I am happy to announce that my chapter “What a Frog in Boiling Water Knows: Oman, Before and After” has been published in Emanations 12. Brookline, MA: International Authors, 2026: 304-311. link to book
excerpt
At the Boston Museum of Fine Arts I like ‘Woman and Flowers’ by Alma-Tadema, one of my favorite painters, but the painting I love most is ‘Rest on the Flight into Egypt’ by Luc Olivier Merson, such a quiet, graceful scene.
I bought a membership to the museum and within a month I was back. I paid a visit to the Egyptian section, then ventured further out, into the American and impressionists exhibits. Two weeks later, I spent another morning walking around without a map. It was nice to come across Paul Revere’s silverwork and the painting of flowers exhibit, but the only places I really wanted to be was in front of Merson’s painting or anything Middle Eastern from before 1500 CE.
Walking into a room in the Ancient Egyptian section that I hadn’t seen before, I suddenly understood why the museum brought me such serenity. The cases were full of small, wooden boats full of men in white sarongs. Oh, I realized, they look like the research guys.
Most of the Omani men I did ethnographic research with are full- or part-time fishermen. And they wear a wazar, a piece of fabric wrapped around their waists that falls to their knees which is often plain white cotton or white with a light checkered or striped pattern.
And the man in the painting ‘Rest on the Flight into Egypt’ sleeps as the research guys sleep when they are camping, directly on sand next to a fire with a blanket underneath and a blanket over which is pulled up to cover the face. For everyone else, the man in the painting is Joseph; for me, it’s one of 15 different men who I was friends with, went fishing with, had hundreds of picnics with, asked questions of and who I miss terribly.
My grief is much smaller than most people who have been displaced by wars and hatred. Relatives co-signed my lease so I have a place to stay; my mom helps me get through a Boston winter by gifting flannel sheets and sweaters. But I stand in front of that painting and cry as it seems to hold all the harmony that I have lost.
Then, as so often happens, the book I needed to understand how I felt appeared at the right time. Amidst the postcards and scarves in the museum shop, I saw ‘All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me’ by Patrick Bringley. Although my favorite museum is the Frick, I also love the Met and the cover mentioned something about grief, so I thought it would be interesting.
I read it in one morning, crying all the way through. What Bringley gets so right is how a loss, even when you know it’s coming and you have a pretty good idea how much it is going to hurt, stops the forward motion of your life. His book isn’t ‘feel-good’ or & ‘how to’; after his brother died, Bringley walked away from his career and became a security guard at the Met for ten years.
Marriage and Peace/ Marriage and Joy in Dhofar
Houseways: ‘Homespaces’ Away from Home
Living Expat, A Remembrance of Happier Times on the Arabian Peninsula
Come From Away 
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