Submitted by Jan
I was driving through the Alsea Mountains (Oregon), in the middle of a hairpin turn in my little sports car, when my cell phone rang. I answered the call, thinking it might be my daughter Renee, but a male voice said, "Hello, Jan, this is Omar Hussein. You don't know me, but I am calling from the Parsons office in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates, and we have an emergency over here that we're hoping you can help with. Can you be here in five days?"
I laughed, thinking about the week I had planned at the Oregon coast, and said, "Not possible, but I could probably be there in ten. Send the relevant information to this fax number (my daughter's house); you won't be able to reach me by phone, email or fax for at least a week." With that I hung up and called Renee, telling her to expect a fax for me, and continued on my trip.
Ten days later, I was landing at midnight in Abu Dhabi, capital city of the UAE. It was early November 2005, and although "winter" had not yet arrived, the worst of the summer was over. It reaches temperatures of 125F during the summer here and only cools down to the high-90s during the night. Worse than the heat, however, is the humidity, which is close to 100 percent -- kind of like being in the steam room of a gym with all your clothes on.
This was not my first trip to the Middle East. I spent six months in Qatar in 2003, arriving just three months after President Bush had declared that the war in Iraq was over. Qatar is very close to Iraq, and my family and friends were terrified for me to be traveling to and working alone in this part of the world. "Aren't you afraid?" they asked. "No," I answered truthfully, "I am in much more danger walking the streets of any American city, where I could be mugged, raped, or worse." Qatar is a Muslim country -- a man is not allowed to touch any woman other than his wife. Muslims don't drink alcohol, and there is no access to handguns. If an Indian or Pakistani laborer even touches me in passing on the street, he could be deported. Tell me, where in America could I be this safe?
In Qatar, I was the project manager for a huge off-shore island development, supervising the work of a team of planners, engineers, architects and economists who were based all over the world. That a woman would be accepted as a project manager, working in an environment of all males, was another surprise, but my company had sent me to Qatar because they had confidence that I could do the job. And I did.
When my six months in Qatar came to an end, I returned home to Portland, Ore., and continued my work as manager of transit projects that are being developed in various American cities. I longed, however, to return to the Middle East, where I had fallen in love with the people, the culture and the desert. My opportunity came with that short phone call in early November 2005.
There are so many things that I long to tell Americans, and particularly women, about the experience of being here. It is so vastly different from what you would expect from reading about the Middle East in U.S. newspapers or watching news on television. First of all, people here are very friendly to Americans, although they truly hate our president. There are very few American civilians over here, and we are a novelty. My favorite story is about going to get my driver's license in the local police headquarters. There were separate women's and men's sections, of course, since women and men do not mingle publicly except on the streets and in grocery stores. The woman at the counter who assisted me was dressed traditionally -- in Abbaya and Hijab (black gown and head/neck covering) -- and she was fascinated to see that I was from the States. She apologized for her lack of English, although her language skills were very good I thought, and I said, "No, no, it is me who must apologize. I am here as a guest in your country, yet I speak no Arabic!" She smiled at me, and then she said, "Perhaps if more people like you and me could talk as we are, there would be peace in the world." I was so moved by that simple thought and by her warmth and helpfulness towards me. Yes, I thought, if only...
For me, the most unusual things about being here, so far from home, are the everyday things. I walk the streets of my neighborhood in downtown Abu Dhabi, and I never hear a word of English. Instead, there is a polyglot of foreign words flowing around me, reflecting the various languages of the Middle East, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, among others. It comes as a jolt to my ears when I hear English spoken with an American accent, because even in my workplace, which has many Western workers, the "white" people are mostly from England, Scotland, or Australia. You cannot imagine the impact of never hearing my own language on the streets of my place of residence. Equally unusual for me are all the brown faces around me - a white face is fairly rare on the streets.
On the other hand, there are American fast food outlets on every corner -- McDonalds, Burger King, Kentucky Fried Chicken and even Starbucks and Subway -- but no restaurants serving more traditional American fare like steak and baked potatoes, green salads, soups, BBQ, etc. There are endless little tea and coffee places where men, only, can have beverages and small local pastries. No women allowed. There are also myriads of Indian and Lebanese restaurants where one can eat very well and cheaply. Food in the markets is also very cheap (all of the poorly paid Indian and Pakistani laborers must be able to eat, after all).
Yet, for all the new high-rise office and apartment towers in Abu Dhabi, I am very aware that I am in a very different culture, and I have had to learn and adjust as I go. Yes, there are books you can read that provide some basic cultural dos and don'ts. Don't take pictures of Arab women in their abbayas and hijab; this is very rude and also forbidden! Don't cross your legs or sit so that the heel of your foot or shoe is shown to an Arab; this is an extreme insult. In the home of a "local," you must refuse food or drink three times if you REALLY don't want any more, you are always expected to refuse once or twice if you DO want more. And so on. And, yes, some of my non-Western coworkers, from India, Pakistan or Sri Lanka, helped me locate basic services and products. But it took me weeks to find a place that sold buttons and a shop that repaired shoes -- both of which I needed urgently at some point.
The bottom line is that I am here alone, and I have had to figure everything out on my own. This is not a fearful thing -- just something that requires guts and resourcefulness. My biggest concern is not for my safety, but that the driver of the next cab I get into will be a supporter of the Taliban and he will act like he can't understand my English. (All cabdrivers in Abu Dhabi are from Pakistan and many support the Taliban.) Until I became familiar with the whole city, which took me months, I was never sure where I would end up when I got in a cab, which I do at least twice a day because that is how I get around.
I have learned to regard every single day as a new adventure, and if that doesn't keep me young (as they say it does) then it has certainly taught me humility and reminded me that a sense of humor is my most valuable asset.
