Ramadan Kareem!

Originally Published: June 10, 2018

That means “Blessed Ramadan.”

On the first day of Ramadan, I said this to my students coming in, and one girl said it back, but then laughed because I’m obviously not Muslim. But I think it’s like if someone says Merry Christmas, even if you don’t celebrate, you just graciously accept that someone is wishing you well and asking their god to bless you and return the sentiment.

Ramadan is the holiest of holidays for Muslims. On the sighting of the first crescent moon in the ninth month of the lunar calendar, Ramadan starts. This is the month that the Koran was revealed to the prophet. This is a time to be particularly observant: do good and be good.

Observant Muslims fast all day, no water even, and then when the sun goes down they break their fast with a meal called iftar. Usually, they start with dates. They can eat all through the night, but the second meal is called suhoor which they eat before daybreak, meaning it starts as early as two or three in the morning so that they are finished by sunrise.

They fast to be reminded of those who are hungry. Feeding and clothing the poor is particularly important. They give a great deal to charities (nonprofit friends take note), and they spend a lot of time with family and friends giving and receiving hospitality and gifts.

In practice, this means everything in the city changes.

No one is required to work more than six hours a day. Businesses tend to open later, close during the middle of the day, and open again after iftar. People are not allowed to eat or drink in public, so restaurants all close during the day. If they are open, their windows are all blacked out, or they do delivery only. You cannot buy any alcohol at all. You aren’t allowed to chew gum. No public music and modest dress is more strictly enforced.

There are beautiful decorations of light. Lanterns and crescent moons and stars are everywhere. People are happy and generous and see it as a break from the usual day-to-day life.

People are up all night and if they can, they sleep a good portion of the day.

This leads to things like 10:30 PM doctor’s appointments, and going to the bank, or dealing with your cell phone company only after 8 PM. It leads to horrible driving just at sunset as people are in a rush to get to the iftar. It leads to gym classes, like dance, being silent. Girls who normally wear Western clothes and no hijab, wear an abaya at least.

Although rules about modest dress and alcohol are the law, no one bothers a woman in a tank top, and you can get a permit to buy alcohol as long as you aren’t Muslim. Hotels and some restaurants have permits to serve alcohol. However, permits are suspended for the month of Ramadan, and people will call the police about music being played, and it’s best to make sure to cover your shoulders and knees.

Practically speaking, at school, the hours are shorter, the cafeteria is blacked out, no music is allowed, and the dress code is policed a bit more strictly. You get your coffee to go and put it in a bag to carry to your office, and you have to blackout your office windows to drink it. The students are whiny and say they are fasting, so they shouldn’t have to work or do anything – to which everyone laughs and says – that’s the point of fasting. You are supposed to try to endure, not just reverse your sleeping patterns. Students try to convince the new teachers that they have to leave to go pray – which is not true. They can pray the mid-day prayer within two hours of the call, so lunchtime is perfect.

This year, Ramadan has fallen just at the close of the school year, so we had to have any final parties with food just before May 15th. Graduation was at 8 PM at night, and we had no music on the last day of school.

It’s been fascinating to learn more about Arab and Islamic culture. People are so warm and willing to talk about why and how they do things. I wish that more Americans knew what it was really like in the GCC. When I look at movies and books now, I see how our perceptions are shaped by this foggy notion of the pan-Arab terrorist who hates us. Honestly, in Germany, I felt more hostility and condescension for being American than I have here. The truth of American-Arab relations is so much more complicated than either Left or Right propaganda would have us believe.

As I come to the end of my first year, I am so grateful for this opportunity. Despite the heat and the construction, this is a beautiful place. I do, indeed, feel blessed.

My First Impressions of Qatar

Originally published: August 12, 2017

Beautiful architecture. Fascinating.

Beautiful people – gorgeous, whiter than white robes, perfectly groomed beards, stunning Rolex watches. Gorgeous women with black flowing robes in creative layers, designer sunglasses, bejeweled iPhone cases, and incredible Italian shoes. The smells of expensive soaps and complex, sophisticated perfumes.

My compound – well-built, well-maintained. Amazing, luxury amenities like the pool, Jacuzzi, sauna, steam room, workout rooms, yoga rooms, tennis courts, squash court, billiards room, laundry service, a restaurant that delivers. Apartment: Living/dining room, two offices, one bedroom, kitchen, three and a half baths.

Outside – breathtakingly hot. 110F/40C degrees but with humidity, it feels like 120/50. I got lightheaded just walking from the bus into the school. The humidity makes it feel oddly less punishing and more like a sauna. Because the heat is absolutely surrounding me, engulfing me like a steambath it doesn’t feel as if it is beating down on me and baking my skin or my head.

The air – much more breathable and clear than expected. The smells are mostly car exhaust, sand, ocean, and the soft green of palm and various desert plants I have no name for.

The sounds of the call to prayer. Fascinating. What a beautiful aspect of this culture where everyone stops five times a day to think about whether or not they are living in accordance with their values. A moment to stop and be grateful for your life and what you have, a moment to stop and think about being supported and cared for by a higher power and a community, a moment to consider all of the ethical implications of how you are conducting your life. It’s quite lovely. 

So far, I am overwhelmed with senses and impressions, and while I want to process them and write about them – I also don’t want them to calcify and become my experience. I want to see so much more and remain open to just experiencing.

Hardest thing to get used to? Don’t flush the toilet paper.

Easiest thing to get used to? Everyone speaks English.

So far so good.

On Food, Flags, and Festivals

Originally posted on December 17, 20217.

This week was International Week at the American School of Doha, and it was amazing. I also realized just how much living in Germany has changed me.

The week started off with an opening ceremony with the entire school. There were speeches about sustainability and about partitions between people. A Libyan girl and Palestinian boy spoke about how international education, and what we are doing here at ASD, can help bridge bloody political divisions. They spoke of their loved ones who have died in conflicts, and how they feel so privileged to be here, to be safe, and be among such diversity. This was followed by the “Parade of Flags” which is where the youngest and oldest (usually) of each nationality represented at the school walks the flag of their nation down the center of the gym while student representatives read a short paragraph about the unique features or interesting facts about the country.

There had been some concern that because of the blockade, students might be inappropriate when the Saudi Arabian, UAE, Bahrain, or Egyptian flags had their moment. There is a great deal of anger towards those countries right now, and for good cause. So, when those flags were presented, and a huge group of mainly Qatari students in thobes and black abayas stood up and cheered the loudest, I am not ashamed to admit I teared up. They were showing solidarity and support for their friends and classmates, and showing that people can discern the difference between the policies of leaders and the humanity of the people.

The last two flags to be presented were the US flag and the Qatari flag, and when those two had their moments the entire audience stood and cheered. We are united in our American education, and we are united in support of Qatar. It all ended with everyone singing the school song which, though corny, highlights our shared goals and values. I admit it was moving.

I also admit it was deeply uncomfortable. I was disturbed to realize how much of my youth was shaped by such rituals of patriotism I earnestly supported and took for granted. The morning Pledge of Allegiance, the hand over my heart to salute the flag, the singing of the national anthem. These things move me and touch my sense of identity and my sense of unity with the diverse people of the United States. Living in Germany, where all of these things are seen as potentially dangerous, has also now shaped me. I do not see these rituals as being at odds with my criticism of my country because critically challenging my leadership is fundamental to my patriotism. It is our duty to challenge our leadership when it is unjust or oppressive. Europeans do not see patriotism in the same way. They are frightened and derisive of our patriotism because it is assumed to be blind and unthinking. Which, to be fair, for many, it is.

To me, being an American is about not being blind or unthinking about our country’s deep problems, being an American is about a commitment to helping realize the dream, the more perfect union, based on liberty and justice for all. It is the hollow displays of American superiority and mindless flag-waving that disgust and dismays me. These are the two sides of rituals of patriotism.

The parade of flags was a nationalist display of the love of country and identity and was not jingoistic but an opportunity for third-culture and bi-cultural kids to celebrate the multiple facets of their own identity. However, it is conversely part of the very problem that creates the bloody division that the students were pleading against.

Many international schools in Europe are deeply conflicted about such displays, and this ceremony would never have happened at my previous school. There is a great deal of discussion and anxiety over what international mindedness means, and how we both honor our diversity and emphasize our unity. This is the very dilemma of the American Experiment. The rest of the world, especially in largely monocultural countries, are struggling with this. There is a lot of talk about how we embed internationalism and go beyond “food, flags, and festivals” as every conference and training has emphasized. However, there is still, I believe, great value in food, flags, and festivals. This is how we share our individuality so that we can see each other’s shared humanity.

The Wednesday buffet is the most anticipated event of the year at our school. Families provide the biggest potluck I have ever seen. The whole wing of the school smells rich with exotic spices and warm bread. At each table, families fill your plate and describe their personal comfort foods. It is a celebration of our diversity, and it is a shared communal experience of joy and nourishment. People discover flavors they love and hate, and they laugh and talk about commonalities and differences.

Outside at the Arab Mother’s tent, there is a constant supply of sweet tea and coffee flavored with cardamon and cream, breakfast dishes of wheat or semolina and dates. There are hawks, and henna, and sword dances. These are an expression of, and a sharing of, the beauty and richness of our host culture with everyone.

Our international week is about our shared humanity, and about loving our own identity within our diverse community. I am so lucky to be actively struggling with how these paradoxical ideas of unity and divisions can possibly be negotiated. My students will grow up thoughtfully negotiating these challenging ideas as well, and hopefully, this will help create more peace in the world. I am humbled by my opportunity to be a small part of all of this.