Eid Al Fitr

Geoff arrived three days ago for his ten day stay with us, just as Ramadan finished and the three day holiday of Eid Al Fitr began. Eid Al Fitr is the festival of fast-breaking, and would be the closest thing to Christmas here. People give presents, buy new clothes and clean their houses from top to bottom in preparation for the official sighting of the new moon which marks the end of Ramadan.

Geoff arrived looking fit and tanned, but tired after his long flight from Perth. The boys were, and still are, so excited to see their father. We had a few things planned over the next few days and decided that the first night Geoff arrived was the only time we could go out and celebrate Eid in style. We all tucked ourselves up for a nap during the afternoon so that we could enjoy a long evening of food and entertainment at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. All except Leo, who decided that he didn't need to do that.





Geoff and the boys











This was Leo's evening









He slept through the entire meal











He did get to see the falcon that was with his young Qatari owner












But he missed seeing the Derwish dancer, who whirled on the spot for so long, I don't know how he didn't collapse. The dance was originally a form of worship by a Muslim sect and the whirling put the dancers into a trance state. The version we saw was accompanied by a Muslim song of praise, but was nonetheless more geared to entertainment. It was spectacular.














We had a Lebanese band which sang some rousing songs and a lovely meal in a setting that was really like 1001 nights. A lot of locals were there eating and smoking shisha. A small group of sheikhs sat like mountains on a platform at one end of the room. Our waiter told us that they had come to the hotel every night for the month of Ramadan.

I can only guess how surreal it must have felt for Geoff who has come from working in the outback of Western Australia and cooking in a camp oven.

The Doha Phenomenon

There's a strange phenomenon about living in Doha. Any new task you need to do, different product or service you need to buy, or new place you need to go to can be unfeasibly difficult. There are few street names, and anyway people never use them and instead navigate by landmarks or roundabouts which all have their own names. As well, all streets seem to be simultaneously under construction or reconstruction and so a new map you buy today is likely to be already out of date. It is hard to track down a phone book. Names of businesses change. Prices are not fixed. Everything is word of mouth. Customer service is polite but ineffectual. There is no postal delivery service. And it's hot so you often feel uncomfortable when you are trying to work it all out. If you are someone who needs everything to be written down and stable, better to live somewhere else. Strangely it all sort of works and you get used to it but there are some days when it all seems chaotic and frustrating. Yet people here can be extraordinarily charming, kind and helpful. Yesterday was a fine example of the Doha Phenomenon.

It started when I went to visit a new friend, Leila. She's a lovely Lebanese Canadian. Her husband is called Ossama, anglicised to Sam. He and Ian get on like a house on fire and when they talk they look comically like twins. These were the directions to their house: Go to Rayyan Municipality roundabout, turn left back towards Al Waab. Go to another roundabout, turn right. Pass an almost-completed 90 villa compound and turn right after the compound. Turn first left in front of a mosque onto a gravel road. Go to the end and bear left to the second to last villa at the end of a group of ten villas.

These directions are completely typical. Always followed by the contact number so that you can ring from your mobile when you get lost.

I nearly made it.

I ended up driving through an unexpected building site and calling Leila to talk me in to her house. Unfortunately just as I was near her house I hit a curb where a parking bay jutted out and my tyre went flat within three seconds. The wall of the tyre was ripped out. Leila came out and we were starting to figure out how all the tyre changing stuff worked. She had never changed a tyre in her entire life. Of course I hadn't practised tyre changing in my new car. But we got out the spare and had all the jack and tyre changing bits and pieces out and were just getting started.

Then all this wondrous help came out of the woodwork. A Qatari man pulled up behind us and walked over, resplendent in his snowy-white thoub (robe) and agool/gutra (headcloth and the black device that holds it on). He walked up to the front tyre. "Very bad," he said, "and this is no kind of work for ladies!" He set to work and refused any kind of assistance from us, or from the drivers of all the other multiple cars that pulled up and offered to help. "Thank-you so much, shukran jazila," I said. Leila was much more effusive. "Qatari people are so kind," she said, "and during such a special time of the year [ramadan]. Bless you, and bless your family." His agool and gutra came off and were put on the bonnet and at one stage he was sitting on the dirty pavement. When he finished, his thoub was dirty and he had a huge smudge of tyre rubber on his forehead and nose. "Your nose is dirty," I said when he finished, "and look at your clothes!" "I know," he twinkled, "I can see it when I look down. But it does not matter, I live very close." He took the tissue I offered and wiped his face and off he went. "Ma'asalaama!" Leila and I went back to her house to cool down before I went to pick up the kids from school.

When I got home I started trying to find out where to get a new tyre and if I needed to get a police report. There's a major holiday, Eid al Fitr, beginning on Saturday and I had one day to sort it out. After some clever sleuthing, I found the number of the Hyundai Service Centre in Doha. I was told to ring their Spare Parts Centre. Which wasn't open until 8pm, "Ramadan hours Ma'am." At 8pm I started again. I called the Spare Parts Centre. "What make of tyre is it, Ma'am?" I went out in the dark and peered at the tyre and could make out faint Arabic letters. "I can't tell you," I said, "but I need it fixed tomorrow. Please tell me how I can get my tyre fixed." "Do you have tyre warranty Ma'am. It should have been given to you with your new car papers." "No, I was not given any tyre warranty with my new car papers." "Well Ma'am," said the voice on the phone, "anyway you cannot get tyres from the Spare Parts Centre." "Where then," I asked with restraint, "can I go to get my tyre fixed?" "Madam, you need to go outside." Silent scream. "Can you give me the name of the outside place that will fix my tyre?" I asked. "Oh yes Ma'am. I have the number right here."

You just need to find the right question to ask.

I called the outside tyre place and asked where they were. "Just over the Jaidah Flyover Ma'am. Directly opposite Home Centre. You know Home Centre near Jaidah Flyover? You come now. It will be 500 riyals." Great. I know the area alright, right in the middle of massive ramadan evening traffic, ten minutes away during light traffic but three-quarters of an hour at that point in the day. Ian arrived home from work at that moment, just as I was feeling a bit tired. "No, absolutely not dorling. You are not going off in the middle of the night to get your tyre changed. Give me the keys."

It took him three-quarters of an hour to get there. The tyre place directly opposite the Home Centre was not the place I had been talking to. When Ian refused to have them fit a non-matching tyre to the car, they then pointed him towards the tyre shop he had been trying to get to. It was down an alley opposite Home Centre. But you could see Home Centre when you stood outside their shop. They efficiently fitted the proper tyre. "That will be 1,300 riyals," they said to Ian. He put on his Face of Thunder and used his Growly Voice. They checked with a Higher Authority. "That will be 380 riyals sir."

That's the sort of day I call the Doha Phenomenon.

New Qatar Traffic laws

Decree Number 19 for 2007 from the Emir brought in new traffic laws in Qatar on October 2. There are now real, written rules about what you can and can't do on the roads. There has been a lot of concern about the extremely high accident rate and it is hoped that the laws will address this. Here's a link to the actual laws and the penalties. My favourite traffic violation is rule number 46: "Getting busy with watching a TV inside the vehicle while driving".

It's an improvement on the previous situation. One of our friends, Ross, has been here for the last few months starting up a waste disposal business. They will need lots of trucks and truck drivers and six months ago he went in search of the road rules for Qatar. Ross tells this story. Nobody could give him a list of the road rules for Qatar and eventually he was sent to the place where truck drivers have to sit their Qatari truck driver licence. He stood beside one of the officials as the prospective truck drivers went through their paces and asked him if there was a set of printed rules he could have to give his drivers.

"There are none", Ross was told.

"Well, how do you know if the drivers you are testing are safe?" Ross asked.

"If they don't hit me or anyone else during the test, they are safe", was the reply.

Just at that moment a truck approached at speed and screeched to a halt inches away from the official with three squashed traffic cones being dragged along underneath.

"Pass!" said the official.

The new road rules must be pretty powerful. Two days after they came in there was an article in the Gulf Times quoting a marvellous statistic. 90% of all drivers were now obeying the new rules. We reckon on that day the 10% of disobedient drivers must have been driving around us in a tight formation.

South African Guestroom Specifications

Geoff arrives Friday morning for ten days with us. The boys are really excited about it and it's been a good spur to us to get our spare room sorted out into a nice guest room. We bought a garden shed and moved a whole lot of junk into it. Then the countdown started and the transformation of our spare room began. Ian is quite relentless when it comes to being a good host, everything has to look the part, quite different to my casual Kiwi approach.

The day before yesterday I went off to one of the home stores and bought a "bedroom pack" which consists of a big bag with a quilt, countless cushion covers and matching bed linen...and curtains! Which will go up today. All quite Arabic. I also bought white fluffy guest towels. It seems our current white fluffy towels aren't quite right. I also bought a lamp for $40 equivalent with a cute little elephant lamp base. When Ian saw it he announced that we would leave it behind when we left!

Yesterday I got a bathroom set and a white shower curtain. And some little twiggy decoration thingies for the bathroom shelf. Ian came home and pronounced it good, but "it just needs a little shelf dorling, a special place to put the towels in the bathroom". (!)

Today dorling will go and get a little shelf. After sunset, because it's ramadan.

Good grief is all I can say, but it does look nice.

Feasting during Ramadan

We have been keen to experience the legendary Ramadan feast and took the opportunity last Thursday night to go to the Marriott Hotel with our friends Racha and Tarek.

Tarek is an American of Lebanese origin who has lived a large part of his life in Saudi Arabia. Racha is from south Lebanon. They met in Lebanon when Tarek visited his grandmother. Racha and her family were in the restaurant that Tarek went to for a family meal and their eyes met across the room. The rest, as they say, is history - it truly was love at first sight. Tarek is a big man. His size and slightly gruff manner belies a talkative and hospitable person. He is thoughtful, funny and intelligent. Racha is a lovely warm young woman who I see often. She practises her English on me and I practice my Arabic on her. The boys and I adore her. When we visit her house she feeds us with delicious Lebanese food until we are nearly bursting. Tarek is fasting for Ramadan but Racha is not this time because she is pregnant with their first baby.

We went out for a memorable meal a couple of months ago with them. We were introduced to Lebanese food and had a great feast. The men smoked shisha (flavoured tobacco through a traditional "hubble bubble" pipe) and the boys snuck under the table and had puffs until they were busted. We were told that Racha was pregnant and the meal turned into a major celebration. I learned the word "mabrook" - congratulations - that night, as well as many other Arabic words as the evening went on. When we said good-bye outside the restaurant I turned to them both and warmly said, "mashnoon" to everyone's mirth. Instead of saying congratulations again I had just told them both they were crazy.

Tarek did the research for our latest meal, our Ramadan feast, as any food not cooked by Racha or his family is in danger of being "inedible". The Marriott fitted the bill. We all turned up at dusk for a 5.30 meal.


The Marriott had turned their ballroom into a magnificent tent.




We sat at our table and waited. There was a sermon being broadcast through the restaurant, a reading from the Qur'an, which Tarek translated for us. It was about going to mosque, how to prepare for prayer and how men and women should each prepare. At the end of the sermon there was a silence. The sun was going down although we couldn't see it. We waited. Then the boom of the cannon sounded, which marks the beginning and end of the fasting period. "Allahu akhbaar! Allahu akhbaar! Allahu akhbaar!" The hairs stood up on my neck. People sipped water and ate some dates and figs. The fast was broken.


It is not possible to convey to size of the meal, nor the variety. The buffet was groaning. There were whole sheep, tables of salad, hot dishes of every kind, falafel and middle eastern food of every description. The desserts were made of pastry, fruit and nuts, drenched in honey.


At the end of the meal I was nearly in pain and I was groaning. It was wonderful.

"Well", said Tarek, "shall we do this again before the end of Ramadan?"

"Yes!" we all chorused.

"Or shall we do the big feast? This one is only the equivalent to breakfast. There's another big feast that starts at 9pm and finishes at 3am before sunrise."

I think we will get a babysitter and wait a couple of weeks to recover.

Apparently some people put weight on during Ramadan. Now I understand why.

The Stamp in the Kitchen

Some time ago, the very day I got Priscilla Queen of the Desert, I put a scratch on the bumper when I backed too close to a temporary sign outside the school which Had Not Been There Before. Any accident has to be reported to the police, as none of the panelbeaters (called "Painting and Denting"!) can do anything without a police report. You have to stop your car right where you are, even if you are in the middle of a roundabout, and call the police who will determine there and then who is at fault with a logic that takes into account your nationality and gender, is mostly in Arabic etc etc. Then you go off to the police station and get the reports done, and it is a prolonged process. Well, a little scratch compared to engaging with the police just didn't add up, so I left it and contented myself with glaring at the scratch whenever I saw it.

A couple of days ago I found out that any accident not involving another vehicle can be reported to the local traffic police station after the event, so found out the details and off I went to Al Rayyan Traffic Police Station get my police report.

When I got there I found the sorriest collection of battered cars imaginable parked outside the police station. I realised that I had arrived at a concentration of the worst drivers in Doha, and I was very interested to go inside and see them all close up. The police station has a couple of Painting and Denting shops close by and a little man from one of the shops helpfully pointed me to where I was supposed to go and then showed me which shop he worked for. I went into the wrong counter at first and they then pointed me to the portacabin next door, where two traffic police were sitting in front of their computers. "Assalaam alaikum," I said in my best Arabic, "car scratch". "You bring here", said the round one with the stubble. I went out and the painting and denting man at the gate showed me where the driveway was into the compound, and I parked in front of the portacabin. The other policeman, who had a magnificent long beard, came outside and looked at my little insignificant scratch and walked around my car. "Come", he said. I sat in front of the first guy as he typed out the report. He handed me two official sheets of paper in Arabic. "Go to kitchen", he said. "The kitchen", I said. "The kitchen", he said firmly. "Next building".

I've learned not to argue or question when something strange is said to me here. Off I went with my forms to the next building and sure enough, there was a grubby sign at the end of the entranceway with an arrow saying "Kitchen". Another errant driver was waiting outside the kitchen with a queuing number in his hand. Nobody was in the kitchen, but there were a couple of chairs. "No need", he said when I asked him where to go to get my number, "someone is here in five minutes. Sit down." In a couple of minutes a man turned up. "Twelve riyals", he said to me. I rummaged in my purse and he rummaged in his shirt pocket and produced two bright little stamps, licked them and stuck one to each form. "Go to counter. First building". I went back to the very first building and stood again in front of a battery of policemen behind their computers. "Assalaam alaikum", I said and proffered my forms. The policeman examined the report closely and entered some stuff on the computer. With a flourish he stamped my forms. "This for insurance", he said pointing to one of the lines of Arabic. "Thank-you. Khalas?", I said. "Yes, finished", he said.

I have no idea what happened.

With ma'al salaama I was off out the door and into my car, a shining scratch-free future vision in front of me.

Ramadan

Today is the start of Islam's holy month of Ramadan, where believers fast from sunrise to sunset for the month. During these hours they also abstain from drinking any liquid, smoking and sex. The fasting person is also expected to show self control through the day, to refrain from harsh words and to show tolerance and respect for others. As I understand it's an opportunity for several things,

• to understand how others less fortunate than yourself are experiencing life, through your own experience of going hungry and doing without, thus developing compassion.
• to develop better habits in your own life by exercising self control, therefore improving your character. This helps to resist temptation for things which are unnecessary or harmful in your life.
• to develop a closer relationship with God through the experience of purifying your body as well as your soul.

Here's a good link written for teachers with a general explanation of Ramadan, and here's another written by an Imam (Muslim cleric) for older students who might want to know about Ramadan, it's about mending habits and developing character. Here's a link to the BBC's webpage on Islam in general. It's all very interesting.

We've been warned about the changes in Doha during Ramadan. People will get up before sunrise to eat and drink before they fast for the day, and after sunset there are huge feasts where families get together and have fun far into the night. The cafes and restaurants are all closed during the day for the month, and the streets and shopping malls are mad in the evening. Businesses and schools support Muslim staff and students by allowing them them to work shortened hours and govenment departments are open from 8am - midday. People often sleep during the afternoon. Nobody is allowed to eat or drink in public. It is unwise to drive on the road towards sunset, as hungry and dehydrated people dash towards mosque and their homes to break their fasts.

We are planning to go to a few of the big Ramadan buffets during the month - all the big hotels put on special meals.

The Muslim kids at school really look forward to Ramadan. Some of them are trying their hands at fasting for all or part of Ramadan. Leo and Robbie are keen to fast for the odd day during the month - many non-Muslims support Ramadan by fasting themselves, even if they are not Muslim themselves. So in the words of one of the local bloggers,

May This Ramadan be as bright as ever. May this Ramadan bring joy, health and wealth to you.
May the festival of lights brighten up you and your near and dear ones lives.
May this Ramadan bring in u the most brightest and choicest happiness and love you have ever Wished for.
May this Ramadan bring you the utmost in peace and prosperity.
May lights triumph over darkness.
May peace transcend the earth.
May the spirit of light illuminate the world.
May the light that we celebrate at Ramadan show us the way and lead us together on the path of peace and social harmony
�Wish you a very happy Ramadan