Arabian Misadventures

The conversation started with why, in the end, I had not studied for a masters in history.

Despite my passion for this subject, the answer for me was simple: the banking crisis of 2008 and the subsequent personal financial loss in the United Arab Emirates (UAE).

Apparently, I had misunderstood the situation.  Qadir Ali argued that studying the Arabic language in Alexandria would lead to a job and a better career.  He also tried to convince me that I am not the engineering type and that my degree in computer science was a mistake.

The opposite is true.  By following his plan, I lost more than three years and was over 100,000 dollars (financially) worse off.

When looking back, it is very clear that one cannot trust most of what he says.  Was a liar, is a liar and probably always will be a liar.

The truth is that Qadir Ali only joined a FANG company (Facebook, Apple, Netflix, Google) after attaining a 1st class Arabic (and Islamic studies) degree from the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) and not from Alexandria, but this was not before being unemployed for six months and then working as a sales-type for a hardware company, for a year, based in some village near High Wycombe.

While encouraging me to leave an IT career, I later learned, he was studying  the Japanese language and Machine Learning; perhaps eyeing a Google (Alphabet) career in Japan?

As late as 2013, I was having doubts about his plan for me, but he told me to man-up and compared me to a mutual friend (of an expat family from UAE) who had studied eastern history exclusively with English texts (hence, in his opinion, a loser).

He also tried to convince me that I need to do at least four years of Arabic in order to study history at SOAS.  Qadir Ali made this claim despite knowing that according to the professor (the convenor of the history module, which I was interested in) two years of Arabic would probably be fine (and all I would probably need is a few months revision).  He also kept it to himself that I could purchase the actual course Arabic texts from the SOAS bookshop, (which I could focus my attention on, but I guess that would lead to a more successful outcome and that is not really what he wanted – as became clear later).  In the end, he even recommended I do a degree (3-4 years) in Arabic at Leiden university.

Qadir Ali misled me about Alexandria.  For example, he promoted the library as open 24-7 when actually it’s open only until around 5pm.  He described the city as the most beautiful place in the Middle East, but failed to mention the mountains of rubbish (that you will come across every 1000 metres).

He claimed that the programme in Alexandria was superior to that in SOAS and that the SOAS graduates could not speak Arabic.  He should know (I thought), he studied in both places.

Before going out there, he insisted I study Egyptian Colloquial Arabic (ECA), but after I enrolled for both Modern Standard Arabic (MSA) and ECA, he explained that the colloquial course is rubbish and that I needed to sit in the smoke-filled coffee houses to learn the dialect (therefore, thanks to him, 850 US dollars immediately wasted in fees to a racist institute).  He also wanted to send me Egyptian dramas (perhaps illegally downloaded), suggesting this is the way to learn. 

Why then did he tell me to enrol at the TAFL center in Alexandria? 

What was his motivation for deceiving me?  Was he bored with his translation career.  Is Dublin, Ireland not as exciting as he imagined?  Did it anger him for not being able to find a job in London?  Or does he regret not following a different career path; one that would sooner lead to a job in his hometown of Newcastle?  Or was he fed-up of sharing apartments with strangers and not being able to afford a one-bed flat and save money at the same time.  Or was it for his retarded ego?

With hindsight, I should have left him from day one.  Back then (five years ago), Qadir was often abusing people, but perhaps we felt sorry for him because he started out his student life in London by sleeping on the buses.  I also thought he genuinely wanted to be my friend and (much) later (on) wanted to help me sort out my career.  I use to think that his rough side was due to his upbringing in Newcastle (never been there myself), but this was a misconception.  He was simply aspiring to be a fountain of lies.  I guess his definition of friendship was different from mine.

After Qadir returned from his year abroad in Alexandria, I was excited to meet up with him in Hampstead Heath (where is was staying), but he had an abusive attitude (that I had to correct before continuing) and I found him with a cigarette in his mouth, which I ignored (perhaps at my own peril), which I did not expect for a person who did not even want to go to the cinema with us.  Was it really because he could not afford such entertainment, (but then how could he afford cigarettes)?

Another omen was when Qadir seconded the opinions of the mixed-heritage guy from Jordan, but later criticised him in a phone-call to me (as a way back into my life – I now realise).  Much later, once he was confident again in his use of weasel words, he justified the Jordanian mixed-heritage guy’s retarded arguments or downright lies.

What did I do to deserve this?  Had I not been a friend?  He use to brag about being working-class and perhaps, for a while, I saw myself in him (not the bragging bit) – working my hardest to get out of poverty and then to culture myself and help others.

My father once said, that (as a child) he always preferred the poor over the rich.  Perhaps that only works in the countryside or perhaps times have changed.  Whatever the reason, now I know from experience, you cannot judge a person by their economic background.

At least a couple of times, I paid for his lunch/dinner and encouraged him to study hard and not concern himself with the lack of motivation of his rich-kid classmates, which he was becoming increasingly obsessed about (whose parents were always going to sort them out with money or a job).

I even invited Qadir to my parent’s home where he enjoyed my mother’s cooking, and my late father had sincerely welcomed him.  However, none of this appears to have made a difference.

Three years from now, he will honour me with impoverishment and a ruined academic (and working) career.  I suppose we should expect no less from somebody who aspires to be a munafiq.

The hypocrites will be in the lowest depths of Hell, and you will find no one to help them (4:145).