Is This Your First War? Yes, it is.
“Is this your first war?” she asked.
“I guess so,” I responded quickly, sifting through the rolodex of my life experiences: the Mount Pinatubo eruption, 9/11, and a few earthquakes.
After slightly ironic laughter, she stated “welcome to this five-star war experience” and I thought to myself, she’s right. We have clean water. We have electricity. We have a pantry and fridge full of food. We have strong Wi-Fi and Netflix, Amazon Prime and Apple TV to keep me distracted from the sounds of drones exploding high above.
As noted in this brief conversationon the Nerd Farm Podcast and in Takes and Typos “The American War on Iran”, I really did not expect I’d be hiking one hour and contemplating a world war the next. This whole week has been surreal, a mix of emotions from disbelief to worry, from confidence to fear, from uncertainty to “we got this.” I approached this news the way I did wedding planning, fighting the Neo Nazi tattoo parlor in my home town, and Covid lockdowns-–by making lists, creating spreadsheets, and planning.
Last Sunday, March 1, we drove the 3ish hours home to Abu Dhabi from the Hajar Mountains of Fujairah through serene farmlands and desert. Free-range camels continued to rest under trees, and the rolling sand dunes created a peaceful backdrop to the turmoil bubbling up inside of me. In order to maintain some routine and levity, Nate and I continued to listen to an episode of the Big Picture Podcast, deconstructing the film Sinners. As we got closer to the city, I made a list of all the non-perishables in the pantry, namely lentils. We have lots and lots of lentils. From there, I drafted a series of recipes for said lentils, recipes that would not require additional excursions to the store, but integrate other shelf stable ingredients or items in my freezer. I loosely planned a two week menu.
I want to take a moment to say how thankful I am that I'm married to somebody who is a military veteran, who literally analyzes history and politics for a living, and who can think both on micro/macro levels. Thankfully, he’s even more practical than I am, has strong self-preservation instincts, and can compartmentalize well. He can disassociate from chaos in order to remain calm and sensible.
Back to my story…as we got closer and closer to the city of Abu Dhabi and my WhatsApp chats continue to pop off with all the concerns about the warning alarms (up to this point we hadn't received alerts as they are location based, so our panic and fear was tempered), I felt some growing anxiety. We stopped for gas, extra bottles of water, air in our tires, Pocari Sweat (80s gatorade), and my favorite Coke zero (I know I should quit).
Today is day 9 in this stupid, avoidable war, and as I reflect, my scariest days were probably that first Sunday when we didn’t know what was happening, and Tuesday when the US State Dept decided to freak everyone out.
On Sunday our school made the announcement to go remote for a week, with Monday as a prep day. The middle of night alarms and corresponding interceptor explosions coupled with uncertainty left many of us drained as we attempted to engage in work. Many of my colleagues are navigating pets and children which raises the level of concern, anxiety and stress circulating. As a planner, my philosophy is to inventory what is in my locus of control and focus on that. So, you guessed it–I began to buy more groceries (so we don’t have to survive on lentils for a month), start cooking comfort foods, and try to revamp my in-person lessons for a semi-meaningful, hopefully engaging online lesson.
A Lesson In How to Start a Panic
How in the world are you supposed to flee a country when embassies are closed and all the surrounding airspace is closed!?!
Fortunately, as much as online learning sucked during the pandemic, I was pretty good at it. I can facilitate a heeated conversations in the chat and strategically use a breakout room. My seniors showed up tired, a little anxious, and unsure about the future, but ready to talk about something different and connect with others. Launching a unit on Social Psychology in the midst of this feels a little too on the nose. Every vocab word can be illustrated by this war and students were making those connections without prompting on my part. However, teaching poetry (already students’ least favorite type of writing) for AP Lit was a little less exciting. So while Tuesday lessons actually went well and students were good sports about it all, the US State Dept began sending notices to “DEPART NOW” from 14 different countries.
As the day continued, my conversations centered on whether or not it was necessary or realistic to try to leave the UAE by air (impossible) or by land (possible). That afternoon the school leadership team decided to extend our remote learning for two weeks (butting up against spring break). I was relieved by this decision as it provided stability and a goal.
As someone whose mind rarely stops spinning, I began to think about the privilege of leaving.
For one, I have an American passport which is generally respected around the world and visas are easy to come by. We’ve made a choice not to have children, so I’m not worried about tiny beings to care for. I’m horribly allergic to pets, so I don’t have concerns about leaving a fur-baby behind. My husband is rational, thoughtful, and measured. My family is across the world, but in relatively “safe” places. We’ve made financial choices that give us incredible flexibility.
I’ve been asked more than a few times this week if I plan to evacuate to the US. According to my brother-in-law (shout out Fred) and ChatGPT, being here is far safer than returning to America.
Throughout the week, the UAE government had taken concerted efforts to communicate, support, and assure the residents of the UAE. From the UAE President, Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan and the Dubai Crown Prince, Sheikh Hamdan bin Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum meandering through Dubai Mall and visiting survivors of the attacks to regular broadcasts featuring Ministry leadership and offering free mental health services, we are in good hands. I am still convinced that the UAE is one of the safest countries in the world.
Remembering that the UAE is home to over 200 different nationalities also keeps things in perspective. This is a uniquely multi-cultural society. Many of my neighbors would not choose to leave or cannot leave because this adopted country is now considered home.
Perhaps my greatest takeaway from this bizarre week is the importance of being in community with those around me. A dramatic difference between the pandemic and this war is the ability to “shelter in place” with friends, join a remote learning class from across the living room, get together for our annual Ramadan film festival, host an impromptu iftar, or catch up at the Irish pub down the street.
I’ve continued my semi-regular workout routine, forcing Nate into a child’s pose or pigeon. I’m stress-cooking such nonsense as “the viral dumpling lasagna”, rolling stuffed grape leaves while watching Youtube, and making dishes from my favorite home chef of the moment, Amina of Hungry Paprikas.
A special “thank you” to everyone who has sent us a concerned message, a silly meme, or picture of your kid being adorable, or offered us a place to stay.
Please continue to pray for peace in the region and for people who don’t have the privileges we do.
