it takes all kinds to make this world

and it takes a lot of weirdos to make the expat world.the expat world is a surreal one. everything is transitory... more so than in the real world. and the state of temporariness can unnerve you a great deal.
it’s just not about thinking a million times about buying ‘good’ furniture (and then settling for made in malaysia rubber wood rip offs);
it’s not about going back home every year, year after year, because the company pays annual passage (this is changing, and quite a few opt to travel and see the world);
it's not about the job insecurity -- do we really buy this SUV? what if i lose my job and am stuck with the monster?;
it's not about buying as much property in as many different cities/towns in india, to keep up with the joneses;
it's not about your passbook being your favourite read;
it's not even about choosing to share your apartment here, so that you build a home enviably big enough, to spend you retired and tired life.

the temporaryness is worst when you are trying to build your social circle, when you are trying to make friends.

people are so wary -- what's the point really? you take all that effort and build relationships, and come end of contract, voila! the person moves on.

this is something i can't get used to.
that a lot of friendships here are for convenience, and like much of life otherwise, disposable. use and throw.

in the decade (nearly) i've been here, it never ceases to surprise me, how selfish and ruthless people can be in getting the best out of every encounter.

when you are still naive and new to the expatworld, it's easy to be taken in, and respond rather foolishly to friendly overtures. and then you get taken down hard, when you realise that it's about how useful you are to the person. people are so caught up in the temporariness that surrounds them, they think it's fine to apply the same in relationships.

it may well sound like i'm whining. and maybe i am.

but when you are used to a cushioning of good/great friends, and land in a place that's as dry as a desert (pun unintended) in this context, then you've earned the liberty to crib.

the other thing about this world is the extent of disgruntlement.

everybody seems to be disgruntled -- not merely by their lot in life, but by those who are or seem to be doing better than them.
this again is rather incomprehensible -- how do you ever get peace of mind, if your happiness is dependent on other people's woes?

the expatworld not only turns regular folks into weirdos, it also seems to attract a whole bunch of congenital weirdos.
i find myself displaying certain weirdo symptoms, like being suspicious of a lot of people. fortunately, what i talk about below is not one of the weirdness i have adopted.

there is this one trait i've come across so often here in people, i almost believe it's a gulf syndrome.

people carry tales. so if x (whom you barely know) has unpleasant things to say about you to your 'friend' y, then y will not only give ear and participate, but will report the useless bit of information back to you.
now, how bored or jobless should you be to do something SO pointless?
i am not exaggerating... but this happens so often, and to so many people around me, i am quite convinced the affliction is caused by something in the water.

i've made a couple of great friends here (more about them another day), and it would be a grave injustice to them if i don't mention that there are exceptions to this weirdness.

If he is a HOUSE BOY...

... who are you? Mistress of Anal Snobbery?
I hate this term -- house boy.
House boy = Grown men, who, due to a sad twist of fate, end up in poorly paid jobs in the Gulf and try earning some extra bucks in their free time by cleaning homes and doing random chores, for measly amounts.

Can't we at least afford them some dignity and call them Cleaners or Helpers? But, House boys? Who the hell do we think we are? Isn't colonialism a thing of the past?

I know people living in palatial houses, with an income of over $10k a month, who grudge the $100 they pay these guys for cleaning their homes.
If only I had a riyal for every "Just because we live in a big house he is asking for a hike!"
Hike of what? $20?

Before I digress, this is not a rant about people's generosity or the lack of it.
It's about their insensitivity. Let's assume that they don't know the history of the term (see PS below). Let's assume their ignorance. Still. Doesn't it irk them even a teeny-weeny bit when they refer to their 40+ cleaner, from the sub-continent, as a houseboy?

The ones who throw the term around with so much pride are usually women -- yes, it's us who can display this degree of insensitivity, when it comes to 'lesser' beings. the men are far more equable in these matters. they usually refer to most people by name -- not the driver, the servant, the houseboy... but as babu, rangan or joe.

I've heard women talk about their houseboys, exchanging juicy snippets on their greed for more money, while sipping coffee from their Villeroy & Boch cups; and the men in discussion would be on the other side of the wall, well within hearing distance.
Not that it's forgivable to refer to them this way when they are not around! It's just the degrees of insensitivity.

To be fair, it's not only those living in fancy villas and high-rises who use this term with great abandon. It's everybody. From dingy shared rooms to your regular-joe apartment blocks, the echoes of 'house boy' vibrate...

I guess, the term somehow allows people to place themselves on a different and higher level. "I am the Mistress of my Abode (humble or otherwise) and I have a houseboy!"
Probably not intentional -- just something in our subconscious...

When I reply to people's queries of 'houseboy' with 'my cleaner' or 'the person who comes to help me'... most don't even register the point.

Have I ever openly told friends (at least) not to use the term? I plead guilty. I have never. Most of my friends treat their cleaners with respect, despite calling them houseboys, and I am terribly scared of offending some close friends, so I keep my mouth shut.

But no more. I am sending this post to them...


PS: House boy

living the good life, without the goods

just about sums up our life here. the common impression of the gulf indian is that they are rich because they live a poor life. but we are the healthy anti thesis. we are poor because we live the rich life.

spa treatments, gourmet dinners, boutique shopping...by we i mean me, mine and our friends who sport similar feathers. we flock together for a reason! we really do live the good life, and are broke by the first week of the month; fortunately there is no wet blanket in the guise of common sense telling us 'be smart, you are here to save, not to have fun (and probably end up in debt)'.

our dinner table conversation every weekend is about the amount of money people around us have... especially that man who just passed by, staring disbelievingly at us, the bunch of indians, sitting in a restaurant that easily costs $50 a head for a light meal. he is driving his landcruiser prado (the dream machine of every gulf indian), wearing his peter england shirt and bata shoes bought during his last trip home.

we are also talking about ms money bags who looked shocked that we were walking out of whistles with shopping bags. you know she has money in her bags because 10 kilos of gold weigh her down; really worn chappals prop her up; fragged bra strap slip off her shoulder and peep out under the transparent sleeve of the jazzy kameez bought at Lulu Hypermarket. and she is wondering where our husbands work (and how out of control the men were) to let us shop at whistles, and wear shoes from Nine West or Milano... snooty indians, they are too good for lulu and parthas, or what?and 'snooty indians' look at her with equal disdain... enough gold on her to write off the debt of an impoverished african country, but still does a mental conversion while spending money on 'chappals'. as we grudge her all the ready cash (definitely not the prehistoric bra), she grudges us the tons of money she assumes we have...

in my assessment there is a very fine line that separates the two types... we both place way too much emphasis on money: one by hoarding, another by burning it.

ps1: appraisals around the corner, and i am not really so bothered by the hike; because i know for sure, for me, earning more is not equal to having more. it only means spending more.

ps2: just as i complete ps1, i hear oprah on tv, say this: "nobody is living the life you think they are, behind closed doors." righto lady!

death

another fire.
More people die.
This place is literally being built on the blood, bones and flesh of expatriate labour.
The buildings are strengthened by the sweat and blood of those who lose their life so cheaply.
And their souls will haunt the place that promised prosperity and delivered death.
So cheap are their lives, no one is surprised by its loss. No one learns a lesson.
These deaths make more precious the lives of those around you. The ones to whom you grudge your time and attention. The ones to whom you owe your joys -- small and big.

Eid

A Heritage village... deserted, random sweet stalls, horse rides, bored looking pearldivers and fishermen glaring at visitors.
A huge shopping tent, trash from across the world, a real fun shopping experience... and you can also feel nice about your good deed for the day. paying the salaries of at least a couple of chinese factory workers!
(Aside: Friend of mine returned from the Iskon temple in Bangalore with a Krishna statuette made in China!!)
and then the big top... a circus tent. manned by some nincompoops who couldnt help squash a fly, barring the sweet smile reserved for white skinned single women. Hail QTA's social service.
But an enjoyable Eid. The City gets more festive for Bakrid -- Eid Al Adha.
Two months to go for that!
So basically if you are in Qatar, you spend one month having fun during Ramadan. Then a week for the Eid. Spend two months in expectation for the next one. And one more week of that. So basically you need to work only for 8.5 months. Of which you dont work fridays and saturdays. sundays is a global weekend, so you kind of are still in the spirit. three days gone from the week...
And in most Govt and certain pvt organisations, women get 5 days off a month to deal with their personals. This is what I've heard. and most conveniently combine it with their weekends.
5 days a month! worth the embarassment to go and tell HR "Sir, I am bleeding, so 5 days off!"
Guess you've got the idea already about what it is to work in Qatar... you don't slog!

Cynicism Expatrius syndrome affects most Qatar residents

Cynicism Expatrius. A sydrome most prevalent amongst expatriates in the region. Particularly amongst expatriates of the Middle to High Income Groups. They are cyncial about everything. From the high temperatures to low salaries, from the abhaya wearing women to the decadent new imports, from wilted vegetables to sour milk. Cynical about real and assumed issues... so Cynical, we can no longer differentiate between what is real and what is assumed.

So is Cynicism a sign of disgruntlement? No, in most cases it's an excuse to be unproductive, it's an excuse to not do our best!