September 22, 2004
my fingAIR prints all over the place
A final letter issued from the army immigration department to the identification badge office indicated that my nationality was Iraqi, while my passport was Canadian. This plus the fact that I had arrived at 5 minutes past 12 (the beginning of the mid-day prayer caused a delay of about an hour and a half.
The army returned from the mosque, and some of them turned their attention again to the lone white guy standing at the reception window. “Come, we will take your fingair print now”. I said “you took my fingair print already two months ago.” “I came only to get my ID badge, process is finished, yes? Look, see, you gave me my army residence visa already.” I tried to convince them. Two of them looked nonchalantly at the photocopy of my residence visa as three other uniformed soldiers were play-wrestling behind them at the incipience of their weekend. “Ah! You need letter, seer. Here, talk to Captain, talk to Captain.” They pointed to a uniformed man strolling confidently and with obvious purpose, across the waiting area.
He acknowledged me and then, I was questioned by this captain who runs the recruitment office and by happenchance, I was questioned also by the chief of the security clerks, who happened to be strolling back from the mosque just then too, a no-nonsense-looking fellow from Sudan. “Are you sure you are Canadian, sir? The letter says you are Iraqi”, the captain asked me, quite seriously as the security chief surveyed the document with some interest. The captain looked into my eyes intently (for any sign of betrayal, I suppose), as he pointed out the - absolutely foreign to me - Arabic letters on the issued letter, circled in red.
I returned his confident stare, as required by the culture, said yes I’m sure I’m Canadian, with a bit of a smile already, then obligingly looked at the letter, then up to the roof for a second or two, engulfed in a lovely feeling of complete amazement at the level of miscommunication that can be achieved in a cross-cultural situation. My pronunciation of "Canadian" must have sounded an awful lot like "Iraqi" somewhere along the way in this process. And while looking up I saw on a TV, mounted high in the waiting area, John Kerry’s mug and outstretched hand, silently begging for votes from all the Arab nationals who happened to be waiting here on Wednesday afternoon at 13:30 in the UAE army recruiting office….
And then, I couldn’t help but start laughing. I just laughed out loud in the presence of the Arab captain and the Sudanese head of security clerks. I asked if someone was trying to make a joke, or what and said I'd enjoyed very much visiting Abu Dhabi six times and hoped that i could come and visit again on Saturday. My reaction seemed to lighten them up quite a bit. Then I quickly phoned Lt. mahmood again to let him talk in Arabic to these guys to let them know that this was somehow a mistake. In fact he knew about it and he’d had the immigration department already issue a new letter on my behalf a few hours ago, indicating that I was in fact Canadian and had faxed it already to their office.
Well…, after they got this assurance in Arabic (and the faxed letter), from Lt. Mahmood that nothing untoward was going on with this sole "Iraqi-Canadian" white guy in their recruitment HQ, who was delaying their weekend, things just really sped up from there. Al Humdulil’Allah!! (approximately, as they say over here). I got my badge and I'll start work on Saturday, seven o’ clock. About a two hour commute until we get our accommodation sorted out.
Here goes.
The army returned from the mosque, and some of them turned their attention again to the lone white guy standing at the reception window. “Come, we will take your fingair print now”. I said “you took my fingair print already two months ago.” “I came only to get my ID badge, process is finished, yes? Look, see, you gave me my army residence visa already.” I tried to convince them. Two of them looked nonchalantly at the photocopy of my residence visa as three other uniformed soldiers were play-wrestling behind them at the incipience of their weekend. “Ah! You need letter, seer. Here, talk to Captain, talk to Captain.” They pointed to a uniformed man strolling confidently and with obvious purpose, across the waiting area.
He acknowledged me and then, I was questioned by this captain who runs the recruitment office and by happenchance, I was questioned also by the chief of the security clerks, who happened to be strolling back from the mosque just then too, a no-nonsense-looking fellow from Sudan. “Are you sure you are Canadian, sir? The letter says you are Iraqi”, the captain asked me, quite seriously as the security chief surveyed the document with some interest. The captain looked into my eyes intently (for any sign of betrayal, I suppose), as he pointed out the - absolutely foreign to me - Arabic letters on the issued letter, circled in red.
I returned his confident stare, as required by the culture, said yes I’m sure I’m Canadian, with a bit of a smile already, then obligingly looked at the letter, then up to the roof for a second or two, engulfed in a lovely feeling of complete amazement at the level of miscommunication that can be achieved in a cross-cultural situation. My pronunciation of "Canadian" must have sounded an awful lot like "Iraqi" somewhere along the way in this process. And while looking up I saw on a TV, mounted high in the waiting area, John Kerry’s mug and outstretched hand, silently begging for votes from all the Arab nationals who happened to be waiting here on Wednesday afternoon at 13:30 in the UAE army recruiting office….
And then, I couldn’t help but start laughing. I just laughed out loud in the presence of the Arab captain and the Sudanese head of security clerks. I asked if someone was trying to make a joke, or what and said I'd enjoyed very much visiting Abu Dhabi six times and hoped that i could come and visit again on Saturday. My reaction seemed to lighten them up quite a bit. Then I quickly phoned Lt. mahmood again to let him talk in Arabic to these guys to let them know that this was somehow a mistake. In fact he knew about it and he’d had the immigration department already issue a new letter on my behalf a few hours ago, indicating that I was in fact Canadian and had faxed it already to their office.
Well…, after they got this assurance in Arabic (and the faxed letter), from Lt. Mahmood that nothing untoward was going on with this sole "Iraqi-Canadian" white guy in their recruitment HQ, who was delaying their weekend, things just really sped up from there. Al Humdulil’Allah!! (approximately, as they say over here). I got my badge and I'll start work on Saturday, seven o’ clock. About a two hour commute until we get our accommodation sorted out.
Here goes.
