Frustrations, Delights, and Questions
Homeschooling, moving,
readapting to being a two-parent household, new roles for everyone, can we
survive this?(yes)
Settings. A
two-bedroom suite 32 floors above downtown Doha (only temporary until we are
assigned a house in a compound), a view over the curve of the Corniche. The pool, several malls, ice skating rinks,
another pool, stuck in traffic in violently perfumed taxis, yet another
pool. Hot streets framed by curved glass
towers. 
Cast. We are all
expats. I have yet to speak to a real
Qatari. Our taxi rides are a geography
lesson with drivers from Bangladesh, Philippines, Nepal, Ghana, Sri Lanka, and
India. We are here for the glorification of and at the mercy of our
hosts (and to make enough money to eventually move back, or on, hopefully to a
place where there are green plants and cool water). I love being surrounded by people from
somewhere else, but I'm not sure that solidarity is felt by everyone. While we expats are diverse internationally,
it doesn’t seem to solve the problems I was talking about in this post. Teachers, administrators, managers, etc. are
nearly all American and European (though not all white), while guards,
gardeners, nannies, maids, construction workers, store clerks, etc. are
overwhelmingly South Asian, Southeast Asian, and African. I'm already curious about what the kids will take away from this aspect of this stage of their lives.
Awkward first days. The elation of meeting a new friend who seems to
be a kindred spirit, the dejection of realizing that a long awaited event was
missed due to miscommunication, or traffic, or an ear infection. I’ve started
running into people I’ve met before but rarely recognizing them.
Small Pleasures.
Finding beautiful seashells in the sand excavated from a ditch at a
construction site. Spotting a friend at
the mall. My older daughter teaching her little sister how to swim underwater,
both so so proud. Recognizing where I am by familiar landmarks out the taxi
windows. Sunshine every day. Frangipani.
School. The
international schools to which we would consider sending the kids are
unbelievably expensive, have lengthy waitlists, and require assessments to
ensure no child with any kind of special needs will get a place. What a racket. We’ve narrowed our choices down to one and
are homeschooling while we gather the requisite school records from the five
schools my kids have attended over the past three years and fill out
applications in preparation for our tenure on the waitlist. I am reserving judgement on whether or not
homeschooling is a good match for our family, until we’ve moved into a larger
space and completed a few more months of it.
So far, it appears to be beyond my abilities to give adequate
attention to a 4 year-old, a third
grader, and a sixth grader, using a curriculum that is very hands-on,
parent-involved, and, unfortunately, nature based- the sixth grader's
science assignment this week is to find three natural places to take 15-minute walks.
My Clothes. What to wear?
Cover shoulders and knees always, cover more if I know the A/C is going
to be set to glacial, but what to wear to the pool? Should I cover my tattoo? What’s the line between respect and
conformity? I am obviously a foreigner
and as long as I’m covering the necessary parts I want to feel like myself, in
my own colorful clothes. I know I'm partly just being silly and grouchy.
Their Clothes. Women who are all covered up except for their eyes still disconcert me. I
respect people’s right to choose what they wear according to their faith and/or
style sense and I’m willing to adapt my own dress so as not to offend people
but the full-body monochromatic cover thing is proving hard to get used to. The first week we were here a man, his wife,
and their two children got onto the elevator with us. The man was in his long white robes and white
headscarf, the woman was covered except for her eyes, and the kids were dressed
like mine. I only realized when I got
off the elevator that I had talked to the man but hadn’t even made eye contact
with his wife, ignoring her, because all covered up and quiet, she didn’t seem
to be really there. The next day, on my early morning walk, I had to force
myself to greet a group of women who again only had their eyes showing. The lack of familiar body language cues was entirely
intimidating, but as soon as I said hello they replied and started chatting
about the strangely shaped skyscraper next to us. It made me remember –somehow
from Liberia especially, but other places too- that sometimes the most
unfriendly expressions are really just from people being guarded with a stranger
and it wouldn’t take more than a smile or a hello to transform our
relationship. Maybe it will be easier if
I think about it that way.
Partnering. My
husband was here on his own for over two months before we joined him. During the first weeks after we arrived I was
happily shocked to find him cooking dinner for the whole family, doing all the
laundry. Six weeks later he’s going to
work, coming back, going to the gym, playing with the kids, putting them to
bed, reading the paper, reading a book, watching TV, checking the
internet. This evening I can’t say I
panicked but I did use more bad words and slamming appliance doors than was
warranted by my own clumsiness, when I realized I had done nearly all the
food-preparing, cleaning up, laundry, arranging the education and social
schedule and taking care of necessary logistics. For a brief while I let myself wonder again if
this is a team effort or just a one-mom-show with an occasional guest star, and
why I’m doing it here. Then back to yes,
of course we are a team, but we’re still working out (again) what this
means. Working on patience, as always.
Parenting. Kids force involvement. Riding lessons,
skating at the mall, attempted soccer ball kicking in an empty lot, pool play
dates, any and every invitation accepted. We’re still in each other’s business
way more than necessary, kind of like those chickens who start pecking one
another’s feathers off when their quarters are too cramped. I know I need to back off when they’re
fighting with each other but looking at me, waiting for me to take their side. My headache seems nearly constant. But aren’t we homeschooling? What??!
Why? Yes, but somehow those parts of the day are different, in
moments.
Advice. Read this again and be patient,
you are rocking towards balance.
