18 July
I was shaken to learn that one of our friends/hotel staff
was in a car accident two days ago. I
noticed that she was not in yesterday but did not think anything of it. When I saw her this morning I could not hide
my astonishment; she looked haggard and has a quarter-sized gash on her lower
lip/chin. She told me the story of the
accident—her taxi driver was drunk and crashed into a road barrier. Thankfully, she escaped without major injury
but she showed me how her lip had either been bitten or pierced through, and
described the massive bruises on her back and legs. I feel terrible for her...and feel extra
dread about transporting my little girls to and fro without car seats or even
seatbelts! Sobering thought. And the best I can do is pray we are blessed
with sober drivers.
Another rocky start this morning but less dramatic than
yesterday. Yumi kept on demanding “right
now!” about a few things and Emi conked Ayame Little Pants on the head. A fracas—the best word to describe it. Cacophony–another apt word.
Oatmeal with fresh apricots, peaches, AND pears cheered them
right up. Nate came back from his
workout in time for me to take Yumi down to breakfast and to use the internet
available these days only in the lobby.
Pita, fuul, fatoush...a tasty breakfast. No oatmeal for me, no matter
how fruity. My girls may not embrace
Arab breakfast but I sure do.
Mayumi left for camp with Nate and I strove to get in a mini
workout. We got up a bit late this
morning and, what with the fracascacophony, we were behind “schedule.” We had plans to meet friends at the embassy
pool and needed to arrive by a certain time to be checked in by them. Thus I had only about 25 minutes for a
workout which was interrupted by a call from Nate. Seems as though Yumi did NOT want to be left
at camp after all and, seeing as how he needed to get to class, could I come
pick her up from his school as soon as possible? Sigh. I also knew he felt under pressure to get to
class and aggravated that Yumi was not cooperating. Yet if I agreed, we would have to nix our
plans to go to the pool. Collecting her
would make us too late. I did not want
to change our plans because of another Yumi fit. I advised him to apologize to the staff but,
considering he had already paid, ask them to just try their best to cheer her
up. As I heard nothing from him after
that, I assumed everything was fine.
I had been at the embassy pool for only 5 minutes, however,
when my phone rang. Yumi’s camp counselor Farah was on the line, informing me
that Yumi had not stopped crying since her arrival. Double sigh.
I told both Farah and Yumi that I would be there to pick Yumi up at
1pm...in two hours. Maybe I should have
gone to collect her right away; she IS only four, after all, and in a foreign
country at a camp without any friends.
But I really REALLY wanted her to try to sort out her problems and turn
her morning around without me. And since
I did not hear from Farah again, I assumed everything was fine.
Pool was fun. We left
in time to reach Sports City by 1pm. I
called Farah when we were just a few minutes away to ask her to bring Yumi up
to the main gate. She apologized but
said she could not get Yumi to come with her.
Apparently things had not improved. Triple sigh! I am not sure why I did not ask the taxi
driver to wait; I suppose I figured it might take longer than would be fair to
ask him to wait for us. We found Mayumi
and Farah outside the gym, Yumi in tears. Farah explained that Yumi had perked
up some after her initial distress at being left by Nate, but then had an
“incident” on the playground; I assumed Yumi had been wronged or at least took
offense and just could not recover emotionally.
At least she was not flailing about on the ground. She was, however, crying, and did not stop
when she saw me. She did not even seem
that happy to see me. I apologized to
Farah and led Yumi away. That was when
she told me that she was sad because she had thrown some sand at a boy on the
playground and had been reprimanded. I
cannot imagine she was punished harshly; not that they shy away from firm
discipline here but surely they would not be rough with the four year-old
daughter of an American. Don’t take that
as a sense of entitlement but just an assumption based on experience. No, I doubt they did anything more than make
her sit in “time out,” but she took it hard.
On a positive note, she admitted her wrongdoing to me of her own accord
and explained that her sadness was because she had “chosen the wrong.”
Getting out to the main street was simple enough; finding a
taxi proved to be more difficult. I had
the girls sitting in the shade against a storefront and Aya/I were out in the
street trying to get a taxi to stop. For
about ten minutes. And then a giant SUV
pulled up next to me. Picture this: a Gulfi
man in flowing white robes at the wheel, a woman completely covered in black
(barring her eyes) in shotgun, and a prim Indonesian woman with a headscarf in
the back seat. Non-taxis will often slow
down while I am out trying to catch a cab, the drivers leaning over with a head
shake a and hand twist that means “where are you going?” In former days, I would have jumped right in. My hesitation now is not so much out of
concern for my daughters but for the kind Samaritans offering the ride. They do not know what they are getting into
when they are offering me and my ticking time bombs a ride. So I do not let them.
Today was different.
I needed to get these girls home.
Without hesitation I began to toss little girls into the back seat. The kindly woman in the front jumped out and
began to help me. Emi caught sight of my
water bottle and asked for water.
Hearing this, but not seeing the bottle, this woman ran into the nearest
store to search for a bottle of water. I
assured her husband we were well equipped with water and he called her
back. The Indonesian
woman—unquestionably their maid—looked on, silently.
These were Omani tourists here for Ramadan. As they did not know the streets, I had to
direct them to our hotel which, luckily, I could do. As we drove and chatted, the wife began
plying the girls with fruit and treats.
Thankfully, my girls were gracious and well-mannered. Sports City is near our hotel so we arrived
within minutes. Without hesitation the
Omani woman took my backpack and Emi by the hand and crossed the street. We parted, kissing cheeks. The whole experience, commonplace during my
hitchhiking days but a first for this summer, was a refreshing reminder of why
I love the Middle East.
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