Newsletter 24 - 2 February 2006

Jun 16, 2006 5:01 AM

Newsletter 24

 Attached is the last Newsletter I've written.  It's dated in February,

quite a few months after Newsletter 23.  In the intervening time I

went to SC for three weeks for Nell's birth and was back at work for

about five weeks before leaving for ALA in San Antonio.  This

newsletter was written shortly after my return.

 Since then a lot of things have happened at work, including my

becoming the Supervisor of the Art Library at the end of February

followed shortly thereafter by the university's first-ever formal

evaluation of staff, which required using Forms written by HR.  The

staff didn't "react well" (a quote from "Hunt for Red October," one of

my favorite movies) to this experience and it knocked us all off

balance for a few weeks.  After realizing that they did not lose their

jobs in spite of not receiving superior ratings in all items on the

Form, they settled down and things have been smoother.

 Right now I'm cat sitting Sam and John Henry for my friend Bonnie, who

is leaving on vacation today.  They stayed overnight in my flat and

everything went smoothly.  Today she will bring over her car, which

she wants me to use in her absence.  She is trying to convince me to

buy it from her when she leaves in January to take a teaching

appointment in Japan.  We'll see.  Meanhwile, the cats and I will have

fun!

 I will leave for SC on June 19 for three weeks.  Hope to see many of

you while I'm there.

  Enjoy the newsletter!

2 February 2006

This is about me and what I'm doing now that it’s 2006.

It's still challenging at work but I came back from ALA (the American Library Association Midwinter Meeting in San Antonio, TX, in late January) - the time away actually, not from the meetings or whatever - with a fresher perspective and so far it's helping. I'm trying to make some very important (and drastic) changes at the girls' libraries and sometimes it's like pulling teeth; dealing with the cultural differences also makes things interesting. But I love this city and I love my flat and I have the church members and Friday meetings to help me keep focused on the essentials.

I recently bought a set of three "nested" wood tables. They came "knocked down" and I had to put them together myself. Well, I didn't *have* to do it myself but I chose to. I had to go out and buy two screwdrivers and a wrench to accomplish the task and it took longer to do than it might have, but I did it. The largest one stands just inside my front door so I can put things on it when I walk in the door. That way I can free up my hands to lock the door and take off my shoes when I come it. It's been a dream of mine for years and years to have such a table by the front door and now I have one! The smallest one I'm using as a footstool in the living room. Having a footstool has also been a dream of mine for years. My legs from the hip to the knees are so short that my knees don't come to the edge of the couch cushions so my legs sort of stick straight out in front of me unless I sit away from the back of the couch with my knees at the edge of the cushions. So now I have this little wooden stool and I put one of the couch cushions on it and it's just the right height to rest my feet on. I love it!!! The middle sized table is now being used in my "office" to hold printer paper, phone directories and other miscellaneous things. Its location might change but for now, that's where it is.

I also bought a nice big coffee table, also knocked down, and it was a nightmare trying to put it together because the holes where the long screws had to go were just not long enough and I didn't have enough strength to twist the screws all the way in. I went out and bought a battery-powered screwdriver but it didn't have enough oomph to drive the screws into that hard wood. So I had to leave it in pieces while I went to ALA. When I got back I went out and bought an inexpensive drill but when I tried to use it, it drilled holes fine, although in counterclockwise direction, but I couldn't get it to go clockwise to drive in screws, so I used the battery-powered screwdriver to drive them after I'd drilled the holes. I finally got it put together and I think I'm happy with it. I've wanted a coffee table since I got here and this one is big enough that it doesn't look lost in that large majlis.

I had two interesting cultural experiences at work yesterday. One happened during lunch break. One of the Emirati women brought in some national dishes to share with everyone. The main dish was a rice dish that reminded me of Uzbek plov. It was on a huge platter and was an enormous mound of rice cooked with interesting spices and topped by a large piece of meat. Camel meat! The women laughed when I said incredulously, "Camel? Camel?" with my voice going higher each time. I took a deep breath, thinking furiously, and decided to try it. I was pleased to learn that it has a very mild, bland taste with a texture similar to roast beef. Later, when another Emirati staffer came in to eat, I learned that it was her first time eating camel, too, so doing it isn’t universal, apparently. I enjoyed it and I really liked the salad which was made of chopped cooked eggplant, fresh tomatoes and something green marinated in olive oil. There was only one eating utensil, which was being used by one of the staff when I joined them, so the rest of us just scooped up the rice and the salad and whatever and ate it directly from our hands, which became very oily and had little particles of spices and grains of rice that adhered, obviously. It seemed to be very normal to them and since I had lived with people eating that way for more than two years in Uzbekistan, I wasn’t shocked or dismayed; I just joined in.

As we ate and talked, I had the chance to ask questions about some cultural things I'd been wondering about. I asked if any of them owned camels and one said her family had 200 camels, which lived on a farm. Sometimes she visits the farm for a break. Before the UAE was formed, her family was nomadic and were very poor in many respects but by owning camels, were considered to be rich because camels would provide everything the family needed: food, shelter and clothing (from the hides), milk, transportation, etc. She said that her mother knows the names of all the family’s camels and the camels know her, so when she calls them, they come to her. I asked about camel names and learned that they do not have the same names as people do and when you hear a camel name you know it is for a camel, not for a person.

I asked what her family did with 200 camels and she said they raced them and that her brothers were famous camel trainers, the most famous in the UAE, and their camels often won races (and lots of money), in the UAE and in other countries as well. I chose not to ask about jockeys (child jockeys were outlawed in the UAE last year and now robot jockeys are supposed to be used). I just didn’t want to take a chance on getting onto the subject of child jockeys.

During the course of the meal, other chit-chat took place over our handsful of food. I learned that the youngest staff member, an Emirati who is a university graduate, is engaged to be married. The engagement took place last July and the wedding will probably take place a few months from now. The marriage was arranged by her parents and the future groom’s parents. She has never met or seen him and visa versa. “I trust my parents,” she said by way of explanation. She seemed perfectly calm and content with the situation and even smiled at my amazement. One of the women, Y, told about how she had come to marry her husband. When she was younger, she and her sisters of about the same age wore face veils and when their extended family traveled to Saudi Arabia one time to visit Mecca, a male cousin she had played with as a very young child but hadn’t seen in many years was traveling with them and apparently he had reached the age when he wanted to get married. Y’s brother was holding a stack of the family’s passports and he handed them to the cousin, who opened the one on top, which happened to be Y’s, and saw her face in the passport photo. “I want to marry her!” The cousin had exclaimed. And so it had come to pass, after getting parental permissions, of course. Y then stated fervently, “Ilhamduleleh (God be thanked) it was my passport on top and not my sister’s!” She added, “My husband isn’t so handsome, but he is very well-built and he is wonderful.”

As the conversation continued, I said something like, “Muslim men are allowed to have four wives. Does it happen very often?” I was told that in some countries it can be common but in the UAE it doesn’t happen very often these days. The husband can take another wife if he wants to and he doesn’t need approval from his current wife, but, “God will bless me if my husband wants another wife and I agree to it,” Y said. “It is better for your husband to have another wife than to have a girlfriend,” said another. “By agreeing to another wife, you are keeping him from doing wrong.” Another said, “Men often need more than one woman to be with; that’s the way they are.” Y said, “If my husband wanted another wife, I would agree.”

The other experience happened when a male faculty member about my age came into the library and after one of the reference staff had assisted him, I saw him at a table with some books and stopped to ask him if he had found what he was looking for. He stood up, offered to shake my hand, and greeted me. He didn’t let go of my hand but kept talking. He introduced himself, told me what he taught and what his new research interest was. He said he was from Iraq and asked where I was from. I said, rather cautiously, “I’m from America.” I didn’t exactly expect him to attack but feared something like an outburst of shouting. He said, “It doesn’t matter.” He told me that he had studied for six months at a university in Florida.

He asked my name and when I told him “Patricia,” he said, “That is a Christian name!” I said, “Well, I *am* a Christian.” He said, “No, it is an ancient, original Christian name,” but he didn’t elaborate. He was still holding my hand. Then he said, “Where do you live?” Astonished, I slowly replied, “In Jahily.” That’s the part of Al Ain I live in. He said, “May I give you my phone number?” Cautiously, I answered, “Okay.” At that point he finally let go of my hand. He wrote his name and phone number on a piece of paper and then said, “I live at the Hilton.” He wrote “Hilton” on the paper and a number, possibly the room number (I haven’t looked) and handed it to me. He asked if he could have my phone number and handed me a piece of paper. I hesitated, then wrote “Patricia, Art Library Reference Desk” and the reference desk phone number on it. When I handed it to him I explained that my office wasn’t completed yet so I didn’t have an office phone number to give him. He seemed very surprised and asked, “Oh, do you work here at the library?” When I said, “Yes,” he kind of backed off. I rather expected that he wanted my personal phone number and my address but I wasn’t going to go there. I have the paper he wrote on but I won’t call him. If I locate some research or reference sources for him, I will find his university email address and email him about them.

When I mentioned the incident to some other Americans, they were sure the man thought I was coming on to him when I went boldly up to him and started talking to him. I assumed he knew I worked at the library since I had been sitting at the Reference Desk when he came in. I had no idea until the end of the conversation that he didn’t know I worked there. Well, so much for that!

I remember during my research about this place before I came, learning that expat women need to realize that for many men here, it doesn’t matter what size, shape, age or kind of looks a woman has, she is desirable. Well, between the curtain man and this professor, I guess it’s even true for me, even though I am definitely on the wrong side of all those traits as far as American men are concerned. On the other hand, American women here are particularly desirable because if the man can get married to one, he can get an American passport, go to the US and have a lifestyle impossible in many parts of the world. So, it’s best for us to be aware of that and take steps to avoid any entanglements, which can be legal as well as moral. It’s definitely a part of culture shock!