It’s a Date

Dedicated to someone who gave me true advice, and to those who appreciate.

By: Bint Khalid

There is a brown table, with beautiful wood, a textured surface and worn-splintered edges. Atop is a round woven matt of palm khoos, delicately braided, with light and colorful circular patterns in a dusty orange and a warm soft yellow. Atop this woven matt sits an old looking golden bowl engraved with tight arabesque designs, slightly dented on one side. Within this delightful bowl lay a mysterious entity. An oval shaped capsule that can be held between a thumb and a finger, slightly squishy and filled with an intriguing force. It is a centuries old exploit. It’s a date.

Thank You Michael Slackman

By: Bint Khalid   (in response to a New York Times’ Article)

It is a sad misfortune for Michael Slackman to come for a week’s stay in Qatar, point to the sense of disappointment and the outward appearances of Qataris without looking into the deeper underlying causes of their dissatisfaction.

Now except for Slackman’s heinously shallow portrayal and generalization of Qataris’ characters, I as a Qatari would like to raise my right hand, and solemnly swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. Deep sigh. What Mr. Slackman has divulged in his article “Affluent Qataris Seek What Money Cannot Buy”….

Is the truth.  

But…Is it the whole truth?

A Qatari’s Philosophy of Work

By: Bint Khalid

2008. On the rooftop looking out over the edge to the horizon I see the ever changing Doha sky line. Glass towers sparkle in the sunset in pale colors of pink, orange and yellow. The breezy fresh air of November is refreshing after hours of dry air conditioning. How did we get here? The sounds of the main road come floating up at me and the street lamps begin to glow a white then orange hue. There is a peace surrounding me, a moment that comes only when humans are connected with nature. And a sense of transparency descends. Is it only me? A question I pondered endlessly for the past two years, during which I was buried in a torrent of opinions, judgments and social pressures; spiced with surprised expressions, disappointed tones and side looks that tell me I am surely self-destructive.