Turn On the Lights [Ni hao (ni how) – How are you? and Xe Xe (shay shay) – Thank you, Wo yao (wah yow) – I want]
April 2002
I had wanted to work in the international school system since my father was the Superintendent of the International School of Brussels. In August of 2001, I was hired to be the Head of School for the International School of Quatar. It sounded like an adventuresome job – living in the American compound; having a driver; wearing a hijab outside the compound; a managerial job with an oil company for my husband, if he wanted it. Compensation and benefits were outstanding. I was scheduled to fly to the company’s hub in Arizona to sign my contract on September 14, 2001, and we were to depart shortly after. That never happened. After 9/11, there were no flights going anywhere. And even if there had been, we had no intention of going to the middle east. Let me say that I doubted Quatar had anything to do with the attack. The international school compound was populated with a significant number of Americans, and, of course, expats from many countries. To my knowledge, they had never had issues of terrorism. On the other hand, there were factors to be considered. Quatar was quite traditional in its cultural views about the role of women. Being responsible and in a leadership position within the compound meant helping expats and their children understand the importance of respecting the cultural norms of the country in which they were a guest. When tensions are high, as of course they promised to be following the attack on the USA, continuing to affect the appropriate behavior becomes increasingly important. On the other hand, an attack elicits a patriotic and sometimes defiant response from the victim. One thinks, “They attacked my country. They are the enemy.” From my perspective, I was personally wounded and disappointed as an individual who believes that people are basically good, who believes in getting to know other peoples with the intent to promote cooperation and understanding. I was also angry and wanted to consolidate my energies to protect my own. We might be going to war. With that in mind, as an American, I had no place in Quatar. I would be a highly visible target as the head of a school system, and thereby make the school a target. If war were to break out, life in that country might become dangerous. The school’s central administration was unhappy about my decision, but had no choice than accept it.
I heard about and applied for a Head of School opening in Beijing, China, and for a DOD Superintendency in Okinawa. I applied rather half-heartedly but interviewed for both. Then I was invited to second interviews. The Beijing interview was to take place in China.
I applied for a visa. I took three days off work and jumped on a plane. First to LAX, then to Tokyo; then to Beijing. 12 hours. It was afternoon when we landed, and I walked the endless, silent, no shops or restaurants, monotone hallways of the Beijing airport concourse with other passengers to reach customs. Standing at the exit was a Board member, Greg, with a large sign that said “Flaugher”. He took my bag and we walked to his car. “We’ve planned a dinner for you. You can meet other Board members and their wives. Tomorrow we’ll get in some tourist activities, and then have a meeting with teachers at the school.” He maneuvered his compact car through the traffic jams of the ring roads and pulled up at the Lido hotel. The clerks were pleasant. We were able to smile and nod politely. No one spoke English. I knew my 3 words of Chinese. Greg got me checked in and gave me my room key and directions. He would be back for me in an hour, to give me time to change and freshen up.
Room on the 10th floor. Beautiful view of the setting sun. I got out my make up bag and picked an outfit. The lights went out. I called the front desk. “English?” I asked. Silence, then some unrecognizable Chinese. Cell phones were a new tool. I didn’t have one, but I didn’t have a number to call Greg, anyway. I opened the drapes as wide as possible, refreshed make-up, changed clothes, and fixed my hair. Still no lights.
I exited my room to find the lights on in the hallway, but I took the stairs, because I didn’t want to get caught in the elevator. Greg was waiting. The foyer lights were blazing. Greg was surprised about the room lights.
When I returned to the hotel late in the evening, Greg mentioned to the clerk the problem with the lights. She shook her head, bemused. Upstairs, I opened the door and found my lights back on. By the time I was ready for bed, they were out again. Unbelievable!
Morning came. I dressed by natural light and went about my day. Lights out again in the evening, but I’d anticipated it, so I was prepared.
It was much later, after I returned to China to begin my new position that summer, that I learned the key card for the room must be inserted into a slot inside the room to keep the lights burning. If you don’t insert the card, after a few minutes, the lights go out. When you remove the card, the lights go out. I couldn’t believe I had never seen this in a hotel in the states, or for that matter, anywhere else I had traveled. I needed to get out more!
Turn On The Lights [Excerpt]
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Posted: February 1, 2024 by J Flaugher
Turn On the Lights [Ni hao (ni how) – How are you? and Xe Xe (shay shay) – Thank you, Wo yao (wah yow) – I want]
April 2002
I had wanted to work in the international school system since my father was the Superintendent of the International School of Brussels. In August of 2001, I was hired to be the Head of School for the International School of Quatar. It sounded like an adventuresome job – living in the American compound; having a driver; wearing a hijab outside the compound; a managerial job with an oil company for my husband, if he wanted it. Compensation and benefits were outstanding. I was scheduled to fly to the company’s hub in Arizona to sign my contract on September 14, 2001, and we were to depart shortly after. That never happened. After 9/11, there were no flights going anywhere. And even if there had been, we had no intention of going to the middle east. Let me say that I doubted Quatar had anything to do with the attack. The international school compound was populated with a significant number of Americans, and, of course, expats from many countries. To my knowledge, they had never had issues of terrorism. On the other hand, there were factors to be considered. Quatar was quite traditional in its cultural views about the role of women. Being responsible and in a leadership position within the compound meant helping expats and their children understand the importance of respecting the cultural norms of the country in which they were a guest. When tensions are high, as of course they promised to be following the attack on the USA, continuing to affect the appropriate behavior becomes increasingly important. On the other hand, an attack elicits a patriotic and sometimes defiant response from the victim. One thinks, “They attacked my country. They are the enemy.” From my perspective, I was personally wounded and disappointed as an individual who believes that people are basically good, who believes in getting to know other peoples with the intent to promote cooperation and understanding. I was also angry and wanted to consolidate my energies to protect my own. We might be going to war. With that in mind, as an American, I had no place in Quatar. I would be a highly visible target as the head of a school system, and thereby make the school a target. If war were to break out, life in that country might become dangerous. The school’s central administration was unhappy about my decision, but had no choice than accept it.
I heard about and applied for a Head of School opening in Beijing, China, and for a DOD Superintendency in Okinawa. I applied rather half-heartedly but interviewed for both. Then I was invited to second interviews. The Beijing interview was to take place in China.
I applied for a visa. I took three days off work and jumped on a plane. First to LAX, then to Tokyo; then to Beijing. 12 hours. It was afternoon when we landed, and I walked the endless, silent, no shops or restaurants, monotone hallways of the Beijing airport concourse with other passengers to reach customs. Standing at the exit was a Board member, Greg, with a large sign that said “Flaugher”. He took my bag and we walked to his car. “We’ve planned a dinner for you. You can meet other Board members and their wives. Tomorrow we’ll get in some tourist activities, and then have a meeting with teachers at the school.” He maneuvered his compact car through the traffic jams of the ring roads and pulled up at the Lido hotel. The clerks were pleasant. We were able to smile and nod politely. No one spoke English. I knew my 3 words of Chinese. Greg got me checked in and gave me my room key and directions. He would be back for me in an hour, to give me time to change and freshen up.
Room on the 10th floor. Beautiful view of the setting sun. I got out my make up bag and picked an outfit. The lights went out. I called the front desk. “English?” I asked. Silence, then some unrecognizable Chinese. Cell phones were a new tool. I didn’t have one, but I didn’t have a number to call Greg, anyway. I opened the drapes as wide as possible, refreshed make-up, changed clothes, and fixed my hair. Still no lights.
I exited my room to find the lights on in the hallway, but I took the stairs, because I didn’t want to get caught in the elevator. Greg was waiting. The foyer lights were blazing. Greg was surprised about the room lights.
When I returned to the hotel late in the evening, Greg mentioned to the clerk the problem with the lights. She shook her head, bemused. Upstairs, I opened the door and found my lights back on. By the time I was ready for bed, they were out again. Unbelievable!
Morning came. I dressed by natural light and went about my day. Lights out again in the evening, but I’d anticipated it, so I was prepared.
It was much later, after I returned to China to begin my new position that summer, that I learned the key card for the room must be inserted into a slot inside the room to keep the lights burning. If you don’t insert the card, after a few minutes, the lights go out. When you remove the card, the lights go out. I couldn’t believe I had never seen this in a hotel in the states, or for that matter, anywhere else I had traveled. I needed to get out more!
Category: Blog, Updates