I Finally Got My Iqama!

So, maybe it was my conversation with the old company, or maybe it was my conversation with Suleiman, but whatever it was, Sunday morning first thing, I was called into the HR office and given my iqama.  I felt like crying and dancing all at the same time.  I held it like it was a precious gem.  I put it in my wallet, but found myself taking it out to look at it again every 10 minutes or so just to be sure it was real.

One thing that made me suspicious about the whole thing, is that they got the iqama for me without needing my passport.  My passport has been with me the whole time since I left the old company.   So that means either, a). My old company was lying about needing the passport just so they could keep it under their own control, or b). Suleiman had so much wasta he could get the iqama without my passport (but if this was the case, why didn't he do it sooner.)  Anyway, it didn't really matter anymore. The important thing was I had my iqama.

The first thing I did was call May from the publishing company, and tell her that I had finally gotten my iqama, and that perhaps it was possible to transfer now.  I told her I would feel them out and see if they were open to it and let her know.  She told me she would send me an amended offer after they discussed the finances of my proposal for a higher salary.

I felt so free!  I could finally do things like, open a bank account. And buy a sim card for my phone (even though I already had one). And, best of all leave the country (though I would still have to wait to get an exit re-entry visa for this.  Hm... other than those few things, I guess that is pretty much all that I need my iqama for, that and being here legally.  Kind of anti-climactic really.

There is one thing though, the picture on my iqama is the one they take of you at the airport when you first enter the country.  In it, I look confident but nervous at the same time, and I look about ten years younger than I feel now.  It's hard to imagine this was only 8 months ago.  I feel like I have changed so much since then.  It's weird, staring at myself, so innocent, so unsuspecting, would I still have come if I knew then what I know now?  I think I would have. Maybe it's the bad experiences that we learn the most from.   I don't think I would want to go back to being the girl in the photo, too much has changed for me. But I'm also not sure I like who I am becoming here.  True, I'm more patient, and I've seen a lot of things, and I've learned a lot.  But I also feel myself becoming lazy, starting to mimic the work ethic around me.  I'm starting to let these negative interactions with a few people, like Suleiman, who seemed so generous and kind, but who turned out to be greedy and spiteful, and the man who told me the bottom line for the college was getting the tuition money, not what was best for the students educationally, get to me.  I can feel my frustration and disappointment with these situations coloring my day to day interactions unfairly, and that isn't good.

So I think its time for a change.  Maybe all I need now is to finally take that long hoped for trip to Bahrain and clear my head for a weekend.  Or maybe something more.  Maybe it's time to take a chance on the publishing job, even if the pay is less.  Or maybe it's just time to come home.