Restrictions
When I lived and taught in the UAE for three months I dealt with being told what to wear, what to say, how to conduct myself in public and also to use insha Allah which literally translates as if god wills it but can be interpreted to mean I will do my best and in the case of the administrators in my school, don’t count on it. Deadlines were essentially a western idea. When we handed our passports over to Mubarek who spent his days not getting us things, there was no firm answer to the question, “When do you return my passport?”
Before I left the United States for Abu Dhabi I read as much as possible about behavior both acceptable and unacceptable. For example, don’t cross your legs, don’t show the sole of your shoe, don’t point, don’t swear and never criticize the country to anyone. A woman should not initiate a conversation in a casual situation with a Muslim man she does not know. Never shake hands with the opposite gender who is Muslim unless they extend their hand first. There was a ton of unacceptable behavior which basically came down to, 1) Respect another culture, 2) Keep your thoughts and ideas aside from “I love Abu Dhabi” to yourself, 3) Never leave your apartment without a large scarf that covers your shoulders and head.
Photo by Engin Akyurt
What I discovered about myself: I am impatient, brusque and filled with the need to tell the truth, i.e. I dislike malls, I don’t like not having friendly chats with my taxi driver, workmen, whomever. I resent having to monitor my own behavior having been raised by a feminist mother and living almost exactly as I wished for nigh on four decades. I resented the sense of paranoia, should I be doing this? Is this acceptable? Why are there no street addresses in Abu Dhabi? I stopped answering my Emirate students loaded questions, “Miss, do you like it here?” if I said no, I could easily end up deported or jailed. I avoided responding when they doubted the Holocaust, the moon landing and 9/11.
So, I recognized my western, American privilege and avoided confronting my idiot boss because a woman telling an Arab man he is wrong about everything, especially about how to teach English is unacceptable. I did not meet the eyes of various immigrant workmen knowing it could get them in trouble but I did scream at the taxi driver who went into reverse driving 70mph on the highway because I pointed out he had blown by the exit for the school where I was meant to be addressing a large audience of mostly Emirate parents and students on writing college admission essays. I did not answer the kid who raised his hand to ask why I wrote about the UAE so critically? I had blogged that Abu Dhabi reminded me of Dallas on steroids, and when a beloved colleagues husband told her someone in his office had suggested I be quiet, I was quieter. Not silent but aware. Aware of danger.
Finally, the world is in quarantine. We are told not to go out unnecessarily, to wear face masks in public, to wash our hands, to keep socially distant from anyone not in our immediate family. These are not customs nor are they suggestions. They symbolize our acceptance of being human, of loving our neighbor enough to behave properly, to protect the infirm, the immune compromised, small children, those who have mental disorders that make it very hard to understand why they have to follow these rules. We don’t like rules, we don’t like restrictions, we don’t like change, even if it’s temporary. But those who are fighting night and day to treat, comfort and test the sick must be supported. It isn’t that hard. Eventually, Mubarek returned our passports. Scarves became second nature. I was never sure about that shoe thing and occasionally crossed my legs. No one called the police.
—Molly Moynahan, author and writing coach