I do not really like to get political in public, or on the Internet, or even in the company of some of my closest and dearest relatives and friends. Besides, there is so much else to talk about! But today I will get political.
There is no doubt that the liberties afforded in the USA are a point of pride and consolation when we get out into our world and find out how it works in other countries. And the fact that so many people read and replied on this blog and via Facebook to my latest post shows that American-style freedom is something we all hold dear.
But I have undertaken a personal mission to get around this world, and ever since my first trip to Sahuarita, Mexico at around age 14, I have been roaming the globe whenever possible, and encountering what really are the normal experiences we 'foreigners' are bound to have. Anyone who has ever been a foreigner, migrant, immigrant, guest worker, exchange student, refugee, backpacker or world traveller of any sort will know what it means to find yourself in a place where they don't talk like you do, dress like you do, drive like you do, clean their bathrooms like you do, cook the food like you do and generally behave with one another like you do back home.
For me, there were the awful French supermarket ladies who switched into local Alsacian dialect every time they saw my Purdue University sweatshirt come through the doors. I soon learned that to get by in France, it was best not to go about town in sport shoes or with American College sweatshirts (all the rage in 1980's America). In Japan I was scolded by my local tycoon boss for doing the culturally unthinkable - stopping unannounced a the home of a newfound (and hard-won) friend. 'It is NOT DONE here, Kurisuteeena-San'. And the scariest of the foreigner encounters I remember is running through the slums of Rio with my husband Billy, from the thugs who were literally coming out of the woodwork to follow us through 'the hood'. From that point onwards we did as instructed by our hotel clerk, and hired taxis.
But as I look at this 'reading my lips' incident, the first reaction I have, as many of you did, is to feel insulted at a very basic level along with a quiet unwillingness to forgive. But as I stand back, here on the very next day, I slowly pull away from the unnatural (for me) intolerance and recall the comment made by my mother here yesterday. She wrote, "people experience discrimination and abuse from those who have power in the UAE, USA, and every other country in the world. It is ugly wherever it happens". And she is right. There are extremist and intolerant types in every country. It is human nature for those with power to abuse it to their best and worst advantage, yet it is unfair to write off the entire culture for the deeds of their worst citizens. It is not unfair however, to write off an entire regime or government as a corrupt violator of human rights. And while I may continue to take up residence here, I will consider the continued invitation for Westerners like me to live and work here as indication of a small and reluctant consent to change for the better.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Liar Liar
I honked the horn today at a local (Emirati) lady in her golden Lexus after she cut me off in the parking structure of our favourite mall. And you would think, that in a country where folks get sent to jail for flipping the bird, using the F word in public and kissing in restaurants, I would have let the situation drop. I do, after all, call this place 'home' for now and have willingly taken up residency.
But it's well over a hundred degrees outside, and yes, it gets humid here in the Dubai desert, and I had already spent a good chunk of the day in line at the phone company, where everyone seemed to go off on their coffee break just as I arrived at their desk. And when I honk, she throws her car into park to block my way, and the foul frustration starts spilling out of my mouth from within my sealed and air-conditioned car, while the woman who cut me off eyes me spitefully through her rear view mirror.
At some point, my 10-year-old son from the back seat says something like, 'I think she can read your lips Mom'. And when the most senior looking Indian security guy, of the three staff who gather to try and divert traffic from our little scene, seems to be taking instructions from the lady driver and gets onto his walky talky for back up and possibly the police, I take notice and call my husband Billy. First of all, I need him to pick up our daughter at school since I can see this situation heading into a lengthy incident. But also I need him to know that I am in a potentially legally difficult situation.
In fact, as recently as last month, a big news story featured another naughty expat who was jailed for showing his middle finger. While I'm in discussion with Billy, the security comes over to me and says, as gently as he can, 'she wants apology madum'. At this point, the boys in the back seat are starting to get nervous and I am enraged and in shock that a simple 'you-cut-me-off-so-I-honk-at-you' scenario had escalated to this level. So I hang up with my husband, get out of my car, walk over to speak to the lady with three sweaty Indian security guys as witnesses and a whole line of cars backing up and watching the scene unfold. I try to say 'would you mind moving your car' and she says 'I will not move my car we need the police'.
'What for?'
'I saw you shouting at me and I saw your bad words why you say such bad words with children in the car?'
'You cut me off, I was following the rules of the road'
'But in a parking garage' she says ' you must give way, this is not a road'
'I was not shouting I was talking with my children in the back seat'
And then she says 'you are such a LIAR'
And I say 'pardon?'
And she says 'you must know this is the UAE, we accept you being here but you must be in the UAE with our rules, this is NOT America, this is not Europe, this is the UAE'.
And in so many ironic ways she was right, and therefore, I was thinking, oh dear, I have a flight out in 10 days and any altercation with the police could trap me in this country and possibly land me in jail.
'I apologize'.
'Not like that you apologize, like you mean it'.
At this point I realize I have to do what I tell my 10-year-old, and say it like I mean it. And so, I suck it up, I say 'I'm very sorry Ma'm'. 'I'm quite sorry'. 'Please forgive me'. Etc. And so on. And so forth. She finally rolls up her window, and I, oddly grateful that I had put on good makeup, and a pair of designer sunglasses (there was an audience at this point), walk back to the car, get in with the boys, put it into drive, and let the big tears roll.
But it's well over a hundred degrees outside, and yes, it gets humid here in the Dubai desert, and I had already spent a good chunk of the day in line at the phone company, where everyone seemed to go off on their coffee break just as I arrived at their desk. And when I honk, she throws her car into park to block my way, and the foul frustration starts spilling out of my mouth from within my sealed and air-conditioned car, while the woman who cut me off eyes me spitefully through her rear view mirror.
At some point, my 10-year-old son from the back seat says something like, 'I think she can read your lips Mom'. And when the most senior looking Indian security guy, of the three staff who gather to try and divert traffic from our little scene, seems to be taking instructions from the lady driver and gets onto his walky talky for back up and possibly the police, I take notice and call my husband Billy. First of all, I need him to pick up our daughter at school since I can see this situation heading into a lengthy incident. But also I need him to know that I am in a potentially legally difficult situation.
In fact, as recently as last month, a big news story featured another naughty expat who was jailed for showing his middle finger. While I'm in discussion with Billy, the security comes over to me and says, as gently as he can, 'she wants apology madum'. At this point, the boys in the back seat are starting to get nervous and I am enraged and in shock that a simple 'you-cut-me-off-so-I-honk-at-you' scenario had escalated to this level. So I hang up with my husband, get out of my car, walk over to speak to the lady with three sweaty Indian security guys as witnesses and a whole line of cars backing up and watching the scene unfold. I try to say 'would you mind moving your car' and she says 'I will not move my car we need the police'.
'What for?'
'I saw you shouting at me and I saw your bad words why you say such bad words with children in the car?'
'You cut me off, I was following the rules of the road'
'But in a parking garage' she says ' you must give way, this is not a road'
'I was not shouting I was talking with my children in the back seat'
And then she says 'you are such a LIAR'
And I say 'pardon?'
And she says 'you must know this is the UAE, we accept you being here but you must be in the UAE with our rules, this is NOT America, this is not Europe, this is the UAE'.
And in so many ironic ways she was right, and therefore, I was thinking, oh dear, I have a flight out in 10 days and any altercation with the police could trap me in this country and possibly land me in jail.
'I apologize'.
'Not like that you apologize, like you mean it'.
At this point I realize I have to do what I tell my 10-year-old, and say it like I mean it. And so, I suck it up, I say 'I'm very sorry Ma'm'. 'I'm quite sorry'. 'Please forgive me'. Etc. And so on. And so forth. She finally rolls up her window, and I, oddly grateful that I had put on good makeup, and a pair of designer sunglasses (there was an audience at this point), walk back to the car, get in with the boys, put it into drive, and let the big tears roll.
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