welcome to UAE

The acorn-shaped windows two stories above my head as I stepped onto an escalator were my first clue I had arrived somewhere unlike my other destinations.  Twinkling white lights simulated stars in three of the windows while the others had only a starless black sky.  I passed uniformed several men with dark eyes and hands folded behind their back, scrutinizing each person and their bags in the motley parade of passengers.  Through glass walls, a cluster of three women, clad in black abayas, hurried from a store.

At customs, a man in the white thawb flicked his fingers, gesturing me to step forward to a high oak desk that shielded him like a fortress.  He didn't look at me as he snatched my passport and pressed it into a lighted box.  Over his dark eyes, his thick black eyebrows were knotted together.

"Look, camera," he growled.

I stared at a small round lens and my face flicked into a grin, then thought the better of it, and I tried to look serious.  I glanced back at him but he was already looking down.

"Camera, again," he said with a gruff but whispered voice.

Then he pushed my passport back to me without a glance.  I smiled, even though he was already beckoning the next person forward.

In the terminal, groups of men in thawbs stood talking.  With each group I passed, I quickly became aware of my own anxiety about being so clearly an American.  I hope that feeling will abate as I'm able to paint my own portrait of this world.  Occasionally, a pair of women in black abaya shuffled along, fabric swirling to the floor.  A pair of beige platform sandals caught my eye.  The two inch sole and five inch heels were attached to a thin set of ankles and, as my eyes traveled up black folds of fabric, to a petite woman teetering above them.  One hand gathered her abaya up several inches as she gingerly picked her steps across the expanse of floor toward Customs.  A strip of intricate black lace swirled around her ankles; a young boy walked beside her.

The heavy air pressed into me as I stepped through the double doors of the airport to the outside.  I glanced back at Karen, my CSC team member, as we scanned the crowd of signs for our names.  Karen and I met in the Atlanta International terminal.  She is the only other American female on my CSC team, a statuesque brunette with a ready smile and mischievious twinkle in her eye.  I felt instant kinship with her, reinforced by her whispered "Hi sweetie," expansive hug and successful effort to convince the man in the window seat beside her to switch with me for the flight to Dubai.  We had already shared parts of our lives, laughed, dozed, read, watched movies and joked for 15 hours by the time we found ourselves hurling across the desert in a sedan toward Al Ain.

"Wonder what the speed limit is here?" she asked.

"I've been looking for signs, but I haven't seen any," I whispered.

"Maybe there isn't one," she said as the driver gunned the accelerator and shot around a sedan.

On both sides of the highway, palm trees hovered in a barrier, along with other fluffy Truffula-like trees decolored to gray in the orange night lighting.  Beyond the road, only darkness.  Every quarter mile or so, the green-lighted tower of a mosque sliced into the night sky.

Over an hour later, we turned up a curving driveway to our home for a month.  The hotel looked like any fine hotel in the U.S., except for the curving shapes of Arabic on its sign.  Uniformed bellhops ushered us inside and up to our rooms, just two doors away from each other.  Each staff member asked several times if there was anything else I needed, then minutes after the door closed, the phone rang again to ask me if the room is ok and I am in need of something else.  A gentle but eager Arabic hospitality was already apparent.  

A small plate with "Welcome" written in chocolate held a date and several flaky cookies that tasted of pistachio, honey, orange and butter.   One square seemed to be baklava, another a shortbread cookie crowned with half a pistachio.  I gratefully devoured them after only a moment's hesitation to ponder whether they might be vegan.   After a quick stroll to find the exercise room (the same treadmills as my club at home!), I unpacked and slid under a thick white comforter to sleep.

cue the mommy guilt

Surprisingly, over the past several months, I haven't had a lot of mommy guilt about leaving my family.  Because that idealistic, altruistic part of me has been so completely tapped by the notion I'm actually going to complete a Bucket List item, it's been hard to feel anything but enthusiastic and inspired.  I am so ridiculously excited to see this part of the world.  And, because this adventure is so connected with my recovery from cancer, it feels like it was meant to be.  The month I will be gone almost completely overlaps the month I went through the diagnosis to the first surgery two years ago.  It feels like the divine hand of God or kharma or Spirit in my life.

And, let's be honest... being a working mom is incredibly hard.  Frustrating.  Exhausting.  Like all other moms, I feel like I'm never doing anything well - I'm pulled in two completely opposing directions all the time.  I'm the driver of two high speed trains that sometimes are on parallel tracks, sometimes heading straight for each other.  I've virtually stopped traveling the past 6 years and gone part time in order to be the kind of mom I want and need to be but to also to keep just a tiny part of my life for myself.  A month away in an exotic location with only me and only one project to deal with feels like an incredible gift.  A vacation from the chaos, joy-inspiring.

But, it'd be completely disingenuous to suggest that the past few months have been all happy-go-lucky either.  At times, I have felt the most intense, anguishing pangs of guilt I've ever felt.  It's not that daily I'm-not-doing-enough type but sharper.  Over the past week, they've been more frequent.  And today, as I write this in preparation to board my airplane, I have doubts.  Last night, when I cried and cried putting them to bed, I had doubts.  In the dark of last night, I felt the fear I knew during cancer when I thought about what would happen to them if something terrible happens and I don't come back.

I've been holding onto my goals for my family through all of this.  What cancer taught me is that I need to be more responsible for making my children (and husband) less dependent on me.  More attached to each other.  I am the pivot that my family turns on and so, by leaving, I am giving all of them the magical opportunity for knowing love in a different way, allowing themselves to rely on a variety of people for their needs (not just one) and to feel negative emotions without allowing them being all-consuming.  I will also be teaching them that ultimately our individual happiness is up to each of us alone, that our time on this earth is limited and we must make the most of our opportunities.  Or, that's what I hope to teach them.

My friend Valerie said the most helpful thing to me.  She recounted in her own childhood when her mother had to be away for a period of time and her Dad took care of her.

"To this day, that time with my Dad is the thing I remember as the start of my relationship with him.  We are close to this day because he took care of me then," she said.

I can only hope Alex, Sophie and Steve will be able to say the same.  #ibmcsc uae

preparing myself

No surprises here... I've been reading.  And I'm taking a stack for the airplane too.  Did you know it's more than a 14 hour flight from Atlanta to Dubai???

Seriously, though, IBM started our team training in mid-June.  We've had weekly team calls and weekly homework to do the logistic preparations (visas, emergency healthcare, vaccinations, passports, travel arrangements, security) as well as training on information relevant to our projects and countries.  We started with some getting-to-know-you kinds of activities with our team members and did some reading on high performance teams.  We've learned about differences in perspectives, since not only will we be working in a foreign place but all of us will have our own unique cultural perspectives too.  In one of the first activities we did in a small group, I had to laugh because the very first question of our first small-group assignment revealed completely opposing points of view between me and a colleague from Japan.  We chuckled and acknowledged that in our differences lies our strength.            

We've also done some fascinating reading on corporate social responsibility, which is important to many of the projects in our CSC countries, including mine.  I was particularly taken with differing philosophies of how the developed world can support emerging markets:  is it an issue of simply applying more money or better managing the money that is already being provided?  What is the best way to provide meaningful support?  These issues are hotly debated by leading economists and philanthropic organizations.  Consulting skills were another focus of our training, since many IBMers who participate in the CSC program are not consultants in their regular jobs.   We learned more about social media and communications.  That's right, setting up my blog was part of the training... but I'll tell you, I really don't think I'm succinct enough to Twitter.  ;-P

And, of course, we've spent a great deal of time learning about the UAE.   Each team member took a particular cultural topic and taught the rest of the team about it.  My topic was politics.  Very interesting, since the political system is a federation of 7 monarchies, each ruled by an emir.  Interestingly, the President of the UAE has a plan to make it the leading country in the world by 2021, complete with a lovely webpage that outlines his vision.  Politics aside, it was an inspiring read, especially in the midst of our own Presidential campaign.   #ibmcsc uae

preparing my children

Meet Leo the Lobster!

Leo is going to be my buddy in the UAE.  I had wanted something more relevant to the Middle East - a stuffed camel, maybe? - but Leo is who Sophie and Alex picked, so there you go.  Leo is part of the preparations I've done to include Alex (1st grade, 6 years old) and Sophie (preK, 4 years old) and all their classmates in my trip.

Preparing the children started as soon as I knew I would be joining the Corporate Service Corps.  I talked to them about work-related traveling, something they are very familiar with since Steve travels frequently and I do (very) occasionally.  Once I knew where I was going, we looked at maps and photos of the UAE online and talked with increasing regularity about how things would be different when Mommy is away.  Then, I also spoke with Alex's teacher and guidance counselor and Sophie's teachers and Directors about my trip and put together plans with them to follow me in the classrooms.

Back to Leo.  Each day I'm gone, I'm going to take two photos of Leo:  a close-up, so the children can guess where Leo might be, and a broad shot to show where he actually is with a little explanation.  I'm hoping to get him in the desert, Burj Al Arab (hotel in Dubai), the Grand Mosque, Al Ain oasis, on a camel... you get the idea.  With any luck, he won't get eaten by a camel.  I'm calling this the "Where is Leo the Lobster?" daily photo.  These will be emailed directly to the teachers, Directors and guidance counselor to display on a projector in the classrooms.  I love these women for being so enthusiastic and willing to help (thanks, everyone!).

The classrooms are also going to follow me on the blog.  If I manage to be as organized as I'd like to be, I'm going to try to coordinate my blog entries with Where's Leo? photos so I can provide a little cultural lesson for the children, as well as my friends and family (or anyone else who happens to stop by).  I am planning to emphasize photos and videos instead of text, unlike what I've been doing here in the good ol' USA.  I'm sure you're relieved about that little tidbit, right?

I've stocked the fridge and freezer with healthy food, in an effort to reduce the amount of times Steve needs to do that most vile of activities - go to the grocery store with both of them (shudder).  And, I put together an entire box of Love Notes, one for Soph and one for Alex, each day I'm gone.  There are some extra ones and stickers in case they need a little extra love too.  And finally, I'm planning to get really good at Skype, which I hope will make all the difference for me and for them.  #ibmcsc uae

what in the world are you doing?

Beyond the exotic quality of traveling to the Middle East, I'm going to do a community-based service project in the emerging economy of the United Arab Emirates.  My team includes 12 IBMers from across the world; we hail from India, China, Japan, Canada, Germany, Columbia and the USA.  We will be located in Al Ayn, which lies on the border with Oman approximately 1 hour's drive from both Dubai and Abu Dhabi.  Our client will be the Municipality of Al Ain (the local government).  Al Ain is the second largest city in the emirate of Abu Dhabi and is located in a large oasis in the middle of the desert.

As I've mentioned, the IBM program that oversees this trip is called the Corporate Service Corps.  Modeled after the US's Peace Corps, it sends international teams of IBMers to emerging economies around the world and is a key part of IBM's own global social responsibility and corporate citizenship efforts.  To date, approximately 1600 IBMers have taken part, many returning with comments that the experience has changed their lives.  For the IBMers who participate, it is an opportunity to gain leadership and global collaboration skills as well as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  Our clients get to leverage the expertise of IBMers worldwide to expand their business opportunities.  We go expecting to work hard and make a difference in our small part of this very large world.

The team is divided into two project teams.  My team will be doing a corporate social responsibility strategy and implementation plan.  In plain terms, we will be helping the local government manage the influx of business and help them develop a strategy for maintaining their culture in the face of rapid change.  Just think:  in our lifetimes, the UAE has gone from a tribal, bedouin culture to the world's wealthiest oil empire booming with business and tourism.  UAE formed in 1971.  Today, 80% (yes, 80%!) of people living in the UAE are foreign nationals from the West, India and Pakistan (among others).  I find that simply incredible.  How do you maintain a culture in such an environment?  This is one of the critical questions we will try to help answer.  Some of the answer can come from business... how can we make new businesses responsible to the traditional way of life?  I think this is a provocative question and probably one with a very complex answer.

Our second team project is a data management strategy and information plan.  Again, with rapid change comes significant data and my colleagues on this project will also be wrestling what, I can only imagine, is also a very complex issue.

So, we will have exactly one month to arrive, complete our projects, have a little fun and return home.  Let's hope we find a few minutes to sleep too!  =)  #ibmcsc uae

"congratulations, you have been selected..."

When I got the email that I had been selected for the Corporate Service Corps, it was a clear fall day.  Leaves were beginning to fall and the air had cooled from the muggy Memphis summer.  The late morning light cast emerald shadows outside my second floor office window.  I read through the text quickly, trying to reorient myself to what it was telling me, recall what could have prompted such an email.  After several frantic minutes of brain searching, I suddenly remembered.  A spring day.  Not long after my second surgery.  And a moment of fearlessness.

Then, my stomach leaped to my throat.  I hadn't even mentioned to Steve that such a program existed, let alone that I had applied for it.

I remember that moment as an eternity of silence.  I played through alternatives in my head of how to tell him, how to explain, the possibility of it and the impossibility.  The children, house, his job, school, dinners.  In the end, I simply forwarded the email to him at work with a single line:  "we need to talk tonight."

His response was quick:  "How about over a bottle of wine?"

Approximately 8 hours later, after the haze of the day had faded, dinner was cleaned up and the children slept peacefully, Steve handed me a glass of my favorite pinot noir with a smile.  I took a deep breath and launched into the speech I had spent the day rehearsing. 

"Steve, I just want you to know I am so sorry.  I mean, I didn't even tell you about this and I just know it's crazy and of course I won't go, it doesn't even make sense...."

He slowly lifted his hand to stop my jumbled onslaught.  "Mel, this is an incredible opportunity.  This is perfect for you.  I want you to do it.  I will take care of the kids or whatever I need to do.  But you have to go.  We will make it work."  #ibmcsc uae

welcome to my journey

It seems appropriate to start by saying I’ve never considered myself a risk-taker.  I tend to think of myself as a person who does things by the book.  If I were to list my traits, adventurous and courageous would never spring to mind.  Even though I’ve ended up in a place in life that I could never have predicted, the many small steps I took to arrive here weren’t particularly relevant or earth-shattering or unique, but more just obvious steps that didn’t feel like any kind of stretch at the time. 

 

And yet, I’ve longed all my life to be an adventurer.  To take risks and be unafraid.

When I was young, I had a dream of joining the Peace Corps.  In high school, I cautiously sent away for a Peace Corps application packet.  When it arrived in a nondescript manila envelope, I paged through the document, dreaming of what I could write on its blank pages and the amazing places I could go.  And, for years, I carried with me a small round button, white with red stripes and a blue star.  I would gaze at that button, turn it over and over in my fingers, thinking about living in a small hut somewhere far away and doing something that mattered, at least to someone.  That button sang to me of infinite possibilities.

I never did join the Peace Corps, or even apply.  I went on with my life, thinking of it again only when I finished my master’s degree.  At that point, Steve and I embarked on what seemed like a massive adventure of our own, moving to Florida together and starting our somewhat predictable careers.   The Peace Corps was relegated first to my backup choice, if I had misinterpreted that we were in a serious relationship, and then to nothing at all.

Time passed, we both went back to school, changed jobs.   We moved to Memphis and had children.  And then, seemingly moments after my 40^th birthday, the unthinkable:   breast cancer.  In the very darkest week of my life, after I knew it was something intensely life-changing but before I knew it was survivable, I replayed the movie of my life.  One shining regret surfaced:  I never joined the Peace Corps.  And so, when the sun came out again and the darkness of cancer receded to the shadows, I was left with the knowledge that I needed to embrace my life and live without regret.  

Just as I was realizing these lessons, I got an email from IBM.  It said I had applications in the system for IBM’s volunteer program, the Corporate Service Corps, and encouraged me to actually submit them this year.  It was April 2011.  My first reaction was shock, of course, to know that they knew I had been filling out applications all along.  Then, I was shocked at being reminded that I had applied at all:   you see, in this program – called IBM’s Peace Corps –  IBM sends teams of international employees to an emerging economy to complete a community-based volunteer project.  

The Corporate Service Corps started several years after I joined IBM and caught my attention fairly quickly.  But, participants are required to stay a month in the host country to complete their project.  Yes, a month away from home.  Impossible.  Better than 2 years in the Peace Corps, but still impossible. 

As I sat facing my email on that April day, I was taken back to filling out the previous years’ applications mournfully, admonishing myself that as a new mother to first one baby, then two, there was no way I could leave my responsibilities.  So, I filled in the answers but never pressed “submit.”   It seemed too crazy, too irresponsible… not for someone like me.  Not for a working mother of two young children.

And yet, on this clear April day, a wave of fearlessness griped me:  power from overcoming another impossibility.

“Haven’t you supposedly learned to live your life?” I asked myself aloud in my empty room. “Haven’t you learned anything from cancer?  From these surgeries?  From facing death and coming back to your life?”

And with that, I furiously scanned through my previous answers.  I now added that I am a cancer survivor.  For the question about what I wanted to learn from an experience like this, I wrote that I want to learn to take risks, to live unafraid.  And in my rush of courage, I announced to my four walls I could hit “submit.”  That out of 400,000 IBMers worldwide and only 1200 participants, there was virtually no chance I would ever be chosen.  I pressed that green button.

And then, I promptly forgot about all of it.  You see, for me, the risk was simply submitting the application.  After that, it wasn’t even something that made it into the limited brainspace I have for things beyond taking care of my family, doing my job and working hard to maintain my precarious grip on health.  I jumped back into the daily rush of my life without another thought to the Corporate Service Corps or faraway places.  And I wouldn’t think of it again for almost 6 months.

Until another email would come one morning in the fall, telling me I had indeed been chosen.  But to find out what happens next, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.  #ibmcsc uae