Culture, Shock and Writing in Arabia

by Kate Donnellan

Kate Donnellan is an American free-lance writer based in Abu Dhabi, capital of the United Arab Emirates. 

 
In this Age of Instant Communication, writing for an international readership was meant to be easy, right? The perfect opportunity for writers to settle down in a tax-free paradise and send our e-mailed by-lines zipping around the planet to eager, international editors. Well, it can be; but there is, of course, a catch or two. Those of us writing in one culture may not be quite prepared to write for another. Writer beware.  

I began the Gulf chapter of my writing career as the Abu Dhabi Bureau Chief for Motivate Publishing, the largest English-language publishing house in the Gulf. Motivate has a modest stable of magazines, including Emirates Woman, Gulf Business, What's On and the award-winning Emirates Inflight Magazine. In a country where the per capita income is one of the highest in the world, the magazines I write for look good. They're printed on quality gloss, and filled with good visuals. It's amazing how far a pretty clip can take you when you're scouting out the next job.  

There are eight expatriates living in the Gulf for every Gulf national. Many of them speak English as a first or second language. In fact, with the bulk of the western, white-collar labour force coming from Britain or ex-British colonies, plus other Arab ex-pats with a British-colonial world-view, English is the lingua franca of the region, and not Arabic as one might suppose. That translates into plenty of work for the free-lancer who can string out an idea from start to finish, nail the often-difficult-to-get interview, and has the basic writing skills. As an American, Canadian or Australian, you may also need to adjust your spelling and phrasing somewhat to fit the British style. We are, as ever, divided by a common language.  

Censorship 
Censorship is alive and well in this part of the world, and it is a minefield. Americans are particularly naive on this point: we cannot imagine the existence of serious censoring. If I buy a copy of Elle, it is almost certain to have felt-tipped squiggles blacking out bosoms, or bottoms -- or dangerous ideas the censor deems offensive to Islamic social values. I do not comment on the wisdom of such extreme measures; I only point out that they exist.  

Even the Internet is not safe from the Squigglers; it can be a labyrinth of dead-end URLs. Etisalat, the monopolised, government-owned internet server puts up ever-moving firewalls by way of its infamous Net Policeman, the Proxy Server. Sites as diverse as The Jerusalem Post (remember, Israel doesn't exist) and Sussex University (note the encoded s-e-x) are both out of bounds, although I think Sussex U has made it back into the fold -- some sensible soul did catch on to that silliness. Still, the net isn't as easy to navigate from where I sit as it probably is from where you do ... and that means an invaluable resource, particularly in a land without reference libraries, is not the fine-edged tool it should be.  

In order to publish in the Middle East, one has no choice but to self-censor; if you aren't willing to doctor your copy, someone else certainly will. What's On   is a good example. It has a very fat ad-rich Christmas edition -- number thirteen in the year -- which is called the "Festive Issue." At the publisher's discretion, the Christian feast is never referred to by name . . . which makes for pretty flat copy at this busy time of year. No use trying to buck the system; you won't sneak even an Xmas past the proofreader, and you'll get a knuckle-rap for trying. You simply learn to play by the rules, limit your vocabulary and, at the same time, try not to sound condescending.  

Rules 
Bending the rules is possible, however. My own column, Point Blank, which appears in the Gulf News Friday Magazine is a case in point. I probably owe much of its relative success to the fact that I occasionally manage to sneak a double-meaning past the subs down about two-thirds of the way into the five-hundred and fifty words of weekly copy -- to the delight of my faithful readership. I think we all find the game highly amusing. It is, after all, always mild, never intended to insult or offend, and even understandable as long as one is sensitive to the culture.  

Actually, on every front, censorship in the Emirates is really quite mild; we're not talking Algerian editors with throats slit from ear to ear. It's a benevolent form of well-meaning paternalism, and once you understand the cultural ground rules, you should be able to work around the offending issues quite easily. In fact, I wouldn't advise anyone to consider writing internationally if he isn't culturally sensitive, no matter where the culture or what the sensitivities. If ever it was about "writing what you know," it's on the international stage.  

Technology  
Technologically, you're pretty far up the Amazon without a paddle in this part of the world. Maintaining the Absolutely Essential Computer can make your life hell. This is a land full of Big Rich Boys with Top-of-the-Line-Toys. It's a place where wealthy customers will just buy a new one when the old one breaks, or when the latest model comes out. This pervasive attitude doesn't keep the competitive edge very well-honed; and if you don't happen to be in that particular financial league and occasionally have to have your computer serviced or repaired, you can be in for some pretty brutal surprises.  

My Middle-Ease niche is not focused on the heavy-duty politics of the region, but on living-well-is-the-best-revenge with Arabic overtones. I've learned a lot, including the importance of underscoring the common human denominators (and not our differences), when writing for a multi-cultural readership. Trivial as it sounds, we are more alike than we are different -- after all, it isn't called the Human Condition for nothing. Life in the Gulf is not vastly different from life in Florida; it's just a matter of degree in every sense.  

Writing for any international market is about seizing the moment. It will soon be time for this nomad to move on and, as a consequence, my Middle Eastern niche will dry up. Still, I think I can apply the specialised skills I've learned in the Emirates to other English-language markets outside the normal workplace. I certainly hope so; after twenty-three years of expatriate life, I'd have an awfully hard time "going home." That would be a trip beyond culture shock. I don't see why I can't make a go of it with a byline from Positano... anyone out there interested in reading about what's going on along La Costiera Amalfitana?  

  -- KD