Keeping Alive the Memory of the Dead

Villaggio Mall by Andy Ardiansyah
Villaggio Mall by Andy Ardiansyah (Photo credit: ccqatar)

Nearly five months have passed since the fire at a local mall killed children, daycare workers, and fire fighters. There was a five month period when the mall was closed, with rumors swirling about when it or whether it would open, and employees on unpaid leave, worried about the fate of their own families.

Last week saw Villaggio open its doors to the public with the section damaged from the fire still walled off from the rest of the store fronts.

“Sales!” Some were saying. “70% on brands.”

That’s luxury brands, a top commodity in Qatar, among the locals as well as expats. But not everyone is flocking back to the site of such unmitigated tragedy.

“I don’t feel like going there,” a Qatari friend said.

“Even the way my family talks about it bothers me,” another shared.

Many are concerned that the safety issues that led to the cause of this incident haven’t been addressed; others that the official reports surrounding the incident itself haven’t shared much information. Regardless of where people stand on shopping, or not shopping at the recently opened facility, there are swirls of other emotions at play for many in Doha. Attempts to leave floral tributes at the walled section, close to where the incident occurred, have been thwarted.  The flowers and cards, left in memory by others in the community – mostly mothers – to commemorate the day that ended in shock and horror for the entire nation, disappear shortly after they have been left.

WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND - JUNE 08:  Parents Ma...
WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND – JUNE 08: Parents Martin and Jane Weekes speak at the memorial for triplets Lillie, Willsher and Jackson Weekes at the Wellington Cathedral of St Paul on June 8, 2012 in Wellington, New Zealand. The two-year-old triplets were killed in a fire at the Villaggio mall in Doha on May 28 that took the lives of 19 people including 13 children. The memorial service was open to the public and people were been asked to wear the triplets favourite colours of pink, blue and purple. (Image credit: Getty Images via @daylife)

“If only the management and security of Villaggio had prioritised the evacuation of the people in the mall as quickly as they are evacuating the flowers no one would have died.” — Jane said, mother of triplets, Jackson, Willsher and Lillie Weekes, who all perished in the fire.

While at first the grief and responses of shock, support, and sadness were sharp and quick, resulting in a gathering of the public at the nearby Aspire park and nation wide prayers, time, as they say, can dim memory.

I can’t fathom losing a child, much less more than one, and then feel that I couldn’t recognize their passing in some tangible way in the city in which their death happened. Grief, if you’ve ever faced it’s tentacled grip, comes and goes; there are yearly triggers, there are daily pauses in which you think “I can’t wait to tell —” and then the loss comes again, as if afresh. The public attempts to memorialize the space, where even now new arrivals to the city may be shopping without knowledge of events that have transpired, have been stopped without explanation.

A few concerned community members posted Jane’s quote on their Facebook pages last Thursday along with this declaration not to let these memories be forgotten: “Did you know that attempts to leave flowers and cards at Villaggio in memory of those who perished have been removed? These symbols may be gone, but those who have passed will never be forgotten.” I was among them, asked friends to consider posting the message, because as a mother, daughter, sister, and wife, the idea that my children, siblings, or husband would vanish from memory would be as sad as the original loss.

These children and the adults who will never have another birthday, celebrate their graduation, wedding, or birth of their own children, can live on, as long as we remember them. For many of us in Doha, who were not family members of those who died, we would still like to remember them. I see this is as a sign of community, the ability to support those, even strangers, with empathy that we ourselves might need one day. The idea of a place to commemorate the public intention to so towards the survivors among the families seems a good way of doing so.

A Qatari friend offered this cultural explanation as to why the flowers and memorabilia were being removed:

“Basically it is not to prevent people form grieving their loved ones. But because the act of leaving flowers, or mementos are not common in Qatari culture and religion and are considered by many heresy. The funeral in Islamic tradition is only 3 days. Then life must move on. Any signs of continuous grief is not acceptable. People can be remembered in their hearts or in their private homes but not in public. This is why you don’t see glorifies status of any leaders. You don’t even see their pictures in public places, only in people’s private homes. What you are doing is pure western tradition, This is why it has been prevented.  As you said those who passed away will never be forgotten and it will be a dark day in Qatar’s history indeed.”

I explained that this was a new perspective, and thanked her for sharing with us. With so many of the victims being non-Muslim, the question of a memorial at Villaggio may be yet another instance of the multiculturalism in Qatar going through major learning pains tied to growth.

What do you think? Is grief better expressed in private? Or, as in this instance of so many losses, so many people wanting to halve the sorrow by remembering, is it better to have a public place to share?

 

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How the Internet Allows Others to Damage to Your Reputation

I’m not someone who thinks Facebook is my personal diary. Even in the days of AIM, my status message didn’t tell you if I was in the shower. Despite my restraint (often brought on by my husband)

Alachia GoodReads
Alachia GoodReads (Photo credit: alachia)

I can still be affected by the way Internet and a user’s ability to destroy your reputation.
Because how people perceive online (as in real life) isn’t entirely in your control. I was taught this sharp reminder this week on the site Goodreads, a website for book lovers. I’ve been on Goodreads for about a year, since starting my exploration of the indie publishing world. All six of my ebooks are up on the site; you can see covers, reviews, YouTube trailers, and my bio, website, on my author page.

Imagine my dismay when I saw my latest release, Love Comes Later, had a one star next to it. One, out of five. As in, the entire three years I put into this book made it less than average for a reader. Now authors are constantly cautioned about bad reviews, how to handle them, not to harass bloggers. Fair enough. I wasn’t going to go howler monkey on the person, I wanted to know more.

When I clicked, another reader had the same question.

She said: I’m looking forward to reading it. So, it was just ok? Do you think it would make a good book club selection?

Here’s the kicker, the person hadn’t even read it.

Turns out a glitch in the system tagged it with a one star. The original tagger wrote: i didn’t read it yet; probably just added to my list with wrong designation. i’m reading 11/22/63 now.

What followed was me politely asking the person to rectify this error. An error that can sink a new book like mine.
This is where we ended up: your book is either good or isn’t and readers will read or not.

I’m not going into the ironies of someone on a book review site stating that reviews have no bearing on how readers select books. Hopefully that point is clear enough. The book is about to do a blog tour and soon will have many other posts on this page, good and maybe some equally bad.

What I am reminding myself, and those of you on this wild bronco called the Internet, is the importance of being nice.

 

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The Ghost of Summers Past

Whether you are a parent or a child, a singe or married, American or Qatari, you have expectations for the months of summer. Depending on your financial situation your choices for a summer holiday could range from a day trip to the beach to a month in Paris.

Cinderella Castle by day
Cinderella Castle by day (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I remember summer being a time when my South Indian father wanted us to ‘get ahead’ in the reading for the next academic year. And also my mother taking us to the free morning movie at the local theater (who drew out mothers and young children in hopes of concession sales) or trips to the library. We never made the pilgrimage to Disney World for the requisite week long getaway of other North Florida families. The standout year was two weeks of YMCA day camp –while the rest of our friends went away overnight to the nearby Camp Crystal. There was no way they were going to let me, a girl, spend the night away from home. All of these factors meant I never had anything interesting to say for the standard post summer writing exercise, that first essay back from a three month break.

As kids in the ’80s, it didn’t seem we had that much to lose; there was danger, but rarely of the kind that could cause death. This nostalgic feeling of innocence tested came back to me as we watched the new film Moonrise Kingdom. Though the kids in the film engage in some pretty hair raising antics, you can’t help but root for them to succeed or remember longing for such an adventure when you were twelve years old and home with the family. The male and female protagonists write letters back and forth to each other; I used to send postcards to friends away at camp. Do children now text and use BlackBerry Messenger? No anticipation which makes me wonder if there is less longing (and therefore more relationships).

College was a welcome relief because in the late ’90s the study abroad trend was building. I went to China for language study, even explored Turkmenistan as a possibility for a new group location, and as a grad student, volunteered in Costa Rica. Maybe I was making up for all those years of reading the biggest books I could find on the rare occasion we spent three months in India.

Becoming an adult, and being a woman without a child, summer meant the overflow time to squeeze in anything that didn’t fit during the year. Overseas wedding planning, dissertation writing, moving overseas, and then later, having a baby.

Paris Sunset from the Louvre window
Paris Sunset from the Louvre window (Photo credit: Dimitry B)

But like the idea of a Sabbath, or day of rest, after nearly six years of marriage, this season, my husband and I have been able to have a week in the three week summer trip where we do nothing but rest, play, and eat. The indulgence of this week has helped me loosen the foot which has been pressed into the floor board all year on the writing, teaching, and grading accelerator. Screen time is limited and we even manage to squeeze in some exercise before a show at the cinema. The mere fact we have a three week vacation demonstrates how much has changed and much relative life is: our friends in Qatar (both expat and Qatari) exclaim “So short!” while those in the U.S. eyes us with envy.

There’s a lot to be said for relaxing in the digital age. I won’t bore you with exhortations to unplug and go off the grid when you need to post your Facebook photos or Tweet to keep your followers interested, both of which eliminate any of mystery that the “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” essay assignment conjured up.

I do hope when we return to the pressures of daily life at the office we come back refreshed with enough juice to make to the next holiday.

 

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