I'm writing this from Ibri, Oman, where I've been since last Sunday-ish. (Surely, y'all remember me blogging about my parents' giving me their blessings to go to Oman?)
So this first little journal or whatever was to say that it's really, REALLY, really hot in Oman. When the wind blows, you feel like flames of hellfire are being thrown into your face. Nothing could've prepared me this. It's so hot that most shops are closed, especially around the afternoon time, and no one here walks outside. No one. Because the heat kills.
Also, at the Muscat airport, there were so many Pakistanis, many of them Pashtuns. There are other South Asians as well, and these immigrants can be spotted by their South Asian-style clothing. Men. I haven't been outside much, and women typically aren't seen outside here, but on the way home the other day in the bus, I saw a South Asian woman walking through the gates to her house.
It breaks my heart to see these people, not just the South Asian ones but also the Arabs/Omanis, who sit in their shops or outside their shops in this heat, trying miserably hard to make a living and most of them probably just barely surviving. It makes you hate this world, and hopefully we all already hate poverty and injustice. Why do people have to go through such hell to live? It's so unfair. And then for the immigrants, most of them are forced to leave their families and other loved ones behind to have jobs outside their homes and communities, and most likely to be discriminated against, ostracized, and otherwise hated and treated brutally - as we know happens in the Gulf with South Asian (and other?) migrant laborers.
I'll write in more detail later - about how we got here, what all happened in Muscat, what's been going on here so far, how this experience is different from my Jordan one, what Omani society is like as far as my little observations are concerned, and, of course, more things about HOW OMAN IS HOT AS HELL.
Peace be on you, crazy-ass world.