The Woman Behind the Wall

by Carrie Circosta (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Qatar

My voice was hoarse and my tongue dry. Am I getting sick? It might be the fact that I just talked to 300 potential students about my university. It could be the fact that Qatar was the last of five countries during my two-week journey in the Middle East and my body was saying no more. “Do you want to have dinner with a Qatari family?” Meredith, a local ex-pat asked me the night before. I had just met her, but we instantly connected. “Of course! If it’s not too much trouble.” I replied. I rubbed my throat replaying my decision, but I can’t back down now. My pocket vibrated and it’s Meredith ready to pick me up. A few moments later, I’m in her dust-covered SUV and she is giving me the basic rundown of what I need to know about the Qatari family I’ll be meeting. “I met Noora while I was volunteering,” she explained. “She has five children, she also has three maids.” Three maids? “Well, I guess if I had five children I would need three maids too,” I laughed. I didn’t think much of it. Maids are just not common in middle-class America. Meredith made a turn down a street and each house had its own wall, creating a barrier from the swirling dust from the passing vehicles. “We’re here,” Meredith announced as she parked along the street. I stepped out and followed her through a gate into a paradise I was not expecting. “This is where the men gather,” Meredith pointed to another sort of smaller house in the front yard, as she slowly started to walk up the steps to what is the main house. A ring later, we were greeted. “It’s so nice to meet you! Please come in,” Noora smiled and stepped aside, leaving the door open. Marble floors and steps. Several sitting areas decorated with the low, Middle Eastern style couches and elaborate rugs. Noora guided us to the “women” sitting area on the first floor. There was another set of low couches in an L shape facing a rug with tea and fruit. I awkwardly descended to the couch and we engaged in light pleasantries until something from the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. “Did the wall just…move?” My mind raced, trying to comprehend what I was seeing. A woman dressed in pale blue emerged from the wall with a tray, bringing more tea and snacks. She knelt down to replenish the delegacies on the rug. I looked at Meredith, back to Noora who was still speaking, but I no longer could comprehend what she was saying. The woman looked to be African and then I remembered more from the conversation in the car. “The maids are from Ethiopia and Bangladesh,” Meredith explained. My mind did another flashback to the Doha airport and idling in a sea of people for nearly an hour to pass customs. The sea of people resembled the woman kneeling before me. Migrant workers. Qatar’s labor force is 95% migrant workers. I wanted to smile at her, let her know I appreciated what she was doing, but she never looked up. The warm tea that had cascaded over my tired throat no longer provided comfort. A few moments later, she served dinner. Noora’s children joined as well. Everyone was so casual, I was concentrating just to chew and swallow. “I just moved to a new apartment, I’m thinking of hiring someone to help me clean and move the furniture,” Meredith explained. “Oh, well Aida has a sister. You could just have her,” Noora’s oldest daughter casually suggested while pointing to Aida. So that was her name. And did I just witness her sister being casually given away like a vacuum or a broom? Meredith politely declined, sharing she was in the works of hiring help. I received the utmost hospitality during my visit. Noora even gifted me a spare tea set because I commented on how lovely her tea set was. But in addition to that tea set, I didn’t expect to find myself reevaluating the definitions of freedom, rights, and vulnerability. It took me traveling 7,000 miles to finally understand these words.