FEBRUARY 2016 - 24 HOURS IN OMAN WHILE READING "STARING AT THE SUN" - 6 -

The only uncovered physician sitting across from me is a department chair from Kuwait. I want to explore how she feels about this segregation. Certainly, I won’t ask her and others a direct question. However, since my hostess already told me with great satisfaction that Oman is different from Saudi Arabia in that women don’t have to wear veils, gloves, thick stockings, foreign nationals are not expected to cover their hair, and polygamy is not practiced any more, I want to verify this and start a discussion.

I ask her specifically, with the hope of creating a stronger alliance with a woman who exposes her hair in a professional setting “What are the cultural differences among the GCC countries?” She declares that Kuwait doesn’t have a king and it has a parliamentarian democracy. This is different than Oman’s, since Oman has a people’s house that consists of elected representatives. My hostess had told me this house drafts laws, which are then sent to another house consisting of parliamentarians appointed by the “government”. If any conflict, the two houses have to convene to debate and come to consensus. If no consensus, who makes the final decision, she didn’t tell, I didn’t ask, yet.

I think, this is a book everybody needs to read including Saudi women and men.

However, the Kuwaiti department chair and her colleagues report that there isn’t much else that is different, really. Really? Even between them and Saudi Arabia? They understand I am asking about women’s status in Saudi Arabia, but response is somewhat defensive. Especially, when I tell them about “In the Land of invisible women”, written by a Pakistani, Muslim, female surgeon, the department chair becomes argumentative; I understand I pushed too far. I end up playing it down and tell her that I am just trying to understand the circumstances of the Gulf, since Oman seems to be so “democratic”. Her response is that she can walk in her attire (a dress suit with no head cover) in Jiddah and other Saudi Arabian cities and nobody would mind. When I ask her whether that is true in Riyadh, her response is a reluctant “Well, Riyadh is different” and bitterly orders me “The Pakistanis don’t have any idea about Islam, you need to choose whose information you can trust carefully”. That’s what I will do is what I end up telling her to end this unhelpful “discussion”, relatively peacefully.

Qatar women apparently dress in variety of level of conservativeness.

I wonder how much despair this woman is in: Clearly, she is a relatively modern woman, even in this conservative section of the Middle East, she carries herself in western attire. Does she regret that her fellow female colleagues are not culturally or politically not allowed to do the same?Does she feel her dreams about women’s freedoms in her land did not come true? Does she feel inadequate in making those dreams come true? Has she ever had any such dreams? Was her hardly controlled anger related to something unfinished inside of her? When, she heads toward the lonely journey to meet her death, how fulfilled will she feel? Does she feel her time is running out and her life is slipping away? How is this closed in way of life effecting her and her fellow region-men and women in connecting with each other? Do they feel isolated? Do they know isolation only exists in isolation, once shared it evaporates? I wonder how long of a connection with these people will be enough for me to answer all these questions…

Whatever a few defensive women may claim when with western women, majority of women in the Arab world would like to have a say in society perhaps including how they dress: Arab spring showed us this need big time.

How do they justify living under a sultan’s and his family’s rule in this day and age? It is surprising to hear that everybody I talked to tells me they have a great king, perhaps they have to say that. They tell me, he was the one, who started an educational campaign in the country, sending post-professional men and women abroad to learn higher skills to return and start programs in the country, etc… One male doctor goes even further and says,“Countries in this region need a king, look what is happening in Egypt and Syria”… Wow, as long as there is stability, even if it is a monarch or fascist (as in Saudi Arabia or Iran or in Turkey, for that matter), it doesn’t matter? What would the Saudi family do if the people of Saudi Arabia requested to go for a referendum for a fully parliamentarian system?

Despite seeming economic stability in Turkey, women, Turkish or Kurdish are still fighting for their rights and against violence against women.

As I read Yalom, he recommends people to see the value of regret. “If you turn your gaze toward the past, you experience regret for all that you have not fulfilled. If you turn your gaze toward the future, you experience the possibility of either amassing more regrets or living in a way to change your trajectory toward freedom from regrets.” Can the people of this region take action to change their lifestyles, toward one that will allow them no more regrets? Or are they going to find themselves always in a position to defend what they have even when they believe deep in their hearts that they deserve better as intelligent beings? My heart goes to them even in their defensiveness…

New co-ed univeristy in Jiddah allowing women to get dressed as they please.

The female department chair argues “ I can walk like this in Jiddah” while omitting to tell me that as soon as getting off the plane in Riyadh, every woman, Arab or not has to wear an abaya, one piece black cloth that converts women into identity-free triangles, no name, no face, no hands, no feet, just two eyes perhaps, or not even that. No questioning of why that is, just accepting what is available. I am sensing more and more that people are loaded with guilt, too, for not being able to change things for women. When issues they are sensitive to come to discussion, they become slightly defensive for what they can’t change. This defensiveness in and of itself is an indication of awakening. I wish, instead of distracting themselves by defensiveness, they could savor their awakening, and take advantage of it to awaken others. However, who knows what kind of political circumstances they are in. Could their safety be at risk if they uttered critical statements toward their sultan, their government, etc? Who knows… I must be understanding, empathic, and careful about that both for their sake and for mine.

Dress code for ladies even for elementary school girls in Riyadh

It is disturbing, too, though since these observations bring lots of flashbacks from Turkey for me. Turkey has been in the grips of radical Islamists’ for the last 12-13 years. Yes, the AKP, ruling party, put up all public enterprises for sale and fed likeminded capitalists with the free flowing cash, and created and Islamic capitalist group. In addition, he distributed some of this new-found cash to the poorest in the form of payment for their votes. Thus, both the upper class and lower class have been supporting AKP: This process proved that as long as economy is stable, masses of ignorant people don’t care about democracy. When true intellectuals and democrats scream out loud on where the current rule in Turkey is taking us to, which might be Islamic fascism, nobody cares. My mind is full of questions drawing parallels between what is happening in Turkey and what is in the Gulf countries… We will see how things will unfold with my follow up trips…

As fundementalism escalates in Turkey, one wonders for how long more will the conservative women be able to wear the colored scarves and how long will the modenrn women be allowed to dress as they please...

 

FEBRUARY 2106 - 24 HOURS IN OMAN WHILE READING "STARING AT THE SUN" - 5 -

I open my eyes sensing stares on my face. I must have drifted into an unplanned nap as I was reading my book. There are three young Omani women, junior faculty, who are designated to pick me up. We chuckle and head out to the dinner site, set out on the lawn outside. The dinner turns out to be an interesting time as well, although not as peaceful as I hoped it to be. Initially, I am introduced to the president of the university, who is a humble man, shakes my hand eagerly. This has been a comforting experience in Oman. The only two men, who intimated that they weren’t willing to shake hands with me turned out to be from Saudi Arabia!

Not knowing, who will accept my hand and who won’t, I have been very cautious about reading social cues the last 24 hours. My hostess gave me a very good clue. She said, a man, who is not willing to shake hands, would put their hand onto their heart letting me know he is honored with my acquaintance! Now I am a radar for the right hand movement. Is it going out toward me or up toward the guy!!! Anyway, all went fine in that regard and most men have been eager to shake my hand with no awkward moments.

Haven't experienced this, yet, in Oman at least, but that's what it will look like when a woman extends her hand to a traditional Muslim man, I guess.

I am all willing to give the Omani men the opportunity to define a common ground for us all, Omani men and women and I to work together respectfully. How we are going to do that is still an unknown, requires more learning each other. For them to understand, I am not after any additional reputation, I would like to give them whatever they need professionally in return, I will gain knowledge of a new culture, a way of being, dynamic, changing, moving forward. I may influence them in ways, they may start addressing child abuse and neglect in a more compassionate and structured manner, which may in turn start changing the culture itself. They may influence me in a way, I may become their advocate in the western world. Down the road, in several to many decades, both of our good sets of deeds may soften the pain and loneliness of our individual final journey to death.

Sometimes a western man will find their hand left in the air by a traditional Muslim woman, too.

I finally connect with the German speaker and his son, who both turn out to be very humble and personable. We chat quite a bit, going even to politics about USA, Germany, etc. Hmmm, he thinks, with all the resources, “USA, of course should be the advocate of freedoms on earth”, which sounds very much Bush-like a statement. He probably reads the concern on my face and states “Of course, there are financial benefits driving such advocacy, but still…”. I ask him whether he watched “ZEITgeist”, which outlines, how USA has been eager to create circumstances to enter wars from WWII, to Vietnam, even to 9/11 that led to the invasion of first Afghanistan then Iraq.

I found myself well prepared with Saudi looking men (by their attire) just like this lady not to put either myself or the man in an uncomfortable position.

As I am typing these lines, I wonder how people of lands torn apart with wars perceive death, when it is their daily companion. Do they still fear it with the fervor of us westerners, who have reached longevity in the 80s and 90s? Or have all of them become suicide bombers in a way, not caring about when they will meet the death angel? Or are they so present, they appreciate every moment they breathe better than us, every person, who has done good to them much more gratefully than us? Do they set better examples and role models for their children by their courage and dignity in facing their and their loved ones’ death? Are they better than us to find a way to imbue their lives, to its very end, with meaning? How do they help each other in findings the right questions to bring out each other’s right answers about life, their troubles and death?

As these questions run every which way in my mind, I see that people are moving around to get settled at a table. Being one of the speakers invited to influence the process here in Oman, I am eager to sit at the table with the German speaker, the president and the conference organizers to connect a bit better. However, it so happens that men invite one another to their table but not me! I resolve sitting at the table, where my female companions had seated me. It is good to experience this forced humility that Omani and Muslim women experience day in day out. Very clearly, there is segregation here that bothers nobody but me. There are three tables of men and two tables of women. We are segregated from the opposite sex with invisible curtains...

Just like these two groups, we were also segregated from men around gender-dedicated tables.  

 

FEBRUARY 2016 - 24 HOURS IN OMAN WHILE READING "STARING AT THE SUN" - 4 -

My driver cannot figure out how to get me to the building on campus I need to be since the regular road is blocked off. Omani men don’t like to ask directions, either, it looks like. He tours the campus twice not being able to find a way, finally calls my hostess. She can’t get him find the right path, either. The solution: My inviting hostess comes to the turn-out where we are parked at to pick me up instead.

She, who is a professor of Pediatrics, in her 40s, is very elegant in her own way. She is wearing a light brown gown with tiny beige pattern printed on it, from neckline all the way down to cover her feet. She has a matching solid brown head cover. Her hair is neatly covered with not one strand showing. She is driving a huge SUV that makes me think “there must be big money in this country”. As a professor of pediatrics working in the USA, I don’t have the means to buy this type of a car, not that I would ever consider such a “gas-monster”vehicle. I wonder if there is any movement in Oman considering small carbon footprint, climate change, and similar things. As I get to know her better, perhaps I may ask these questions, not now.

One of many models of SUVs driven by many in Muscat.

As she is making some phone calls to let others know that she and I finally connected, I am back to the third tool Dr. Yalom describes: We came from nothingness we are sailing to nothingness, the rule of symmetry. Our existence is but a crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although, the two are identical twins, man perceives the prenatal abyss with calm and getting out of it is celebrated big time, while the one he is heading for is not. I had never thought of our existence in that manner, pulling back and looking at our trajectory from a zoom-out perspective indeed makes a difference.

Throughout the day, I will observe that all women except for those clearly of Indian origin have their heads covered. Three quarters of women wears the typical black hicap/abaya/burka covering the entire body from head to toe; The rest of the women wears colored gowns or a jacket and a long skirt and covers their head with color-matching scarves. One thing common though among all: The hems of their skirts are invariably sweeping up the floors. I wonder how they keep their attire clean. Do they have lots of outerwear and wash them daily, or do they just not care about the dirt their hems accumulate day in day out? This is not a safe question to ask.

Most Omani women dress in black not allowing their hair show without any veil and gloves. They seem to be proud that they differ in that from their Saudi peers.

They seem to be very friendly, confident, and strong. My hostess will explain this with Omani population descending from Bedouins of the old times. As a result, men and women had to work side by side out in the nature, and they were essentially equals. That past national characteristic is alive in the modern Oman, she shares with me. It is great to hear this if I am to continue working with these women. My brother and my best friend Levent will tell me otherwise. His position is that Omanis are also Wahabis like Saudi Arabs and there is very little difference between the two “nations”. I will have to see for myself…

Very few women at the conference was allowing their hair leak out of their scarf, however, I saw many women with colorful scarves, mostly matching their dress color.

The question of why am I doing this? Why Oman instead of other cultures that will not be so suffocating for me as a woman? Dr. Yalom gives the answer in his discussions about how to best deal with death anxiety. Part of mankind’s death anxiety is related to the meaninglessness of finiteness and transiency. Those, who have less death anxiety are those who live their lives to the fullest and in the process create ripples of some act, some idea that would help others attain joy and virtue in life. The fact that good deeds accompany one to death and will ripple onto succeeding generations. That’s what mymother did, and that’s what I am trying to do, hopefully, that is what my daughter will do in her own time.

A male pediatrician meets us at the entrance to the conference hall. He is very friendly, shakes hands with me eagerly, and is in a regular man’s suit (turns out, he is originally from Egypt). The more men shake my hand with no hesitation, the more comfortable I feel with men in this setting. Perhaps, since they are all pediatricians with experience with the western world, mostly England, they are less restricted. No man so far has put his hand on his chest indicating “I don’t shake hands”. They are not reluctant to have eye contact. All is good so far. As long as I make a conscious decision to be at peace with all women being under covers, I can be OK with this audience.

A scene from the conference

The audience doubles in volume over the first 15 minutes of my lecture. There is around 150 people in the conference hall by the time I am half way through my lecture. I notice men and women give a bit of differential response to my lecture. While, women are affirmatively nodding their heads almost non-stop as I speak, men are whispering to one another with smiles at times. I don’t know how to read this. I am used to this, though, in any developing country I have lectured at so far, initial reactions are very similar: Women are more willing to change both their thinking and professional practices in the country, when men are more resistant, initially. The resistance is always something like, “What you tell us may apply to America, but not us”. Is it just because there is an inherent difference between men and women or is it in the fact that the lecturer is a woman? I can’t figure that one out, yet… With so many women nodding so fervently, if we work together, I know we can change this to a more motivated attitude.

Seeing pictures like this witness to the dominant patriarchy in this society raises questions in my mind about how effective a female leader may be in this society. live and see...

As the next speaker comes to the microphone, I drift back to Yalom’s statements and teaching: No positive change can occur in one’s life as long as one believes the reasons for not living life well lie outside of one’s self. “You and you alone are responsible for your life and you alone can change it.” Nietzsche puts it very economically “Create the fate that you can love”.Looking back, for most of what I experienced in life, I am very grateful that I was given the power and resources to be able to create my fate. I hope all young people may have the same possibilities.

During the coffee break, my hostess tells me she is happy with the effect of my lecture. Soon I will learn that the collaborative decision of the group is to bring me back for longer training activities in Oman, perhaps help them find proper training sites for pediatricians on child abuse and neglect, and establish a national system to address child abuse and neglect in Oman, something close to what I did in Turkey. I am all for it. After the morning lectures, she takes me around. Half a day of chatting allows us relax as we drive on narrow, side roads all the way to the waters of the Arabian Sea. I discover how ignorant I have been about the Middle East and Arabic peninsula. I learn the 6 countries around the Gulf, Saudi Arabia, Bahrein, Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Oman, and Kuwait call themselves Gulf Countries Council (GCC). I will hear over and over again that GCC countries are different from the rest of the Middle East. It sounds like they take pride in that, but how can one be proud of being in the same boat with Saudi Arabia? Are there things I need to learn about Saudi Arabia, too? Or are the optimistic views I am gradually developing about Oman, not so realistic?

One wonders if Gulf Countries Council is grounds for Saudi Arabia have more say around the Gulf pretending it is part of a council? And why is Iran not in this? Is it Shiite versus Wahabi conflict?

My hostess is so gracious, after showing me around, she takes me to my hotel and waits in the lobby doing her work as I crash into a delirious nap for an hour due to my jet lag. As I wake up Nietzsche’s experiment that Yalom shares in his book comes to mind again: Death anxiety is usually due to one’s sense of having failed in living life fully. Nietzsche asks “What would you do in the next five years not to accumulate more regrets when you look back at your list five years?” A great question to ask ourselves since I cannot imagine anybody who won’t wish they had done something differently in their past…

Delicious soup with wheat and chicken

As I promised my hostess to be at the lobby at 2:30, I am ready for lunch. We go to a restaurant that apparently is one of her favorites. It is indeed a lovely place with Arabic and Islamic touches to the ambience. The food especially the haris soup (made with chicken stock, chicken bits, and wheat crushed into a mush, but a super-delicious one), another mashed rice dish served with a phenomenal Moroccan sauce are definitely my favorites. I eat some of the beef dish cooked over earth-burmed embers over 18 hours in a sack of palm leaves, but not my favorite at all. Finally a vegetable dish cooked with Omani bread, wouldn’t crave for it, either. I learn from her that they prefer beef over all, second comes fish, and last is chicken that is cooked in their home and most Omani homes. I tell her that I prefer chicken and fish equally, eat red meat maybe once or twice a month. Unfathomable to herJ She reports some vegetables are grown in Oman and some are imported.

Shuwa, meat cooked in a dug pit for 18 hours.

I am asking myself whether I will find enough goodness and intellect in this society to connect at least at a minimally optimal way to collaborate with our minds and hearts. As Yalom states, what we have (wealth) and what we represent in the eyes of others (reputation) have not been the central foci of my existence. I have always said my “God” has been improved with an additional “o” and I have always been after “doing good” for my people, sometimes in my family, sometimes in my community, society, and finally globally in distant lands. I guess this is another tool Yalom recommends to use in our dealings with our mortality as well as interpreting our experiences in the most constructive way rather than focusing on the experiences themselves. Don’t all religions preach in a way the same message: “You can take with you nothing that you have received in this world, you can take with you only what you have given” Is Oman a place to allow a secular, modern, western woman to enter a give and take relationship with its citizens, all I can say is wait and see.

After making plans about how we can make our collaboration possible, we naturally open up and share with each other our lives. It is so beautiful, when two people feel equally at peace sharing with the other at least some features of their lives. That you can find not very often, cherishing it when found is a great gift. She and I connected today, I felt it, and she did, too, her eyes were sparkling when she shared this with me. It was such a humbling honor to hear from her that the greatest three things in her career happened in the last 3 weeks, meeting me was one of them. I am already looking forward to my return trips and getting to know her family, her mother, her husband, and children. She promises me the next time I will meet her mother and we will cook together, what a delightful promise. It will be an interesting process.

Can Omani women accept me (not the one in the picture) the way I am to find working grounds to accomplish good work?

These emotional experiences lead to revisiting what Yalom outlines in his book under the title of “Human Connectedness”. Our need to belong is powerful and fundamental and intimate relationships are a sine qua non for happiness. Dying however, is the loneliest act of life. It separates us from others as well as the world itself. The older we get, the more pronounced this existential loneliness becomes. I bet, this is more pronounced in western cultures, where individuality has become our God. I recall the story in “Being Mortal” about an Indian patriarch, who is allowed to lead his tribe until his death through empathy and cultural impositions. No more of that in western cultures. I wonder how it goes in Oman.

On the way back to the hotel, she tells me about a time when she and her sister attended a cocktail party at a conference. Although they didn’t drink alcohol themselves, it was traumatic for them even to be sitting at a table where others were drinking alcohol, although very measuredly. It sounds like how I would have felt if I had been in a nude’s beach. She tells me, since then she doesn’t go to gatherings where alcohol is served. Does that mean, she won’t come to dinner tonight? Will alcohol even be served at dinner tonight? We will see. This becomes a barrier in the modern world of course. When your culture dictates certain things like this, and the rest of the world has a different practice, some connection is lost. I guess she and her fellows are at peace with this, I should be, too. I wonder though, how she would perceive me with a glass of wine in my hand when I am totally OK with her no-alcohol policy…

Can intercultural friendship be established between two women from such different cultures? we will see....

As I am waiting for somebody (I don’t know who) to pick me up for dinner, I devour some more of Yalom. He recommends those debilitated with death anxiety to “look straight into the heart of your panic. What do you see?” One client tells him “It’s no more me!” He recommends “sheer presence is the greatest gift you can give to those that are dying or simply experiencing death anxiety for no reason”. The next section is about self-disclosure: The more one reveals inner thoughts and feelings, the easier for the other to reveal themselves. How many times did I experience this throughout my life. The most recent with my becoming-dear friend Marcia, in two hours, from acquaintances, we moved to becoming two women, who understood and embraced each other’s life.

 

FEBRUARY 2016 - 24 HOURS IN OMAN WHILE READING "STARING AT THE SUN" - 3 -

My driver takes me to a hotel, announcing it is either a 5-star one or 6-star. I wonder what makes a hotel a 6-star. I recall my daughter telling me of her and her then-boyfriend staying at a 6-star Indian hotel, when they were fleeing an attempt to be either robbed or kidnapped, or both in a Delhi taxi-cab. I think, I heard of such hotels in Turkey as well but never stayed in one. I never heard of a 6-star hotel in the USA. I ask the question to my driver. He either doesn’t know, or doesn’t have the English to describe it to me. One of my bewt friends, who is well traveled all over the world including developing countries will tell me upon my return, it is a self proclaimed vague level of service! Not surprised.

I ask him to come into the hotel until registration is final to make sure I have a reservation and all. Organizational structure in a society is one side of a medallion: In developing countries, the other side of the medallion shines with hospitality, warmth, close and welcoming interpersonal relationships. The more that side shines bright, the less organizational skills. In the western world on the other hand, organizational skills are impeccable most of the time, at the cost of a pale back side of the medallion. Since, I don’t know enough about Omanis’ organizational skills, yet ,better safe than sorry, I feel. Registration is a breeze, this country clearly has all the commodities of modern, globalized, business-orientation. No slip in the organizational skills, yet! If I know anything about developing countries, though, the possibility is there.

I didn't realize I stayed at this complex until after my return! I wonder, if I had decided to swim in the Arab Sea, had I had the time, what the reaction would have been. Is it even possible to safely do so in Oman? Don't know, yet.

Which brings back to mind the quote from Heidegger, who defined death as “the impossibility of further possibilities”. How true. We, as human beings need the possibility of being able to do things, create things, produce and experience eternally. Yalom is so empowering when he states “We need to understand that in the scope of human history, each individual life is a speck. We come from not knowing and no existence and will go back to it when we die. In-between two loneliness and non-existence, whatever we do to live our life richly, with joy and sorrow, with full appreciation of all that comes our way that is what makes life worth living and our brief existence on earth worthwhile.

Oil, apparently is the major income source in Oman and wealth that comes along with it. Add to this, lots of people being trained in the western hemisphere as part of a national strategy that Sultan Qaboos started for the last 3-4 decades shows at least in the business world. At least the hotel business seems to run smoothly. However, when I check my e-mail, I find no message from anybody regarding, where the conference will be held, who will pick me up in the morning at what time. I send them an e-mail letting them know I am planning to be ready at 8 am in the lobby, assuming the first lecture wouldn’t start before 9 am, as is the case in most developing countries in scientific conferences. After a difficult night of jet lag following my 24-h trip across the Atlantic, I wake up with a phone call from a doctor from the organizing committee at 7 am. My talk is at 8 and I have to be ready in the lobby in half an hour. “Welcome to the world of developing countries!” I smile to myself.

My driver is proud of this oil refinery right by the Arab Sea and pints it out to me as wee pass by it. I wonder what it does to the atmosphere and the Arab Sea.

I had woken up at 5 am, thoughts and phrases from Staring at the Sun running through my mind. Epicurus’ statement on “The mission of philosophy is to relieve human misery.” I thought, it was also the mission of religion. However, looking at the world, organized religions are in the middle of every chaos thinkable, if not the very cause of the same. I agree with Yalom in his totally secular stance in trying to help people, who are debilitated with death anxiety. In fact, partly, death anxiety is created by organized religions: Doesn’t Islam, Christianity, Judaism all threaten people with hell if they don’t behave the way God wants them to? Isn’t it a fact that every single human being may and does falter at some point in life? I recall, how devastated I would be for days when I did something bad as a child for fear I would burn in hell till eternity…

Since I wanted to sleep, I did some meditation and drifted back into a smooth, deep sleep. The moment the phone conversation ended, I jumped out of bed, and the rest is fast forward type of a morning routine. I am now in a taxi at 7:20 to learn that we are 65 kilometers away from where we need to be! Perhaps 75, he doesn’t know! A silent “What?” rises inside of my chest, but my cortex takes over: “Calm down Resmiye, you are not the organizer of this conference, it is their responsibility to get you to where you need to be”,and I do.

I stay in the moment and try to enjoy the ride. In daylight, it is clear that Oman is using the Islamic architecture to the best of their ability. As much as I am put off by some aspects of Islam due to its oppression of and discrimination against women, among other medieval dogmas, Islamic architecture has always appealed to me with its round features, domes,courtyards, arches, and all. In fact, the same applies to churches. Whenever, I find myself visiting a church, I meditate in the peace I find there, trying to ignore all the atrocities the very church hierarchy committed in the medieval Europe, South America, North America, and elsewhere. I can now see that the mountains and hills around us are totally barren rocks, almost bedrocks, creating a sharp piercing skyline, harsh but beautiful.

Muscat Opera House, which displays Islamic architecture fused into modern style. My driver tells me many initernational opera singers come and perform here, but I cannot learn from him whether there is any Omani women, who perform here.

I think of this harsh terrain and imagine Bedouins roaming this harsh land to survive. I know from history that Bedouins are both hospitable and brutal and strive for power and honor. Epicurus states in Yalom’s book “…Excessive religiosity, all-consuming accumulation of wealth, blindly grasping for power and honors, are all counterfeit versions of immortality.” Every living being does a bit of at least one of these or a combination of any, doesn’t it? Is the need immortality so engrained in us then? I will learn from my hostess later on that Bedouins were at least relatively secular and their society was not segregated based on at least gender. Omanis basically being the descendants of Bedouins give me some hope for their future.

Finally Arabian Sea is in view (although the driver tells me it is the Red Sea). I learn from my interesting driver that along a certain section of the beach all the embassies are lined up including American, Turkish, Iranian, British, among others. He is very proud of how big and elaborate these buildings are. He is the most friendly man I have had contact so far although my sample size is pretty small, 5-6 at the most. He asks me about my children, surprised that I have only one. I will learn soon that even the young generation usually has 3-4 children in Oman.

Arabian Sea against the harsh rocky terrain in Muscat

He keeps on telling me “you should come back with your family, then, I will take you around and show you all the best places in Oman”. I think, he is referring to my “husband” when he says family, but hesitates to ask me where in the world my husband is and what was he thinking sending me to Oman all by myself! I don’t volunteer to tell him I don’t have a husband, he doesn’t ask. Of course, it is appropriate for him to say “I will show you around when you come back with your family”. On the contrary, if he volunteers to show me around when I am alone, it might be perceived in Omani culture as a sexual advance. Who knows, just speculation on my part, at this point but I believe this is an educated guess.

I wonder how this culture perceives death. Yalom recommends to keep three ideas in mind in dealing with death anxiety: The first is: The soul dies along with the body.This is diametrically opposite of religious doctrines’ teaching: Clergy, to both create and preserve societal order and exert control over their congregation preaches all types of punishments for sins that the surviving spirit/soul will suffer from afterlife. I recall, couple of times when I was confronted with my own mortality thinking “When I die, I won’t feel sorrow for having died, for what I may be missing, or for how my loved ones may suffer from losing me.” I am glad to discover that being a secular, not believing in afterlife has positives after all! I guess I had got that one down, already, Dr. Yalom.

My driver distracts me from my thoughts again. He has five children aged 14 to 1.5 years. Clearly younger than I but definitely looks older. He receives several calls on our ride and I start catching words he uses that I recognize from Turkish. He is impressed with my “intelligence” ! He believes I learn Arabic so quickly and guess the meaning of words on my own on the spot;“You are very intelligent! I try to explain to him it is just because Turkish, my mother tongue is loaded with Arabic words. Based on that, I am simply making educated guesses. His English is not good enough to understand this explanation. I will have forever impressed at least one Arabic man!

As I try to verify the meaning of some Arabic words that I recognize from Turkish, he starts giving me a list of the same word in French, German, and whatever other languages he knows that particular word in. Clearly, the little bit of vocabulary he has in multiple languages, he is very proud of and he would like to impress this western woman in turn. I praise him big time, he is happy, I am happy. So far, Oman is not a country that would hit one as “Oh, my, I want to spend some time here…” I know, though, the beauty must lie in the details, that I still need to discover. I will give myself time. As he goes silent for a few kilometers, I am back to what I read in Yalom early in the morning.

This image represents best what Dr. Yalom and Epicurus teach... Life is but an explosion of a light beam inbetween two eternal darkness, before birth and after death, so let's enjoy that light to the best of our ability!

The second tool Dr. Yalom has learned from Epicurus is that death takes us back to non-existence and nothingness. In other words, what is dispersed doesn’t perceive, what is not perceived is nothing to us. It goes along with the first tool in harmony. Physical being dies, taking along with it the soul/spirit. When there is nothing to perceive anything, there is no more suffering or pain. Where I am, death is not, where death is I am not, in other words, death and I cannot coexist! I love not only this paradigm, but also the fact that my agnosticism has given me great tools to face death in dignity.

 

FEBRUARY 2016 - 24 HOURS IN OMAN WHILE READING "STARING AT THE SUN" - 2 -

My friends in Turkey, who know more about the Gulf region politics are very upset with my consideration of going to Oman, worrying about my safety. Are they worried solely about my safety? Or does this awareness cause the surfacing of their own anxiety about their mortality as well as mine? As Yalom says, does their death anxiety immobilize them with no overt symptoms but with projection of extreme reaction to a seemingly harmless trip? How can I calm down my best friend, who keeps telling me I shouldn’t do anything in Oman unless the American Embassy designates protective guards for me!

This reaction takes me to my daughter getting very anxious every time I take a solo hiking trip to a national park. Not that I haven’t had any risky experiences including encountering a grizzly bear. Yet, how can we live our lives without taking any risks? Death is with us, day in day out. In every day-trip I take to our capitol Des Moines, driving for four hours on the high ways, rain or shine, snow or ice, I am traveling in the company of death just as everybody else. The lines from Yalom ring in my ears “Confronting death allows us not to open a noisy Pandora’s Box but to re-enter life in a richer, more compassionate manner by embracing the present moment. If we shield ourselves from death, we also shield ourselves from a good life”. I utter to myself then to my friends “I am doing the right thing by going to Oman, it will enrich my life. I will make sure I take all the safety precautions including keeping some of my thoughts and questions to myself!” My friend is not convinced.

And here I am at Muscat Airport, to visit Oman for only 26 hours! Yet another indication of my bias, as a starter. Not knowing anything about Oman, I just couldn’t bring myself to dedicate 3-4 days to Oman during my first visit. What if I felt suffocating, what if it feels like Iran or Saudi Arabia, not that I visited either, but at least from what we hear from the news, the books, etc… Quotes from “The women of invisible land”, a book written by a Muslim Pakistani female surgeon based on the two years she spent in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia are flashing in my mind like a nightmare. “I have to take this slow and be compassionate to myself as well as to others” is my final resolve at this point.

Omani men with formal and casual head pieces.

Muscat airport is a small one, reminding me of the airport in Cedar Rapids, in Iowa. As soon as I land, I find myself in a crowd of men in white long dresses and either a cap on their heads like an Ottoman “fes”, or a turban wrapped around their fes in a very elegant way. Their white dresses are exactly like what boys, who are circumcised in post-toddler age wear in Turkey until their wound heals. As I look at these fully grown and proud men walking around me, I just can’t get the image of little Turkish boys holding their white gown away from their penis, which recently underwent the circumcision procedure, with an inner mischievous smile in my mind. It will take me 24 hours until I start seeing them just as Omani men wearing their national costume, which is required especially in governmental posts. I will also learn that fes is the casual head piece, whereas the turban around it is also required for government officials to wear at least at work. By the way, Omani men look pretty attractive with the turban on their heads, perhaps because of the elegance in the way they tie it around the fes. Next day, I will see them as seriously as they mean to look; no more “circumcision boy” image in my mind!

Three Omani men with casual headpieces.

I wonder how "manly" these men are. Are they truly responsible adults, or do they look like adults outside the home and become adolescents like Turkish men in the home, either leaning on their mother or their wife even for as simple tasks as getting a drink of water. How do mothers raise their children in this culture? Do they raise them so that children grow up to become independent, competent adults, flying away from home in a timely manner, or do they do their best to keep them as tightly knit with their extended family as possible. Yalom whispers in my ear again: “For many parents, children serve as an immortality project”. Is that why, helping our kids do good is so hard-wired into our existence? Is that why, we are proud of our children when they do good things in life? Is that why, we get anxious when we see them veer toward risky directions, taking unpredictable paths? Food for thought…

I stop to ask a man where I need to go for customs. He produces my visa from the bunch of papers he is holding: it so happens that he is the person designated by the university to pick me up. He is distant but polite with tangential eye contact. I don’t even attempt to shake his hand, I don’t know yet, if it is acceptable in Oman or not. He probably reads my hesitancy as MY need to keep a distance from him. That is a safer place to be in Arabic culture rather than being too friendly as a woman, I resolve. Better present myself as modest and measured rather than too friendly, since this may raise questions about my decency and honor, I suspect. I remain cautious and observant. He moves me through customs like a breeze, although my visa reads“male”! I have already started tapping into Arabic vocabulary, which has been integrated into Turkish language for centuries. I tell him “teshekkur” Arabic for ‘thank you”, he smiles. I can’t tell if he understood me or not.

Sultan Qaboos' attire is certainly much more sophisticated. Apparently, nobody in the ocuntry is allowed to wrap his turban the way he does!

He transfers me to yet another man, who will drive me to my hotel. I tell him “shukran” this time, he responds with “shukran” back… My driver’s English is very poor, but I manage to learn from him that Oman has a 3-million population. However, during the next 24 hours, I will hear various numbers on this, ranging anywhere from 3M to 6M; every informant giving me this information being as confident as the other one! The government’s goal is to keep guest workers’ proportion to Omanis at 30%. Apparently, during the last census it reached an alarming 40%. Everywhere we go, we see non-natives working in service jobs such as waiting jobs, cleaning, construction, etc. Omanis and others from other Gulf countries are not shy to let me know that Omanis are not willing to do such unskilled jobs, although they are slightly embarrassed to say this, since they are globalized individuals after all, and know that this is not a politically correct stance, but a fact.

I am curious to find out what the existential goals for these men are: How do they construct their fundamental human responsibility toward an authentic life of engagement, connection, meaning and self-fulfillment. How do they prioritize things they’d like to do in their lives? Are they allowed at all to think for themselves, to make decisions, to ask questions in the first place? Or is it the sultan, the father of the extended family, the man of the house dictating all there is to think, ask, and answer? Or do they live badly as is dictated upon them and die badly, as a result, as Yalom points out. Will find out gradually, over time…

My driver distracts me from all these questions and thoughts by pointing out to me some of the buildings along the highway. In the dark, I discover with surprise that we are in a mountainous terrain. The next day my hostess will tell me that Oman and Northern Saudi Arabia are the only mountainous areas of the Arabian peninsula. They are proud of their Green Mountain, I wonder if I will ever see it.

Muscat terrain toward my hotel away from Sultan Qaboos University

I make a mental note that I saw only two Omani looking women at the airport among all the men. One wearing a long black caftan without a hair cover. The other wearing the typical black hicap covering her, head to toes, yet face and hands exposed. My hostess tomorrow will proudly tell me that it is not part of Omani culture to cover the face and hands. My heart goes to her sensing an Arab woman’s need to be respected as a strong, proud Arab woman by a western woman. And I do, as the hours go by, I discover how smart, hos insightful, personable, and welcoming she is. I sense, we may indeed become friends, which is my style in any country I start professional programs.

I have seen all variety of attire on women from hair exposed to covered with or without make up on te face.

Women submitting to the rule of Islam with their attire, with being responsible for men’s sexual arousal or not, with accepting secondary role in their society arouse conflicting feelings in me: One is the need to shake them by the shoulders and tell them “Wake up, stand up for yourselves, raise your voices, claim your territory in your family and society”. The other one is the compassionate understanding that they cannot do this because of the way they were raised, they were socialized at least yet. Will a time come something drastic will shake up and jerk Arab women and give them the courage to shed their covers, get out into the society, into the malls, onto the streets like it happened to a certain extent during Arab spring? As they shed the things of the past, will they be able to claim a new space, persona, and a life? That would be the best fight against mortality, wouldn’t it?

I heard in rural areas of Oman some women wear veils as in Saudi Arabia btu I saw none with a veil in Muscat.

How will they be able to do that, though, without much education and re-molding? I recall, one time when my daughter at age 7-8 had come home and told me how her girlfriend’s mother had humiliated her in front of my daughter. She was furious “If you had done that to me, I would have screamed at you!” My response to her was an understanding “Had I treated you all your life the way your friend treats your friend, you might not have learned that you could scream at me, my dear”. She had gotten the message and given me a warm hug. I am excited to see how I will connect with the women of Oman and if and how I will be able to integrate the two attitudes in a constructive manner.

This is typical view of an Omani public space, mostly men, few women, but some of the big gas gozzlinng SUVs may be driven by well-to-do women!