Christmas, wrapping paper, and why Santa gets too much praise...

Christmas is coming and I am still fat.  In spite of my best efforts, there is still too much of me and those slinky numbers which hang, corpse-like, in my wardrobe remain as strangers. Of course there’s not much hope of anything changing until January at this stage as the season of overindulgence beckons.

I do love Christmas, or the feelings and memories the season evokes. A time when, even in the desert, we can pretend we live in Dickensian London -of course sidestepping the fact that life at that time was actually nasty, brutish and short- instead believing that tartan is a good choice for the living room and fake garlands are a tasteful addition to the staircase banister.

It’s also a time of shameless over-spending in a manner which would make even Paris Hilton blush; of throwing things into our trolley’s, virtual or otherwise, without stopping to analyse the long term benefits of such items as a set of bath towels with snowmen on them or a family set of matching reindeer pyjamas (yes, such a thing exists and yes, I must admit I was very tempted).

Ah yes, I love it! Every year I insist to DH that I need at least one Christmas party dress even though we never get invited to any actual parties.  This year we're holding a party in the house which I have grandly entitled a 'Mulled wine and mince pie' party, which basically means that on arrival my guests will be offered a glass of gluwine and a mince pie: my duties as a hostess complete, I can get on and enjoy the rest of the night.

In fact, the only Christmas party I’ve been invited to since I got to the Middle East was DH’s work party at the Hilton in Abu Dhabi, the first year we were here. We were very excited about this party as his employer had organised a suite in the hotel for us, we had a babysitter booked to the room, a new dress from Reiss was purchased for me, and we were good to go.

When we got down to the party room we were dismayed to realise that since his company were a Saudi company, there was no alcohol being served -( isn't a non-alcoholic Christmas party an oxymoron?)

To make matters worse, the lights were on full so it felt a bit like a daytime convention.  It’s one thing to sit there wearing a party dress and a silly hat if everyone is half-cut on mulled-wine, but quite another to sit there under the glare of the overhead lights sober as a judge.

Sitting at a table surrounded by some very nice Muslim men and women, I attempted to start a debate about the relevance of the hijab in modern society but since this failed to stir up much dialogue I dropped the subject, grabbing a passing waiter instead, in the hope of a clandestine drink for DH and me.

Luckily he was amenable to this as long as we were discreet – turns out there were discreet people dotted all over the room. However, discretion gets trickier as the drinks go down and by the time a Malaysian guy on the next table started sculling brandy from the neck of a bottle, trying to hide our glasses of wine seemed a tad unnecessary.

I ended up on the dance floor believing I was Olivia Newton-John to DH’s John Travolta while the sobre on-lookers made their excuses and left.  Oddly enough, that was the last time his employer held a Christmas party.

This year we’re staying put in the UAE. Last year we went home to Ireland but it was too expensive and too cold and frankly it took about five minutes to say hello to all the people I wanted to say hello to, after which we were just filling in the time eating, drinking and buying clothes which would be totally unsuitable once our two week trip was at an end.

On Christmas eve I made the mistake of visiting my sister for ‘a drink’ before going home to do some serious gift wrapping.  I was shaken awake at two in the morning by a pleading DH

-‘please wake up, I’ve got two dozen toys here which all need wrapping and I can’t do it alone’.

-‘What?  What time is it?  How did we get home?’ I was completely disoriented.

-‘You and your sister got drunk – difference is, she’s already done all her wrapping!’ (my sister is the sort of drinking companion who insists on topping up your glass the second it becomes half-empty!)

I stumbled out, helped wrap a couple of toys then decided that this year Santa Claus was trying to be environmentally friendly and was not using wrapping paper.  Throwing the pile of toys under the tree, I staggered back to bed.  The following morning it was a bit of a free-for-all as the children scrambled under the tree for their toys.

Fortunately with three boys, the gifts were pretty much interchangeable so they didn't mind too much; and my daughter easily deduced that if it was pink, it was for her. All the while I sat there, hungover and shame-faced,  while DH glared at me accusingly.  He will never let me live it down.

It was a lesson learned – this year I’m wrapping as I go; although hiding the presents as they come in to the house is proving to be a tad difficult.  We had a baby-swing hiding in the back of the car the other day:  DH was hoping to smuggle it in while the children were asleep; but alas, it was spotted by my helpful and curious six year old while he played outside.

I was out at the time but received a call from DH who was obviously surrounded by a gaggle of children-

-‘You’ll never guess who’s visited early’ he began.

-‘Huh?’

-‘Santa has left a baby swing...hasn’t he kids...in the car...would you believe it?’

-‘Wow, that was early’ I countered.

-‘Yes, he must have meant for it to be an early Christmas present....now he’ll have to get the baby something else for Christmas day (code for- 'get something while you're out')’

Santa Claus is an expensive and praise-sapping scene-stealer, greedily pinching the credit for all the hard work that us parents put in, during the run up to Christmas, for himself. Where else in life would you put a ton of work, time and money into something and then turn around and happily attribute all praise to some mythical creature? Madness!

As is the birthday fairy, another fictitious character invented by my sister, who takes full credit for anything she buys her children for their birthdays, and one that I foolishly adopted for my own children.  On more than one occasion the birthday boy or girl has ripped open their birthday present- kindly left over-night from the birthday fairy-  turned to me and quietly asked ‘and what did you get me for my birthday mum?’

Mind you, they are becoming suspicious of Santa Claus as they get older, so when eight year old boy quizzed me the other day, I must admit I struggled to come up with an answer –

-‘Mum, do the Muslim kids get presents from Santa?’

-‘Err, no, they don’t, they get their presents at Eid’

-‘And Jews don’t celebrate Christmas, do they?’

-‘Err, no, they don’t, they have Hannukah’

-‘So who has Christmas then?’

-‘Well, Christians do....’ (I could see where this was going)

-‘Are we Christians mum?’

-‘Well, no, we’re not anything’

-‘So why does Santa come to us?’

-‘Umm, well, it’s a good thing you asked (thinking rapidly) .... he comes to us because my parents were Christians so we’re still on his list’ (phew!)

Thankfully he accepted my explanation and wandered off.

And now I must finish....there are gifts to wrap, wine to mull, pies to mince and party dresses to try on.... don't you just love it!

An atheists guide to free speech : Don't do it!

Warning: I get a little bit serious in this post but stay with me dear reader, I promise a return to trivial drivel next time...

They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but a keyboard is nothing against someone with a grudge (and just on that, if someone is coming at you wielding a samurai sword, I really don't think writing 'don't kill me' on a piece of paper is going to stop him in his murderous tracks).

To explain: someone recently posted a clip on an expat women’s chat forum, of a TV interview with an Imam in Yemen (or Qatar…somewhere in the middle east). In it he explains the rules surrounding the beating of ones wife. Believe it or not there are guidelines; no bones must be broken, blood must not be drawn and the stick must be of a certain width and length. He also went on to explain how this method of discipline can only be used in one specific circumstance: if said wife refuses to sleep with her husband. However, this must only be used as a last resort after all other avenues, such as threats, have been explored.

The clip sparked much debate on the forum: on the one side were the Western-educated feminists who voiced their disgust at the idea of women being beaten at all in this day and age, that such an activity was tantamount to marital rape and that it was time that countries such as Yemen moved into the modern age.

On the other side, Muslim women came in and argued that the translation of the TV show (which was in Arabic with English subtitles) was questionable, that it was extremist and circulated on the likes of You Tube purely to stir up anti-Islamic sentiment and that wife-beating was not part of the normal marriage contract in the average Muslim marriage.

Most agreed that both arguments had merit, and in fact weren’t mutually exclusive - and personally I didn’t doubt that the interview was designed purely to portray the Imam as an anachronistic, misogynistic dinosaur. And to this end it achieved its goal.

After reading several pages of debate on the chat forum I tired of the same argument spinning around and around and decided to post a comment myself- something along the lines of ‘it is ridiculous to base your life today, including how to go about beating your wife, on ancient scripture of dubious origins’ – a basic atheistic argument I think it is safe to say. My comment was belligerent and inflammatory but I was irked that the issue was being debated as if it were rational to begin with.

Following these comments I received a threatening message from one of the forum members – someone who had created a new identity purely to make these threats – along the lines of ‘I know who you are, I know your full name, I will report you to the UAE authorities for making such a statement unless you apologise and withdraw the comments’ along with some other accusatory words.  The poster was called 'Hitch'* and I did wonder initially if it was some joker, cleverly using a nickname referring to the notorious atheist Christopher Hitchens, who was trying to spook me.  It quickly became apparent that this was no joker.

I didn’t apologise for the comment, just for the offense caused to the individual; going on to paraphrase the famous quote that I respected this persons religion in the same way I respected his right to believe his wife was beautiful and his children brilliant; but I did remove the offending words, leaving just the gist of the argument on the thread. However, this wasn’t enough for this individual who later informed me that they had reported me to Etisalat, the main UAE communications provider, that I had brought this down on my own head and I deserved everything I got.

Belligerently I pointed out that Etisalat can’t even get e-Life to work in my house so I wasn’t going to get too upset! However, within a day my internet had stopped working and I’m sitting in Caffe Nero as I type.

Now, I have a big mouth and it has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion, but this time I was genuinely thrown by the menacing tone of the messages sent by my accuser and the implicit threat contained within.

This individual obviously considered themselves devout and felt the need to defend their faith in the face of atheistic and (as they saw it) disrespectful comments. However, their threatening manner and nasty tone spoke, not of religious fervour and piety, but of intolerance and vindictiveness and a need to inflict a punishment on me for voicing my opinions. Since I make no secret of my identity on this forum, I was genuinely afraid of what this person was capable of.

As an atheist I have a problem with anyone using ancient scripts as a basis for modern life - growing up as a catholic taught me how hypocritical and arbitrary religion can be - it might not be a palatable opinion to many, but it is just my opinion and if it means I’ll burn in hell for all eternity, well, I’ll take my chances.

I’m not stupid; I understand the need to be careful with ones comments in a Muslim country. I understand the need to show respect where appropriate, but I do believe that a chat forum, this one in particular, where strong opinions are the norm and where people- mainly articulate and educated expats (along with a minority of interesting and educated locals and Muslims from neighbouring countries)- come to discuss everything from where to buy curtains to the great cultural and religious questions which inevitably present themselves as part of the thinking-expat life, is not the place to be policed.

Clearly if I were writing to a national newspaper these comments would not find themselves on to the pages, but a chat forum is for the entire world to see and can't be confined to just one geographical place, and to this end I feel that it should be free to voice opinions of all kinds as long as nobody is being hurt or exploited.

It could be argued that my words did hurt some of the members of the forum and to this I say -that is the beauty of a forum, members are free to express their hurt or annoyance by adding their own comment, by shooting down mine (and many of the members on the forum are more than capable of doing so and do regularly).

You can learn a lot from some of these discussions, as indeed I have during my two and half years in this country, but there is nothing to learn if we are all silenced for fear of offending or worse, being threatened by the authorities. And like me, there are many expat women here who aren't interested in a life consisting solely of manicures and champagne brunches, but who want to learn about the different cultures around them, and to ask questions, and yes, sometimes, disagree and give unpalatable opinions.

The experience has shaken me a little, made me think twice about what I say in the future (a wish granted to my accuser) and perhaps made me a little wiser. I’ve chosen to write about this on my blog because I didn’t want to pretend it didn't happen, because I know I made a mistake, because it’s a lesson learned and is one more reason to appreciate the country I come from -- however troubled at present -- where free speech and strong opinions are at the very core of who we are and won't be silenced by threats.

*Turns out this individual was a director of a prominent university in Abu Dhabi, one would wonder what he was doing trawling an expat women's forum in the first place.