TAKING A LEAP OF FAITH
What you should know…
BY Monita Pesumal
In 2008, I embarked on a life altering journey from Sri Lanka to then little known Qatari peninsula. The decision to move was fuelled by excitement but little did I know that navigating the tiny Gulf country would both shock and delight me.
As I reflect on that chapter of my life, here are some things I wish I’d known then – because I’m wiser now…or am I?
SPONSORSHIP SYSTEM When I was offered the opportunity of a lifetime to move to Doha to work in one of the local banks, of course my mum wanted to join to help me settle in. What I didn’t know was there was no such thing as a tourist visa.
Instead, there was a sponsorship system where every tourist had to be first sponsored by the airline and next, a hotel. So it was mandatory to first book a flight on Qatar Airways and then a hotel authorised by the airline.
Even though my employer provided me with a two bedroom flat, my mum could not stay with me because she had to be in the hotel that was sponsoring her visa.
That process caught us both off guard. Needless to say, it also had us out of pocket.
MEN IN WHITE Upon arrival at Qatari immigration, my first encounter with daunting officers in their traditional white thobes blew me away – it is an experience that’s forever etched in my mind.
Their imposing presence – characterised by pristine flowing garments – exuded authority. As I approached the counters, their stern expressions initially triggered a sense of trepidation, accentuated by the unfamiliarity of the surroundings and procedures.
Clad in their traditional attire, the immigration officers displayed a fusion of modernity and tradition, symbolising Qatar’s rapid development and cultural heritage. While the initial encounter may have been intimidating, it later became a symbol of the country’s rich identity and the gracious hospitality that unfolded beyond those glass counters.
The day that I left Qatar for good in 2016, the sight of the officers made me feel nostalgic.
NATIONALITY POT True story: the first day I arrived to work in the product development department, my immediate line manager was North Indian, the girl who was asked to show me the ropes was South Indian, the lady I was replacing because she was going on maternity leave was Omani…
But wait, it gets better…
The lady sitting opposite me was Irani, her supervisor was Sri Lankan and the head of our unit was Lebanese. And the office boy was Nepalese while the evasive assistant was Jordanian. And the entire customer service team was Egyptian.
It’s not that I should have learnt basic or survival Arabic before arriving; I should have learnt about six different languages and dialects.
FINANCIAL MUDDLE On my first visit to the supermarket, I remember converting everything to Sri Lankan Rupees and wondering how I’d manage the cost of living.
I recall walking into Zara to buy some work clothes and then back out because Qatar’s rapid development came with its own price tags. For me, they were beyond reach when I first moved.
SWEATER WEATHER The last thing you would expect when moving to the Middle East is the cold – because all the movies and novels talk about the endless desert sand.
Arriving in Qatar during the winter months was an unexpected contrast to the climate I had anticipated and packed for. The daytime heat always greeted me with its sunlit intensity. As the sun dipped below the horizon however, the Qatari winter nights brought a biting coldness accompanied by relentless winds.
Adapting to the fluctuating weather patterns became a daily challenge, requiring strategic wardrobe choices to navigate the contrasting elements.
FEELING ISOLATED The feeling of isolation in a foreign land was perhaps the scariest aspect of the journey. While Qatar was embracing a growing expatriate community, establishing meaningful connections was challenging.
In the first couple of months, I dreaded the weekends because I had no friends other than my work colleagues – nobody to even have a conversation with. I wish I’d actively sought out expat networks and community events to build a support system. Forming connections with those sharing similar experiences would have provided comfort during homesickness.
But I was lucky that I had amazing work colleagues and we were able to build lasting bonds – I now consider most of them family. But I’ll forever be thankful that the isolation gave me room to grow and find myself.
Relocating from Sri Lanka to Qatar was undeniably a challenging experience, marked by a series of obstacles and personal growth.
The journey tested my resilience and adaptability; but with the gift of hindsight, I recognise the areas where more preparation could have eased the transition.
To those considering a similar move, I hope these reflections offer a road map for navigating the unknown and turning the surreal into an opportunity for growth and discovery in the Middle East.