The muezzin calling people to prayer, shopping malls tinkling their tills till the small hours and the thump, bash and beeps of construction work continuing throughout the night … These are just some of the sounds that signal a very different rhythm for living in Doha.

They say (they, being paediatricians and wise older women) that babies thrive when in a routine. In fact, I’m pretty sure most adults enjoy some semblance of order in their lives too. You know, the daily humdrum drills of life, whatever they might be for you.

Finding a new rhythm

My read-the-newspaper-muesli-commute-work-commute-catch-up-over-tea-walk-the-dogs-supper-telly-and-bed routine was turned on its head with the COVID-19 pandemic and is presently in free-fall (bad choice of words when you now live in a high-rise).

Let’s just say, adjusting to the rhythm of life in the Land of Sand as you tango, foxtrot and even hip-hop your way about is challenging … but we’re getting there!

The climate, the culture and even the days of the week are different! But, as you know, we South Africans are a resilient lot and so we just “gaan aan” (go on). 

Days of the week

There are still seven days in my week here, but because of the culture in the Middle East, weekends start on Thursday afternoon and end on Saturday evening. Therefore, Sunday is a working day in Qatar.

To align with the culture and the working week, church services take place on a Friday morning, and again in the evening for, as you may know, the H (that is, the hubby) wears a dress.

It’s his “job”. He’s a priest. Services still happen on a Sunday, except, of course, it’s not practical to host these in the morning on what is the first working day of the week here. Therefore, there’s a Sunday evening service for us Anglicans and those of other denominations housed within the authorised Religious Complex. (More on church life in Doha in another post). 

As I am working remotely, I still work Fridays, taking an early lunch break to attend the church service at 11am. Then come Sunday, since everyone else is beavering away, I sometimes also get a head start on my working week by firing up the laptop. 

Oh, and I also get an hourly daily advantage, since Doha is an hour ahead of South Africa and two hours ahead of the United Kingdom.

While my watch and cellphone are on Qatar time, my laptop – the workhorse tool of trade – remains firmly set on SA time for the remote meetings.

Shopping hours

As a non-shopper (that is, someone who generally only shops out of absolute necessity – as in, keeping her family from going hungry – I was always in and out of the supermarket as quickly as possible. The best time to do this was, and probably still is, first thing in the morning when the shops open at 8am, or from 7am at Spar.

In Doha, any time before midday is good because the shops are still fairly empty. People operate at different times here, either rising very early to work to be home by mid-afternoon or rising much later and working later.

Clothing, furniture, shoe and other such stores generally open from 10am and close at 10pm, but some supermarkets, like our local, stay open till midnight.  

I remember wandering around the Hamley’s toy store at the Mall of Qatar at 11am, I was the only person in the entire two-storey shop. In fact, in my experience, shop staff often outnumber customers.

This is probably because I’m still stuck in the early morning routine of South Africa, instead of joining the shopping masses in the evenings.   

The weather

As the mercury rises, I am beginning to see why most folk shop later. It’s simply too hot to walk to the shops (we’re a ten-minute amble away from City Centre in downtown West Bay). It’s wiser to stay indoors during the heat of the day and venture out once the sun has set. At the moment (early May), the sun goes down just after 6pm.

The temperature, which rises to the late 40Cs and even the early 50Cs in the height of summer, is also the reason for so much nocturnal work.

Some construction workers, for example, work from 4am to 11am and then again from) 4pm to 11pm shifts, while others simply work through the night.

I have watched them with their diggers and dumper trucks working under spotlight at night on the beachfront below our apartment, which is on the 26^th floor of a high-rise.  

Ramadan

Just I was adapting to the new rhythm of life in Qatar, along came Ramadan, the Holy Month of the Islamic faith, when all Muslims are obligated to fast daily from dawn to sunset. Out of respect for this abstinence, everyone else also abstains from eating or drinking in public.

This means working, school and shop hours change too. In fact, many places simply close and only open for Iftar. Iftar is the meal eaten by Muslims after sunset during Ramadan to break the fast. And then the shops and roads fill up so that 11pm traffic jams here, turn the 5pm rush-hour congestion on Cape Road into a fond, longed-for memory.

There’s another meal taken before sunrise, the pre-fasting one, called Suhoor. This “power” food eating takes place at around 3.30am (the times shift slightly daily and are advertised in the local newspapers), and so sleep patterns for Muslim and non-Muslim alike take a knock.

And then there’s Eid, the holiday that is officially celebrated at the end of Ramadan. It’s not, as we imagined, a one-day event, but something of a holiday period for everyone, regardless of faith. We live and we learn.

It’s been fascinating to watch and experience it all as we endeavour to dance to a different beat in Qatar.

We had almost found a rhythm – a new working-eating-living routine – when it was thrown out of the window (again, another bad choice of cliché given where we presently live) with the new pattern that comes the Holy Month of Ramadan.

And now, just as we’re managing towards a gentle waltz, having grown comfortable with heights, lift etiquette and noisy pipes and loud Shamrock pub nights, we need to move.

We’re moving  

We’re moving. A hike in rentals because of the forthcoming FIFA2022 World Cup means we can no longer live in our eyrie in the sky. While I am going to miss the rectory with a view, there’s something very satisfying about knowing that we’ll soon be able open windows, step outside (without free falling) and feel the grass between our toes.

And, of course, that of finding a new rhythm when it comes to “compound” living.