New Year 2014. Last one was damn rough...time for something a little different.

2012 was one of my worst years yet since I divorced. No lie. I made some very bad choices, burned some much needed bridges, and generally just set myself on a destructive course that nearly had me in the black for good. 2013 was mostly spent trying to do damage control with varying degrees of success depending on who you asked. If you ask me, I wouldn't mind forgetting 2012 all together and parts of 2013 can follow right along, thank you. 

However, I didn't die from any of those bad choices so I will assume that means I still have time to do better and be better. A work in progress. Good days and bad days rub shoulders and have me on that emotional roller coaster ride that never seems to have an end. I have cried a lot and laughed little. I have spent more times just sitting doing nothing other than beating myself up over all those bad choices that just kept coming rather than do something about them...but eventually I caught on and started doing something. Too little too late? As I said, I'm not dead yet so let's assume the answer is no. 

I seriously need to start writing again. I keep saying I will and then let things get in the way even though this empty space is running like a ticker tape through my head day and night. It begs to be filled and my fingers itch to fill it but my mind just gets in the way and makes excuses...never seem to run out of those. 

Anyhow, my one resolution, if I must, is to get back to writing. I need to fill the empty spaces with words that won't stop in my head until they are written down. I need to finish that story I started awhile back that some of you may remember and I need to figure out how to make my writing work for me because I stopped writing and I started spiraling. I see a connection yet I couldn't seem to stop it or fix it. My goal is to write at least one post a week, more if properly motivated. Whether my readers come back or not is immaterial...I always did write just for me but the positive feedback was always nice. 

So here I am, 2014. Not dead yet. Not out for the count. Long as I wake up every morning then I have been given another chance to do better than the day before. Let's see if I have enough sunrises left to undo the destructive sunsets that are behind me? 

Wish me luck. 

Bring Adam Jones Home/A Foreign Mother's Fight for Her Half British Half Qatari Son

 http://gulf-daily-news.com/NewsDetails.aspx?storyid=362138

Adam Jones was tricked out of the custody of his British mother 4 years ago after her ex husband, a Qatari national, died in a motorcycle accident. Her husband's family invited her to bring Adam over under the pretense of a family get together, something she had willingly done before, so suspected nothing was different this time. They asked her to sign a document pertaining to his inheritance from his father's estate but in fact it was her signing over her custody of her son to the family. She has been fighting four long years in the Qatar courts to get Adam back with only two visits per week with him. So far not much has been done for her and I find this whole drama heart breaking and quite personal as it is something foreign mother's to Arab nationals must live under the threat of constantly. Our children and rights and access to them is what binds us to these marriages or to the countries long after we might other wise be gone. This is the letter I wrote today in regards to Adam and his mother's plight. 


In response to the plight of Adam Jones whose mother was tricked into giving up custody of him to his Qatari family, it boggles my mind that the word "allegedly" was used when describing what her ex husband's family did in order to gain custody of her son. Despite the fact that nobody should ever sign a document that they do not understand, especially when it is in a foreign language (a practice that is forced on many non Arabic readers here in the  gulf), I must wonder at the Sharia Court in Qatar that still considers that document as valid and legal. Once she stated in court that she was under duress to sign it and that she was misinformed as to its contents then the court was obliged to throw it out or at the very least to investigate the reasons behind the accusations and whether they were true or not. To uphold that document for four long years and keep Adam from his mother, who clearly did not want to release custody of him, is a telling indication of just how Sharia Courts in the Middle East view foreign mother's rights as being nonexistent and not worth the trouble to implement them. Personal experience and hearing the stories of so many other foreign mother's of Bahraini, Saudi, Qatari and other G.C.C. country's children is proof positive that Adam's mother will most likely not find the justice she is so desperately looking for. If it were going to come one would have to assume that the concerned authorities (if they really are concerned) would not let 4 years pass by without finding a resolution. Four years that neither Adam nor his mother will ever get back. I am wondering if anyone in Qatar has bothered to ask young Adam whether he prefers his father's money and family who have connived and tricked his mother into separating him from her or to relinquish his right to that money (since that is most likely what they are really after) in order to sleep once again in his own bed with his own family around him? Chances are they will never ask him nor care for his response if they do and yet they must also be blind to the fact that he will not be a minor forever and eventually when he comes of age he will be free to go where and with whom he pleases. Time will tell whether his father's Qatari family really do have his best interest at heart or whether they will let him leave when he is of age and not bother to keep in touch after that. It is my experience and those of other women that once the native father (or his family) loses (either custody, children come of age, want nothing to do with him etc.) then neither he nor his family are interested in what becomes of those children they once so ardently fought for. As much as I hope that Adam's mother does get her hearts desire and Adam is returned to her sooner rather than later, I am convinced that only time and Adam's age will be the telling clue as to that family's true intentions with him and I truly hope that all the lies and disinformation that Adam is most assuredly being fed do not take their toll on his young mind and convince him that his mother willingly surrendered him to those people for the young are so easily mislead from the truth with false smiles, fake hugs, and confidently spoken words with god interspersed throughout.

Stay strong, young Adam. From one mother who nearly lost her children to the unjust actions of the Sharia Court here in Bahrain to another suffering the same fate in Qatar, I can honestly tell you that your mother is fighting for your life with every muscle and breath in her body. That is what mothers do.

Lee Ann Fleetwood

The value of a child.

A Bahraini man publicly declared that he would be willing to sacrifice his children for peace in Bahrain. He was called a hero by many when it was posted on Facebook by supporters of peace in Bahrain. I was the only one who took exception to his declaration and said so. Here is what I said. Comments?

I am a follower of the Defend Bahrain page on Facebook and recently a particular Shiia man's name was mentioned as being "a hero" because he stated that he would be willing to sacrifice his 5 children for peace in Bahrain (for the record he was denouncing those in Bahrain that are causing chaos). Dozens of comments lauded this man as a not only a hero but a shining example of what a citizen of this country should strive to be like. As a parent myself I was absolutely horrified by his statement and by those that verbally back slapped and high fived him. I'm sure they would have carried him on their shoulders as well if possible. As parents we are given one task the moment we realize we are now parents and that is to protect our children from harm. There is no piece of land on this planet that comes close to being worth the blood that flows through any one of my children's bodies. We are meant to protect them with OUR lives...not sacrifice them on the alter of stupidity, ignorance, and pride. What is the point of bringing peace to Bahrain if we have thrown our children to the wolves in the process as we are meant to want peace for THEM, not for ourselves. We are leaving this land for them and for those that come after them. Not for ourselves as we will be long gone eventually. To say you are willing to sacrifice your children for a piece of land means you are not only an unfit parent, but neither deserving of nor striving for that peace you so loudly claim you want because a home that has lost all its children to war can never be a peaceful home....and a home that has lost all its children due to a parents neglect, pride and misplaced priorities is hell on earth. How can peace come from that? A true hero is a man that lays down his weapons, be they real or imagined, physical or verbal, while standing in front of his children and declaring, no more fighting...I want peace..and I am willing to sacrifice my pride, my ego, and my life for that goal, as long as they are safe. If everyone of those on that page who called him a hero were willing to sacrifice their own children as well, Bahrain would become a barren wasteland for what is peace without the sound of children playing and laughing. It is an empty meaningless peace.

Just Let It Go

For those that use to read me regularly you may have noticed that I haven't written anything significant for quite some time. Writing is my Thing. It's what I do and I have always enjoyed it since I realized I do it rather well. However, this past year hasn't been My Year, so to speak. I've been in an up and down roller coaster ride that has had me either hanging on for dear life...or raising my hands in the air and enjoying the thrill. All this has resulted in one very troubling aspect in my life...I lost the desire to write.

Period.

It just left. No idea why...or really when but I realized at some point that I just had nothing to say anymore. Or maybe I felt my words had lost their ability to really convey what I was feeling or what I wanted to express. I have no idea but the end result was silence in the one area of my life I had always depended on to get my demons out...or my humor (I choose to call it that) or whatever was on my mind. Without being able to write...it has all been locked up inside me...and damned if I haven't suffered because of it.

I went down the rabbit hole more or less and apparently enjoyed it so much I decided to stay there for a spell. I have been down that hole before (my past made it a place I tend to visit from time to time) but I have always used my writing to pull me back out again. This time I did not have even that ability to rescue myself...so there I stayed.

Around the first part of this year I had a revelation of sorts. I was angry. Very angry. Angry at the people in my life (past and present) that have done things to me that turned me into a negative, pissed off person. Every day I was fuming about one thing or another. My temper, which use to be so hard to trigger, was now on a veritable trip wire. Anything could set me off...and I was a raging ball of fire. I was a seething mass of negative energy that ended up corrupting everything good in my life...because I was too angry to pay attention to the good things in my life.

I was letting my past ruin my present...and destroy whatever good my future held for me. I was allowing all that bullshit that was my past life...be the sum total of my present life. I was my past..and my past was me. When I realized that I was allowing those people, that are long gone from my life, to still be a part of it (taking up full time rent free space in my head) and therefore impacting and corrupting it...I knew I either accepted the rabbit hole as my forever dwelling...or fight my way out of it.

Everyone who reads (or did) about my life know that I have 5 kids. I had a blast with my kids while they were growing up. We were rarely apart for any reason and they were a close knit group of siblings. My kids are mostly all grown now. I have my youngest, 15 years old, at home still but the rest are off living their lives. The silence that is my house now weighs on me terribly. Gone are the sounds of the music they all played, the fighting or laughing...the messes they each generate in their way. This silence has fueled my anger in ways...because I had no distractions from that anger and could spend copious amounts of time nurturing it and feeding the flames. My children are the soul reason I survived my marriage. Having them in my life, knowing I needed to be there for them..meant I couldn't give up or give in. Even if I felt my life wasn't worthwhile or important, theirs was...and I had to make sure they knew it. Now they are gone (generally speaking) and Ive been alone with my thoughts, my inner demons, my anger issues...and that has meant I had little respite from the inner destruction that was going on.

As I said, I realized one day that I might as well still be married if I was going to wake up every day and spend my time, my precious time, living as if my ex was still a real and meaningful presence in my life. If my memories of the past were going to keep me company as I went about my daily routine, ruining whatever happiness I might gain from even the smallest of joys then why bother living. If the experiences I had while living in Bahrain for the first 20 years...were going to color and corrupt whatever came after that then what was the point of the divorce..of gaining my freedom...if I was still going to live as if I were a prisoner?

I realized that the only person that could save me from my anger and issues with my past...was ME. Once I realized this I set about on a course of emotional healing. I spend far too much of my time alone...but one thing that being alone affords me is time to think....and think... and think some more. At times I would lay in my bed, during my time off from work, and just think. I would do nothing else but think about my past, my anger issues and where they came from...and what I could do to change what I was becoming (or had become) into someone better. I would literally lay there for two days solid and just stare at the ceiling...going through every damn issue that had turned me into a person that others didn't want to be around (did I mention I have lost several "friends" this past year as well)...I thought it was them...but realized it must be me since it kept happening. I find it incredibly hard to make friends, went most of my whole life without really having any, so losing the ones I did have was like a confirmation to my already low self esteem that I'm not even worthy to remain friends with. If others can't stand me..what did that say about me?

I worked my way through issues that were like open wounds on my soul. I poked and prodded them and made them bleed out all that pent up corrosive blood until only fresh blood remained. As I dealt with each issue I would ask myself...why is this still making me so angry...and is it worth it still? Of course, most of the time (damn near every time) the answer was no. Anger and self loathing, low self esteem and feelings of unworthiness were not worth it. My past was what it was...I couldn't change that...but I could change today, tomorrow and whatever came after that. As I worked my way through each and every issue...the end result would be to Just Let It Go.

Like a balloon that yearned to be free and sail off into parts unknown...I released, one after the other, issue after issue that was weighing me down, corrupting my relationships, my goals, my life. As each balloon sailed away I felt myself become lighter inside. I started feeling something I hadn't felt in so long I wasn't even sure I was calling it by the right name.

I started feeling happy. (don't be as shocked as I was please)

Happiness is not a feeling I have really felt too often in my life...and when I say happy I mean more than just a fleeting moment of happiness that is more like a memory than a state of mind. It felt unfamiliar and alien at the beginning...almost like an impostor had set up residence after I kicked out the abusive squatters. I almost didn't know how to handle this new emotional state. I felt like a beginner at happiness..a noob that needed to feel my way around and learn the rules and tricks before really putting my all into the game.

Apparently the "new" me was attracting some attention. I have had people at work comment more than once that I always seemed to walk around with a scowl on my face (I'm sure I was as I always had some inner demon playing with my mind)..or that I looked like I wanted to punch someone. Now they were amazed to notice that I was smiling, whistling...even singing...while going about my work. I had a few people ask me if I was in love..had I found someone that had brought about this change. Well, first off, yes...I am in love, have been for years now, but that relationship was one of the ones I was busy destroying due to my anger issues and one I was desperately trying to save at that point....but the reasons for the smiling, whistling and singing was due to another person all together.

Me. I was happy....or working hard so that I knew it was coming. I could feel it...see it...taste it. As I worked my way though each issue...I finished with it..and then Just Let It Go. I could not possibly explain with adequate words the effect this had had on me emotionally. Yes of course I still get angry (more than I like still...a work in progress) and I know that to never get angry is just not possible...but when I trip up and fall into a full blown anger melt down, I mentally try as hard as I can to reign myself in and put a halt before it gets out of control. (again, not always successful but I'm far better at it then I used to be). I ask myself, will this matter in 5 minutes, ten...tomorrow...and of course it most likely won't. And when I realize this...I can almost  feel myself relax and feel the anger start to recede and dissipate. It has stopped my anger in its tracks most of the time...most, work in progress as I said.

I have reached a stage now where so many things that use to set me off (thoughts of my past, of Bahrain, of certain people) don't really affect me at all anymore. I can think about them without feeling that tightness in my chest that would be an indicator that rage was building. I can talk about them without gnashing my teeth or getting angry at the person I'm talking to because the person I'm really angry at isn't there. Those balloons have sailed...and I have never heard of a balloon that was set free...come back to its owner.

Now, if there was one set back to all this emotional healing...it's convincing others that it's actually taking place. People who know me, love me, are so used to Angry Red...that they are suspicious of New Red. For some reason they would rather believe that you can't change who you have always been even though those same people have been encouraging me for years to do exactly that. I have actually gotten into arguments (go figure) while trying to convince these same people that the changes are real, are reaping benefits and are permanent. I much prefer New Red to Angry Red...why would I go back to that...and why do those I love most keep insisting I do? I have no idea.

Anyhow, I have a lot more to say. That makes me happy just writing that as it means I have more writing to do...and I realize this post is not up to my usual standards but I felt the need to write and I haven't felt that in such a long time...I'm just putting it out there before the mood disappears. So you guys (if there are any readers left) get a rough copy and I'm sorry for that but it is what it is. 

A few topics I will write about are my two recent trips to Bahrain (yes...imagine that), my new status as Grandma (my granddaughter is amazing) and what the future might hold for me. I became friends again with my ex from high school and other topics that might be of interest.  Stay tuned...if you are interested. I know I am.

Some Stickers Just Say It All!!

I was stuck in traffic yesterday and found myself behind this car for quite some time. As we didnt actually move AT ALL for maybe 15 min I didnt take much notice of the driver himself/herself...until we did actually start to move...then I was like...IS there a driver in that car?!!



I mean seriously...can you SEE anyone sitting there?



I told my friend to check it out and she was craning her neck trying to get a look see but we were hard pressed to see any movement or indication that someone was driving that car.



Did they get fed up in traffic and just abandon it? I know thats something Ive felt like doing more than once.

Now the truly funny thing about this whole matter was the sticker on the back window. I think you can just see it there...click on it for a closer view. I felt it caught the whole experience down to a tee.

Unfortunately I was unable to take a pic of the driver...and yes there was one...a very old very tiny man who was literally stretched out...or rather up...in order to see out the window while he was driving. Apparently while we werent moving he just relaxed and sat back...and disappeared from view. There was also a young child in the passenger seat...no seat belts...sigh.



Now I will never tell someone they are not fit to drive etc...obviously the traffic department figured he was good to go (assuming his license hadnt expired) but I figure if your having such a hard time seeing out the front window, a very necessary requirement far as Im concerned...especially if I happen to be anywhere near you...then the very least you could do is put a pillow or something under your bum and lift you up to a proper height so you can see unencumbered...yes?



Just one more reason driving in Bahrain should come with hazard pay and plenty of pain killers.

Be Careful Washing Your Delicates!!!

For anyone that has ever visited the Middle East...or maybe just a predominately Muslim country....you will probably have seen bathrooms with these water hoses for washing up after. Most homes have them and quite a few commercial businesses etc will have them as well. They are a common enough commodity and used quite regularly by the native populations (not sure about the visitors etc).

Now one thing some people might not be aware of when using one of these thing is that the temperatures outside can decidedly affect the temps of the water you are about to wash your nether regions with...and that you have about 4 or 5 seconds of rather lukewarm liquid...before you are possibly scalded with some suddenly very hot water pointed directly at your most precious bits. It can be an extreme eye opener (not to mention scream inducer)..and peeing or anything else you were planning to do later in the day can be a very sensitive matter indeed.

One way around this is to not have your water tank on top of your house or building where the sun is busy boiling it all day long...easy if you own your home...not so easy if you rent etc.

Another option is to keep some tepid water handy in the bathroom just for such moments...nice if you dont have animals or small children that dont come along and spill it or play in it (or drink from it)...sigh!! If you place it up out of the way your likely to forget to bring it down BEFORE sitting down to take care of business...and then your left maneuvering yourself after the fact to get it while not...*ahem* ...dripping or something on your clothing. (dont laugh...it happens)

Anyhow, Summer is now fully upon us here in Bahrain...temps are in the high 35 to 37 degrees Celsius already...so that means the water is right up there in the too hot to handle during midday (no showers and dish washing for you wimps) (yes..that would be me) and seriously too hot for your nether regions to take without some serious repercussions.

Believe me...take my word on this...its not something you want to try out for yourself. Nuff said.

*I dont know why my paragraphs wont stay put. They are here when I type it out but disappear once its posted. Very frustraing. Grrr!!!

Do I Have Your Royal Word on That?

Imagine my surprise early last week when I received a call from someone, while pretty damn famous and well known here in Bahrain, is not someone that generally calls me. How she, or should I say her office, got my mobile number remains a mystery...but considering who she is Im sure thats not much of a problem...anyways...

Now heres the thing...her office called ME...me. Apparently it came to their attention that I could use some help in my life at the moment as a single mom of 5 kids (important that they are Bahraini kids I might add) dealing with a crappy hand at the moment...remember...THEY called ME. Just so Im clear on that.

Now the lady on the phone was very nice...taking some information from me...asking about our situation etc. No problem. The generosity of strangers has saved me more than once recently....so the phone call itself didnt surprise me but the person calling did (or who she represented any how)...defintely did.

I was still getting over my shock at discovering who was calling me when she signed off with a promise to "help me" and would "get back to me shortly".

Now heres my question. I will not name names here so this is a general sort of question...but when it comes to "get back to me shortly" does that mean different things to different people? How short is shortly?

One week later and I havent heard back from this office. Now ordinarily I would take these sort of phone calls and offers of help with a grain of salt because, believe me, Ive received offers of help, jobs, money...whatever with seemingly the utmost of sincerity...only to discover later it didnt mean as much to them as it meant to me. You would have to be someone desperately needing something to understand that feeling of powerlessness at obtaining that "thing" you need...regardless of what it is. Invariably those offers, while received by me with abundant hope and thankfulness, ended up dwindling away like so much dust. Which resulted in the person offering the help to suddenly be unavailable to my calls and avoiding me when they seen me coming...ok...whatever. Im not going to hang it over someones head if they 'CANT help me...but I surely do wish people wouldnt make the offer if they have no intention of following through....

Hope dashed is worse then no hope at all sometimes...believe me...I know.

Anyhow, back to this office...now I understand that this ladies office is definitely in a position to help me. Its not a question of money or ability on their side...a simple phonecall or recommendation on my behalf and...walah!! ...people would be falling all over themselves to jump and do as commanded...it really would have to be that easy. Some people just have that certain sense of "royalty" about them...if you know what I mean.

Sooooo....Im sort of wondering why a week has gone by and no word back. I might sound greedy and impatient to some out there reading this...and I suppose considering who the office represents I cant help but get a few stars in my eyes about the possibilities (Ive heard in the past the sort of "help" offered by just such offices)...but really...THEY CALLED ME...so its not like I wrote a letter begging for help or used some wasta to get a special favour on my behalf. I wouldnt even know how to go about doing that...seriously. I just cant imagine it would take a whole week for something to be done...whatever that something was. Im just saying...not even a phone call back to let me know "its being worked on" or something....sigh!

Anyhow, I expect this sort of thing from "ordinary" people as they say...because sometimes people offer help with the best of intentions and then realize later they really cant follow through. Ok...I understand. I wont hold it against you if I feel it was a genuine offer on your part...just a little ambitious. Those people that offer with NO intention of following through...well hell...why even bother yourself? I wish you would just keep your promises to yourself...my children and I dont need that sort of wishful thinking in our lives at this point...

but those that CALL ME and offer to help me...and are obviously in a position to do so with no obstacles...then dont bother to get back to me...seriously...WHY? What did you get out of it...or hope to accomplish with that phonecall? Just wondering.

Now, I realize its only been a week...not a whole lot of time passed to warrant my irritation I suppose...but hey...when a stroke of a pen, a phone call, or a "royal" request is made...by certain people in society...it cant take more than...say.... 5 mins...half a day...a whole day??? to get it done...can it?

For myself, seriously, Im use to people and how they can be...dont get me started...but I made the mistake of mentioning the phonecall to my kids...wish I hadnt...nuff said on that.

Like I said...does "get back to you shortly" mean different things to different people?

I shall ponder whether I should practice more patience...or just chalk it up to "shit happens" and be done with it...what do ya think people?

My Boy, My Hero!!! pt 2

So...where was I?



Oh yes, Boo had finally gotten the door open and my two Yemeni neighbors came bustling in looking around to see where I was (and I do believe checking out the cleanliness of my house...they were sticklers for being neat). They found me lying on the floor in obvious pain and distress. My clothes were soaked...the floor was covered in vomit and I was in agony curled up in a ball.



Now, Ive never required emergency hospital treatment in the states so I cant say with authority exactly what the procedure entails...in Bahrain (or at least in my house and on the way to the hosp on that particular day) it consisted of a series of events that nearly led to my potential death.



So there I was laying on the floor...very very happy to see my "rescuers" and quite ready to be rescued...however...they had a few things they felt needed doing before they could cart me off to the hosp apparently.



Let me first say that while my understanding of Arabic is fairly decent for the most part...when it comes to Yemeni Arabic they might as well be speaking Swahili...I havent a clue...which means the lack of communication this particular day added a great deal of stress to an all ready stressful situation.



First of all, they took one look at my house clothes and decided they just wouldnt do for an emergency trip to the hosp. So much for the...get her in the car as fast as you can cause obviously she needs hosp treatment ASAP!!!...oh no...I needed a makeover first before they were satisfied to get me moving out the door.



So try and picture this comedy of errors that preceded my being saved at the proverbial last minute by, for once in my case, a flurry of attentive doctors.



First the two ladies tried wrestling me into an abaya. I was at that time wearing an abaya that was pulled over the head...so they attempted to get my abaya on (which can be a bit of a struggle at the best of times) by fair means or foul...but Im by no means a light weight. Ive got some jiggle that needs to be dealt with and its a chore all by itself when Im completely concious and have all my abilities at my control...mix that excess poundage with legs of jelly and a half comatose mental state...plus two rather diminutive sized women ...and ...well...you can imagine what sort of tragic dance ensued.



About an eon later when they finally had me all properly abayed I felt a sense of relief that cannot be measured...finally we were ready to get out the door. Yalla! Im ready...lets go.



They were not done yet. They felt I still needed a little something something before I was ready. I might add that I was still wracked with pain...still vomiting now and then...still sweating sweat the size of rain drops...and still pretty much out of it...so they did what must have seemed like the most natural thing to do under these emergency conditions...they now attempted to put my hijab on. (I still wore one then as well...and this incident was one of the deciding factors that eventually led me to remove it...among others).



So...for any woman that has ever worn the hijab you will know that it can be a bit tricky when YOU are the one putting it on...arranging it...and maybe even pinning it....so for someone else to put it on you (while your practically comatose I might add) Im sure is something has to be seen to be appreciated for its slapstick comedy appeal.



Now considering I was the victim to all this fashion policing....and a very sick and very pitiful one at that...I cant say for sure just how long these ladies took to get my hijab on in a satisfactory manner that was pleasing to them. (they were niqabis themselves so were quite happy to try and introduce me to the joys of not being able to see where Im going at that particular moment)...I feebly attempted to let them know that I was more than happy to forego the "modesty "of hijab...just this once...in order to facilitate my speedy arrival at the health center....but they didnt understand...or chose not to...so Im thinking it must have been a week at least before my hijab was in place (more or less) and we were finally headed out the door. Me sandwiched between these two women that turned out to be surprisingly strong for their size. (they had to be to get me to the car...sigh...now wheres that gym membership form)



So fiiiiinally we were in the car of one of their husbands...me slouching in the back seat vaguely aware that Boo was in there with me...wondering if I was actually going to die on this particular day considering the pain was unrelenting and growing by the minute...and that I had Lucille Ball and her sidekick in complete control of my immediate future.



I dont know how they drive in Yemen...but from my experience having my very own Yemeni driver that day I would hazard a guess and say they drive extremely sloooooowly. No need to worry I didnt observe certain safety precautions...I might die from whatever alien was currently trying to vacate my chest...but I would not die from my failure to wear my seatbelt...small blessings and all that.



Hindsight tells me I started feeling the first stirrings of pain around 9:30 am...about 45 minutes had passed before I attempted to call husband...when we arrived at the health center it was nearly noon as I heard the adhan playing and the health center is only 5 minutes from my house....soooooo...it took those ladies approximately an hour...maybe a little more...to dress me "appropriately" before deciding I was good to go.



So...we arrived at the health center. Yay!! You would think that was a good thing for someone like me...you know...seriously sick and all.



Think again.

*to be continued

My Boy, My Hero!!! pt 1

This is my boy...my baby. He's 11 now but in this pic he's about 3. His name is Jibreel...or Boo for short. When he was 3 years old he saved my life. Picture this...

For about a year prior to the day he saved my life I had been back and forth to the doctors with severe chest pains. We are talking mammoth gargantuan kill me now chest pains!! Everytime I went to the hospital they would "diagnose" me with acid reflux and prescribe maalox and pain medication...and send me home.

It got to the point that I could barely take a bite of anything before that impending feeling of a freight train of agony coming on that would signal that I was in for anything from 15 minutes to 2 hours of serious killer pain...and there wasnt anything I could do about it. I was drinking gallons of maalox...downing pain pills like an addict...sometimes it worked and kept most of the pain at bay but usually I was left curled up in a fetal position, rocking myself and trying to meditate until it passed. It got to the point where I was reluctant to leave the house fearing I would have an attack while outside and would be helpless to stop it. Numerous trips to the doctors describing my symptoms etc only resulted in more of the same...maalox and pain medication with recommendations to cut down on spicy foods...yeah...I'll do that.

I didnt have the internet back then so google wasnt available to help out and the library was a joke...I had nothing to use to figure out what my problem was (obviously the doctors were not helpful). I was afraid to eat anything but just a few select foods...and I was almost housebound (even more than my asshat husband forced me to be).

It all came to a head one day in which I almost died....but first a little more back story.

My 3 year old son had recently discovered that he could act like Houdini and escape out the front door the moment I turned my back...so I would carefully lock the door as soon as everyone was off to work or school each morning. Then he discovered how to operate the key so I had to hang the key over the door out of his reach. Soon he discovered how to knock the key down...so I was forced to hide the key (when I wasnt wearing something with pockets). I could always see him searching diligently in the shoes and on the tables etc looking for the key every morning. I actually had to change locations on several occasions because he managed to sniff it out...the little bloodhound. On the day in question I had hung the key in my bedroom behind the door on a nail. (careful not to let him see me put it there...he was quite a sneak)

So I was busy cleaning house, he was running around playing...then I felt that familiar ache starting to build. I quickly downed some pain pills to catch it before it caught hold...and chugged some maalox (I didnt even bother to measure out a dose...just swallowed it down)...and hoped for the best...but expected the usual.

I got a hell of a lot more than the usual.

Before long I was sitting crosslegged on the couch rocking back and forth doing my best to meditate and ignore the pain. Things were quite different this time though...I was sweating bullets...it was pouring down my body like rain and I was burning up...on fire!!! Not only did my chest feel like it was burning from internal acid...it felt like some kind of alien was trying to fight its way out of my chest.

It was the absolute worst pain I had ever endured.

I eventually realized that it wasnt going to pass this time and decided it was time to call the husband. I stood up to go to the phone and immediately collapsed on the floor. I tried to get up again but felt like I was paralyzed...I could barely move my arms enough to push myself up. I tried dragging myself across the floor but I felt like a limp rag...no strength at all. I laid on the floor in agony wandering what the hell to do. Not only couldnt I move...I had a 3 year old running around that could get into some kind of danger...and I was helpless to protect him.

Boo came over to me at this point all concerned that something was wrong with me. He even tried pulling on me I guess in his little attempts to get me up...Mommy on the floor crying and helpless was not part of his usual routine. It was then that I thought of telling him to bring me the phone. (no mobiles back then). He eagerly ran for the phone and carefully carried it across the floor to me...unfortunately the wire wasnt long enough to reach me and try as I might I could not move myself across the floor. The pain was enormous and debilitating.

Now remember my son was 3 and up to this point I had already started teaching him numbers etc but it wasnt something we had been doing for long...so I wasnt real sure how much he knew...but I took the chance that he knew them well enough to hit the numbers when I called them out to him. (funny enough I didnt even consider calling 999 because ambulance service in this country is a joke...as I would be reminded yet again before too long).

Between my moans and tears I called out my husbands work number to Boo...one digit at a time and watched as he hit the telephone key pad. In the back of my mind I was surprised to see he knew to remove the handset and place it to his ear even though I hadnt told him. I realize children play "phone" all the time...but this was serious and he seemed to be taking it seriously. (maybe wishful thinking on my side?)

When I had called out the last number and he had hit it...I waited a few moments giving it a chance to ring before shouting out to my husband that I was sick and needed help. I had no idea if it was even my husband on the other end of the line...or even if anyone was there...but I shouted all the same. I had no choice.

It was then that I started vomiting and my muscles were wracked with pain. My gut felt like it was being torn apart by lions and I was positive I was literally going to come apart from the pain. I had no idea if anyone was coming...if he had heard or even answered the phone...and I was helpless on the floor.

At some point I realized someone was banging on the front door. Obviously I couldnt get to the door and by this time I had no strength to even shout out to whomever it was. Boo was at the door trying to open it and I could hear voices on the other side...they were female voices and then I recognized them as my Yemini neighbors from upstairs. (I would find out later that Boo actually did hit the right numbers and my husband heard me shouting...he was far away and so called the neighbors to come down and check on me while he headed home).

By this time Boo was running around searching all the usual places for the door key and I was trying to get his attention to tell him where the key was in hopes that he would understand and get it. I finally managed to call him over and told him where it was...he needed some further guidance and encouragement but he eventually managed to get that door key by dragging some things across my bedroom floor and knocking it down.

Then he ran for the door and finally got it open.

*to be continued

The rest of the story will explain what happened to me and what was wrong with me after that front door was opened...but up to this point is important to me because if he hadnt understood numbers well enough to dial one...and hadnt been smart enough to figure out how to get the key down by himself...those ladies wouldnt have gotten in as soon as they did....and things might have turned out much different. Stay tuned.

Do the Drama and Impending Heart Attacks EVER End?!!!

So...Ive often wondered about the serious lack of concern for customer service here in Bahrain (is it the same all over the Middle East I wonder?)...Ive often been in business establishments in which the staff are doing absolutely nothing...and yet cant be bothered to stir from their apathy long enough to earn their salary. Walking out, or taking your business elsewhere, seems to bother them not all all...sigh!!

Generally speaking it doesnt bother me too much unless I really need some help and look around to discover every salesperson has quite literally disappeared...grrr!!

Now, complaining about a service that SHOULD be provided as company policy...or because you PAID for that service and therefore should actually get what you pay for is something else all together...if I dont get my customer service taken care of adequately in that regard...then you will see more than a pissed off customer taking her business elsewhere...todays little (big) drama involving my daughter travelling home is case in point. Picture this...

When her ticket was purchased an adult ticket was paid for because as an unaccompanied minor she will need "extra" care and attention. For those that dont know...an attendant will literally take her from one location to another...handing her over to the next person in charge for the next part of her journey until she is delivered personally into the hands of a relative etc. Each person handing her over must sign the document that travels with her indicating she/he is relinquishing responsibility and that the minor is being handed over in good shape and without harm etc...the next handler signs that they have taken over responsibility etc...and it goes from there from the start of journey till ending with relatives joyful to see her....thats the way its SUPPOSED to work.

I called early the next morning to ensure that her status as "unaccompanied minor" was properly indicated so there would be no problems (you have to keep on track of these things just to quiet that little voice in the back of your head that never goes quiet while your child is out of your sight etc)...she was flying Gulf Air, Bahrains national carrier, and the person I spoke with assured me her status was noted...ok...sigh of relief.

Last night when we arrived at the airport I discover in fact that no such notice had been put into affect and she was without an attendant to see her through. Funny enough, even though I was totally pissed off...I wasnt surprised...Ive lived here long enough to know customer service sucks...even with follow up.

With much drama and angry words from my side...much hemming and hawing from the Gulf Air reps about how this "technicality" occurred...it was eventually rectified by me filling out paperwork at that time (rather than the required 48 hours notice) and an attendant was brought to escort her onto the plane.

I was slightly mollified by the Gulf Airs reps who quickly got around the gaff and made things right...all though I wasnt completely satisfied sending my daughter off with an airline attendant that had been hastily brought and had never actually done that particular job before (hence the need for 48 hours notice etc). It couldnt be that hard to do...could it?

Turns out Gulf Air wasnt telling me a very important fact that I needed to know before relinquishing my daughter into their hands...because she was switching over to American Airlines in Germany...apparently this meant there would be no attendant waiting for her from the American Airline side of the journey...because they have no "unaccompanied minor policy when it comes to handing over from one airline to another" service...or something like that.

So I get a frantic message from my daughter in Germany who is all but abandon in the airport as she is shown (I assume here) the American Airlines reservation desk etc...and then left to on her own to figure out what to do next (there is no handing over policy remember...apparently). I call her and she gives her telephone to the American Airlines reservation employee who informs me that she is basically on her own (he is the one that also informs me there is no hand over policy) and is asking for my permission to board her on the plane anyhow. Well gee...I dont know...why not just let her wander around the airport in Germany for eternity...Im sure the experience will be interesting and something to remember for her. HELL YES put her on the plane...however...slight problem with that too (isnt there always)...of course this means there will be nobody to accompany her through customs and passports and luggage claim etc once she reaches the other side.

Now my daughter is intelligent and quite capable of reading signs and following the crowd and asking for help if she doesnt know where to go or what to do...so my biggest fear wasnt that she wouldnt manage to get through all that on her own...

Has anyone seen the movie Taken? Well a quick run down...in this film there is a ruthless gang of human smugglers that hang out at airports looking for young vulnerable girls (over 17 obviously)...striking up conversations to determine their status (someone waiting to pick them up...where they are staying etc) with the eventual outcome that they are kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery. Its a very emotional and heartbreaking movie for anyone interested in seeing it.

Anyhow, my biggest fear was that someone similar to one of those human slave traffickers would spot my obviously young daughters status as "completely alone" and waste no time in setting her up for kidnapping....it happens...watch the news.

So I had to agree to let her on the plane of course...the AA rep said "very well and thank your" and hung up....I quickly called my daughter to once again lecture her on not talking to strangers...not giving out personal info...and also to give her details about what exactly to do once she arrived in Dallas and had to go through customs etc....but her phone went dead as soon as she answered....and so I spent the whole night worrying about what would happen to her once she reached Dallas (even on the plane she isnt safe if she tells a fellow passenger she is alone etc...you cant trust anyone these days) A mothers imagination when it comes to the potential harm that can come to her child has no limit...believe me.

I called my older daughter who was picking her up...told her what had happened and told her to call the American Airlines customer service to get their advice. They told her to come to the airport early and they would "help"....hmmm.

When she arrived and went to customer service this is the conversation that ensued.

Daughter: My 15 year old sister is going to be landing soon and she doesnt have anyone to help her find her way through. Can you send someone to bring her to me?

C.S. rep: Its only one long tunnel with stairs etc...with lots of signs...anyone can find their way. Dont worry.

Daughter: But my mom is worried and wants to be sure my sister is safe and gets through ok.

C.S. rep: Even if she (my daughter) was walking on her hands and knees...she would find her way through.

WTF!!!

When my daughter called me and told me the rep had actually spewed those horrible words out (with a dismissing tone while she turned and walked away I was told) I nearly went up in smoke. Is that really what Customer Service is like in America now? Oh well...your 15 year old child is alone and potential prey for God knows what...but if she walks on all fours like a dog she will get through it....any idiot can...no problem!!!

I immediately told my daughter to go find that rep and put her on the phone...but she couldnt find her....not to mention that my older daughter is not the sort to confront and demand action and apologies...so was hesitant to "make a big deal over it"...just wait Daughter until you are a mother...then you will find your voice and understand just how big a deal it is when it comes to your child. For the moment I was stymied how to deal with that.

45 min after the flight had landed my daughter still hadnt come through. Phone calls back and forth, much hand wringing accompanied with heart palpitations, not to mention way to many vivid scenarios of what obviously happened to her being played out in my head, were not helping matters.

Finally a phone call to tell me she had come through with all body parts intact...thank God. Apparently her reason for taking so long was that Gulf Air did not tag her luggage correctly...it had to be hunted down...nice!

I aged over night people...I felt the ache and pain of every single one of my heartbeats from the time she left my sight until I received that phone call telling me she was safe and sound. I did not sleep...not even a little.

I demand satisfaction from someone. This was a gross display of customer service from my point of view. Children are not something to abandon at airports cause there is "no policy of hand overs" (assuming here)...courtesy and just God damned human empathy and the desire to see no harm come to children would seemingly be enough to "overlook policy" long enough to deliver her into safe hands....especially when nobody had informed ME that such a policy did not exist in the first place when I released her into Gulf Airs hands..does policy (or lack there of) take precedent over the safety of a child?

To make matters worse, her return flight goes through London, anyone that has ever had to navigate Terminal 5 for international flights will understand just how daunting and complicated it can be getting from one connection to another. I cant imagine my daughter being able to find her way through that maze on her own without mishap...Ive done it many times and I still find it confusing and frustrating at times. And because there is no unaccompanied minor status indicated on her ticket from the American Airlines side (it is from Gulf Airs side)...even if Im able to get her ticket indicated as such....Im assuming she will be forced to do it alone as AA will seemingly abandon her in a similar fashion at Heathrow once she has disembarked their airplane and tries to make her way through that maze of confusion that is Heathrow to her Gulf Air connection? (there is no hand over policy remember)

Ive got some serious phone calls to make...and Im pissed.

Gulf Air...your customer service sucks.

American Airlines...while your customer service was slightly better...I cant believe you were not willing to have someone waiting upon her landing and seeing her through...even though there is no official hand over policy (apparently)...its just seems like the right thing for you to have done...especially considering she is a child...and that I was not informed of ahead of time...and therefore an on the spot decision could have been made to cover the ineptitude of airline employees that lead to that trouble in the first place. Im sorely disappointed in you...and will be telling you so as soon as I can get someone on the phone...fricken lines are always busy.

Its going to be a long month until she is back safe with me again.

And if I ever discover who the customer service rep was that referred to my daughter as a dog...watch out!!