Sometime in January I remember going through an intersection and the traffic camera flash went off. I didn’t think I caused it so I didn’t bother to do anything about it. One must monitor these things b/c if traffic violations are not settled within a year, one can be denied access to an outbound flight at the airport without notice until the infraction is settled. I logged into the Ministry of the Interior web site with my Resident Permit # and discovered I had 7 points and a fine logged against my ID for about USD 1650. I have no idea what I did but knew I had to get it off my record.
So I called the fixer I used when I obtained my driver’s license and gave him my plate #. He called me the next day and told me that I had run a red light at a specific roundabout. He asked if I had been pulled over and issued a citation as the nature of the offense indicated that this should have happened and it didn’t. He told me that the police officer that issued the ticket was the former bodyguard of the Sheikh that runs the Traffic Dept, whom I met briefly when I obtained my license 18 months ago. I was told to turn up before 7am at the Traffic Dept and we would try to get it waived.
I have a new colleague from Lebanon. She goes through a lot of bureaucratic and administrative hell to obtain entry visas to other countries and to just get official stuff done due to the fact that she hails from a country without a government. She needed to obtain her license and was trying to get driving school waived and came along with me to face our respective driving fates.
I pulled up to the office at 6:30 when we planned to meet so as to go together. I watched the bus unload the tea ladies for another day of service in the office. It was surreal to watch them all enter the building wearing exactly the same thing – black trousers, white long-sleeved shirts and black vest – typical service penguin uniform. They were all petite in height and in varying degrees of body type. But they all had long hair and most of them were still putting the finishing touches on their hair look for the day and fiddling with their mobile phones as they entered the revolving glass door one at a time. Having to deal with my ambiguous albeit expensive traffic violation at 7am with the Sheikh did not seem too onerous given juxtaposed with the fate of these dozens of ladies.
My colleague showed up and we made our way to the Traffic Dept. We were shown into a ground floor office while others waited in the hot sun to be admitted to the same room. I wasn’t sufficiently caffeinated but remembered the Sheikh being on the 2nd floor last time and now we were in a large room with chairs lined along the perimeter of the room as if we were in a majlis. In the center was a small desk with men hovering around a seated man at a desk. I went up to the desk and the seated man knew who I was before I said anything. I was stunned but relieved that in the spectrum of predicaments one might face in these situations, I didn’t have to say anything to get the wheels of infraction elimination moving. The seated man had a nice smile and was very friendly as he confirmed that I was there about a moving violation without my saying anything and he told me to sit down in one of the big chairs for 15 minutes. I asked him if the Sheikh was around and he smiled bigger and said he was the Sheikh, much to my horror. I told him that his new office was a nice improvement over the little one upstairs and thanked him for his kind attention.
He signed my colleague’s license application but she was still stuck going to the same driving school I went to as a formality. He gave some instructions to another man, who ten minutes later handed me a slip of paper with my record that had the moving violation removed but a parking ticket to settle. It was not an inexpensive day once I took care of that and renewed my car’s registration. I went to the office after dropping my colleague off at what seemed a much more crowded driving school than I remembered. I was in the office before 8am and had moved bureaucratic mountains with a phone call and a smile...would that the rest of my existence could be a comparable cakewalk.
My colleague had quite a tale to tell once our preferred taxi driver picked her up from driving school and brought her to the office. The driving school was chaotic. She didn’t know the traffic signs for the verbal test but it didn’t matter. She got in the car and did a quick run around the parking lot and got in a third line requiring payment in the sequence of “completing local driving education” and neither her credit or her debit card would work despite more than sufficient funds available. She had paid cash for the other two payments but now this last one was bigger and the system wasn’t connecting to her bank account and without paying, she’d have to come back. The line was getting longer behind her and there was no ATM on the premises to bypass the machines. A Lebanese man within her proximity also trying to obtain his license saw what was going on and he paid her last bill. She was relieved to have a savior in that moment and took his card to make arrangements later to reimburse him. She came to the office flustered but overwhelmingly relieved.
The next day, my colleague brought a nice box of chocolates and called our taxi driver to ask him to deliver it and the cash to the Lebanese savior at the driving school. Since he was going in the direction of the dry cleaner, she also gave him her claim ticket. I overheard the instructions and reached for my dry cleaning claim tickets. He was gone for an hour and called me when he was at the office door with two armfuls of my dry cleaning, one item for my colleague and a BIGGER box of chocolate from the same confectioner for her from Mr. Driving School Savior. We could not stop laughing.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Should I Stay or Should I Go?
If you're all about the photos, skip this one. Epic culture clash week survived by yours truly; this place is Industrial Psychology Nirvana.
The week started off poorly with the news that a dear high school friend has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. It always seems like a live a hugely long plane ride away from home but when something like lands in the email inbox, one has to suppress the reactive impulse to board a flight immediately which then prompts an holistic and somewhat existential audit of the reasons one is here and how much longer to ride the wave. Ironically, I had asked my friend to send me the ingredients and measurements for a stovetop chocolate pudding - I could remember the ingredients and preparation but not the measurements....I made a cookbook for her daughters a few years ago and knew a copy of this recipe was in it because her youngest inhales the pudding as if it were chocolate milk (and I've actually served it with a straw to her and her cousin). My friend cheerfully replied within 24 hours with the requested information and then dropped the bomb. I'll always remember that email at every suggestion of chocolate pudding for as many days as I have left.
Back here...there is an organizational culture of "us versus them" that maintains a constant simmer and occasionally reaches a temporary boil. The phrase "time is money" is an affront to this culture but as an ex-patriot, you are expected to deliver results as if you were in the west. As in any professional setting where there is a large share of ex-patriots mixing with indigenous local talent that has been socialized and educated in vastly different ways, the propensity for culture clash is significant. As a westerner, one must remember that my local colleagues are usually from very large families. If there is only one wife, there are usually at least 5-6 siblings with which my colleague has been competing for the father's attention, approval, support and blessings. If the family is affluent and the father can afford to provide for a second wife in the same manner as the first, then my colleague is probably still competing for attention with 5-6 siblings from his/her mother and ultimately trying to seek the same attention, approval, support and blessings from a father that must divide his time equally across his wives. Imagine if my colleague's father has three wives. What this means is that my colleague spends a lot of time throughout childhood and the formative years moving "laterally" to align with siblings, cousins, etc to be viewed favorably by the father and elders of the extended family b/c there is such a small chance of receiving individual attention. That's why this patriarchal society and culture are never about the individual but rather the collective and inherently the honor of the family. Flies totally against a merit-based value system premised on independence instilled in the west. Welcome to the labyrinth where N*O*T*H*I*N*G is navigationally linear. Moving laterally is counter-intuitive to a westerner when time is money.
A lack of communication between myself and a peer resulted in some wounded egos that personally left me wondering what the hell I am doing here, especially now that the daytime temperatures exceed 100-degrees Farenheit and will climb steadily to an oppressive peak of about 125 by mid-July when an odious humidity from the Indian Ocean monsoon season blows this way before relenting slightly in August. Suffice it to say that the other party apologized with a HUGE basket of haute chocolate, which was an enormous relief given that he is a local and I am the hired overseas help. I am optimistic that his generous apology will go a long way in actually aligning our efforts on our complicated and stressful project. I've been told that this gesture is most unusual for a local male so I am pretty sure I was right but that doesn't mean what it means in the west.
Another colleague took a long weekend where they sell prosciutto. Since it's not sold in this country and forbidden by the local religion, of course, I want it. Every time I travel abroad I order bacon and prosciutto because I can, not because I must have it. So my colleague clandestinely brought some back for me and because I was so distracted with the other matters that surfaced last week, I didn't blink when she placed it in our small refrigerator in the office for me to take home. The next day, another office mate who is a steadfast follower of the faith informed me that she had the tea lady remove it from our fridge and place it in the tea kitchen. Apparently, this could get me in deeper _ _ _ _ than I have ever imagined. My offended office mate is currently stuck in Dubai for the 2nd day waiting to board a flight to Baghdad that won't clear. To cheer her, I emailed her that I have had the fridge defrosted and wiped down with bleach to atone for my lack of judgment. This is serious stuff here. I need to constantly remember that if something is haram that means that it is not to be messed with...in any way.
An interview with a Brit exploring a senior role with us and visiting the region for that purpose prompted explicit thought on the stay/go matter. Having arrived in early September 2009, I experienced my first Christmas here by hosting a dinner (see "Pearl of the Desert" entry) that required a purchase of Pernod to make a salmon and fennel main course. I have another recipe calling for Pernod and made it recently, observing that the Pernod is almost half gone and I thought about the possibility of having to replenish it....will I still be here when the Pernod runs out? Is the Pernod an indicator of how much time I have left here? The candidate asked me if I planned to learn Arabic. I replied that of course I would love to but an exhausting job made it a challenge to squeeze it in and one has to calculate the return on that investment...how many years do I plan to work in countries where Arabic is the primary language? It's a commitment. So I dodged the question by talking about the Pernod. Don't know if he was amused or baffled. At least he enjoyed the Yemeni restaurant I chose and the food I ordered for the table.
I follow the news not only with the NYT online but through various podcasts downloaded off the iTunes store. I always listen to The New Yorker's "Political Scene" and this week's podcast is called "Political Sex Scandals." It will not download surely b/c the word "sex" is in the title so I will not hear the latest on Anthony Weiner and his tawdry albeit non-criminal behavior. Hypocrisy? Does the name David Vitter mean anything? The resignations of Newt's campaign manager and half-dozen senior staff inspired a much-needed huge smile.
Happy summer.
The week started off poorly with the news that a dear high school friend has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. It always seems like a live a hugely long plane ride away from home but when something like lands in the email inbox, one has to suppress the reactive impulse to board a flight immediately which then prompts an holistic and somewhat existential audit of the reasons one is here and how much longer to ride the wave. Ironically, I had asked my friend to send me the ingredients and measurements for a stovetop chocolate pudding - I could remember the ingredients and preparation but not the measurements....I made a cookbook for her daughters a few years ago and knew a copy of this recipe was in it because her youngest inhales the pudding as if it were chocolate milk (and I've actually served it with a straw to her and her cousin). My friend cheerfully replied within 24 hours with the requested information and then dropped the bomb. I'll always remember that email at every suggestion of chocolate pudding for as many days as I have left.
Back here...there is an organizational culture of "us versus them" that maintains a constant simmer and occasionally reaches a temporary boil. The phrase "time is money" is an affront to this culture but as an ex-patriot, you are expected to deliver results as if you were in the west. As in any professional setting where there is a large share of ex-patriots mixing with indigenous local talent that has been socialized and educated in vastly different ways, the propensity for culture clash is significant. As a westerner, one must remember that my local colleagues are usually from very large families. If there is only one wife, there are usually at least 5-6 siblings with which my colleague has been competing for the father's attention, approval, support and blessings. If the family is affluent and the father can afford to provide for a second wife in the same manner as the first, then my colleague is probably still competing for attention with 5-6 siblings from his/her mother and ultimately trying to seek the same attention, approval, support and blessings from a father that must divide his time equally across his wives. Imagine if my colleague's father has three wives. What this means is that my colleague spends a lot of time throughout childhood and the formative years moving "laterally" to align with siblings, cousins, etc to be viewed favorably by the father and elders of the extended family b/c there is such a small chance of receiving individual attention. That's why this patriarchal society and culture are never about the individual but rather the collective and inherently the honor of the family. Flies totally against a merit-based value system premised on independence instilled in the west. Welcome to the labyrinth where N*O*T*H*I*N*G is navigationally linear. Moving laterally is counter-intuitive to a westerner when time is money.
A lack of communication between myself and a peer resulted in some wounded egos that personally left me wondering what the hell I am doing here, especially now that the daytime temperatures exceed 100-degrees Farenheit and will climb steadily to an oppressive peak of about 125 by mid-July when an odious humidity from the Indian Ocean monsoon season blows this way before relenting slightly in August. Suffice it to say that the other party apologized with a HUGE basket of haute chocolate, which was an enormous relief given that he is a local and I am the hired overseas help. I am optimistic that his generous apology will go a long way in actually aligning our efforts on our complicated and stressful project. I've been told that this gesture is most unusual for a local male so I am pretty sure I was right but that doesn't mean what it means in the west.
Another colleague took a long weekend where they sell prosciutto. Since it's not sold in this country and forbidden by the local religion, of course, I want it. Every time I travel abroad I order bacon and prosciutto because I can, not because I must have it. So my colleague clandestinely brought some back for me and because I was so distracted with the other matters that surfaced last week, I didn't blink when she placed it in our small refrigerator in the office for me to take home. The next day, another office mate who is a steadfast follower of the faith informed me that she had the tea lady remove it from our fridge and place it in the tea kitchen. Apparently, this could get me in deeper _ _ _ _ than I have ever imagined. My offended office mate is currently stuck in Dubai for the 2nd day waiting to board a flight to Baghdad that won't clear. To cheer her, I emailed her that I have had the fridge defrosted and wiped down with bleach to atone for my lack of judgment. This is serious stuff here. I need to constantly remember that if something is haram that means that it is not to be messed with...in any way.
An interview with a Brit exploring a senior role with us and visiting the region for that purpose prompted explicit thought on the stay/go matter. Having arrived in early September 2009, I experienced my first Christmas here by hosting a dinner (see "Pearl of the Desert" entry) that required a purchase of Pernod to make a salmon and fennel main course. I have another recipe calling for Pernod and made it recently, observing that the Pernod is almost half gone and I thought about the possibility of having to replenish it....will I still be here when the Pernod runs out? Is the Pernod an indicator of how much time I have left here? The candidate asked me if I planned to learn Arabic. I replied that of course I would love to but an exhausting job made it a challenge to squeeze it in and one has to calculate the return on that investment...how many years do I plan to work in countries where Arabic is the primary language? It's a commitment. So I dodged the question by talking about the Pernod. Don't know if he was amused or baffled. At least he enjoyed the Yemeni restaurant I chose and the food I ordered for the table.
I follow the news not only with the NYT online but through various podcasts downloaded off the iTunes store. I always listen to The New Yorker's "Political Scene" and this week's podcast is called "Political Sex Scandals." It will not download surely b/c the word "sex" is in the title so I will not hear the latest on Anthony Weiner and his tawdry albeit non-criminal behavior. Hypocrisy? Does the name David Vitter mean anything? The resignations of Newt's campaign manager and half-dozen senior staff inspired a much-needed huge smile.
Happy summer.
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