Report from the Dessert

I find myself very aware that in Doha I do things I would never consider doing at home. Walking through Times Square I really get annoyed when people shove postcards and flyers in my face. Two nights ago I was one of those handout people … at a mall. While Andy and Daniel hosted a kids crafting party near the Virgin Megastore, the name of which surprised me each time I passed it, I handed out Family Day flyers.

Andy and Daniel were supervising children’s paper plate masquerade masks and cleaning up what we hoped was only spilled corn. I was walking the mall having nice conversations with friendly strangers. It shocked me but the people of Doha seem to enjoy getting stopped at the mall to hear about free events for their families.

A typical exchange:

“Next Friday DFI and the Film Festival are hosting a Family Day.”

“A family day?”

“Yes, we’re going to have stilt walkers and flying circus acts, live bands, face-painters, dancers, and Qatari games. We’re building a giant sand-castle on shore of the Arabian Gulf. There will be puppets and storytellers, all sorts of fun things.”

“How much does this Family Day cost?”

“It’s free.”

“No really. How much does it cost?”

“Nothing.”

“This is not heard of here … how long have you been in Doha?”

“Two weeks.”

“What … you come here from the US to put on this free party?”

“My friends and I … yes. That is why the film festival brought us here.”

“Well I will be there. Thank you for telling me. Thank you!”

I need to be nicer to street teams in Times Square.

The other night we were treated to an incredible meal at a place called (I won’t attempt the Arabic) Fish Market. Thank you Peter! The restaurant is covered in incredible blue tiles and mosaics that I wish Matt could see. There are meters and meters (notice I’ve temporarily gone metric) of exotic fresh fish … kinds of which I had never heard, beautifully presented. Anything you wanted could be ordered in any combination you desired. The food was almost as good as the company. We followed that by a night of shopping and shisha at the Souk.

I thought the night couldn’t get better but it did. I finally got a hold of Matt via Skype. I was so happy to talk to him that I forgot to mention the tiles.

We have finished the school outreach. The Family Day team has distributed over 60,000 units. Along with the Mall and Community initiatives I think almost 75,000 Family Day flyers will have gone out. Big shouts out to Amy (who started the Family Day outreach program), Amber, Andy, Canedy, Carolyn, Daniel, Danielle and Ali and Vineeth our drivers. They all managed to make a lot work a lot of fun too. We averaged one laugh per flyer.

Mr. Neefe of my seventh grade Social Studies teacher taught us that culture is often shaped and defined by climate and geography. I thought of him while watching men and women work outside during sandstorms which seem to be fairly common here. Winds swirl and kick up the top layer of sand, like microdermabrasion from God. My skin looks terrific but the grit gets in your eyes and mouth unless you cover your face, as the workers do.

After September 11 we were often told by the media and the oh-so-responsible users of the internet that Arabs covered their faces because they were terrorists. I think most of the time the covered face belongs to a guy who doesn’t want to swallow a belly full of sand. Climate and geography lead to that choice. Mr. Neefe was right … score one for Wisconsin-style liberal public education in the seventies!

Later that same day, I taught an interviewing class to students facilitating some the youth programs during the festival. A 15 year old Saudi boy asked me (in English better than my own) what I’ve learned in the Middle East. My first instinct was to talk about September 11 but I was in a room full of cultures I didn’t completely understand; there were people in the room from Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Iran and Italy.

I had just told them to trust their instincts and first thoughts. I encouraged the students not to be controlled by the fear of making the wrong choice; rather to trust their ability to read the signs and recover. So I took a deep breath and started talking about post September 11 fear, the covering of faces and media manipulation/misinformation. They nodded and it led to some good discussion. One of the students thanked me for being open and saying what was on my mind, which I thought was kind of her. A fifteen year old said both sides should ask more questions and then listen, the way a good interviewer should. They seemed to understand more deeply than I could have as a teenager or a week ago for that matter. I was proud of myself and them. I wish politicians could do the same thing as well as those kids.

The next day we had a rehearsal with more student emcees. I was teaching interview techniques again, this time to a group of five teenage girls wearing Abaya. One of the girls asked me about my family. I mentioned that my brother Art had worked in television. She asked what he did now and I had to explain that he passed away 25 years ago. What happened next is a bit of a jumble in my brain because it was so unexpected.

The girl said something like, “We must applaud Brother Art and remember him and his family in our prayers!” The girls started clapping and then one of them said, “What a blessing to know that Greg walks on Art’s path. It led to us being together tonight.”

For a second it really felt like Art was there. I felt his presence more strongly than I have since his funeral. They’re Muslim and I’m Christian but I really felt that God was in the room with us. It was overwhelming.

My time with God was brief.

I stayed up writing scripts. Just before going to bed I smashed my toe into the living room wall. I think the smallest toe on my left foot might be broken … so the next email could be about Qatari emergency rooms. Either way it has been an awesome couple of days and writing these updates makes me feel like you’re all here walking the path with us … even though right now I can’t walk that well.