I ♥ Dubai Airport

Here I am again! This airport is starting to feel like home to me, I've transited here so many times over the past few months that I'm starting to recognise the staff (very hard to do in places like Dubai/Bahrain where EVERYWHERE is way too overstaffed). What I love the most about this airport is the fact that you can sit on the side of the walk-a-lator (are they called walkalators? Or did I make that up?) and be continually entertained by the stream of people walking past you from countries all over the world.

Things that I strongly dislike about traveling:

• Always feeling like you've just been punched in the face because of the swollen-eye syndrome
• Having swollen feet in shoes that really don't cater for them (I wanted to wear sandals but Mama gave me 'the look')
• Okay, so, I think it's fair to say: swollenness in general.
  
• People encroaching on airplane seat space - especially the woman next to me on my flight from Bahrain to Dubai who engaged in an irritating cycle of nudging, apologising, and then nudging more, and then reading my newspaper over my shoulder, and then urging me to move and sit somewhere else. What is this?! Am I so repulsive? The fact that she had a very very cute baby on her lap was the only reason I didn't react more violently.
• Airports with smokers' sections. No offense to all the smokers out there, but yuck. I can't breathe y'all. I don't see how a strange glass capsule in the middle of the airport with no roof is supposed to contain the smoke. Call me crazy, just doesn't seem logical.
  
• The hybrid of "I'm-hungry-and-I-can't-stand-the-thought-of-food". NOTHING is appetising but my stomach ain't happy. I want to eat something but I don't know what. I keep waiting for some edible item to entice me but nothing's happening.
  

For fear of getting carried away with my travel-irritability and therefore missing my flight, I should probably bizounce.

Next stop - the land of London.

Rights of citizenship upheld for Egyptian Baha'is

http://bahai-egypt.blogspot.com/ <---- GO HERE.

Today signifies an important landmark for Egyptian Baha'is - for those of you who have been following this (and those of you who haven't), the Court of Administrative Justice today upheld the right of Egyptian Baha'is (or any Egyptian citizens who are not either Muslim, Christian, or Jewish) to legitimately obtain identity cards. If you haven't been following it, and feel like an interesting read about an inspirational community who persisted through a difficult, and potentially disheartening and discouraging situation, check out this blog - http://bahai-egypt.blogspot.com/

P.S. I very badly miss having interesting quirky things to write about. Just by the way.

One more thing

Catching up on world news after a long absence is somewhat depressing.

I miss my muse.

....

I don't even know what to write anymore.

I keep wanting to update the old blog, but I don't know what to say. What do I write about? The fact that I almost feel guilty about getting back in sync with 'normal' life so quickly? Or the fact that everything seems so easy and clean and sometimes extravagant, but I like it?

I'm just being brutally honest here. From the moment I stepped into Dubai International Airport and saw the familiar landscape of cafes, duty free shops, designer brand outlets, and people clad in business suits, I felt a huge sense of relief. The fact that I could just flip open my laptop and look for a number on my cell phone and listen to my iPod all at the same time, without having to worry that I was flaunting all my gadgets too much, thereby attracting too much attention to myself, was... nice. I was always really paranoid about that in Togo - if I had to answer my phone, I'd do it very surreptitiously. I never took my laptop out of the house, and listening to music was something I'd do in the privacy of my own bedroom. Even things like drinking a can of Coke in front of others made me a little awkward. All those things just seemed out of place, and fickle. I felt fickle simply by still being attached to them somehow.

Being in a place like Bahrain, where you often come across complete paradoxes, in terms of wealth and poverty, is very interesting. You often see heavily ornate mansions juxtaposed next to a space of wasteland with piles of rubble and sand, totally neglected. While driving, you'll see an old, very run-down pick up truck packed with 15 workers in the back, wearing very simple clothing, dirtied after an exhausting day's work, as a latest-model Lexus, Maserati or Chrysler (really, take your pick) passes by you, driven by a wealthy man in his pristine white thobe and headdress, talking on his expensive, top-of-the-line cellphone.

I think about the fact that my 7 year old brother is proficient in using a laptop, whereas most of the adults I met in Togo wouldn't know what to do with one; the fact that you can go to an enormous hypermarket like Géant and buy whatever your heart desires, all contained under one roof. Hungry? Eat something. There's a running fridge, knock yourself out. If there isn't anything you like, go ahead, take the car, which costs almost nothing to fill up, and drive to a place where there is something you'd like. Fancy a shower? Choose your water temperature and take as long as you want.

My mother left 500 fils (about USD$1.30) in the car yesterday, and I asked her whether that was such a good idea, thinking that it was an open invitation for someone to break in and take it. She looked at me and said "it's only 500 fils". 500 fils. That's 575 francs, which will easily get you four decent-sized meals - rice, meat, and vegetables. 575 francs can get you 23 500ml sachets of distilled water, which some people can't afford, so they just drink tap water (if that's available), a common source of disease.

I'm not being resentful or bitter, even though I know it may sound like it, I'm just coming to grips with this in my own head. Part of me is afraid that it's been so easy to re-assimilate with this lifestyle that I'll forget. I'll forget that as I'm typing this, someone that I know, and have made a connection with, is wondering how they're going to get the money to pay their rent, or where their next meal is coming from. Someone that I know may be wondering how they'll afford to buy medicine for a family member that's fallen sick. Many people that I met are trying to figure out what they're going to do with their lives now that they've gotten their degrees, given that unemployment is so high that they've already accepted that it's just going to continue like that, unless some kind of miracle happens. Some of them who are employed, and come to work everyday, haven't been paid in 3 months because their own boss can't find the money to buy a meal for himself.

Man... it's so easy to just slip back into my own little cocoon where my Issues of the Day are actually embarrassing to admit, but they still manage to irk me.

Over this past week, Bahrain has made me think about how it sort of displays a small-scale version of the world we live in. You have developed infrastructure, technology that makes your eyes pop out of your head, trinkets like Swarovski-crystal-embedded laptops (I kid you not). There are high standards of living, a thriving economy, large incomes, private schools, housekeepers, 5-star hotels and bidets. Then, in the very same sphere of life, you have poverty, enormous expanses of untouched, undeveloped land, underpaid and unappreciated workers. There are prejudices, unaddressed societal issues, and there is ignorance. And yet, even though these may seem like they are all at opposite ends of the spectrum, they are still members of one single spectrum, from one end to the next, and all that's in between. The issues that plague our world, no matter how far they are from where we are, and how different and shocking they may be in relation to what we see in front of us, are still issues in our world - the same world we live in. It scares me that it's so easy to just carry on comfortably with my life, that we can just get on with it and not turn our minds to the nightmares that our fellow human beings have to endure day after day. I think the very least we can do is be mindful of what they have to go through (I always say 'we' but I really mean 'I'). I don't even think that's enough.

Bah bah bah-rain, have you any food?

The answer is yes. Lots of it which I can't stop consuming.

It's awesome being back with family again, but I keep getting flashes of Togo and it really does feel like it was just a dream. I was looking at my pictures last night and couldn't believe that so much had happened in that short space of time, and here I am, in familiar surroundings, where most things are the same as they were last time I came to visit. It's very surreal.

I want to write more but I'm still getting my head around the fact that I'm here.

Odd.

Perhaps later.

I have to say - I suddenly have a lot of appreciation for butter, chocolate Digestive biscuits (don't ask), and the washing machine. I'm also really enjoying having a sink/shower/bathroom all in one indoor, clean location.

Final week!

Date: 9 January 2008

I met the new intern this week. My "replacement".

I've come to the conclusion that meeting and interacting with other Yovos is now a strange experience. Very strange.

First of all, they seem very very white. Like very white. This girl was Finnish and I kept staring at her skin, almost in disbelief. Yes, I do realise how odd I sound right now.

I also talk differently. I guess I got used to speaking to people who weren't fluent in English so I automatically simplify my words, slow down my speech, cut out any slang, and just don't sound like myself at all. It's almost a relief to just talk like myself, without having to worry whether the other person will miss something that I've said.

We talked about things that only Yovos really notice in Africa, also very weird. For example, "So do you ever drink tap water?", "Man how weird is the fish sometimes", "Have you seen that AIDS billboard with the old guy on it?" (I only mentioned that because there are many shocking billboards on the roadsides - ask me about them and I'll tell you. SHOCKING. Shocking enough that I can't bring myself to elaborate right here.)

I suddenly felt like home wasn't that far away. I don't know how to explain this really. Okay, so I'm leaving on Sunday morning. It's weird - going back to ordinary life doesn't seem possible. Like, I guess that being here is so different to my "normal" life that going back to it feels like I'm going to another planet, and that either my life before Togo, or my mini-life in Togo, were just dreams that I had once upon a time. After being here for 7 weeks, I've gotten used to a lot of things, and un-used to a lot of things that were habits before. When I first got here, it felt like I was going to be here for a really long time, and it was difficult to come to grips with it. But then with any change in lifestyle, you eventually get into the swing of things, you find things that make you feel like a place is home, you find your way around, figure out how to get the things you need, the way things are done, understand certain cultural differences a little more, and you make friends and synchronise with your new life.

It's interesting comparing who you were before such an experience with who you are afterwards. There are a lot, and I mean a LOT of things that I'm used to now that I never ever ever thought I could possibly ever be okay with. Even just a lot of personal characteristics that I've had to suppress or overcome, and others that I've had to develop and improve. Sometimes I'll just look around at my surroundings and it hits me just how different this life is to "my life". I'm in Africa. Rasha is in Africa. I thought about this trip a lot before I came here, trying to imagine what it would be like, and whether I'd go through with it or whether I could handle it. In a sense I guess I was setting a challenge for myself, seeing if I could bite the bullet and commit; dive into unknown territory. On some level, it all seemed too different and too far away to ever materialise into reality, but it did, and I'm here. SO WEIRD. And now it's almost over. I feel torn - there's a sadness when I think about the people, places and things that I know I'm going to miss (especially the people), but then when I think about going back to what's familiar, I admit, I feel relieved. With all the incredible things I've experienced here, it hasn't been easy, but I'm grateful for that. I'm glad that I got to see a lot of things with my own eyes, meet remarkable people, and learn priceless lessons, not just about the world, but about myself and my role, however insignificant, in it.

Last night was tough - normally the kids come only on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, but last Sunday I told them to come every afternoon this week and we'd just play games and sing songs and have fun. Man. I don't know how I'm going to go through with leaving them. It's amazing how despite the language barrier, we've still communicated, and connected, and developed relationships with each other. I've gotten very attached to them - they truly brighten my day. They keep threatening to cry when I leave. One girl yesterday kept ignoring me and didn't want to talk, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said that it was because I was leaving. I can't help but feel like by leaving, I'm letting go of a responsibility. I keep trying to think of ways that I can continue being a part of their lives after I go, and gathering email addresses and phone numbers so that I can keep in touch, but it just doesn't feel like enough. I'm almost jealous of the new intern - while she was greeting them yesterday, I just watched, thinking: no, they're my kids, get off my territory, don't replace me! I don't want them to forget me, because my God, I'm not going to forget them.

Don't EVEN get me started on my feelings about leaving my host family. Every night now, one of them will bring up the fact that our time is running out, and I feel this tightness in my chest because I know it's true. I'm going to miss sitting outside together and laughing, I'm going to miss Clara's INCREDIBLE storytelling (this woman has a gift - she can be telling a story about how she got a certain mosquito bite and it's completely riveting). I'm going to miss having visitors stop over in the evenings, sitting in the cool night air, listening to the sound of the language and the animated expression in their voices while they talk. I'm going to miss lying on the straw mat with Elom and Grace while we each read our books on a Sunday afternoon (I've turned them into geeks like me, YES), and playing DJ on my laptop while they show me the latest dance they've choreographed.

3 and a half days. Clara told me she's going to be out of the house on Sunday morning because she doesn't want to see me with my suitcase getting all airport-y. I still can't believe my time is up. People often ask me what I like most about Togo - I don't even have to think about it, it's the people that make this country. I've learned enormous amounts from them, and will never forget the impact they've made on my life. I hope one day I can come back.

Thanks.

Samar, instead of replying to all of your comments, you've earned a post.

I love how much effort you're putting into these characters. They brighten my day and I'm starting to feel like the only reason anyone should read my blog is to read your comments.

Smelly APE.

Even the face.

Love,
Missy Elliat.