Palestine and Pigs

I was told never to bring up 2 subjects here:  pigs and Israel.  I didn't.  But my students did.  Today I handed out a class set of student World Atlases and told them to explore them and then report back on what they had discovered.  It wasn't long before one of the students exclaimed, "Miss Conway!  Someone has written in the book with black marker!"  Sure enough, someone had gone through all of the atlases and crossed off the word Israel.  The students, of course, wanted to know why they covered up words and what the words said.  They easily were able to read underneath the black marks.  “It says Israel!”  

Instead of thinking “Oh shit, they brought up the one subject I’m not allowed to talk about… what now?” I felt relieved and quickly thought about the best way to address this issue.  I was not going to sweep it under the rug or tell them to ignore it.  Isn’t this what they call a “teachable moment?”  

One little boy, from Iraq, raised his hand and very quietly said, “This makes me very, very angry.  This place is not Israel.  It is called Palestine.  I am so angry.”  My response:  “Well, I think this is exactly why someone crossed off the word Israel, boys and girls.  They did not want to make anyone angry.  You see, there is a war that has been going on for quite some time because people cannot agree on who this country belongs to.  Some people believe it should be called Israel, and others believe it should be called Palestine.  It is very sad that people are fighting over this country, and having a war about it.”  The kids agreed that war is bad (this isn’t our first conversation about war-- we have already discussed the war in Egypt, Iraq, and Syria.  In third grade.  All because my students had direct association with those places).  And my answer seemed to satisfy them.  I ended with, “let’s be grateful that we live in a peaceful country, and our classroom belongs to all of us no matter where we are from and what we believe in.”  

As for the subject of pigs, I can’t wait to see what happens when I innocently read The Three Little Pigs.  

Country Mouse in the City

In a city full of stray cats, it’s no wonder you don’t see any mice.  I’m starting to feel like a country mouse here in the city, or at least a country mouse in disguise.  I dread having to leave the house because I no longer live in a place where I can walk out my front door wearing my yoga clothes and flip-flops (even to go to the corner store for water and bananas).  I have to cover up my tattoos and try hard to look like I tried hard to look decent.  What could possibly happen if I don’t?  Well, it’s not like I’d get devoured by some hungry predator, but I would stick out like a sore thumb (even more so than I already do being white and female).  

All the make-up and fancy clothes can’t make me look like a magazine model or a t.v.star, let alone like a city dweller.  The other ex-pat women here are all about style, and I just don't have it.  At least not the urban fashion style. I think back on my days in Alaska and Oregon.  Damn, I was HOT in Alaska.  Super hot.  I could rock Xtra Tuffs and Carhartts and make men's hearts melt.  I didn’t have to wear make-up.  I could throw my hair in a bun and use scrunchies and not worry about the fashion police arresting me.  I dressed for the weather, not the people.  I dressed so that I could get dirty or wet, not to look like I had never gutted a fish or climbed a mountain.   Who am I fooling here in my high heels and pathetic attempts to look "stylish"?  It never feels right or comfortable.  I doubt myself constantly-- “Am I supposed to wear nude heels with this skirt?  Do I wear silver or gold with this outfit?  Should my earrings match my necklace?  Do I look like I don't know a thing about fashion (cuz I don't)?" Yes, I hired a personal stylist to help equip me for this place, but I feel like I should have taken better notes.  The thing is I just don’t like to fake it and I feel like that’s what I’m doing here-- faking it.  And so is everyone else.  

I have not found "my people" yet.  REAL people.  People who aren't fake, who are liberal and outspoken, hippies, people who don't give a shit what people think, who aren't afraid to admit they are vulnerable and make mistakes.  Aside from my roommate (how blessed I am!), I haven’t found anyone that I can be real with, and who I feel is showing me who they really are.  That's it-- this place is hard.  This place is full of people who care more about what is outside than what is inside.  Maybe what I gain from this whole experience is simply an answer to the big question, an end to this restless uncertainty: Where do I belong?  

My heart and soul are screaming for a mountain, to be protected by the trees, to be standing somewhere where there are no signs of humans.  Just nature.  Raw and wild.  It is turning into an anxiety that I never expected would be so deep.  It's a sadness and a longing deep within me, and if I think about it too much I start to cry.  I just swallow it, and distract myself... with work, with shopping missions, with the internet.  

Ok, enough with the rant.  This situation is only temporary. Speaking of shopping missions-- I found organic kale today which made me want to leap through Lulu's in joy. I also discovered an organic grocer where I can order a veggie box with local, seasonal, organic veggies, which I can pick up from a cafe nearby called Jones the Grocer. The website is called Ripe Me. Yes, Ripe Me. Clever or creepy?

Be positive, Erin! Why is it so hard? Ok so I caught some glimpses of humanity last night.  I went to a poetry slam event -- Rooftop Rhythms-- with my new friends Cathy (from Kenya) and Temi (from NYC).  There were poets, hip hop artists, and singers from all over the UAE and abroad.  They represented many countries in Africa (Egypt, Sudan, Somalia, Kenya, Ghana), the Middle East & Asia (Palestine, UAE, Pakistan, India) and the Americas (Detroit, New York, L.A., San Francisco, Guyana).  There was some real talent (and some brave souls who got up to the mic), great hip hop and R & B singers.  I especially loved the woman who sang Erikah Badu’s “On and On” and got the whole audience singing.  I realized that I would never find a gathering like this in Oregon or Alaska.  I still felt like a country mouse (who can’t dance) though.  

A Few Things I Have Learned Since Moving to the UAE

I’ve learned how to burn Arabian incense—loose sandalwood and frankincense crystals—in a gaudy goblet using charcoal.  

I’ve learned how to hail a taxi, and most importantly, how to direct a taxi to my anonymous apartment, which is on a street with no name.

I’ve learned how to navigate Lulu’s Hypermarket, and am constantly surprised by the ever-changing inventory.  I’ve decided that each week I will research 2 recipes using a new fruit and a new vegetable, since the produce department is full of such exotic ingredients from around the world.  Today’s purchase was galangal, which I will use to make Tom Kha soup.  It was delightfully easy to find the other ingredients (kaffir liime leaves, lemongrass stems, etc.).

I’ve learned that nothing is as it seems, and nothing ever happens when it is supposed to happen.  I’ve learned that if it does, then it is an unexpected treat akin to winning the lottery.  And one must celebrate.

I’ve learned how to flush the toilet in my apartment.  It takes the perfect balance of force and wait time, with two (sometimes three, or if I’m lucky one) push on the lever.  

I’ve learned that desalinized water wreaks havoc on the hair and skin, so I have installed a shower filter.

Actually, the watchman, Sajit,  installed the shower filter.  I’ve learned that cash is the universal language, and it pays to reward the watchman for his watchmanly duties (which involve sitting outside the apartment with the numerous stray cats, and installing water filters for helpless American tenants with no tools).  

I’ve learned that Abu Dhabi is a haven for stray cats, and aside from the occasional pigeon, they are the only animals I ever see in the city.

I’ve learned that life gets a lot more interesting when you are living among so many different cultures.  The diversity is my favorite part about living in the UAE.  I look at my beautiful kids, and their beautiful faces in so many shades of skin (from pale with freckles to dark cocoa brown), their different accents and mannerisms, their sense of humor (and lack of… ok, so maybe they just don’t get my jokes), and I feel like I am living, really living, an international life.    

I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut around other teachers, and to choose my friends carefully.

I’ve learned that little gifts of chocolate and heartfelt thank yous will guarantee immediate IT assistance at work, and a very clean classroom.  

I’ve learned that this city is only 40 years old, and despite the wealth, is still a “developing” country.  

I’ve learned the difference between a hijab, an abaya, a shayla and a burqa.  The hijab is the colorful head scarves that Muslim women wear all over the world, the abaya is the long black robes that Emirati women wear, the shayla is the black head scarf worn with the abaya, and a burqua is the piece that covers the face (In the UAE it looks like a metallic beak, but is actually made out of some sort of hard fabric or felt, and is bronze in color, typically only worn by older women).  

I’ve learned that you can tell a woman is beautiful just by her eyes and the way she walks.  

I’ve learned that Muslims here need not pray during the iman’s prayer call, but can actually “make up” their 5 prayers a day at anytime in between the first call (about 2 hours before sunrise)  and the last call of the day (about 2 hours after sunset).  

I’ve learned to embrace malls.  It’s the place to be in the UAE.  

I’ve learned to count my blessings, which is sometimes most meaningful and important on the days when it is most difficult to remember them.