The B.E.T. Response

If you were under the assumption that black people have made progress in their perception around the world this post may not be one you want to read.  I would have hoped to report that I left discomfort due to my ethnicity behind in the U.S.  At the time I believed this didn’t seem too unreasonable.  There are people from all over the world here, and not only that but the vast majority are but only a few shades lighter than me.  In other words we are all people of color here.  It’s not just conceptual idea but very visual and can be confirmed just by looking around.  Those individuals that are melanin deficient (i.e. Westerners, Europeans….just white folks in general really) are now a minority here.  I thought that I wouldn’t have to deal with prejudices (pre-judgments) as a black man here in the Middle East.  Wishful thinking perhaps.  

 Every day I encounter some form of prejudice, albeit most of it subtle; more so than back in the states.   Apparently that invisible yet incredibly heavy burden of representing all black people followed me halfway around the world to Abu Dhabi.  And heavier than ever.  But its really not all black people I find myself having to represent.  The Emirati are familiar with Africans, as there are many that frequent and live in the city.  I was surprised by the number of Egyptians that call Abu Dhabi home.  I have already noted my smartest students are both Egyptian and Sudanese.  In fact I believe that the Africans have a fairly solid reputation as far as I can tell, at least among the faculty at my school.  So if I was African I may not have as much a problem.  My “problem” is that I am African American.  

I would only casually think about how African Americans were perceived globally;  I never really had given thorough and in depth thought.   I knew it was probably not good.  That’s been confirmed.

The scenario will go a little something like this:  I am packing up after class after all the students have left the room.  The halls are cluttered with students, some moving to class, others socializing, the same scene of any high school hallway between classes in America.  My door is open because my students have just left out and in walks Johnny Student, any random student, with maybe a friend or two with him.  We exchange greetings: “Hello, Teacher, How are you?” (We hear this greeting all day, from both teachers and staff.  It is their version of “Hola, Coma Esta?  Muy Bien, gracias.” Really the only phrase I ever mastered in my Spanish class.  And then we will shake hands.  I will probably shake 100 hands a day, no exaggeration.  They see this as a modern, Western greeting.  Every single solitary student that comes into my class will walk by my desk and extend their hand to me and say “Hello, Teacher, how are you?”  Sounds nice, but after 7 weeks of it its starts to wear on you. )

After I shake their hands they will ask me, usually in moderate to broken English, “Where are you from?”  Some will, as the Taxi Driver in one of my previous posts, suggest Africa.  I have since grown tolerant of this question because it seems fair due to the large African population here.  I will tell him no I am from America.

And then I get the reaction.  

I have begun to call this the BET response, because I’m pretty sure this is probably where they get it.  Up until very recently, about a month ago, Abu Dhabi cable companies here (OSN and Etisalat) carried the BET network in its package.  When I got my cable I was disappointed to find that just a few days before they got rid of BET.  So I imagine most of these students at this school and many other Emirati teenagers probably have come to know African Americans, not through our history, by reading about the proud triumphs to gain equal rights in a country that only recognized us a third of a person.   No, they have come to know us through BET (and MTV as well, can't let them off the hook).  Let’s take a moment to think about that for a minute.  What happens when a young person living on the other side of the world is only able to obtain information about your race through a 50 Cent music video or 106 and Park?  Well, I can tell you. 

They first light up with the satisfaction that you are one of those black people from America and immediately start to make you understand that they know about you.  They do this various ways.  If wearing their ROTC uniform, they will turn their cover (hat) sideways, cocked to the side because naturally this is how all black people wear their hats.   Next, they will make exaggerated stereotypical rapper gestures with their arms, really looking more like Easy E (circa 1987) than Jay Z.  All they need is a fat gold chain dangling from their neck.  Next, they may or may not say some abbreviated English like “What up, Dog?” which sounds ridiculous with their heavy Arabic accent.  Then they will try to give me dap, a greeting often used between two African American men, particularly in the urban community.  For those that need further explanation, its basically when two guys slap hands and give a modified handshake.  I’m certain you have seen it before.  I have no problem with dap, but I only give it to my friends.  It is inappropriate to give to a student.  I didn’t give dap to my students back in the States, and I won’t here, either.   When they approach me with it I usually firmly grab their hands in a handshake preventing the progression of other movements into a dap.  The dap attempts are something I get regularly, either from Emirati students that want to show they are “down” or from the other African students at the school that don’t know me but want to say hello and connect with a dap.  I use my strategy and they usually keep trying, but I refuse and smile.  They eventually get it and smile back.
 

Let me just say that I don’t mean to bash BET and I know it’s not just them.  It is kind of depressing to know that all my students know about my culture is that we are dangerous, wear baggy pants hanging off our butts, like to have half naked girls with big hips on either side of us as we flow with our lyrics.  The little scenario I just described is something I get every week.  I do like the fact that I get to give them another perspective of African Americans, one that is related to academics, learning, and intelligence.  
 

Switching gears now, I have a couple of notable items I thought were worth mentioning:

1.       The Red Cross does not exist here.  They do however have the same relief organization, just with a different name (changed for obvious reasons).  It’s called the Red Crescent.  The crescent symbol is the holy symbol for Islam. 

2.      Believe it or not, Church’s Chicken is alive and well in the U.A.E.!  It too has undergone a name change (again for obvious reasons).  No, they do not call it “Mosques” if that is what you were thinking.  Its alias here is “Texas Chicken,” presented in the same font, colors, and logo as Church’s Chicken, only instead spelling “Texas Chicken”.   

3.      Everything delivers.  Restaurants, fast food, furniture shops, dry cleaning,  even grocery stores.  Burger King delivers, KFC delivers, Bubbles Dry Cleaning picks up and delivers, etc.  There are 3 or 4 neighborhood grocery stores within a two block radius of our apartment, all offer free delivery.  We haven’t tried them yet but you better believe it won’t be long before we do.  There must be at least 20 restaurants in that same two blocks, all of them deliver.  Luckily the food is very inexpensive.  I ate out with my co worker and his wife at an Indian/Chinese food restaurant once and picked up the tab.  I was confused because I thought the waiter had just given me my check and not the check for all three of us.  We ate, became full, and went home with left overs for about $20 USD.  And yes, that place delivers. 

      4. The differences in the class system is very distinct, very obvious.  The Upper Class are the rich folks.  Fairly easy to spot as they are usually getting in and out of a car that costs double your salary (see #5).  The Middle Class is, well, us.  The teachers, government workers, military, policeman, business people, etc.  The Lower Class is like a servant class.  It kind of makes you feel guilty using them because you know their situation.  They do such menial work for little money, they are usually Indian (the janitors at our school are from Bangladesh) and they are usually dirty and smelly.  Sounds very rude to write but it is also incredibly accurate.  I have been told several times however that if you do not use their services you are hurting them because they will not have jobs or the money to send back home.  So, essentially, it is considered gracious to work them like dogs.  And work them people do.  

      5.  The cars that I used to just see on T.V. or on the internet I get to see here, in the strangest places too.  I saw a Lamborghini parked in front of the Holiday Inn (granted the Holiday Inn here is not the Holiday Inn back home.  I will describe it in a later post).  There was an Aston Martin deserted on the side of the road near our apartment for a while collecting dust until I think someone either finally drove it away or it was towed.   Every other car is a BMW, Porche, Mercedes, and I see Bentley sprinkled about as well.   Mustangs are popular here, as are Landrovers, which is by far the most common luxury SUV I see.

That will do for now.  More to come later. 

The Trip Over (Natova)

Ray and I are finally reunited and it feels so good! I could not wait until we were together again after 1 month, 27days, (or 1392 hours, or 5,011,200 seconds, or...well, you get the idea) of being apart from one another.  So let the honeymoon begin, but first let me tell you about my flight experience to Abu Dhabi where I met several challenges. 

Challenge #1: Packing

The day of my departure from the USA I began to sort through what to take and what could be left behind. I brought everything into my mom’s living room and started to sort and separate, but only to come to the conclusion that I needed everything! I packed and stuffed my four suitcases until one of the zippers busted, but it was fixable. Upon loading the car my nerves started to set in while contemplating the long flight and the big move I was about to make.  After several goodbyes to family and friends, my parents and I were on our way to the Orlando International Airport for my flight to New York then to Abu Dhabi. My parents helped me lug in my suitcases and we approached the counter to check in.  To my surprise, one of my bags was over the weight restriction of 70lbs and the other bags were fairly close. I had to move to a special area where I had to unpack and repack my personal items and clothing out in the open and try to balance the weight appropriately. This was a bit embarrassing.  However, I managed to get everything situated except for some of my music CDs and the Bible Experience on CD as while, so thing worked out okay in the end. 

Challenge # 2: Short Layover & 12 hour flight

My flight from Orlando to New York was 20 minutes behind schedule. This was a cause from concern because my layover was only an hour and half between the two flights. Plus, I wasn’t sure where the international terminal was and how long it was going to take me to get there.  After landing, I waited with anticipation to get on my way to the next terminal and get myself mentally ready for the 12 hour flight. Sadly to say, things did not go as planned. I got off the plane and moved as quickly as I could, reading any sign that would direct me to the international terminal. I walked what I felt to be a mile or so to the Air Tran which would take me to my final terminal. After getting to my terminal, I walked to the counter to get my boarding pass and was promptly told I MISSED MY FLIGHT. I was late checking in and my flight was currently boarding. Fortunately, the lady at the counter checked me in anyway which gave me hope that I would make the flight. I moved expeditiously (i.e. running frantically) to where the signs pointed to gate B27, only to run into a line requesting my passport and boarding pass. I asked a lady staff member if I could move up because my flight was boarding now and she graciously said no. Ladies! We must help each other out. I managed to get through the line and ran right into another line for security. I was thinking to myself, “Didn’t I go through this already?” Apparently, I had to go through the whole shoes off, belt, body scan and electronic check again prior to actually getting to my gate. I stood in line terrified I wasn’t going to make this flight that Ray and I have been anticipating for so long. Luckily, a male staff member passed by and with my stylish good looks and charming personality I was able to get pushed through to the front of the line while hearing my flight number being called for immediate boarding. Still hoping to make my flight before the gate close I ran with my shoes in tow until I could see B27 in sight. At this time I needed to take a break, my body and lungs wasn’t used to a full on sprint to the finish line. I jogged my way to the gate and was told it was okay to put my shoes on as they giggled at my appearance, shoes in hand, bent over trying to catch my breath. Once I entered the plane it finally hit me where I was headed. The plane was filled with Arabic and Indian people and very few Americans, especially African Americans.  I found my seat, phoned home and prepared myself for the ride. 

Traveling twelve hours in a closed in area, miles in the air and in one seat threw up a couple of alarms for me. I don’t like feeling too closed in then or stuck with no fresh air, but the flight wasn’t so bad. After eating, watching a couple of episodes, movie and sleep, we were landing. You’re going to be sleep most of the time, therefore, traveling during the evening hours are the best way to fly. Exiting the plane I was excited to see Ray, but once again I had to go through passport and security check AGAIN. Really? Did anything change from Orlando and New York? Finally, I made it through customs and retrieved my bags and went on my way to search for my husband. In which, I could not find him for about 30mins. After standing around for a bit I decided to keep it moving in hope to find him and to stop the stares from some of the men. I turned the corner and there he was … tall, well dressed, clean shaved and smelling good. I noticed he lost a couple of pounds, well more like 20lbs, but looking so handsome. I’m so glad to be with him again to explore and create new memories together.

A Long Awaited Arrival

I apologize to all my readers for dropping off of the face of the Earth for the last 3 weeks.  I knew that there would be an inevitable lapse in my posting,  but I didn’t anticipate it to be so long.  Apparently, it’s just as easy for one’s time and attention to get consumed by everyday issues here in Abu Dhabi as it is in the States.   My days are now filled with an exotic concoction of learning what documents I need to get for my wife to get her residency visa, calling ADEC and Nirvana travel agency to see what I need to have to do in order to get Natova here, which in itself has its own process, and just dealing with the demands of developing and implementing a curriculum to students that don’t understand 90% of what you are saying.  On top of that I had to take them all off the pedestal I put them on in my earlier blogs.  Though they are at a different level as far as character, my class has turned into the Arabic version of everything I had to deal with in the States, with some differences here and there obviously.  So things are a becoming a bit more challenging as of late, nothing I can’t handle though.  It just may not be as smooth a ride as I thought these two years.    

There have been several developments since I last posted.  The most recent and most important of which is that my wife will be touching down on Abu Dhabi soil at around 8:00pm Sunday night.  While we are near the subject, this may be an opportunity to say a thing or two about the experience of being away from my wife for these last two months.  I have learned alot about maturity and loneliness.

I’ll start by saying that long distance thing is not unfamiliar to us.  Of the first three and a half years of our relationship, only 8 months of it was spent in the same city.  The rest was spent bouncing around between Tallahassee to Jacksonville to Melbourne.   When I was activated, I deployed with my fellow Marines to Camp Lejuene, North Carolina during Operation Iraqi Freedom I.  I stayed there for 6 months and would only see Natova for about once a month.   I was also gone for two months while in MOS school (Military Occupational Specialty) at Camp Johnson, NC.  I didn’t get to see her at all during this time.  Additionally, I was appointed with the burden/privilege of being Platoon Sergeant.  That put me in charge of 20 Marines, and if they fail it was my fault.  I was responsible for everything from setting up study sessions for those Marines that were struggling with the supply system programs we were learning in class, to making sure that no one got drunk and made a jackass out of himself out in town and if so managing that nightmare of a situation, to making sure that everyone was present every morning in formation with a fresh shave and an ironed uniform, or else we both paid.   Needless to say, that was a fairly stressful point in my life.  But I managed to make it through, take care of business, and come home to see her.  No problem.  Granted this was early in our relationship, we had only been together a little less than a year.

I think coming to Abu Dhabi I had a similar mindset, but after a month it became more problematic for me.  I’m learning that my mindset I had then is not going to work for me now, I’m just a different person.  Growing up, you might say that I wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming with information (my mother would often say it was like pulling teeth to get me to talk) even if it was important, particularly information anything about how I felt.  I would just deal with it, suffer in silence so to speak.  I was always fairly independent and isolated, even with my own family, which lent itself to taking extended absences or just being alone for long periods of time.  In fact, I often preferred to be alone because it gave me time to think, something I tend to do a lot of.  I managed to use this isolation to great benefit throughout most of my life.  I was comfortable with change, with circumstances and even people.  People would come and go, and while I would appreciate their presence while they're around, I would never lament their departure.  There are very few situations of any kind where I can't walk away feeling very little emotional residue.  What ended up happening when I got married is I still held onto a bit of this independence and isolation.  I had it tucked away in a box and I lived my life from two different places, “us” Natova and I, and “me.”  I didn’t really realize this until…now.  I thought that I had opened up for my wife, and I am sure to some degree I did, but not really.  

For a while, I could not figure out why I was lonely here in Abu Dhabi, because this time alone is usually when I flourish.  It’s the time when I make all kinds of breakthroughs about life, religion, and most importantly myself.  I have been away from Natova before even longer than what I am doing here, with equally stressful circumstances, so why can’t I focus?  Why am I not making progress and succumbing to loneliness?  Ironically, I now realize that I am making progress and the breakthrough was my loneliness.  I’m lonely because half of me is missing.  

 When I say I have learned about maturity, it’s in terms of the maturity of our relationship.   In my past absences, our relationship was growing, but now we are at a different, closer and more intimate place with one another on all levels.  We are much more intertwined, and we are married.  I think I’m allowed to miss my wife, to need my wife.  And therein lies the breakthrough: I need Natova.  I need her with me.  I need her presence around me.  I need to see her when I come home. So simple a concept but I have never experienced it to this degree.  I guess I’m cracking open that box and letting my wife in.  It has never been easy in past attempts, what I now realize were past attempts, but being here alone has accelerated the process because it hit me from deep inside.  It’s more than physical (though, believe me, that doesn’t help), but I just need her in my life here.  I miss her dearly.  Luckily I get to see her in the next 24 hours, so I feel a lot better.

Forgive me if I got too deep and/or personal but the blog is the Abu Dhabi Experience, and this has certainly been a part of my experience here in Abu Dhabi.  Till next time…