My Official Position: Merry Christmas!

Ok, so let's get one thing straight. I am a chicken. A huge, paranoid, probably-in-need-of-medication chicken who has a vivid imagination to boot. So when it comes to the fact that my family and I are-- um-- *not Christians* (and, um, *not Muslims* either, if you catch my drift), I've been rather ambivalent as to how forthcoming I want to be about this in the blog. On the one hand, I'm sure we'll be having some interesting and blogworthy experiences as, um, not-Christian-not-Muslim people living in the UAE; on the other hand, I have actually envisioned myriad scenarios in which I do something to piss off our Pakistani driver (perhaps one of the many comments I make under my breath regarding his nausea-inducing driving habits will push him over the edge?) and he rats us out to the authorities, who in turn run us out of town during a well-attended public shaming ritual. So you see, I am both melodramatic *and* neurotic, and you wonder why I have not slept well since junior high school.

Now my rational brain tells me that there is nothing to worry about; that, although I have not met any other people of our, um, "persuasion" here in Dubai thus far, I have also not personally witnessed or overheard a single act or comment that would lead me to believe that people like us are unwelcome here (Sheikh Mohammed is regularly quoted on the subject of how progressive and tolerant Dubai is aiming to be; never mind all that anti-Israel talk in the papers). And yet, the stat counter that I use to measure my blog hits tells me that I have a significant readership here in Dubai, which would be great, but for the fact that WE DON'T KNOW ANYONE IN DUBAI. So my irrational brain has already made peace with the fact that the UAE government is all over this blog like white on rice, and that the Sheikh himself probably checks the site every morning right after he checks his daily horse racing results. And because I am a crazy person, I imagine that they are just *waiting* for me to screw up and write something incriminating for which they can put me behind bars (indeed, every time I open the door I expect to see an official standing there to conduct an inquiry into the tricycle part episode) (oh, I mean, my *friend* is always waiting for the inquiry).

So that was a long and rambling prelude to the following compromise I have made with myself: I *will* write about our experiences here as non-Christian-non-Muslims, but only IN SECRET CODE. That is, I will tell you all about what it's like to be "Newish" in the UAE! This way, when we're busted for supporting an overthrow of the government or something similarly prison-appropriate, I'll say loudly in my defense, "Oh NO, Your Highness, you've got it all wrong, we're ATHEISTS, and I was just writing about the fact that we were still NEW (Newish!) to the UAE!" (Whether we are, in fact, atheists is a subject for an entirely other blog, and is irrelevant to my paranoid mindset.)

Ok, so now that we're on the same page, I would like to first wish you and yours a Happy Festival of Tights (everything else seemed too literal, i.e., Festival of Rights, Festival of Nights, Festival of Sights, and the Festival of Whites would probably just get me into *more* trouble) (btw, YOU try coming up with something that rhymes with the other word and does not invoke an Adam Sandler song) (though it is a great song). Ok, so Happy Festival of Tights! Eat a potato pancake with applesauce for me, yummy.

The reason I was motivated to write about this topic today is because I witnessed the following exchange at Sushi's school this afternoon:

TEACHER: Ok, Sushi, have a great winter break, all SIXTEEN FREAKING DAYS OF IT, never mind the fact that you just got back from an eleven-day break LAST WEEK, jesus christ is this school EVER in session?? [ok, ok, she didn't say that], here are your art projects [hands the kid multiple sparkly, decorated cardboard Christmas trees], and... here is a little gift from me to you!

SUSHI: [gleefully accepts pink-tissue-wrapped square from Teacher and is already visibly plotting the vulnerable corner where she is going to begin tearing into it]

TEACHER: Now Sushi, do you think that you can hold off on opening this? Do you think you can go home and put it under your Christmas tree? and wait until Christmas morning to open it? Good girl!

MOMMY: [experiencing a momentary brain freeze] Uh, no, Sushi can't ever wait to open a present.

I see now that this was probably what one would call a Missed Opportunity. I could have said something like, "Actually, Teacher, we don't celebrate Christmas. We celebrate the Festival of Tights." (and then stood back so I could get a really good view of her shock and/or horror.) Alternatively, I could have said, "Actually, Teacher, we don't celebrate Christmas. Did you just assume that we are Christian because we are Caucasian? Did you ask that kid MOHAMMED over there about HIS Christmas tree? Sheesh!" But that might have made it a little awkward for me to see her again when school resumes in January. So instead, I just stood there like a dummy, tacitly agreeing that yes, it *would* be best if Sushi could learn a little self-control and would wait until Christmas morning to open the damn present.

So what's it going to take before I take that scary leap and make The Disclosure to someone? Daddy thinks it's going to have to be to our housemaid and our driver, who are probably wondering when we're going to get around to hanging our stockings by the chimney with care. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know *when* I'm going to have to do it: the day before Christmas, when the children and I are planning to present to Raquel all of the Christmas arts-and-crafts projects they have been bringing home from school this week. (Every time one showed up in a backpack, I would declare, "How wonderful! That will make a terrific surprise for Raquel, WHO CELEBRATES CHRISTMAS.") I think The Disclosure will go something like this: "Hi Raquel, here are a bunch of delightful surprises that the children made for you at school. They are for you, see, because we actually don't celebrate Christmas. We're [GULP] Newish! Well, have a good few days off, bye!" and then I run into the bathroom and pretend I have to pee.

It's actually been a bit sad, to tell you the truth, because for some reason there is SO MUCH Christmas propaganda at the school [WHY?? we are living in a Muslim country!! and at least half of the kids in the class are non-white!] that poor little Sushi has been getting a little bit confused. The other day in the bath she said she was going to play Christmas, and yesterday she asked if Santa was coming to our house ("No, honey, that's for people who celebrate Christmas, but you know what's SO GREAT about the Festival of Tights, it lasts for EIGHT DAYS!, blah blah blah same old lies that Newish kids have been hearing for centuries"). It's actually the only good thing about school closing AGAIN: over the next few days undoubtedly all of the sugarplums that are currently dancing in her head will fade, and we can start to get her excited about the Festival of Tights again. (Since we are probably the only Newish people within a 2000-mile radius, we can make the Festival of Tights happen whenever it is convenient and desirable for us. This year, that means waiting until our friends from L.A. come to visit us next week.)

So happy I remembered to stock up on Festival of Tights candlesticks before we left the States; kinda wish I had brought some wrapping paper (the closest I could find here is blue and silver Christmas trees). No matter-- I'm just happy that we're going to light the candles and say the prayers (silently! while our eyes are darting frantically back and forth between doors and windows!) and give the kids their presents.

For eight gloooorious nights. Take THAT, Christmas.