Tag: Arab

Reflections on Ethnographic Research: Deciding to Hire Expat Workers (part 1 of 4), repost

A book group I am in recently had an interesting discussion about the ethics of employing porters and Sherpas while traveling in the Himalayas. The conversation about what do you owe the people you employ made me think of this essay, originally published on Sept. 28, 2023.

Overview

By chance in the past few weeks I have read several articles about labor and migration on the Arabian Peninsula such as

  • Gardner, Andrew and Sharon Nagy. (2008). “Introduction: New Ethnographic Fieldwork Among Migrants, Residents and Citizens in the Arab States of the Gulf.” City and Society 20.1: 1-4.
  • Nagy, Sharon. (1998). “‘This Time I Think I’ll Try a Filipina’: Global and Local Influences on Relations Between Foreign Household Workers and Their Employers in Doha, Qatar.” City and Society 10: 83-103.
  • Sarmadi, Behzad. (2013). “‘Bachelor’ in the City: Urban Transformation and Matter Out of Place in Dubai.” Journal of Arabian Studies 3: 196-214.

There are lots of numbers, data sets, opinions and ideas in these texts – but no sense of what it’s like to interact with other expat workers. There is ethnographic work with and about them, but nothing about the writer’s personal economic exchanges: how to hire, discuss and pay wages, decide work load, etc. This isn’t a fault of the articles which have different objectives, but reading these texts made me reflect on my connections to other expat workers, how I manage them and how they manage me.

This essay will talk about my decision to hire help, later essays will talk in detail about some of the people who have worked for me and the types of adjustments that we both make. [The information about wages and dates are from monthly lists of expenses that I have kept since I moved to Dhofar. 1 Omani Riyal is about $2.40; there are 1000 baisa in one Riyal so the 500 baisa bill is worth about $1.20.]

***********

(photo by S. B.)

It is difficult to write about hiring people without sounding complacent, a point that was brought home when I read an ethnographic text about Western expats on the Arabian Peninsula who hired nannies and housekeepers. The author vilified the employers as spoiled, lazy, racist and delusional. The author had obviously never hired anyone to do work for them and had a healthy dislike of those who did.

Writing back against that attitude is not easy. I know I could do all the housework myself but I choose to hire someone to clean my house. This can be seen as indolent but I think it’s more helpful to situate one’s positionality when being critical. “I would never…” is very different than “I have never been in the position to…”.

My decision to hire help is predicated on several lifestyle differences such as how housing designs here allow bugs and sand to enter, the monsoon season and the size of houses.

When I visit my mom in the summer it always takes me a few days to tone down my bug vigilance. “MOM, CRUMBS!!!” I yell on the first morning when I walk into the kitchen and see evidence of sliced bread on the countertop. I quickly rinse the bread board, wipe down the bread knife and inspect the countertops for any speck of bread. Luckily, she has great tolerance for this and within a day or two I mellow out as I remember that a few crumbs on the counter sink will not induce hordes of critters to invade her kitchen.

When I get back to my own kitchen in Dhofar, I return to my watchful ways because I live in a cement block house where ants and cockroaches come out from cracks in the tiling and up from the sink and floor drains. They even crawl out though the electric outlet openings. Twice I have had mice scurry up to my first-floor apartment through the washing machine outtake pipe. There are lizards on the walls, bees flying in through the AC vents and spiders galore.

When I talk about the people I have hired to help me by cleaning my house, I know it can seem like I am lazy. I moved to the Middle East with bona fides of self-sufficiency. When I was a child, I had daily chores and once I lived on my own, I have doing all the cleaning myself. But life is different herein Oman.

For example, I have done my own laundry since I was in 6th grade and it’s simple: put everything in washing machine, then the dryer, fold and put away. But there are no dryers here and my top-loading washer has two bins. You put the clothes in the left-hand side bin, add soap, let it fill with water and turn the knob to agitate the water. Then you let the water drain and lift the sopping wet fabric up and place it in the right-hand bin which spins the water out. Then you hang everything on drying racks, wait for it all to dry, fold and put away. Going to a friend’s house and using her washer/dryer combo in the States makes me ask, “What do you do with all your spare time? Put your clothes in the machine, come back an hour later to find everything clean and dry? It’s a dream!”

Also, my friends’ houses are not in close proximity to deserts. “Sweeping the floor” means one thing in my mom’s house and something very different after a 3-day, 40 kph sandstorm in my Dhofari house where you can see daylight between the window frames and house walls. It’s a joy to sweep in my mom’s house; it takes about 5 minutes and you end up with a tiny pile to discard. After a sandstorm here I need to sweep the entire house and dust everything which takes hours. And there are usually more than 5 sandstorms every winter.

In addition, from June until the end of August, Dhofar has a monsoon season with drizzle and fog on most days. As this is also the time of annual vacation, if there is no one to clean the floors, turn fans on and off and keep watch, mold can grow. I brought a friend home from the airport when she returned to start the school year and when we walked into her living room, her sofas were coated with black mold. When I came back from vacation this summer and opened my car door, the front seats and dashboard cover were green with mold, there were even threads of mold hanging down from steering wheel.

When I lived in Madison, Boston, Minneapolis, and Grand Forks, I had a studio or one-bedroom apartment which was easy to take care of. In Salalah, apartment buildings are usually exclusively expat and I want to live in Omani neighborhoods, which means renting a small house or a floor of a house which are built for extended families. My “small” apartment has a salle, majlis, kitchen, 3 small bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. Friends who have rented houses with 4 or 5 bedrooms just shut the doors of the rooms they don’t use but I would rather hire someone to clean all the spaces.

A related point is that it’s better for me to have a slightly larger place to live as there are fewer “third spaces” here. In the month of Ramadan, for example, cafes are closed until after sunset. In the monsoon season, roads can be so crowded, it’s better to stay home. During Covid lockdowns and curfews I was really grateful I could turn the 3rd bedroom into a work space for on-line teaching. I also like that the woman who cleans my house has a key and can feed the cats if I am away for the weekend camping.

In addition to the calculations of spending time (washing clothes, sweeping, getting rid of mold) vs. spending money (paying someone to clean my house), there is the aspect of how easy it is to get help from someone who wants to work.

When I owned a car in the States, I would wash it now and then but here it is a government regulation that cars must be clean. So I could either spend ten minutes every morning wiping the sand off my truck or I hire someone to do it for me. In most parking lots of large stores, there are expat men who do this work for a small fee. Where I work, there are two men who come every morning to the covered parking area. You can pay them 500 baisa for each cleaning if you want it now and then or 10 Riyal for the month.

There are many such opportunities and I usually much hire and/ or tip everyone both because it makes my life easier and because I have been in need in my own life. I spent years without health insurance because I couldn’t afford it. I have always worked since I was in high school but I had to take out student loans for college. If my older brother had not kindly settled my student loans, it would have taken me at least a decade to pay them off. After the 1997 Red River flood, I ate Red Cross meals for weeks. Having received so much help in my life, I feel I need to be generous.

Every week, I give a money to the people who clean the building where I work and I tip the men who bag groceries. Although it’s not habitually done here, I always tip wait-staff and delivery men. When expat government employees are cutting weeds near my house, I hand out cash and bottles of water. If it’s safe to pull to the side of the road and I have cash in dashboard cubby hole, I give cash to the men who sweep streets. If I have time when there is a team of expat men gardening along the roadside near my house, I will buy cookies, as well as liters of water and soda, and hand them over.

Before I became an Associate Professor, I worked in sandwich shops, restaurants, libraries, a bookstore and an antique store and I can push my own grocery cart. But if I am walking in the parking lot of a grocery store and a man in the jumpsuit uniform of a cleaner walks towards me with his hands extended, I know he is asking to bring my cart to my car for a 1 Riyal tip. So I step away from my cart and let him push – a move that can be seen as being lazy/ exploitative or giving someone a chance to earn extra money.

Reflections on Ethnographic Research: Situating Expat Workers (part 2 of 4)

Reflections on Ethnographic Research: Expat Workers and Reciprocity (part 3 of 4)

Reflections on Ethnographic Research: Expat Workers and Issues of Payment (part 4 of 4)

Frankincense in Dhofar, Oman

Getting Ready for Ramadan

I love the Dhfoari tradition of “killing the snake” (hunger) by inviting close friends to a pre-Ramadan gathering with a beautiful and delicious array of food.

Common Food Terms in Dhofar, Oman (updated)

Food Essays – Grocery Stores, Recipes, Expat Food and Littering

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Cultural Understandings of Water and Food

You Have Nothing to Fear from Sheep’s Eyes but Beware the Carrot Sweet: Researching Foodways in Southern Oman

 

Reflections on Ethnographic Research: (Not) Asking Questions

I was looking through posts and found this one from Aug. 2022 – in relation to my forthcoming book on marriages, it’s a good example of how I do research in terms of what I ask and what I am told

“What is your favorite fruit?”

I stared in surprise at the younger relative who had just asked me that. There are a group of us eating breakfast and chatting; the question seemed odd to me, but I answered. Then I realized that I should ask “back.” So I asked her what her favorite fruit is.

Thinking about that exchange, I decided that I am out of practice for being asked questions. With my friends in Dhofar, I usually follow their pattern which is “if you want someone to know something, tell them.” Direct questions are rare, especially questions about expressing a preference.

At a friend’s house a few weeks later, I was talking to her son about of interest of his and ran into the opposite problem. I recognized afterwards that I should have asked what “his favorite” was – I had missed a good chance to hear his opinions.

Remembering those two moments in which I felt out of tune with American conversational tactics made me consider how I use and don’t use questions while doing research. Part of my hesitation about asking Dhofaris about their ideas and lives comes from trying to find a balance between a good friend and a good researcher. It’s not necessarily a tension, but it means (as Dhofaris say) “holding myself,” trying to think before speaking and choosing the right time and reason for asking for information.

As one example, a few years ago I asked one of the research guys (X) if he was free to have a picnic with the group on a Thursday night. He told me that his sister was getting married. I read that statement as a way of shutting down, not opening up, further conversation. If he had simply said, “I am busy” I probably would have asked if he wanted to meet with the group on Friday. I interpreted him telling me about the wedding, as if he was saying, “I and the people who you know in my family and extended family will all be busy all weekend” given that weddings are usually held on Friday or Saturday nights and in the days before, all members of the household are getting ready.

Dhofaris usually only talk about relatives when there is a specific need and usually only ask if there is a specific reason, such as asking after someone who you were told was sick or going to travel. Hearing that his sister was getting married made me want to ask a lot of questions; with Americans, asking about a sibling’s wedding is a positive sign of interest in your friend. But I couldn’t justify asking him. In my opinion, there was no need for me to know details. Even though I wanted to know, I felt that I had to accept Dhofari standards so I replied with the conventional statements about how I wished the couple well and hoped everything would be well. The next time I saw him I asked about “the wedding” in general terms. He affirmed that everything went well and that was the end of the topic.

Later, the situation changed. I was writing the section of my Houseways book about how Dhofaris move rooms (or don’t) when they get married or divorced. One facet that came out in interviews was whether a married woman would spend the night in her family’s home with her husband. I had information from a few women, but I wanted to get a man’s perspective.

So during a picnic, I told X that, if it was ok, I wanted to ask a few questions about where couples stayed after they were married. He agreed.

The next time I saw him, I pulled out my notebook and, even though I had done other interviews with him about topics related to houses, I started again at the beginning by explaining the Houseways project, then about my current focus about how people moved between houses. I said I wanted to ask some questions on that topic and that I would not write his name, tribe or any details that would allow readers to identify him or any family members.

When he agreed, I picked up my pen, opened my book and started in. I asked him about which houses he had spent the night in as a child and after he was married. Then I said, “Is it ok if I ask about your sister?” When he agreed, I asked a whole series of questions: How often does your sister come to visit your family house (where she was raised)? When your sister comes to visit, does she spend the night? How often? Does her husband stay the night with her? etc.

Then I moved on to general questions (do you know of any examples of married women who spend the night in their family’s house with their husband?) and hypotheticals. Then I paged back to a previous interview. I told him that I had asked a woman (Y) from Z group of tribes about this issue, I was going to read what she said and could he please give his opinion on her attitude.

I wrote up the interviews, tried to figure out the variables of the decision tree of who stays where in which house, then discussed what I had written with X, Y and other informants. At the end, I had a few paragraphs which I think accurately sum up the issue.

In the general context of talking between friends, asking X about his sister was not OK. But in the specific context of me trying to figure out how married Dhofari women maneuver through various houses, asking X questions directly related to my research was acceptable. He was helping me understand a world-view, i.e. what choices people perceived they had and how those choices were decided.

I am happy to announce that my new book is now available for pre-order: Ethnographic Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman

Selected Books on Dhofar in Arabic

Reflections on Ethnographic Research in Dhofar Oman

Culture Shock – Returning to USA

I am happy to announce that my new book is now available for pre-order: Ethnographic Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman

Ethnographic Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman

(book cover photo and post photo by Onazia Shaikh)

https://anthempress.com/books/ethnographic-reflections-on-marriage-in-dhofar-oman-hb

Examines how middle-class Muslim men and women in Dhofar, Oman, make and negotiate marital choices, tracing every stage of marriage through their own personal accounts.

Studying Marriage in Dhofar, Oman explains the choices middle-class, Muslim, tribal Dhofari men and women make when creating a life together. Based on 19 years observations of and discussions about Omani marriages, the book shows all the steps of marriage, including how people decide to get married, the wedding invitations and parties are arranged, the newlyweds’ home is organised, the work within a marriage is delineated, and a marriage succeeds or falls apart. Unlike many texts about family life on the Arabian Peninsula, the author spoke extensively to both men and women, so that the book is rich with examples of Omanis explaining their personal decisions.

There are no comparable texts which look at the complete scope of a marriage from deciding to marry, to asking to marry, arranging the wedding parties, creating a successful marriage, and coping with stresses such as children, divorce, polygamy and widowhood.

The book starts with a discussion of how a man might find a bride and how a young woman might create or avoid situations in which she would be asked to marry. There is a discussion of how people might fight to (or not to) marry and all the steps taken after the engagement, including sending out announcements and preparing where the new couple will live. All types of marriage parties are described, including taking photos and displaying the gifts. Next, there is an overview of how the couple can create a marital relationship, followed by an examination of what might go wrong in a marriage, which looks at topics such as incompatibility, gross misconduct and divorce. There is a chapter on pregnancy, which includes a discussion on how children are named. The books ends with a short overview of specific aspects of marriage such as who has free time and what ‘family time’ means.

Recreating Culture – Lessons from Bakeries and Cafeterias

Reflections – Dhofari Conversations

Photographs of Dhofar by Onazia Shaikh 

Frankincense in Dhofar, Oman

Frankincense in Dhofar, Oman

Onaiza Shaikh, whose photographs I have used for several projects, sent me several gorgeous photos so I thought I would do a short post on frankincense in Dhofar. 

  • frankincense sap
  • frankincense tree

two reputable stores which sell Dhofari frankincense:

We Remember What Frankincense Was Meant to Be. For thousands of years, frankincense was an offering. Carried by hand. Burned with intention. Passed down through memory. Sacrasoul exists to remember. To keep ancient materials whole. The resins. The oils. The traditions. And the people who have guarded them, quietly, for generations. We are not here to improve what already knows how to endure. We are here to pass it on — unchanged.

Pure Aromatics Since 1997 – Established in 1997, stands as New York’s quintessential shop for natural aromatics, including essential oils, absolutes, and enfleurages. Our steadfast commitment to natural essence means we strictly avoid synthetics in all our offerings. Alongside aromatic oils, we’re proud to present an exquisite selection of hydrosols, bespoke botanical perfumes, skincare, haircare, and specialty items like roll-ons, raw incense, and handcrafted frankincense candles.

essay about the use of frankincense in Dhfoari homes

Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman

a few texts about frankincense/ the ecology of Dhofar

Al-Hikmani, Hadi and Andrew Spalton. 2021. Dhofar: Monsoon Mountains to Sand Seas – Sultanate of Oman. Chicago: Gilgamesh Publishing.

Ball, Lawrence, Douglas MacMillan, Joseph Tzanopoulos, Andrew Spalton, Hadi Al Hikmani and Mark Moritz. 2020. “Contemporary Pastoralism in the Dhofar Mountains of Oman.” Human Ecology. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10745-020-00153-5

Boom, Andrea. 2024. “Small, Green, and Prickly: Local Botanical Knowledge in Modern South Arabian Languages.” Proceedings of the Semitic Studies Section at the 34th DOT at Freie Universität Berlin. Simona Olivieri and Shabo Talay, eds. 85-99.

Janzen, Jorg. 2000. “The Destruction of Resources among the Mountain Nomads of Dhofar,” in The Transformation of Nomadic Society in the Arab East, University of Cambridge Oriental Publications 58. Martha Mundy and Basim Musallam, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 160-75.

—. 1986. Nomads in the Sultanate of Oman: Tradition and Development in Dhofar. London: Westview Press.

“Frankincense Research and Conservation.” n.d. Environmental Society of Oman. https://eso.org.om/frankincense/

Johnson, Stephen, Ali Bait Said, Petr Vahalík, Lukáš Karas, Maïa Sarrouf Willson, Frans Bongers. 2025. Rapid Conservation Assessment of Boswellia Sacra in Oman Reveals Complex Threat and Population Patterns.” Journal of Arid Environments 229.

Lewis, Krista. 2022. “The Land of Frankincense: Dhofari Sites as National and World Heritage,” in Sultan Qaboos and Modern Oman, 1970–2020. Allen James Fromherz and Abdulrahman al-Salimi, eds. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.67-88.

Miller, Anthony, Miranda Morris, and Susanna Stuart-Smith, Plants of Dhofar, the Southern Region of Oman: Traditional, Economic, and Medicinal Uses, (Muscat: Office of the Adviser for Conservation of the Environment, Diwan of Royal Court, 1988).

Morris, Miranda. “The Aloe and the Frankincense Tree in Southern Arabia: Different Approaches to Their Use.” Herbal Medicines in Yemen: Traditional Knowledge and Practice, and Their Value for Today’s World. Ingrid Hehmeyer and Hanne Schönig, eds. Brill: Boston, 2012. 103-126.

—. “The Harvesting of Frankincense in Dhofar.” In Alessandra Avanzini, ed.  Profumi d’Arabia. Rome: L’Erma Bretschneider, 1997. 231-250.

Sale, J. 1980. “The Ecology of the Mountain Region of Dhofar.” The Journal of Oman Studies: Special Report 2: The Oman Flora and Fauna Survey 1975. Muscat: Diwan of H. M. for Protocol. 25-54.

Tabook, Salim Bakhit. 1997. Tribal Practices and Folklore of Dhofar, Sultanate of Oman. Unpublished PhD thesis, Faculty of Arts, Exeter University.

Watson, Janet, Jon Lovett and Roberta Morano, eds. 2023. Language and Ecology in Southern and Eastern Arabia. London: Bloomsbury.

Wilson, Jack, Janet C.E. Watson, Andrea Boom and Saeed al-Qumairi. 2022. “Language, Gesture and Ecology in Modern South Arabian Languages,” in Language and Ecology in Southern and Eastern Arabia. Janet Watson, Jon Lovett and Roberta Morano, eds. 15-44.

Zimmerle, William. 2017. Crafting Cuboid Incense Burners in the Land of Frankincense: The Dhofar Ethnoarchaeology Preservation Project. Washington: Sultan Qaboos Cultural Center/Liberty House Press.

‘Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman’ is accepted for publication

Photographs of Dhofar by Onazia Shaikh 

My Favorite Description of Anthropology

Reflections – Dhofari Conversations

New essay: “’Ghayn is for Ghazal” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

“The Arabic Alphabet” website (written by Michael Beard, illustrated by Houman Mortazavi) – http://alifbatourguide.com/

Ghayn is for ghazal – https://alifbatourguide.com/the-arabic-alphabet/ghazal/

Excerpt:

Shahrazâd’s opening story, the one which initiates the story-telling marathon, famously, keeps replicating itself in miniature. Shahrazâd is telling stories to save her life, but it’s not just her: time after time, in the manner of a fractal, characters in her stories are saved by story-telling too. (There is a beautiful essay by Tzvetan Todorov which says it plainly – that, in the Nights, stories are life. If you’re a character in a fiction, tell a story. What else keeps you alive? The plan is working for Shahrazad.)

In her, by now, familiar opening story, where the merchant, traveling on business, sits down to eat lunch under a tree, it’s familiar ground of traditional story-telling. The self-sufficient individual out alone on the road runs into an obstacle and encounters a challenge. Stories of chivalry in European tradition open that way; they hardly open any other way, with the knight setting off on a quest or perhaps just wandering. The reader is likely to imagine a context where the merchant’s business has taken him to the margin, the غایة , ghâya, limit of human society, a غابة, ghâba, a forest. In that opening scene, when he reaches into his pack, takes out lunch, and eats, innocently throwing the date pits over his shoulder behind him, he is the picture of vulnerability (not a knight out looking for adventure). It suggests (at least for me) a secure world where merchants can travel alone, settling down to غذاء, ghadhâ, food, without fear. When the ‘ifrit appears, huge and menacing, to say the merchant must die, it is enough of a disruption to be horrifying, but it’s funny too, and probably less familiar ground for a traditional story. The monster has a motive for being غضبان, ghad͎bân, angry, though the fact that a flying date pit has killed his son doesn’t register as tragic. We know that sons don’t always resemble their fathers, but an ‘ifrît’s son so fragile that he is killed by a date pit seems an extreme case. (Is this son legitimate?) We also know that we aren’t going to be very frightened by what follows.

The text tells us that everything we’re reading is a spoken story, since we are hearing Shahrzâd’s voice, but the truth is that we are reading it rather than hearing it. This has some advantages. Readers of a story can skip from episode to another, free to speed things up or slow them down. Such is the advantage the alphabet gives us over a listener like King Shahzamân. We can freeze-frame the story, knowing what will happen, and we can be surprised each time we read it (or imagine ourselves surprised, which may be just as good). When the merchant asks for a grace period to settle his affairs and say goodbye to his family, promising to be back at the beginning of the new year, a whole unexpected social world opens up because the‘ifrît accepts, immediately, without an argument. His hyperbolic trust is perhaps as funny as the date pit which kills his son — funny, but it is also, surprisingly, to me, moving. The `ifrît‘s surprising trust is one thing; then when the new year arrives and the merchant actually shows up (thus demonstrating that we can trust him too) we are at the extremes of trust. Exaggeration is funny, but I wonder if it also tells us something about the respect the culture shows for travelers. We expect them to keep their word. It is a world where traveling salesmen are positive figures.

Does everyone know the sequel? While the merchant is waiting to be executed, an old man walks by (the kind of respected mature individual referred to as a shaykh) leading a غزالة, a ghazâla on a chain. (Why just then? Don’t ask. No story, the Chinese proverb says, without a coincidence.) Later there will follow two additional shuyûkh, one with a pair of dogs and one with a she-mule, but it is the ghazâla we remember. In part, of course, the reason is on the surface: a ghazâla is synonymous with beauty.

غزالة is a beautiful word both in its Arabic form and in its guise as a loan word in English, gazelle. In European narrative tradition we are more likely to use the gazelle to characterize elegance of motion, but in Arabic its beauty is in the eyes, which are likely to resemble what Edgar Allan Poe emphasizes when he describes the title character in “Ligeia”: “They were, I must believe, far larger than the ordinary eyes of our own race. They were even fuller than the fullest of the gazelle eyes of the tribe of the valley of Nourjahad.” (In the interest of scrupulous accuracy – Nourjahad doesn’t exist in our world; a note in the edition edited by Hardin Craig notes that the phrase comes from a novel, History of Nourjahad [1767] by Sidney Bidulph, pseudonym of Mrs. Frances Sheridan. Poe almost makes you want to read it.) The esthetic of big eyes is everywhere. Cartoon figures and stuffed animals meant to appeal to our sentiments are often portrayed with oversize eyes. (Over the years Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse evolved eyes which hardly seem to leave room for brains.) I wonder if pandas would still have their reputation of cuteness if they didn’t have those big patches surrounding their eyes, looking as if they were eyes in reality.

New essay: “’Ayn is for Arab” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

New essay: “Ẓâ is for Ẓarf” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

New Essay: “Ṭâ Is For Talisman” on The Arabic Alphabet website

‘Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman’ is accepted for publication

I am happy to announce that my 5th book, Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman, has been accepted for publication. I would like to thank Onaiza Shaikh for letting me use her beautiful photos for this book and my webpage. Onaiza writes: “I was born and raised in the beautiful city of Salalah, Oman. Though I’m an Indian citizen, my roots in Salalah run deep, the city holds a special place in my heart and continues to shape who I am.”

Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman explains the choices middle-class Dhofari men and women make when creating a life together. Based on 19 years observations of and discussions about Omani marriages, the book shows all the steps of marriage including how people decide to get married, the wedding invitations and parties are arranged, the newlyweds’ home is organized, the work within a marriage is delineated and a marriage succeeds or falls apart. Unlike many texts about family life on the Arabian Peninsula, the author spoke extensively to both men and women.

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

Ethnography: Conversations about Men/ Masculinity, part 1

Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman

Food Often Served at Weddings in Dhofar

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – knowing the world

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – being pleasant and helpful

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – explaining

In my book, Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions (Palgrave Macmillan 2025), I have a section about being “close-to-local” on the Arabian Peninsula if you have managed to do one of several actions, the last of which is: mastered the art of listening politely to people who are making statements that you don’t think are true.

When I wrote that I thought, I need to explain that point further as it could be misinterpreted. I don’t mean: have the ability to listen to liars without reacting. I mean: have the ability to understand that people don’t believe what you believe, and it is not your purpose in life to change their mind. This is a skill I call expat veneer.

If you spend a lot of time living overseas and gaining an understanding of how people see the world differently than you and make different choices that you, you often give up the need to make everyone conform to your expectations. You don’t need to talk (much less argue) about everything; you stay in the safe havens of discussing recipes, interesting places to visit, nice hotels and where to buy mouse traps.

When I left Oman and moved back to the States, I decided to live in Cambridge and try to get a job again at MIT. This seemed like merely prudence, go back to a place I knew and job I had experience in, but when I stated at MIT I felt instantly at home.

It wasn’t just that I was reliving my history – it was that my co-workers had the same kind of expat veneer as my friends in Oman. In thinking this through, I realized that many expats and MIT employees come to the same realization along different paths.

For people who have lived in several different countries, there is no reason to get upset if someone eats X for breakfast or has Y religious creed or wears Z type of clothing. Long-term expats have seen people make all sorts of choices that are antithetical to their beliefs, and they are not interested in fighting over every detail of daily life.

MIT employees, especially academics and administrators who are leaders in their field, know how much time and effort it took them to become an expert and don’t expect others to know the same amount. Further, they are aware that their great knowledge about X is predicated on a great lack of knowledge about Y. You can’t be a leading authority on everything.

Both expats and people who work at MIT have a sense of how large the world is and how many multiples it contains.

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Cultural Understandings of Water and Food

Outline and Chapter Abstracts for ‘Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions’

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs