So when we received the sign-up slip (and fees for tickets) to Arabian Night at CIS, I hesitated for a moment...5-8 PM on a school night, when we then wake up at 5:30 AM? But then my good-ol-dependable Mama Guilt kicked in and we decided to go. And I am so glad we did. This was a great show of local cultural stuff and it was just the right "scale" so we had some adventure but then also left by 6:45 PM. Here are some pictures.
On one side of the school grounds, a big Bedouin tent was set up. These carpets are covering the grass. Such carpet covering (and yes, they are all individual carpets) are absolutely common for outdoor parties here, and you can see why this is a direct outgrowth of the Bedouin tradition. Unfortunately, when I see the carpets, all I think of is how much dust/sneezing would commence upon picking them up and how long it would take me to vacuum them all and how much gum and other crap kids are tracking all over them. And then that makes me remember how much I loved my purple Dyson, and I have to weep a little. 
Hannah insisted on bringing her Crayola Magic Princess Coloring book with her (the kind where the markers don't write on anything but the magic paper but somehow when they get shipped in a container across the world most of the markers seem to dry out and the paper doesn't work exactly right anymore...so very odd). So the first stop was to see the principal (black shirt) and demonstrate our coloring skills. Hannah literally ran over to her. This principal is really sweet and I love that high voiced British accent.
So the first thing we did was spend 45 minutes waiting in line...but you'll see in a moment why the wait was worth it. Actually, I waited in line while Hannah socialized and ran free. This is Su-Ha, a precious little beautiful child...from Japan, I think, but because I'm not a better "education Mom," I am not as well versed on Hannah's classmates' nationalities as I should be. We were also standing in line with Kohei, a little boy who is from Japan. He and his family were due to return home the same week of the tsunami. I'm not sure what region of Japan they are from, but they have not been able to return yet (and I think are unsure if they will get to return for a long time). This puts one little real personal face on the tsunami tragedy and makes me feel sad. But then Su-Ha's cuteness and sweetness makes me want to smile all day long.
Next to the line were a group of regional ladies cooking "traditional" foods. I say "regional" because these ladies are most likely not Qatari. Most likely, these ladies are from surrounding nations. The one with everything but her face covered is Filipino, I think--she was helping the woman on her left. These fantastic cooks were making things like the crepes explained in a previous post. I didn't get a chance to sample the little pancakes you can see at the bottom of the picture. Those little fried balls of dough in the next pot up are dipped in a honey/sugar syrup...yummmmm....Those griddles are incredibly hot. I think about the physical strain of sitting on the ground for that long, the heat, and the danger of the oil and gas, and I have great respect for these "local chefs." Such food preparation is very common in the evenings at Souq Waqif, so I'm thankful to know where to go to get my fix...
Besides the cream cheese crepes in the earlier post, they were making Nutella crepes. As you can imagine, those were a big hit.
So that food preparation was to the left. On my right was another table with traditional, home-prepared foods. The lady who had brought these spoke no English, and I am so awful with my Arabic that only limited communication was achieved. She served local tea with milk, stewed chickpeas, and some sort of bean-type mash (John...is this "foul" or "fall" or "fool" or whatever? It as gummy and had a very mild, light beany-type flavor). These things were good but not spicy--the basic Arabic food here is not heavily seasoned. With all respect to the traditions and the cook, we need a little cuisine fusion...some jalapenos, red onion, and cilantro would have been a fantastic addition to those chickpeas.
This was a weaving demonstration without a weaver. The loom was set up to show how the local fabric--which is then used for everything from tent decorations to camel blankets to wall hangings to rugs--is created. This so very much reminds me of the Native American weaving demonstrations I've seen.
As I was standing in line, Hannah spied this lady weaving baskets and mats. What commenced was an inter-cultural flirting, with Hannah running over, stopping 10 feet short, smiling, the lady smiling back and beckoning Hannah, and Hannah running back to me. I told Hannah to go give that Grandma a hug, which she finally did, and then was invited to sit right next to the lady and watch/hang out. I spent a few minutes with her later, and she showed me how the palm leaves are braided into a sort of rope, and then that braid is formed into baskets (for holding clothes and other things) or into round mats (~18 inches across) for eating. This is another Bedouin traditional craft. Can you imagine the hardship of living with the heat, sand, and lack of water? I think it's amazing and humbling.
I also love the way that--with almost no speech, as again, communication had to overcome language barriers--Hannah can encompass with absolute innocence that complicated cultural dance of getting beyond the "strange otherness." Yes, this Grandma wore a niqab (full face veil), but she is a Grandma nonetheless...you could see it in her twinkling smiling brown eyes and in her beautiful hands.
Who is to say that this Grandma should not cover her face and hair, when it is part of how she knows the world to be? I pray that she covers because she believes in it and not because she feels hindered by it.
For a good TV show segment on the issues of the hair wrap (hijab) and veil (niqab), go to this video: Everywoman: The Veil Part 1 and Part 2. An important sidenote though: these are young Egyptian women. Just like Christians come in a huge range of beliefs and commitments, so do Muslims. What is true for these young women cannot be blindly generalized to even young women in Qatar. Then you have generational differences, too. Okay, thank you for considering my tangent...back to the Arabian Night.
There were a few arts and crafts tables set up, with some homemade things and some "trinkets" (typically plastic stuff). I love the face modeling the golden veil here.
But the reason we stood in line so long was to get our hands hennaed. If you want to see some amazing henna, check out this blog posting. And of course, here's our friend wikipedia on henna dyes and customs. Scroll down to the section on "Traditions of henna as body art."
The lady doing Hannah's henna (?!?) is Persian--her family is from Iran, but she was "burned here." When she said that, she totally understood her faux pax, and she started laughing a lot. I told her we are all burned here from July through September. She has being practicing henna art since she was six years old. I asked her if her hands would be tired after three hours of this, and she said no, but her eyes would be very tired. Watching her work was like watching someone do Chinese calligraphy. Amazing.
Hannah and I each had our right hand done. It's like thick paste (almost like mud) when it first goes on, and it looks very black. The biggest challenge at this point, obviously, is not smearing it all over yourself or someone else. So we were very careful. Hannah did a great job! I think she and I will both become henna addicts. I may be foreseeing a fifth birthday party involving pedis and henna for the guests...plus a princess tea party. Yes, the birthday is in June, people. Never to early to start planning. After all, Hannah's been asking "how many days until my next birthday?" for about four months now.After the course or an hour or so, the henna dries up and begins to flake off. An important sidenote, however, is that for those operating at the "advanced blackbelt level of runway model posing," henna protection maneuvers are no problem, and posing for photos can continue as normal, including the requisite hand on the hip.
That takes us to another major highlight of the evening: the camel. After the henna was applied, we went over to where a musical performance was being put on--costumes and singing and dancing about cultures, the culmination of a couple of months of after school enrichment activity practice. (Hannah has participate in a legos class, Jack did Arabic arts, and Hank continues violin, so none of the small children were singing and dancing...we save that for random moments in the Villagio Mall.)
Not 25 feet from the stage full of singers, this most precious and patient creature on God's Earth was parked. I'm sure he was rope-hobbled, but I also wonder if he was hobbled in a way to keep him kneeling down. He didn't seem uncomfortable, but he was literally in the midst of the whole loud party, with what must have seemed like an endless supply of tall and short people wanting to pet him. You know camels spit big looooogies, right? He looked deeply into my eyes, as if to consider me a viable target. In fact, I was quite sure that as other people scratched and tugged, I would get the face full of dromedary drool, but it never happened. And I even gave him a little scratch behind the ear. He felt, exactly like you would imagine, incredible soft and a little course, like sheep's wool (where his fur was longer). I really really wanted to grab those soft loose lips and rub my cheek against them, but of course I am no fool. Well, maybe on occasion some instinct helps me limit my foolishness. Check out the eyelashes. What a creature!
Typically, as I am blessed by these adventures, I want to have you here to smell and taste and ponder with me. But this evening, I really wished you had been there to listen. Beyond the regional music in the background, what I heard around me was the world full of accents...Japanese, English, Australian, Dutch, Scottish, Indian, Arabian, Persian, Texan, and more that I'm sure I am neither smart enough to recognize nor awake enough to remember. Almost no one sounded "like us" and almost no one sounded the same as others around them. That, for some reason, made it an even more exceptional night.
Now, he's going to be mad at me, but I just had to post this...I've worried about Hank being shy and reticent to make friends. He's happy and swears that all is good, but it's hard just taking his word for it. But then, when we arrived at CIS, he immediately spotted three guys his age (from the other "half" of year 8) and took off to go hang out with him. I knew there was no way I could purposefully get a photo of them, so I stood a ways away and took one anyway. It's like a photo-safari documenting a 12 year old!
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