how it all happened (Coles' Notes version)

It has been quite some time since I’ve blogged! Thank you to those who have asked for another blog; I had quite a surprise to share with friends back home to suddenly find out that I’ve married again. “Where is the blog?” some asked. “Cara, you just married an Egyptian in the UAE, where in the world is the story behind it?” “This is amazing, it reminds me of “Eat, Pray, Love…so intriguing!” Make yourself a cuppa tea and relax, this is a long one, but I hope you enjoy the story of how we came to be.

For those of you who have followed the tireless efforts with the ministries of foreign affairs in both the UAE and Canada, many trips to the embassies, and translations of documents, the shock ended some time ago and ended with relief with the announcement that we were finally officially married.

I’ve kept my relationship with my husband, Mohamed relatively quiet since we met earlier this year on February 6. There are a number of reasons behind this, mostly due to the culture in which we live, and privacy concerns with his family in Egypt, at least until we were legally official.

Our relationship from the beginning has been filled with laughter, discovery, love, and aspiration to become better people, for each other and for ourselves. I’m thrilled to finally be able to tell you our story (or at least the Cole’s notes version for a blog post, as Mohamed would one day like to write our story in a novel format!)

How we met…

Before we had met in person, we had connected on one of the community Facebook groups. He had friends in Arc Tower (located behind my building), and lived temporarily nearby in his company’s accommodation in the Tourist club. He had recently transferred from the main branch of his company in Dubai to run the Abu Dhabi office. I saw his friend request and message or two, but I decided to ignore it. Something in him decided to insist that we meet for a friendly coffee as we were from the same community and it would benefit the both of us. Curiosity got the better of me and I accepted the friend request, and eventually, a meetup for coffee.

I remember the 6^th of February quite well. I met some friends for lunch after they were finished with Friday’s prayer at their mosque. It was a quiet little restaurant in the Al Hosn area downtown. Our conversations were about catching up and my nervousness with my blind date that I decided to go on that night. I was about to cancel, but they encouraged me to go and get out for the evening.

I got ready early and think that we met about 5:30 pm or so. The date was supposed to be for coffee, and I expected to meet him outside of my building and walk across the street to the Boutik Mall on Reem Island.  But, Mohamed had other plans. Seeing his phone number come up for the first time on my mobile gave me chills. He had called to tell me that “he was down”, meaning he was outside my building ready to pick me up and that he was in the car. I remember asking him the make and model and suddenly felt weird that I was about to get in a car with a stranger. I looked outside but saw no one. I called him back confused and convinced he was in the wrong location. He laughed as he realized I was not like an Arabic woman; I was on time and waiting for him. I’ve been on time or early ever since. Again I asked how I would recognize him, but he said not to worry, that he wouldn’t be able to miss me. A  few minutes later, a new Toyota Carolla pulled in front of me and I opened the door. What happened next was like a scene out of Forrest Gump where he meets his bus driver for the first time. I had to make sure we introduced before we were going to be in the same vehicle together after all!

“Mohamed? Are you Mohamed Rashed?”
“Yes, Cara, I told you I wouldn’t be able to miss you.”
“Ok, well, now I know for sure it’s you, I guess it’s ok for you to drive me somewhere.”

Getting in the car he had offered me a pack of tic tacs and a small can of ginger ale. “You’ll like it”, he said. “Who is this guy?” I asked myself.

Instead of going across the street, we decided to go to Yas Mall, located about a half an hour away on Yas Island. It was only a few months old at the time and I loved it. We checked out what was playing at the VOX cinemas and bought tickets to American Sniper. While we waited for the movie to start, we ended up having a little indulgence at Argo Tea.

We were both interested in the movie and it had our full attention. I remember sitting with my arms folded glued to the screen the entire time. We chatted throughout the drive on our way home through Saadiyat Island, and by the time we were in front of my building, I was ready to say a quick good night and bolt out of the car to avoid any potential awkward moments and keep him in the “friends zone”. He seemed attracted to me right away, but at the time I had different plans: I was applying to school boards and private schools near home, and my contract was about to come to an end in Abu Dhabi.

The Second “Date”

For our second meeting, Mohamed decided to be a little more forward in what he wanted from me. He took me to an Egyptian restaurant called Studio Masr at the World Trade Center Mall. There was too much food on our table, but he wanted me to try a taste of everything from his home country. He got to discussing his past, his present, his future, and his big plans. Without saying my name, I realized he was already including me in these plans. Feeling he was coming on too strong, I remember saying, “You know, now that we’re friends, we can work together to find you a nice girl to fit your plans”. I think I broke his heart twice in the same moment. Once for me not wanting to be part of his plan, and again thinking that he might need help in this department (LOL).I reminded him of my plan to finish my contract in July and hopefully be home for good by August.

I remember at this time, I didn’t want to leave Abu Dhabi, but I didn’t have much of a reason to stay either. I was about to finish my contract and it seemed like a natural end to a great chapter. But…God had other plans. Pretty bold, he informed me that he would challenge my decision to leave up until I walk out of the terminal to board the plane in August.

Third time’s the charm…?

When I met Mohamed for the third time, I decided to give him some credit and to give the possibility of a short term relationship until the summer a chance. We took a drive along the Corniche area, and parked by Marina Mall and took a walk around the breakwater to see great views of the Emirates Palace Hotel and the Presidential Palace. There was more to him than I thought. He was Eastern with a Western mentality and modern outlook. He had travelled extensively across the GCC and had a drive for business. Coming back up to Marina Mall, I had asked him if he had gone to the Tiara restaurant located in the middle of the mall, but high in the main tower as the revolving restaurant. He hadn’t heard of it yet, so we were sure to have coffee and sweets to end the night.

When he took me to the front entrance of my building on this night, I wasn’t so eager to jump out of the car. Despite breaking social mores, we had our first kiss in the car. Although we didn’t see anyone around, we could have gotten into trouble had anyone seen us and complained. But we didn’t care. The connection and electricity was like nothing either of us had felt before and completely took us by surprise.

The fourth date…

The fourth meeting was quite modest. He took me to a shisha café in the Tourist club area near Abu Dhabi mall. It was here I remember falling in love with how we discussed everything. Each of us would build ideas of each other after listening intently to what the other had to say. Sitting in this café, I remember the religious discussions beginning. As I had agreed to carry on this relationship (for the moment), I had to get a few things straight. 

“You know I’m not Muslim, right?” 

Looking around, laughing, and comparing me to the other women around, he said, “Yes, it is easy to see that you are not Muslim”. 

“And this is okay?” I asked. 

“Yes”, he replied, “The Prophet Mohamed (PBUH) himself had said that Christians are our closest brothers, so it is okay that we’re together."

I started to relax. "Just so you know, I'm not converting, and I never would under any circumstance."

"That's unfortunate as it would be an amazing gift for you to embrace Islam as a person of your intelligence, but I would never ask you to leave your religion."

This would not have been my first time having shisha, but it felt like it as I had a bad reaction to it. After 5 minutes or so, I found myself dizzy and had blurred vision. As my head was in my hands, I knew that I didn’t have a choice but to trust this man to get me home. It turns out that the server had not placed a filter in my hookah, thus giving me a fast and strong effect. This was another night that I would not soon forget. Each of our nights so far were unforgettable.

A Case of the ‘Man Flu’?

Within the first few weeks of meeting, Mohamed had told me that he wasn’t feeling well. I had yet been to his flat, so I didn’t have any specifics on where he lived. The tourist club is a very busy area in which I refuse to drive in at night. A few days had passed before I had heard from him. I knew we were dating at this point, but didn’t want to come on to strong had he needed space. I’ll never forget the conversation we had after a few days of not speaking. He was quite upset and felt that I had abandoned him at his time of need! This would have been his very first time with strep throat, and he was convinced that he wasn’t going to pull through without full medical attention. 

Unfortunately for me, this was now the early evening of a Thursday and he needed to get to a hospital (there are no walk in clinics and people don’t make appointments for such cases). Not only is the city center crowded, it is mayhem at this hour. There are plenty of hospitals though, and by the 5^th ER we visited, we finally found one with a doctor that was an ENT specialist rather than a general GP. This doctor was Egyptian as well, which made Mohamed a very happy and compliant patient. He designed his own treatment and insisted on antibiotics as an injection rather than by prescription (yes, you can do that here) with a follow up appointment the next day.

I can’t remember the time we returned back to my flat, but I remember it being late and me pulling out all the blankets to drape him in and make him numerous tomato soups while he slept on my couch. We both love looking back at this ordeal. It said a lot about the both of us. He will say that this is when he could see without a doubt how soft my heart is, and once I realized that he wasn’t overreacting to his symptoms, that I was happy to nurse him back to health. To me, I adored him insisting on the best treatment possible. If he would do this for himself, I know he would do the same, if not more for me should I ever get sick.

Spring…

From April to July, we were happy. We were more than happy. If we came up with an idea as to what to do, we did it. There were no limitations or time restrictions. The world was our oyster and we had it at our feet. Talks of marriage started as a “one day” idea. My divorce at this time wasn’t finalized, so I knew that I had at least a few months before he could really bring it up, so I felt at peace with the timing of things. There was only one thing holding Mohamed back at this point from feeling completely at ease…the absence of his son. At this point his son was in Egypt and Mohamed had no contact with him for months. He was naturally worried about him and wanted him to enjoy the good life here in the UAE, with us. Before the summer, he would have applied for his son’s residency visa three times, all rejected at the immigration office in Dubai.

This time also tested our patience. Within this time frame was my trip to Bangladesh with World Vision, Ramadan, and preparing for my trip home to Canada for 1 month in the summer. Our togetherness all of a sudden had rules, restrictions, and timelines which we were not used to.

Time Apart

My trip to Canada was difficult without Mohamed. I was thrilled to see my family, but it was hard to leave him in Abu Dhabi during Ramadan while all alone. He called me often, and I loved answering the phone with an Arabic greeting, proud to show my loved ones back home that someone special was calling. I had completed the necessary paperwork that required me to be in Canada in person, and I would have to play one of the many waiting games until I received the documents in Abu Dhabi. 

I could feel the positive reactions to the relationship while back home. I think they saw it in the way I spoke or how my eyes glittered whenever the subject of Mohamed came about. My aunt had the nerve to ask if I predicted that we would be engaged before Christmas. I shyly said yes knowing very well it was going to be a greater announcement than that.

Mohamed had told me that there was a big surprise waiting for me when I returned from Canada. Hmmm…what could it be? Maybe on the selfish side, but I was convinced it was a ring of some sort (rings are not part of marriage tradition in Arabic countries)… but it was better than that…

The Reunion

When he picked me up at the airport in Abu Dhabi, not giving too much for social mores, we embraced anyways. It was one of those long hugs that you felt electricity running through the both of you, while at the same time lowering your blood pressure, bringing you to an immediate calmness. Our reunion was cut short, but with good reason. After driving me back to my flat, I found balloons at my door with “I love you” and “I miss you” written upon them outside my door. I was really touched. The flat was cleaned and there were more balloons inside…but these ones weren’t for me. I hadn’t developed a sudden admiration for Super Man. Mohamed revealed the surprise of being able to bring his mother and son here only from a few days ago, and they had rented an extra flat nearby (Malik’s birthday was the day after I arrived, hence the Super Man balloons in my flat being hidden away). I was excited and heartbroken at the same time as Mohamed had to return to them after waiting for some time for me at the airport.

Getting the ball rolling…

The beginning of September saw the arrival of my divorce documents and we booked our tickets to visit my family in Canada over the Christmas holidays. I knew at this point that the marriage was definitely going to happen: we couldn’t exactly make travel plans without being married for a number of reasons. We knew to get started on other documents that were pending, the first of which was the mandatory medical check. This was to ensure that we were both healthy, free of disease, and that I wasn’t pregnant (punishment for this is possible deportation or imprisonment). It was also in place to prevent those who are related from getting married (ok, you can giggle now). The actual appointment for the testing was easy; it was the running around, finding a live person to explain the locations on the phone, and actually finding the limited location which were the tricky parts.

It was within the same week that I found my dress via Facebook post I happened to see an ad for by a private dress distributor. It was tricky tracking the location down as she only opens upon request, but we finally found a day and time that would work for all. Her inventory was small, but high in quality in all of her collection. My dress was an abaya (not really a wedding dress at all), but it was cream coloured and jeweled, a perfect garment to get married in with an Arabic flare.

With the divorce documents in hand, I had spent a few days going back and forth with the Embassy. I was grateful for their assistance including an immediate document which was a ready-attested and legalized document stating that I was free to marry according to Canadian Law. Although helpful, you have to wonder the kind of help an embassy can off its citizens when they’re only open from 9am-12pm for consular services. I was really thankful for my partner teacher and colleagues for their support while I had to leave early and run across the city to make their opening hours.

Delays and other speed bumps…

By the time October came around, I thought we had all of our documents together, with the exception of my father’s authorization. At this point, I wasn’t worried about it as many friends have gotten married in Abu Dhabi, and they’ve had the judge sign for them in the absence of their father. As my father and I are thousands of miles away from each other, I figured we would qualify for a judge’s signature. To make sure we had everything in order, I had asked Mohamed to go into the Ministry of Justice with everything we had. They informed him that my documents from the Embassy needed translation and attestation from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Justice (yes, even though they were produced in the same country). I understood this request however, as the countries in the GCC are run by stamps, signatures, and legalization for anything to be processed. They insisted, however, that I do have my father’s authorization.

When Mohamed called me at school to tell me the news, I felt the tears of frustration coming down my face:

“What’s the matter, habibti? All your father needs to do is have a notarized letter created and get a stamp from Immigration or the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Canada.”
“We’re going to have to do this by post, and it’s going to take another month.”
“No, they told me if he goes in person, it’s a same day service.”
“You don’t understand. Canada is not like the UAE where we have these services available nearby. The only Ministry of Foreign Affairs is in Ottawa.”
“So? What is the problem?”
“My family lives near Toronto, about a 6 hour drive to Ottawa.”
“So ask your father to go to Ottawa. I’m sure he’ll do this for you.”
“My father doesn’t drive and it’s a long way to go.”
“No problem, I will hire a driver.”
“Habibi, I cannot have my father in a car for 6 hours, drop by the ministry and turn around.”
“Ok, we will get him a hotel, he will enjoy.”

At that point in the conversation, I told him we would speak more in depth in person. There was no sense in arguing over the phone with the geography of Canada or the social mores of having such a request. I decided to visit the Ministry of Justice myself and ask for an exception.

A few days later, I found myself in the judge’s chamber able to ask questions with the help of an Emirati assistant who was more fluent in English should there have been any miscommunication. I was stonewalled. There was no way I was going to get the judge to sign for me. Having claimed knowing other brides that have had this exception was not sitting well with him. 

I said, “OK, before I leave this office, please tell me EXACTLY what I need to do in order to do everything properly.”

“You need your father’s authorization”
“Yes, I see that. The list of instructions states it right here. But was does that mean?”
“Your father is to create a document stating that he gives his permission for this marriage and authorization.”
“Authorization to whom? My husband to be?”
“No, of course not. This is for someone to be present at the marriage. It must be a male Muslim”
“This instruction list should state that or people are going to do this improperly. Ok, the document that my father creates, does it need to be sent to immigration?”
“No my dear”.
“Does my father need to have it stamped by a notary?”
“Yes, of course”
“The instructions should state this. I will follow the rules, I was just hoping that this wouldn’t take long.”
“No worries my dear, I will accept a scanned copy.”
“Pardon me? You’ll accept a scanned copy?”
“Yes, so long as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs will stamp it, I will accept it."

I should have known better. This judge made everything seem easy for a moment. Upon returning home that night, I messaged my father and sister and they were immediately on the case. I am so grateful for them. My father had an appointment with the notary the next day and I felt positive. When I received the scanned copy of the notarized letter, I took it for translation. The translation services told me that they would translate it, but as it was a scan, it would receive a large green stamp, “NOT INTENDED FOR MINISTRY OF JUSTICE”. Great.

“But ma’am, it’s ok. Go to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs desk and see if they will stamp it. If they are ok with it, we will translate with the proper stamp.”

I got up from the translation desk and made my way across the room.

“Excuse me, can you tell me if this will be able to be stamped?”
“Ma’am, that’s a scan.”
“Yes, I know it’s a scan. Is it possible?”
“No ma’am, but if your Embassy will stamp this document, we will stamp this document."

This meant more running around and going to the embassy as a ‘Hail Mary’ pass to get this done, but I figured it was worth a shot. As the time was now after noon, it would mean leaving work early again the next day to make their working hours.

I explained the situation to the Embassy and handed over the scan. As it was not an original, nor had the stamp from Ottawa, they weren’t able to touch it. I thanked them for their time and called Mohamed with the news in that we would have to wait the 25 business days that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Ottawa requires for mail-in authentication requests. I treated myself to a lunch at Tim Hortons located nearby and tried to relax, wondering how we were going to get Malik’s residency visa approved without showing proof of marriage. There was never any question whether I wanted to marry Mohamed, it was just a matter of when. Again, very thankful for my father and sister, I messaged them when I got home, and my sister had the document in express mail to Ottawa the next day.

The Waiting Game Continues…

“Have you decided on a day?” my sister asked.
“Get this…you, ‘walk-in’.”
“That is so weird”.

I think that this is what made it the most nerve wracking when it came to waiting. I could get married tomorrow, or next month. Inshallah before too long. I would have made more of an announcement on Facebook or in emails as to when we were getting married, but we didn’t know for sure ourselves.

Things were slowly coming together…

While I was running around and playing the waiting game on documents again, Mohamed searched for a solution with his son’s residency visa. We were very fortunate to find a nursery nearby to nurture his social side. Without a residency visa, we could not enroll him in an actual school. This was October of grade one, and time was ticking by. We cringed at the thought of him losing the year. If the residency visa was not going to happen within the timeline, we would have to consider sending his son back to Egypt to save the school year. Luckily, God was on our side once again, and working in many ways at the same time.

Mohamed had made a contact with a school in Khalifa City. It wouldn’t be too close to us, but we figured we’d count our blessings as school space is at a premium. This contact also had a connection to a man here in Abu Dhabi, who was also Egyptian, and had helped people with transferring visas. This was our chance. Mohamed had made plans to drive this man with him to Dubai on the following Sunday. I had called Mohamed a few times during the day, and all he could tell me that he was still at Immigration no matter the hour I called. I didn’t want to interrupt a meeting nor distract him while driving on the infamous Sheikh Zayed road. Entering my flat close to 8:30pm, he opened the passport of his son in front of me, to the newly minted residency visa. Thrilled couldn’t describe how I felt. He couldn’t tell me the good news over the phone as he didn’t believe it himself. This little guy in front of us was going to be with us on a permanent basis, able to attend school, and no worries about having to send him back to Egypt for residency restrictions. We both believe that this was the first and only time a single man in the UAE was going to be able to sponsor a young child without a wife, sponsoring a maid, and without any other immediate family in the country. Every single person behind a desk Mohamed spoke with that day happened to be the right one. The man he brought with him also had no experience in Dubai immigration, he had only worked in Abu Dhabi. This had to be God’s doing, there is no other explanation. We could now breathe, but this wasn’t going to delay us from getting married. We wanted the whole package, a life together.

The following week, we were able to transfer his son from a nursery to the school in Khalifa City. Mohamed later told me of some more complications, but saved the details until all was sorted. It turns out that his request for permission to attend school had to go through ADEC (Abu Dhabi Education Council, my employer), but had been rejected…twice. Mohamed had found someone in ADEC to grant him a few days’ extension to have a request sent to ADEC from the school. Luckily, his contact at the school came through, and the man who granted the extension from ADEC approved the permission for his son to attend. We’re not exactly sure what happened to this man in ADEC but had heard that he was let go less than one week later. If everything hadn’t happened at the exact time that it did, this would be a much different story.

Relief

On November 7^th, I had received the final stamped and attested document from Canada stating my father’s authorization. We could now pick a date. The following week included November 11. Mohamed liked the date (11/11). Being Canadian, I was weary of this date as it’s a solemn and reverent day reserved for our armed forces past and present. But I am not in Canada, and 9 hours ahead of scheduled Toronto time, so I would still be able to embrace my minutes of silence later one. Besides, knowing Mohamed went through basic training in the Egyptian military (though never actually recruited), and dons his dog tags on a daily basis, I came to like the coincidence.

The Big Day...

The scene of our marriage celebration was quite modest. We completed the necessary paperwork with the judge and our limited guest list within chambers. With us were his uncle, cousin, and dear friend, all of whom live here in Abu Dhabi. I was proud to have them meet me for the first time on this special day. I really appreciated having this uncle as the person granted my father’s authorization. He is the brother of Mohamed’s father. His father had passed away in 2010, so this was the closest I would ever come to meeting my father-in-law. My favourite part of the service was when Mohamed and his uncle sat face to face with right hands clasped as they said words of the Quar’an, transferring the responsibility and protection of me from my father to Mohamed.

Wait a minute…

Although peaceful and reverent, this day was not without headache. While paperwork was being finalized by the judge, he had found an error in my Emirates ID. It turns out that my last name had been spelled wrong in Arabic the whole time! He looked at the letter of authorization and asked, “How can I be sure that this man, John Tabron is your father when your Emirates ID states that you are Cara Tarbon?”

We were speechless and hoped that the judge would just press on. Luckily I had my birth certificate with me, but it was reissued in 1996 and did not include the name of my father. I had to explain that it wasn’t a legal requirement to show the father’s name on the birth certificate so long as at least the mother registers the birth. Luckily, the judge continued after we pleaded with him to focus on the English translation rather than take the mistake of an underpaid worker in the Emirates ID authority as truth.

The Future

The future looks bright for all of us. We have just completed Mohamed’s paperwork for his visa application to visit Canada over Christmas time. Neither of us can wait for our Canadian family to meet him. Had we known that his son would be with us and able to travel, he would have been coming with us. Inshallah, he will be with us during all of our travels in the summer of 2016.

National Day is coming up and we look forward to having the days off. Initially, we had planned to go away during this time in a delayed honeymoon to the Maldives, but unfortunately, the archipelago is undergoing political strife and they are under tourist evacuation until later next week. Hopefully, we’ll be able to travel over spring break.

At the moment, we’re happy in Abu Dhabi. I love working with my colleagues and the kindergarten children. Mohamed is excited about hopefully changing positions. Abu Dhabi is an amazing and safe place to grow up, and we are thriving in being able to give his son great recreation and academic support we might not be able to within Canada or Egypt. We love having Canada and Egypt as opportunity, and will always be on the lookout as to when the best time for our next move is.

A few short years ago I entered this country and would never believe you if you told me what was going to happen. With grateful heads and hearts we are thanking God and our supporters on a daily basis. And I still believe the best is yet to come, for all.