Tag: work life

Reverse Affirmative Action

This is what I call the Qatarization policy in effect in Doha. The root is the fact that the nationals, “qataris” those born to Qatari fathers (not mothers who have married non-Qataris) are eligible for citizenship, and they are vastly outnumbered in their own country. 

Of a population reaching 1.5 million, Qataris comprise about 250,000. The rest are people who have made their homes in Qatar for work such as Western or Asian workers, or for stabilty from conflict zones in the region, such as Palestinians, Iraqis, or the Sudanese. I’ve written about the tensions of Qataris feeling overwhelmed previously. See: “Ever Been Called Out in Print” which are reactions when this issue came to my own doorstep. http://mohanalakshmi.livejournal.com/1828.html

A few ruminations on this mult-ilayered and complex issue:

The ‘quota’ system is talked about in all the newspapers, radio, and on the minds of everyone in any industry in the country. How to get Qataris trained and into all aspects of the job force is a national issue and one of some debate. Since the oil boom, the average family income is roughly $60K, and most families far above this through private investments or enterprise.

Therefore a large segement of the population does not need to work for the sake of a salary. This means they have ruled out several roles that they do not want to play in organizations or as professionals, including: administrative assistants, or entry level jobs, as well as nearly all jobs that require high contact hours or have low status such as teaching or nursing.

How do you motivate a population that does not need to work?

Related question: how do you motivate students who are not reaching for the dangling carrot of a plumb job after graduation?

In this wealthy and insular society, it is about 5% of the population who are forward thinking, hard working, and setting the example for others of serving their country for the sake of honor and national pride.

It’s a delicate balance between all those who are here, or have been here for generations, but are never from here – a stark contrast to my own naturalization into American citizenship – and those to whom this country is given.

Working with students is particularly hard because the ‘international’ population, as I’ve come to call them (non-Qatari) are often the most engaged and ready to avail of any opportunity. Yet, making calls to my stand out Qatari students to motivate their peers is daily habit and likely the only way things will change.

Whether anyone likes to admit it or not, change of this kind is a long, steady process.

And as long as the Qataris are paying the bills, they will reserve their seats on the bus, whether any among them uses them or not.

A word about goals, age, and lists

 

Sometime when I was sixteen, or twenty, or somewhere in there – those years are all so hazy – I made a “Do Before Turning Thirty” list for myself. It included things such as: finish Ph.D., get an agent, travel to Israel. My rationale for this? I’ve no idea. I think it was the result of my mental musings; no order of importance, no particular reason, just a summation of the things I wanted to do, sort of like what you want to get the next time you are at the grocery store. Different from shopping for a particular meal or event, but similar to being on the lookout for a spectacular dress, because, well, you just can’t have too many of those, can you?

            This September I came a year closer to my deadline and I was nervous. I was close to crossing off a few of the must do; I’ve been a doctoral candidate for a few years now and keep sending revision to my dissertation committee. Also, written in invisible ink, I’ve found the person who will support me throughout my life, whether they are goals for thirty, forty, or one hundred. Why was I secretive about putting “get married” on the list? A combination of despair (no one is out there), defiance (if no one is out there, I’d rather be dead than disappointed looking for him), and disapproval (there is no one because I’m a special case). Lucky for me: none of these were true. And even luckier, he did want to help me get to my “Thirty” list. Which is why when we went on safari earlier this month, check. Another one down.

            There are still three to go (again no particular order):

1.      Visit Israel and the Palestinian Territories

2.      Finish my Ph.D.

3.      Publish a novel

 

Yes, it’s going to be a busy year!

 

Do you have goals, reader? 
If not, I encourage you start dreaming and set some. To employ a cheesy (but nonetheless truthful true cliché) – if you aim for nothing, that’s what you’ll get.

If you have some (either age related or otherwise): share?

Ever been called out in print?

What’s it like to be talked about publicly? Not sure how any of Hollywood feels about being on the cover of US Weekly, but I got a small taste of public circulation this week, when I found out that I was named as one of the ‘foreigners’ working at a national Arab university in a letter to the editor written by an irate former employee to an Arabic daily.

            The sum of her grievances?

Why are non-Qataris allowed to work at Qatar University?

            This question brings the issue of “qatarization” – the process of turning over jobs currently occupied by foreigners to qualified Qataris – straight to my doorstep. Qatarization is the new buzz word for the country, another facet of a community outnumbered by the people living within its borders. Why are there so many non-citizens doing the cooking, driving, selling, cleaning, teaching? Rampant wealth is one reason; the medium income in Qatar is $60,000 according to one report. Take a reasonably wealthy population, mix in a region of workers desperate for income (South Asians) and you have a state where labor is racially defined to extreme class and socio-economic definitions.  If you are Indian, Pakistan, Sri Lankan, or Bangladeshi, you are likely a construction worker, maid, driver, cook, or errand person. If you are American, British, Australian, or Canadian, you are likely an engineer, teacher, or involved in the oil industry.

            Here I am, a Western educated South Asian, in the middle of this vortex; I am at the same time both Western (accent, dress, degrees) and Asian (skin color, place of birth, family). I violate two registers – I’m a South Asian woman performing outside the roles assigned to me – and I’m a Western working outside the American universities in Education City. I am a category unto myself. How did I get here?

            Because of a third segment of society, the segment which ignores the obvious limits of the question posed in the Al Ray letter, the segment which recognizes merit will be essential to the process of readying this society for a time when the oil funds will dry up and people will have to roll up their sleeves.

            If you are an educated Qatari, someone with a Ph.D. from abroad, you are likely a president or vice-president of a major national organization, someone who has seen the benefit of experience and expertise, regardless of nationality, and cultivates relationships regardless of class or ethnic issues.

            But these broad minded leaders are the exception while a pervasive polarized view of labor is why the letter writer feels justified in questioning the number of non-Qataris working at a Qatar institution. She has no frame of reference for an open industry, where people are hired based on their merit, instead of their nationality or ethnicity. The letter details complaints against specific employees by name, who besides me include Syrians and Egyptians who dare fulfill job functions which include representing the university abroad even though they are not natives of Qatar.

            How can a non-Qatari represent Qatar or an institution named Qatar University?

The writer asks, unaware that her hostile attitude puts unnecessary barriers between those who choose to live in Qatar and those who identify with the reform project begun in 2000 at the university.

            Her questions echo the impasse between Qataris and ‘guest workers’: most ex-pats will tell you Qataris don’t enjoy working and haven’t earned the titles many of them hold. Qataris will tell you foreigners get the best salaries and live in accommodations much nicer than what they ever had at home.

            There is distrust, befuddlement, and anger, on both sides; compounded by the fact most ex-pats don’t know any Qataris, much less work with any, and vice versa. The polarization of this society mimics the segregated society of the United States – except this is socially and economically reinforced – in addition to racially defined.

            Most people in my office find the newspaper letter amusing. They say not to pay it any mind and that most people know that I am here to help, to work in cooperation towards a better university.

            The letter deflates some of my elation at having finally crossed the imaginary line at work into friendliness and cordiality with everyone on my floor. The first year I spent largely in silence; like the monkey at the computer trying to come up with Shakespeare as women in abayas titter past my doorway. Now people come to my office to greet me, linger in the doorway, look at photos of my recent vacation, and ask me questions about my husband, my wedding, my family. They share secrets with me abou
t breaking fast while on their periods (anyone menstruating is exempt from religious observances) and where to get the best deals on fabric. I’m glad for their friendship and for the projects underway, which I oversee, which will, ultimately make this a better place to be a student.

            However, the Al Sharq letter reminds me that there are mixed opinions about my presence here; and a clear example that there is still a lot of work to do on reducing the gap between the various populations living in this very small country.