Category Archives: Parenting

Armageddon on Al Qudra

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It’s been an unusual day, to say the least.

Children in the UAE might have squealed with delight as they paddled up and down the street in inflatables and sailed boats to the supermarket (no joke) …

kids having fun in rain

Lucky kids: School’s out again tomorrow

But me – well I lost my mojo somewhere on Al Qudra street – about an hour into the apocalyptic traffic jam attempting to inch its way through biblical floods last seen by Noah.

It all started at 4am, with an enormous crash of thunder. Lightning sliced the sky. But even then, the morning school run was fine – just a disappointed son to contend with following the cancellation of his school trip. Actually, he was more worried about the fact his lunch was in a plastic Spinneys bag (as requested by the teacher). “Mummy, go home and get my lunch box!” he pleaded while I tried to stop him lobbing his sandwiches away.

The sky quickly turned a scrubbed pigeon grey then a really ominous granite colour, sort of slated and solemn. Daylight made only a feeble attempt to break through the billowing cloud cover. The rain, when it came, drummed wildly on our roof. It lashed the windows, cascaded off our garage in a waterfall, and collected in huge ‘ponds’ that within an hour or so all joined up to form floods the size of lakes.

The schools closed, I can’t even begin to imagine what happened at the airports. Buildings flooded, structural damage occurred and the traffic snarled up until it grid-locked so badly I took a big chance and swerved onto sand in the hope of ploughing my way through a building site to escape the Armageddon on Al Qudra (I made it!).

This Dubai driver didn't make it

This Dubai driver didn’t make it


The children, meanwhile, went out in their swimming gear. A neighbour took his canoe for a paddle round the compound. Ironically, the water cut off in our villa – I did see the funny side of this, given that outside it was knee-deep, with waves rippling up the path every time a car swished by, wheels hissing. The lights started flickering … “Picked a great week for our winter-sun holiday, didn’t we?” said my Mum as she Facebooked photos of the rain for the amusement of British friends and family.

Her last photo, of tankers vacuuming up the rainwater through giant straws, was captioned: “Now we’ve seen it all!”

Dubai really doesn’t do rain.

Keep safe tomorrow everyone.

Fascinating glimpse of a Dubai school in the 1970s

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Jess under construction
Son2’s school is turning 40, which in Dubai time is quite ancient! Anyone who lives here will know this age is impressive and deserves to be marked, especially as four decades ago the school was just a small huddle of buildings in the middle of the desert, with staff and pupils trekking across the sand to the nearest shop during break-time.

Intrigued by all things ‘old’ in the UAE, I helped out at the most wonderful exhibition commemorating JESS’s big birthday this morning, and learnt so much I’ve been inspired to put together a blog post on what school life was like in the desert all those years ago.

Doesn't it look a little bit like they're playing on the moon?

Doesn’t it look a little bit like they’re playing on the moon?

The facility was planned when Dubai English Speaking School, the first British curriculum school in the emirate, could no longer cope with the rapid increase in the expatriate population.

JESS quote 2The school’s story began in a small flat in Deira, before its relocation to a villa in Jumeirah, which was generously gifted by his Royal Highness Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed al-Maktoum, Ruler of Dubai. The school moved to its present Jumeirah site in 1977, where it consisted of one villa, 75 pupils, six staff and three portacabins. The size of the classes depended on the size of the bedrooms.

Desert surrounded the school for miles; there were no villas in sight, and the buildings which now line Sheikh Zayed Road had not yet been constructed. Safa Park didn’t exist. The only thing that could be seen in the distance was the newly completed Metropolitan Hotel.

The track leading to the school from Al Wasl Road was just a dirt road and on foggy days it was easy to drift off course. Flooding was a problem and after heavy rain the entrance area would be completely under water.

These days there are 169 private schools open in Dubai. JESS was the second British curriculum school in the emirate.

JESS Jumeirah in the deserted desert. These days there are 169 private schools in Dubai.

“In those early days, one had to be very flexible and unflappable and able to take things in one’s stride,” says JESS’s original headmistress Rita Biro. “When we first occupied the site, the electrical connection had not been completed and the power was produced by a massive generator. My first daily task was to make my way across the sand to this great beast and use all my strength to throw the switch and I still have the muscles to prove it!”

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Paul Austin, currently director of PE at JESS Ranches, arrived in a very barren Dubai in 1976. “All I remember being able to see was the desert and the Trade Centre. Sheikh Zayed Road was the Abu Dhabi Road and there were still camels walking around everywhere.”

He started at JESS in 1977, just before his sixth birthday. There were no sports facilities at the time, and he remembers doing a football club on the sand outside the school, the area now used for parking. He recalls just one fixture during his five terms at JESS, against the only other international school at the time. “I was the goal keeper, and although I’m told I played well, we lost 0-10.”

1975-1976

1975-1976

Academically, he remembers trying to make himself invisible during maths class. “In fact, my maths was so bad that when asked what my tables were like during an interview for Prep School, I confidently replied that we had desks at JESS so I wasn’t sure.” Like many of the children at JESS at the time, he went on to boarding school.

Since its humble beginnings, JESS has stood strong through two regional wars (with contingency plans for evacuation via Fujairah in the Gulf War) and the global economic crisis of the 00s.

A second branch opened in Arabian Ranches in 2005. Memories of this new development include travelling to the under-construction Ranches site and wondering why they were driving out to the middle of nowhere; having to use the toilets in the shopping centre; no playgrounds to start with; repeated closures due to water pipes bursting; and Costa Coffee deliveries.

Some things never change!

The exhibition is an incredible illustration of the JESS journey through time. Some things never change, though, and I wanted to highlight several snippets that made me smile:

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Shoes & driving: I’m not sure what year, but during the early days, one of the mums, wearing very high platform-soled shoes and driving a 4×4, pulled in to park, not knowing where her feet began and ended. She accelerated instead of breaking and ploughed into a breeze-block wall, demolishing it.

Demand for places: Waiting lists have been a problem right from the start. When the school reached several hundred students, the headmistress had to call a stop to expansion, citing the difficulty of teaching amid rubble and construction noise.

Parent involvement: This tradition began from the get-go, with parents in Dubai more actively involved in school than in Britain. Parents ran sports clubs during their lunch breaks before returning to work at 4pm; mothers came in with younger children to assist with activities; and it was through an action group that the swimming pool was funded.

Spring in the sunshine: The annual spring fair is a long-running institution, including, back in the day, a decorated Hat Parade with Easter Egg prizes; a display by the Dubai and Sharjah Morris Dancers; an attempt to break the non-stop skipping world record; traditional stalls selling home-made cakes, marmalade, etc; a tombola, lucky dip and Guess Your Weight (!). More British than Britain!

Here’s to the next 40 years!

The touchy-feely wrong number

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I fired off a party RSVP today – yet another social engagement for Son2, not me. I didn’t think too much of it, and made a mental note to put the date on the calendar.

My phone rang, loud and shrill.

“Hello,” said an unfamiliar male voice. “Is that Sarah?”

I braced myself to tell him he’d got the wrong number. You know when you can already tell he’s not going to believe he’s got the number incorrect, and you’re going to have to convince him you’re really not the person he thinks you are. I had that feeling.

So I was surprised when the conversation took a different turn. “I’m getting all these texts about a party,” he said. “It’s the wrong number.” He was very sweet about it, a lovely chap, and we shared a laugh. He sounded like he worked in a restaurant, and there he was getting texts from all the mums in the class about Lasertag. His name was Ali.

A minute later, Ping! He’d sent me a text.

“I just spoke to you. I’m the manager of kabab rolls al barari.”

I peered closer at the broken English on the screen. I’d already guessed he was going to try to sell me something. A bit of opportunistic salesmanship must always be expected in Dubai.

“May b u can touch with me in future if want some catering or food etc.”

You know what Ali, you were such a sweetie, I will save your number just in case the need arises for kebab rolls, but the touchy-feely bit – maybe we could skip that?!

I made a new friend in Ali!

I made a new friend in Ali!

It’s Valentine’s Day! 💕💕💕💕💕

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♥ Every summer, I walk by the spot where I met my DH, twenty-seven years ago! I was sixteen – hard to believe I was only six years older than Son1 is now. Each year, a travelling fair used to visit a field near my parents’ house. Today, the space is mostly a car park, the field nowhere near as wide or open as it was in my sixth-form-college days. Portacabins hint at more development to come.

I was introduced to DH-to-be by the Teacups, by a friend of a friend, and can remember small details as though it were yesterday: the cacophony of sounds and music, all clashing horribly; the bright lights glinting in the night sky; the acrid taste of diesel fumes; the jerry-built rides.

DH-to-be in 1989. Knot finally tied 15 years later!

DH-to-be in 1989. Knot finally tied 15 years later!

We rode the Waltzer at least twice. Spinning faster and faster, neck tossed backwards, I think I screamed, only for a Cockney-sounding voice to boom, “The louder you shout, the faster we go.” The operator threw a lever and the ride exploded with noise, twisting, twirling, lights blinking. We staggered off, swaying, and lurched to a van selling food, enticed by the scent of hot dogs, burgers and onions.

Each ride and stall was abuzz with excitement and so was I! I’d noticed his American twang first, so exotic to my provincial ears. Then I fell for his dark looks, his jet black hair with a hint of a curl. A leather jacket hung from broad shoulders, denim jeans covered the other half of his skinny height.

On the big wheel, shining bright and vivid like a circle of diamonds in the sky, he told me he lived in Kuwait (I’m not sure I even knew where that was!) and wanted to fly planes. Amazing how things have come full circle: from those early days when he was at a British boarding school to our lives now, with two kids, in the Middle East.

Happy Valentine’s Day DH and all my lovely readers! ♥ Circles x

2016 Year of Reading: Books on the beach

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Exciting times for bookworms in the UAE as the government tackles the Arab reading crisis

Hot on the heels of those clever Smart Palms I blogged about last year (offering free wi-fi and charging points), there’s a new initiative coming to Dubai’s beaches which book lovers are going to love.

R&R: Try some reading & relaxation on the beach

R&R: Try some
reading & relaxation on the beach

The first set of library kiosks are being installed at Kite Beach in Umm Suqueim and Al Mamzar Beach, so sun-seekers can borrow books to read while relaxing. On leaving the beach, you return your book, or you can take a stroll along the sand and hand it back in at any of the other seaside library units.

What a great idea! It’s all part of the 2016 Year of Reading in the UAE – a subject close to my heart as I attempt (and often fail!) to instill a love of reading in my own boys. Each night, after tackling Son2’s Oxford Reading Tree books, I bring out the Kindle and present it to Son1 with a wry smile. I then set the stop watch on my phone: 15 minutes, “That’s ALL! … Right, Go…” I pick books I really think he’ll like, but still he’s reluctant, putting on a scowly face and stopping the moment the alarm rings.

The annual average reading rate for an Arab child is six minutes

Anyway… I will persevere. But it seems my problem is part of a wider, regional trend that’s referred to as “the reading crisis in the Arab world”. My sons are your typical expat kids, but among their Arab compatriots, reading levels are even lower.

The average reading time for an Arab child is six minutes a year, compared with 12,000 minutes for children in the West. To put this in perspective, for every six minutes spent reading by an Arab child, a child of similar age in the West will have been reading for 200 hours.

Coming soon in Arabic

Coming soon in Arabic

Last night, at a talk I attended about the future of publishing in the UAE, I heard why this crisis is so severe. Not only is there a lack of diversity in Arabic children’s books, but several studies of UAE readers have found that a national culture of reading for pleasure is still in its early stages. Reading is generally viewed as a duty, with many UAE youth finding it difficult or boring. “The bigger focus in this region has been on oral story telling and poetry,” said Isobel Abulhoul, director of the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature.

Several moves are afoot in the UAE to remedy the situation – such as the introduction of mobile libraries, Sharjah’s library-for-every-home scheme (delivering one million books to families in the emirate); and the Arab Reading Challenge, with AED11m ($3m) in cash prizes. (As someone who’s paid my own kids to read in the past, I can’t comment!).

Julie Till, head of business development at Oxford University Press, also pointed out that the much-loved Oxford Reading Tree books are set to be introduced in Arabic with original content. “We’re looking at things like paper quality, fonts – how to make children want to read the books,” said Julie. “It’s a great step, and I believe we’re at a tipping point in Arabic publishing.”

Changing the mindset of a whole society won’t happen overnight, warns Isobel, but she’s optimistic, and thankful that all the years she’s spent talking about the importance of literacy, reading and writing have been validated with such enthusiasm. “The government has taken a huge leap,” she says, “with the 2016 year of reading and initiatives at the highest levels to ensure the future generation is literate.”

So, watch out kiddos – your 15 minutes-a-night isn’t about to stop any time soon! And readers, look out for the solar-powered library kiosks the next time you’re on Kite or Al Mamzar beaches. There’s going to be titles in English and Arabic, as well as a selection of children’s books, offering bookworms “a cheerful read”. While you’ve got the sand between your toes and the waves crashing in your ears, just be careful not to get the pages covered in suntan lotion and ice cream!

The Kid Magnet: Why trampolines have their ups and downs

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The rumour quickly went round that ours was the biggest on our street. I’m talking about Son2’s Christmas present: the hulking-great trampoline that appeared in our garden over the holidays, and takes up half the lawn. “It was on a special deal,” DH told me, as my eyebrows shot up into my hairline on seeing its enormous size for the first time.

No longer do I sit outside in the glorious weather admiring the bougainvillea hanging frothily over the back wall in a bloom of pink, white and orange. Now, I look at a piece of equipment, all metal, bounce mat and black netting, that could easily double as a zoo enclosure.

The kids LOVE IT, of course. And by kids, I mean all the children on our street. The knocks at the door start precisely three minutes after mine get home from school. I’m still turning smelly, inside-out socks the right way when the first rat-a-tat-tat comes. After that it’s a procession of small children, all eager to bounce.

Bigger than this, ours at least has a net

Bigger than this, ours at least has a net

Now, I don’t want to be a party pooper (and I do see the exercise value), but I’ll admit this came as a bit of a shock on my first day at home with the kids. Especially after a spell in a quiet, ordered office. I hadn’t realised our house had become as popular as Dubai’s Bounce, a trampoline playground loaded with springs and circus-grade sponge.

“But boys!” I said. “We’re just a backyard trampoline … There are some big differences between us and Bounce.” I held up one finger. “First, we don’t charge.” Another finger. “Second, I don’t hand out rainbow gripper socks.” I leaned forwards and raised a third finger. “And, most importantly, Bounce is properly supervised.”

“We need some rules here.”

My words dropped like rocks, leaving my boys with expressions carved from stone.

And so ‘The Rules’ came into force: a maximum of three children on the trampoline at any one time; keep the zipper closed; no crawling underneath it; only two friends inside the house and all mess tidied up by the perpetrators; no cats to be trapped inside the trampoline for entertainment purposes (“Yes really … cats don’t like bouncing.”)

As you can imagine, it’s not always easy policing all this, especially when all the yelling and squealing fills every molecule in your brain and the kids bounce so hard it even rattles the pans on the shelf in the kitchen. I swear it must be easier in a zoo.

Elfing around the Christmas tree

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I gave in this year and acquired an elf – a girl elf with long eye lashes. I bought her from souq.com, thinking the 8-day delivery estimate would take care of a fair portion of the month. Of course, she turned up almost overnight by courier from the North Pole.

Son2, in particular, is enamoured. He named her Chelsea, and if anyone touches her during the day, his eyes grow as wide as saucers and his face freezes. For those not familiar with this growing holiday tradition, there’s just one rule to follow: Don’t touch the scout elf or the magic might disappear.

A major meltdown is only narrowly averted with a crooked smile and a few reassuring words that all is well with our villainous invader. 

While moving the darn elf around every night quickly becomes a little tiresome, I must say I do love seeing my kids’ reaction to Chelsea’s latest antics – especially as our visit to Santa this year was a rather comedic experience.

I should have known as soon as I saw the lack of queue. We were ushered through a flimsy red curtain by a jauntily dressed woman-elf with promotional flyers, and inside I steered a suddenly shy Son2 a little closer to the skinniest Santa I’ve ever seen.

“Will you find us in England?” Son2 asks after requesting something totally left field.

Dark-skinned, skinny Santa looks confused for a moment. Perspiration beads his forehead and his eyes go round.”Erm, yes,” he mumbles. “If I can get a flight.”

BUT SANTA YOU HAVE A SLEIGH!!!

Ho, hum. I’ll leave you with some snaps of Chelsea. Just two more nights to go.

   
 

Christmad: Twas the last week (of term) before Christmas

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Ho! Ho! Ho! I’m sure I speak for school mums everywhere when I refer to the last fortnight of term as utter madness. It’s only now that it’s over that I finally get a moment to stop and think, ‘What the heck was all that?’

Because really, rather than winding down for the holidays, doesn’t it feel like being in a spin dryer that’s starts turning faster and faster, as though it’s about to take off? And then when it stops, the drum is still spinning pretty fast even when the lid is released? Feeling rinsed out doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Lest I forget what these last couple of weeks involve, here’s my Christmad rundown:

Decorating: Bring out the silver foil for a gladiator costume, with shield and hat. Cover aforementioned items with foil. Hide remaining Sellotape for the gifts you haven’t had time to wrap yet. Or buy. (Helpful hint: there’s always a run on Sellotape in Dubai in the weeks before Christmas. Basically, if you haven’t stockpiled it and are caught short, you’ll be gluing your gift wrap.)

Screen Shot 2015-12-22 at 00.54.40Handicrafts: Cajole children to write thoughtful messages for their teachers on handprints that will be made into a tree. Make a 25km round trip to get to Decoration Day conveniently timed at 11am. Attempt to stop your child spilling the glitter everywhere as you work on cut-out Santas and Christmas tree cards. Return to office with your skirt decorated.

Shopping: Procure a shop-full of gifts and cards for all the people who make everything tick and keep you sane (bus driver, bus nanny, teaching support staff). Stuff money in envelopes. Run round at the last minute looking for a PLAIN red or green top for the Christmas concert and place in labelled bag. Try to feel full of the joys of the season.

Food preparation: Conjure up a dish that gladiators would eat (birds? cheese? Settle for grapes, green). Provide food for ‘super snack’ for 10 children (cheese cubes). Cookies, end-of-year-party food, the usual 20 lunchboxes required for a fortnight.

Party clothes: Send child in festive PE kit (“fancy it up with some tinsel and a Santa hat”), and help him/her pick out a toy to take in for party treat day. Nothing expensive or noisy. Clone yourself so you can be in three places at once, or face having to fess up to your other child that you can’t get him to his class pyjama party.

Pantomime: Organise/make costume for Victorian Day on the beach. Volunteer as parent helper (think: sandcastles, Punch & Judy, hoops and ropes). Run 500 steps in sand, repositioning hoops.

And all this on top of the day job – which, oh did I mention, involves producing a 150-page yearbook during the busiest work period of the year.

When it’s all done – Breathe! Now you can start getting ready for Christmas!

Silent Sunday: Well blow me down with a feather …

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He won the Young Animators Award! Son1 is the one in green, standing with his teammates and the Dubai International Film Festival sponsors. As you can see, he was on cloud nine!

He won the Young Animators Award! Son1 is the one in green, standing with his teammates and the Dubai International Film Festival sponsors. As you can see, he was on cloud nine! Turns out the judges thought their cast of characters showed great imagination. #SpaceRocket #Unicorns #MaliciousCheeseburger #AlmostTheOscars #ProudMum

 

Stampylongnose – Son1’s hero

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Son1 has one ambition in life – to be a famous Youtuber. I think it all started when he discovered Stampylongnose. Have you heard of him?

He also goes by the name Stampy Cat, but really he should be called the Pied Piper of Youtube. His channel is among the most viewed in the world, more popular than Justin Bieber or One Direction. Son1 and his friends seem to be able to spend hours watching videos that Stampy – real name Joseph Garrett, a 24-year-old from Portsmouth – has uploaded to Youtube of him and his mates playing Minecraft.

Don’t see the appeal? Neither did I – although I don’t mind Stampy. He doesn’t swear; and I’ve seen his mum doing the hoovering in the background and bringing him a cup of tea (he was living at his parents’ house rent-free until the income from his Youtube celebrity status allowed him to give up his post-university bar job). Apparently he’s now testing the waters in Hollywood.

Stampy: The gamer who calls a generation of children to their computers every afternoon

Stampy: The gamer who calls a generation of children to their computers every afternoon

Anyway … Son1 progressed from watching Stampy endlessly to making his own videos, which he (somehow) uploads to Youtube. And so we found ourselves in this brave new digital world where we have discussions about subscribers and views and technical things about which I have no clue. When The Young Animators Competition came along, requiring a 60-second video featuring the entrant and a few Youtube links, I knew I had to enter Son1.

Fast forward a few weeks, and – to his rapturous joy – he was shortlisted, the prize being a 5-day animation workshop in which 18 participants created their own animations at thejamjar, Dubai’s fantastic community arts space.

Now, I’m honestly not bragging here, as it’s highly unlikely his team will win (they were three 10-year-old boys, whose animation involves a space rocket, unicorns, a transformer and an army of malicious cheeseburgers). But at the weekend we get to go to a red-carpet screening of a children’s film I’ve never heard of at the Dubai International Film Festival, for a presentation ceremony.

Son1 is VERY excited. Not just about being one step closer to his dream of becoming a famous Youtuber, but mostly about the gala event (at which, I should imagine, the Young Animators part will be very short, while the audience scoffs popcorn). We talked about it at bedtime tonight. “Mum?” he said. “Will we get to walk on the red carpet?”

“Maybe – I’m not exactly sure. You’ll definitely get a certificate.”

A pause.

It occurred to me he might be getting a bit carried away.

“Mum?” He sat up in bed. “Will we have bodyguards?”

I tried not to laugh but a snort slipped out. Stampy – you have a lot to answer for.