must wear the shayla (head scarf) or an abaya (long black robe/dress), and they are not allowed to drive. I cannot imagine being that dependent on my husband to just get groceries.
There are two wards here in Doha, and we meet in a large villa downtown that has been remodeled inside to serve the purposes of a meetinghouse. The Doha First Ward is made of all types of people from all over the world. Last Sunday, oh, I mean Friday, when I sat down by a sister named Minika, I received the largest and longest hug of my life. She smelled of spices and her British accent welcomed me to Qatar. She soon told me her background about how she had emmigrated from Nigeria to Great Britain and then from Great Britain to Qatar. She has three grown sons all living in England. Today her son, who is in his early twenties, was here visiting. Minika's very handsome son stood and introduced himself. His mom was very proud to mention that he is the Young Men President in his ward back in England. Last week a sister from India spoke and talked about her remarkable conversion story. The Doha Second Ward is made up entirely of Filipino saints. It is amazing to me to see the world represented here in Qatar, and I marvel at how the Lord has brought all these people together to lay the foundation for a new frontier in missionary work.
It is illegal for a Muslim person to attend church anywhere but the Mosque. So we are very restricted about who we speak to about our faith. In Utah there is a joke when you give directions. You say something like, "Make a left at the LDS meetinghouse." It is funny because there are so many meetinghouses. Well, the same joke stands here, only you replace the meetinghouse with the word "mosque". Knowing the restrictions placed on the people here makes me so grateful for a country where I can worship how and where I choose. Hopefully someday in the near future the Muslim people will also receive that kind of freedom. In Qatar the call to prayer is sounded six times a day and it can be heard from the loud speakers on the Mosques and the loud speakers in the grocery stores. So for now, I am choosing to use that time to remind myself of my blessings and my Savior, even when I'm trying to decipher the Arabic on a package of soup mix.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Mohammed Ali and the Driver's License
Okay, is it Drivers License, Driver's License, or Drivers' License? I think appostrophes are grossly neglected in signage and print today. . . Well, when we arrived in Qatar we were exhausted. Abbey and I slept while Brett began the process of immigration that first full day. Part of that immigration was to get a Qatar driver's license. That sounded simple enough, but Brett told me that it felt like he had stepped back into the old world when he went. When I went a few days after he did to get my license, I knew he had been accurate.
VCUQ (Virginia Commonwealth University) has a man working for them who is the liason officer, which simply means he speaks Arabic and knows how to bridge the gap between western and middle eastern folk. He is pretty much the go-to guy. His name happens to be Mohammed Ali though, so every time I see him, even though he is dressed in the traditional Arabic garb with the thobe and the shimagh, I think of that song that was written for the fighter Mohammed Ali: "He floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee." Instead of being a prize fighter, this Mohammed Ali is an Egyptian immigrant to Qatar who has worked for this American University for ten years.
So last Thursday I got to see Mohammed Ali in action, and I must say, his moves are as impressive as the boxer's moves in the ring. First of all, he walks very quickly with short strides. How he does that, I don't know. I could barely keep up with him when we walked from the SUV to the government office that looked like it served people as well as livestock. Secondly, Mohammed Ali uses very little verbal communication, but is able to breeze past long lines and accomplish so much with less trouble than the regular citizen. Obviously his reputation preceeds him. I felt like a gawky western bumpkin running to keep up with this man. We got to the souq (shop) where I had to have my polaroid taken for the license, and he said maybe two or three words in Arabic to the two men behind the counter, pointed to me and the stool in front of the blue cloth on the wall, and said, "You, sit." When the pictures were unveiled they showed that I had blinked. Mohammed Ali rolled his eyes at me and said, "You sit again." Again, another gawky moment.
The other VCUQ employees I was with started visiting with me in the reception area (and I use that term loosely, because there wasn't a whole lot of welcoming atmosphere there), and I guess we got a little loud. Mohammed Ali came over and with just one look and a weird hushing sound let us know that we were being inappropriate in the official office. We quickly quieted down, but somehow I felt like I had let him down yet again. First the blinking in the photo, now this. I was just praying that I would pass the eye test so they would actually give me a license.
Well, I now have that Qatari license, and from what I've seen it is simply a license to drive like a Nascar sponsored allstar. What is more important though is that I didn't let Mohammed Ali down, and I have begun my cultural journey toward understanding a people who can have the smooth poise of a butterfly and the driving ettiquette of a bumble bee. Since Mohammed Ali is the "go-to guy" for the university, I've been told that another one of his jobs is to provide support in all situations, and if I get in a car accident I should call him first and then the emergency number. I just hope that never happens, because I would just be adding to the list of times I had let him down. He's just one of those people you don't want to disappoint!
VCUQ (Virginia Commonwealth University) has a man working for them who is the liason officer, which simply means he speaks Arabic and knows how to bridge the gap between western and middle eastern folk. He is pretty much the go-to guy. His name happens to be Mohammed Ali though, so every time I see him, even though he is dressed in the traditional Arabic garb with the thobe and the shimagh, I think of that song that was written for the fighter Mohammed Ali: "He floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee." Instead of being a prize fighter, this Mohammed Ali is an Egyptian immigrant to Qatar who has worked for this American University for ten years.
So last Thursday I got to see Mohammed Ali in action, and I must say, his moves are as impressive as the boxer's moves in the ring. First of all, he walks very quickly with short strides. How he does that, I don't know. I could barely keep up with him when we walked from the SUV to the government office that looked like it served people as well as livestock. Secondly, Mohammed Ali uses very little verbal communication, but is able to breeze past long lines and accomplish so much with less trouble than the regular citizen. Obviously his reputation preceeds him. I felt like a gawky western bumpkin running to keep up with this man. We got to the souq (shop) where I had to have my polaroid taken for the license, and he said maybe two or three words in Arabic to the two men behind the counter, pointed to me and the stool in front of the blue cloth on the wall, and said, "You, sit." When the pictures were unveiled they showed that I had blinked. Mohammed Ali rolled his eyes at me and said, "You sit again." Again, another gawky moment.
The other VCUQ employees I was with started visiting with me in the reception area (and I use that term loosely, because there wasn't a whole lot of welcoming atmosphere there), and I guess we got a little loud. Mohammed Ali came over and with just one look and a weird hushing sound let us know that we were being inappropriate in the official office. We quickly quieted down, but somehow I felt like I had let him down yet again. First the blinking in the photo, now this. I was just praying that I would pass the eye test so they would actually give me a license.
Well, I now have that Qatari license, and from what I've seen it is simply a license to drive like a Nascar sponsored allstar. What is more important though is that I didn't let Mohammed Ali down, and I have begun my cultural journey toward understanding a people who can have the smooth poise of a butterfly and the driving ettiquette of a bumble bee. Since Mohammed Ali is the "go-to guy" for the university, I've been told that another one of his jobs is to provide support in all situations, and if I get in a car accident I should call him first and then the emergency number. I just hope that never happens, because I would just be adding to the list of times I had let him down. He's just one of those people you don't want to disappoint!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Marhaba
Marhaba means "welcome" in Arabic. For the most part, we have felt very welcome in our new home in Doha, Qatar. I think there is no getting around the cultural overload though, and we have been pretty overwhelmed. The 24 hour plane flight, the moving, the hot and humid climate, not to mention all the bland colors of sand and sand-colored buildings have had quite a physical as well as emotional and mental impact on us. It is quite a unique experience for a westerner to walk through a mall filled with people dressed in abayas and thobes. I don't know what can prepare a person for that.
The morning after we arrived Abbey and I slept 14 hours straight while Brett started his first day of orientation atVirginia Commonwealth University Qatar. It has taken all of us over a week now to feel rested - and even then it is questionable.
I have a new appreciation and respect for my dad who emmigrated from Germany to Canada in the 1950's. He didn't know any English and had to slowly learn the language as he manuevered his way through a new country and culture. At least for us, most people here know some English - and I use that term "some" very loosely. I find myself asking the maintenance man at our complex to repeat things over and over. He is not even Qatari. There are more immigrants in this country than there are nationals. We were told that there are only 200,000 Qatari nationals in this land, and most of them are very wealthy, so they need that immigrant population to support their lavish lifestyle. In honor of that, and because the hot humid climate has taken my natural sweet smells to new heights, I bought myself some new perfume here called "Lavish." It hasn't helped me feel any more like a native, but it has definitely improved the surrounding aromas. Next time I will write about how I went to go get my Qatari drivers license with Mohammed Ali. Imagine that!
The morning after we arrived Abbey and I slept 14 hours straight while Brett started his first day of orientation atVirginia Commonwealth University Qatar. It has taken all of us over a week now to feel rested - and even then it is questionable.
I have a new appreciation and respect for my dad who emmigrated from Germany to Canada in the 1950's. He didn't know any English and had to slowly learn the language as he manuevered his way through a new country and culture. At least for us, most people here know some English - and I use that term "some" very loosely. I find myself asking the maintenance man at our complex to repeat things over and over. He is not even Qatari. There are more immigrants in this country than there are nationals. We were told that there are only 200,000 Qatari nationals in this land, and most of them are very wealthy, so they need that immigrant population to support their lavish lifestyle. In honor of that, and because the hot humid climate has taken my natural sweet smells to new heights, I bought myself some new perfume here called "Lavish." It hasn't helped me feel any more like a native, but it has definitely improved the surrounding aromas. Next time I will write about how I went to go get my Qatari drivers license with Mohammed Ali. Imagine that!
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