Let's face it: moving isn't easy. Really. Moving from one city to another can be daunting, let alone to the other side of the world. I knew this was going to be difficult and I definitely didn't expect anything to be handed to me on a silver platter. And to say it quite bluntly, things have been hard. They have been VERY hard. However, I've been able to do practically everything I set out to do. I haven't failed in much thus far, and plans are slowly being stitched together. I have tried to stay optimistic, and so far it's paid off.
That isn't to say that I haven't had any struggles. In fact, getting most things accomplished here has been rather difficult, and I must admit that there have been plenty of times when I was ready to just give up in frustration. But giving in and admitting defeat has never been an option for me. Let me tell you about one such experience which brought me near to tears before I was saved by the total kindness and generosity of a complete stranger.
I decided to go to the nearest post office (conveniently looked up online) so that I could open up a PO box where I could have my ballot mailed for the election in November (I love Obama, ok, and I feel OBLIGED to vote for him). I don't have my own transportation and seeing that it was fairly close (albeit in a neighborhood I'd never been to) I decided to walk. So I plugged in my headphones and set out. It is rather unusual to see women walking here with any real purpose, and I'm used to being stared and honked at (the honking is mostly from taxis to try to snatch up a customer).
Finally I made it to the post office, only to be told that everything there was full and that I should go to the main office to ask about where there might be availabilities. Being in a neighborhood I didn't know, I plugged the location into my phone and started to walk down the street, deciding if I saw a taxi that I would hitch a ride over there. I walked. And walked. The sun set. It got dark. My phone was taking me down some pretty sketchy side-roads in an effort to shorten the distance. Every taxi I saw was going the other direction. I started to get a little nervous.
Here I was: and American hijabi wandering through unfamiliar parts of Doha after sunset. Was I insane? The more I started to doubt myself, the more irrational I became. I took the wrong turns and ended up on a deserted street sandwiched in by parks on either side. Generally, Doha is an extremely safe city, but the parks (any areas with grass, actually, building courtyards and strips of grass by billboards apply) tend to accumulate strange, sketchy populations at night, mostly of younger, single, South Asian men. I decided it would NOT be the best idea to keep walking, and decided to wait until I saw a taxi.
I waited for about 15 minutes without any taxis coming by. Finally, I decided to get a "Pakistani Taxi" (a private, unmarked taxi that have a tendency to be operated by annoying and rather forward South Asian drivers). When it pulled up I saw it had two men in the front, so immediately I had second thoughts. Then I saw they had a prayer rug sprawled across the dash and Quran belting through the speakers. I was probably safe. The driver told me he would take 20 riyal (USD $5.50) for the approximately 4km drive to the post office. When we got there I begged him to accept just 14qr. Reluctantly he accepted and drove off.
Inside the post office I was told by a few individuals (none of whom spoke very good English) that there were absolutely no PO boxes available. I could put my name on a waiting list. When the young clerk saw I was on the verge of tears, he suddenly scrawled down the name of the manager and his phone number. He instructed me to come back at 9am on Sunday and speak with the manager. He could arrange an emergency box if I was so desperate. Grateful, I was still in an emotional state of anguish. Not only had I walked about 7km in the dark in Doha putting myself on edge, it had all been for no reason. I hadn't accomplished anything.
I had noticed a man and his daughter (probably about 18months-2yro) staring at me when I arrived, and there they were again, staring at me as I stood near the entrance a wreck, deciding on my next step. As I said, I'm used to being stared at, so I didn't pay any attention. Then he called out to me. I didn't understand his words and just thought it awkward that a grown man with his daughter was trying to hit on me.
"Do you need help?" His English was perfect. "I saw you come with that Pakistani taxi, yani..." he snorted in laughter "at least let me give you a ride down to the road where you can get a real taxi."
Reluctantly I agreed. Normally I would NEVER get into a car with a total stranger, but considering the state I was in and the fact that he had his very young daughter with him, I decided he would probably be mostly harmless. Driving out to the main road he asked where I lived and with who. When I told him I was far away by the airport and all alone he insisted on driving me back to my apartment. The whole way back he kept telling me how difficult it must be to be living here all alone. I joked as I always do about having Farrah with me, so really it wasn't that bad. But even as I said it I could feel tears welling up inside me.
The man was Tunisian, and told me how he didn't like it here, but he and his wife had come to work and they were saving up quite a bit of money. He hadn't wanted to come alone, and why should he when his wife was wanting to work as well? He tipped me out at my building, gave me his card, and told me he was on a mission to help those who were living alone in Doha. I should call him for anything, even if I wanted to come have dinner with his family.
As I walked from my building down to my local Indian restaurant to grab some grub (I had been to shy to ask him to drop me there), my tears suddenly ceased and my head cleared. I wasn't alone. I could never be alone. Not in a city with so many people, just like me, coming here to try to change their lives. There are very few locals here, the vast majority of people are imports, who come here seeking a dream. We all want the same thing: success, money, wealth, education, love.... We all come here seeking these things. Most of us find it. Some of us fail. But here, in this city built on dreams and great ideas, we are all working towards a common goal.
Doha is a city of eternal optimism. Unlike its less fortunate southern neighbor Dubai, Doha is still growing due to long term natural gas contracts with China and the West. There is a guaranteed and steady source of money which is propping up the economy of this place, and attracting ever more and more individuals. Nobody plans on staying in Doha forever, and yet, here we all are. Ready to work hard and make our dreams come true. And we all must help each other.
Wealth does not come from any higher power. Allah is not a bank teller. In fact, we are expressly warned not to seek out wealth for it will do us no good in the hereafter. I believe that those who come to Doha are not seeking just wealth. Doha is an empty symbol: it means for you what you will. If you come here seeking nothing but wealth you may succeed, but more likely you will fail. If you come to Doha fully conscience of the nature of this land, seeking not only wealth but personal and spiritual growth, you will find everything you seek.
Nobody in Doha is alone. We are all part of something larger, something bigger and better. If you decide to reach out just a little bit, you find a hand, outstretched and waiting.
Peace and love always <3
That isn't to say that I haven't had any struggles. In fact, getting most things accomplished here has been rather difficult, and I must admit that there have been plenty of times when I was ready to just give up in frustration. But giving in and admitting defeat has never been an option for me. Let me tell you about one such experience which brought me near to tears before I was saved by the total kindness and generosity of a complete stranger.
I decided to go to the nearest post office (conveniently looked up online) so that I could open up a PO box where I could have my ballot mailed for the election in November (I love Obama, ok, and I feel OBLIGED to vote for him). I don't have my own transportation and seeing that it was fairly close (albeit in a neighborhood I'd never been to) I decided to walk. So I plugged in my headphones and set out. It is rather unusual to see women walking here with any real purpose, and I'm used to being stared and honked at (the honking is mostly from taxis to try to snatch up a customer).
Finally I made it to the post office, only to be told that everything there was full and that I should go to the main office to ask about where there might be availabilities. Being in a neighborhood I didn't know, I plugged the location into my phone and started to walk down the street, deciding if I saw a taxi that I would hitch a ride over there. I walked. And walked. The sun set. It got dark. My phone was taking me down some pretty sketchy side-roads in an effort to shorten the distance. Every taxi I saw was going the other direction. I started to get a little nervous.
Here I was: and American hijabi wandering through unfamiliar parts of Doha after sunset. Was I insane? The more I started to doubt myself, the more irrational I became. I took the wrong turns and ended up on a deserted street sandwiched in by parks on either side. Generally, Doha is an extremely safe city, but the parks (any areas with grass, actually, building courtyards and strips of grass by billboards apply) tend to accumulate strange, sketchy populations at night, mostly of younger, single, South Asian men. I decided it would NOT be the best idea to keep walking, and decided to wait until I saw a taxi.
I waited for about 15 minutes without any taxis coming by. Finally, I decided to get a "Pakistani Taxi" (a private, unmarked taxi that have a tendency to be operated by annoying and rather forward South Asian drivers). When it pulled up I saw it had two men in the front, so immediately I had second thoughts. Then I saw they had a prayer rug sprawled across the dash and Quran belting through the speakers. I was probably safe. The driver told me he would take 20 riyal (USD $5.50) for the approximately 4km drive to the post office. When we got there I begged him to accept just 14qr. Reluctantly he accepted and drove off.
Inside the post office I was told by a few individuals (none of whom spoke very good English) that there were absolutely no PO boxes available. I could put my name on a waiting list. When the young clerk saw I was on the verge of tears, he suddenly scrawled down the name of the manager and his phone number. He instructed me to come back at 9am on Sunday and speak with the manager. He could arrange an emergency box if I was so desperate. Grateful, I was still in an emotional state of anguish. Not only had I walked about 7km in the dark in Doha putting myself on edge, it had all been for no reason. I hadn't accomplished anything.
I had noticed a man and his daughter (probably about 18months-2yro) staring at me when I arrived, and there they were again, staring at me as I stood near the entrance a wreck, deciding on my next step. As I said, I'm used to being stared at, so I didn't pay any attention. Then he called out to me. I didn't understand his words and just thought it awkward that a grown man with his daughter was trying to hit on me.
"Do you need help?" His English was perfect. "I saw you come with that Pakistani taxi, yani..." he snorted in laughter "at least let me give you a ride down to the road where you can get a real taxi."
Reluctantly I agreed. Normally I would NEVER get into a car with a total stranger, but considering the state I was in and the fact that he had his very young daughter with him, I decided he would probably be mostly harmless. Driving out to the main road he asked where I lived and with who. When I told him I was far away by the airport and all alone he insisted on driving me back to my apartment. The whole way back he kept telling me how difficult it must be to be living here all alone. I joked as I always do about having Farrah with me, so really it wasn't that bad. But even as I said it I could feel tears welling up inside me.
The man was Tunisian, and told me how he didn't like it here, but he and his wife had come to work and they were saving up quite a bit of money. He hadn't wanted to come alone, and why should he when his wife was wanting to work as well? He tipped me out at my building, gave me his card, and told me he was on a mission to help those who were living alone in Doha. I should call him for anything, even if I wanted to come have dinner with his family.
As I walked from my building down to my local Indian restaurant to grab some grub (I had been to shy to ask him to drop me there), my tears suddenly ceased and my head cleared. I wasn't alone. I could never be alone. Not in a city with so many people, just like me, coming here to try to change their lives. There are very few locals here, the vast majority of people are imports, who come here seeking a dream. We all want the same thing: success, money, wealth, education, love.... We all come here seeking these things. Most of us find it. Some of us fail. But here, in this city built on dreams and great ideas, we are all working towards a common goal.
Doha is a city of eternal optimism. Unlike its less fortunate southern neighbor Dubai, Doha is still growing due to long term natural gas contracts with China and the West. There is a guaranteed and steady source of money which is propping up the economy of this place, and attracting ever more and more individuals. Nobody plans on staying in Doha forever, and yet, here we all are. Ready to work hard and make our dreams come true. And we all must help each other.
Wealth does not come from any higher power. Allah is not a bank teller. In fact, we are expressly warned not to seek out wealth for it will do us no good in the hereafter. I believe that those who come to Doha are not seeking just wealth. Doha is an empty symbol: it means for you what you will. If you come here seeking nothing but wealth you may succeed, but more likely you will fail. If you come to Doha fully conscience of the nature of this land, seeking not only wealth but personal and spiritual growth, you will find everything you seek.
Nobody in Doha is alone. We are all part of something larger, something bigger and better. If you decide to reach out just a little bit, you find a hand, outstretched and waiting.
Peace and love always <3
Reminds me of one of your grandmother's favorite quotes: "If you have a kindness shown, pass it on, it was not given to you alone, pass it on, let it travel down the years, let it dry another's tears, till in heaven the deed appears, pass it on...."
ReplyDeleteDon't know the author - don't know if the quote is accurate - the sentiment is the same.