Abaya Shopping

My mom has been seeking out some belly dancing scarves ever since she got here. She is dabbling in belly dancing and where else to find some props than in the Middle East? So far, no luck. But we did find a great assortment of abayas. Taking photos in stores in the ME is a big no-no, but I risked it all for these shots. You can thank me later...

Many women in the ME don't wear abayas just for religious reasons. For some, it has become more of a symbol of culture than anything. I have discussed the abaya with many local UAE women and several of them say it is not something their husbands want them to wear. Instead, they admit, it is more of an opportunity to hide the fact that they didn't change out of their pajamas before they came to pick up their daughter from school. I am ready to convert.

Another interesting thing is most women are not nearly as modestly dressed underneath as one would expect. When I attended an 'All Women' fashion show at my daughter's school a few years back, once the men left the room, the attendees were dressed in these dresses:

I was amazed at how 'covered up' I seemed. It was their opportunity to shine, and boy did they shine.

No abayas were purchased today. If you want a nice one expect to pay around $200 bucks. Seems like a lot for a black sheet. But to tactfully get away with wearing PJs all day, is any price too high?

Arabian Princess

Heavah loves to go into Sumi and Haleni's room because they have all the make up and beauty products any 5 year old could dream of. After listening to some commotion in their room Heavah came out looking like this. Most little girls in the middle east are fascinated with the whole abaya thing. In Dubai you see all sorts. Some even have real diamond designs on them! Although the point of the Abaya is to be inconspicuous in public, many of these abayas draw a lot of attention!

PB Dubai

The sign that shocked my soul

The first day we arrived in Dubai I went to the Mirdif Mall. It is about a mile from our old home in Dubai. The mall now sits where we used to run our quad on the sand. It is HUGE and holds treasures within.

When we first moved to Dubai I always thought it had everything but a Potterybarn. At that time, it was my favorite store and the object of my affection. Despite my wishful thinking, Potterybarn had no word of going overseas and only had a couple of stores in Canada. Therefore, what are the chances that Potterybarn opens:

a. the first overseas stores in Dubai?

b. two days before I decided to visit with my son?

c. a store a mile away from my old home in Mirdif?

I about fainted when I walked inside the mall and saw this:

...and this....

Note the local UAE man walking into the store, traditional dress in PB is a strange combination and was visually confusing. However, for all the cash that sits in Dubai, PB is bound to see some serious profits-brilliant.
The fun thing was walking into the stores. The atmosphere easily tricked me into thinking I was home--in America. Yet, there were many signs to tell me otherwise ie. the abaya'ed woman examining the Caroline bedroom collection, the Indian security guard who can't speak English at the door, or the Filipino store clerk trying to explain the PB brand to Russian women.

The other international indicator are the names on the walls...

The other difference between PB back home and Dubai is that the prices are at least 30% higher than the base price back in the US. I met one local UAE woman who seemed delighted by the prices. She explained that when she visits one of her homes in Palm Springs she buys all of her furniture from PB and has it shipped to Dubai. I guess everything is relative.

The sad thing is that my style has deviated from the PB signature in a big way. Plus, crabs and seashells don't quite mesh with my Nepali god idols. Not feel'n the chemistry. So, in essence PB and I have grown apart.

Another store that I have out grown is this one:

But I could use one of these in Doha:

This is all in the Dubai suburb that barely had a grocery store in it when I first arrived. It depresses me to think that I lived there for two years and had nothing at my disposal. The only person who is happy about the timing of this new mall is Axel and our bank account.

Art Starved

Dying to get over this creativity funk

We are desperate for good art here. Even though we have one of the most renowned Islamic Art Museums here, outside of that beautiful building, it is slim pick'ns. Axel and I feel like our creativity notch has been turned way down since we left Nepal. I think the atmosphere of Nepal--the colors, the smells, the people--inspired us to create.

Apparently, for our neighbor (who also happens to be a member of our church) doesn't feel that same way. He is an architect by profession, but he decided to go into teaching at a university in Education City. Unlike his rigorous work schedule back in the states, he had extra time in Doha so he did what he loved--painting.

As a result, his art was on display at the university exhibit. Axel and I couldn't resist the opportunity to go check it out:

One of his beautiful paintings.
I had the honor of watching him work on the painting of the woman in the abaya at his home. I love the intimacy of these paintings. As an expat, you never experience such intimacy with a local Qatari. I feel like I am experiencing something so exceptional when I look at these paintings. I LOVE them.

What to do with the ropes? I was slightly relieved the kids didn't join. This corner would have inspired some crazy climbing. Or maybe that was the point...

The majlis (Arabic traditional seating) was in all sorts of unconventional shapes. Axel wasn't sure how to sit on the cushions, but I totally figured it out. You, too, could look this hot.

The Miracle that is Sarita

I really should be writing about our recent trip to Beirut, Spain, Andorra, and Damascus but I am experiencing something far more pressing--Sarita is leaving.

Sigh.

Breathe.

Ehem.

Resume.

Her ensuing absence is the reason for our quick excursion because I trust no one other than her with all of my children. It was our last hurrah.

Sarita has been a gem for our family. She is, arguably, my bestest friend. After spending almost 3 years of my life with her every single day how could she not? She has seen me on my good days, and on my bad. And somehow, she still loves me. That's unconditional love right there. Amazing.

When Sarita arrived at our home in Nepal she sat hunched over and barely spoke a word. She only arrived in Kathmandu weeks before after working in Kuwait for 5 years. She was on her vacation (only offered to maids in the ME every two years). She was too far from her village, so she stayed with her sister until it was time for her to return to Kuwait. Her sister wanted her to live closer and had heard of an American family looking for a nanny. Hence the reason why she sat on my couch that day.

As I looked at Sarita I wondered, could I handle having someone who doesn't speak a lick of English in my home? Could I handle staring at that horribly long hair (it was down to her butt, and she had no intentions of cutting it)? Could she handle our Type A personality family with her soft spoken nature? It was a gamble--a big one--but I was going to take a chance.

For months, she said nothing. She simply wanted to play with my children and took a special fondness to Asa. She spent every chance she could walking with him and strolling him around outside. I knew she had a good heart, but I wondered if we would ever be able to communicate.

Over time, after bits and pieces of her broken English, I find out she worked for a polygamist family in Kuwait, who had 10 children. She cared for the mother (a 400 pound woman who required a daily rub down on her body because of the many boils on her skin) and an ailing baby. She wore an abaya the entire time and was never really allowed out of the home. Strangely, to this day, she speaks fondly of the experience and smiles when talking about the baby she helped nurture. Her ability to see silver linings is amazing.

My love for Sarita grew as I began to understand her heart. She has an incredible calmness about her and is probably one of the most emotionally stable people I know. Her ability to love anyone is undoubtedly her greatest quality. In seeing this, I started to believe that she was meant for greater things. With that kind of patience and love, anything is possible.

We were determined to bring Sarita to Qatar. It wasn't easy, but by that point she was my rock. She was also my soundboard and I respected her thoughts and opinions. She also worked very hard and was fluent in English. She had the desire to learn and could say just about anything she wanted.

I started seeing a Sarita that had more potential and more abilities than the average nanny. I knew she was destined to be more than what she was. Throughout the months she lived in Doha, she began asking us about our church. I didn't want to push anything and therefore, was hands off. It wasn't until she asked about the BofM that I realized I wasn't playing a role in anything, she was going to do what she wanted. Every night she wanted to discuss philosophical things. She started asking so many questions and all we could do is simply answer them.

Around that time, Brad came along. She wanted to 'date' and understand boys a little more. This was huge for a Nepali girl. Most, if not all, Nepali girls are expected to have an arranged marriage and most don't even talk to boys until only a few weeks or days before their wedding. When we lived in Nepal Sarita barely spoke to Brad (despite his many efforts) because she was too shy. However, this trip she opened up. She was ready to understand more about men and what they thought. After he left she was devastated, but what she gained from the experience was life changing.

The new Sarita was growing everyday and as she was doing so, we decided to put her in a driving school. Why the hell not? She worked so hard for us every single day. It was one way for us to empower her. The confidence in herself grew and grew. She was budding before our very eyes. Many people scoffed and judgments were made, 'No maid should learn how to drive'. Honestly, at times, it seems like it is the 1930s here.

Over a short span of time Sarita changed dramatically. She was baptized, got her driver's license (no small feat in Qatar, especially for a Nepali woman), and found a man. Miraculous. Truly.

Sarita is leaving us this week to prepare for her wedding. I am trying to contain my sadness but I am not doing a very good job. I am devastated, but I completely understand that she is moving on to bigger, and much better things. She is better now than when I first met her. I know I didn't play a large role in the whole process, but I was lucky enough to witness it all. It is magic when good things happen to good people.

Our lives will change dramatically when she leaves. Asa will not take it very well when he asks 'where is my Sarita?' and she won't be there to answer. She says she woke last night crying because she will miss him so. It is a special bond, and I am saddened to watch it come to an end. No child can be loved by too many people.

In only a few weeks we will all be heading back to Nepal for her wedding. It should be a joyous occasion for us all. I am convinced that Sarita will always be in my life and from what she has done with her life within the short 3 years, I can't wait to see what her future will bring.

Love you, Sarita.