Alishahr's Tracker

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

Khalid Ahmed Al-Kuwari
الكواري أحمد خالد
Application ● Horse ● Schedule

There Are No Dogs in America with Fiachra Fitzsimmons is Finished Pleasures of Wealth with Liana Mars is Finished Hold on Tight with Class is Ongoing A Wealth of Pleasures with Liana Mars is Finished Catching the World on Film with Fionn Paquet is Finished Hers By Right with Elizabeth Toman is Finished Not in Kansas Anymore with Mikhail Thatcher is Finished Culture Shock with Mikhail Thatcher is Finished A Long Way From Home with Dariya Zaymidoroga is Finished Meet the Competition with Indigo Blume is Finished As-Salam Al-Amiri with Liana Mars is Finished The End Draws Nigh with Sina Aleardi is Finished We Are All Connected to Each Other with Serenity Oliver is Finished The Story of Three Cards with Serenity Oliver is Ongoing Tricks Up My Sleeve with Elizabeth Toman is Ongoing You Can Be a Queen for a Night with Liana Mars is Ongoing All The Grey Arabians with Gavriila Shahar is Ongoing

What I Think About... Liana Mars: You're nice and cute. We're a lot alike both coming from powerful families. Rich people need to stick together. Fionn Paquet: Well, I don't hate you. We share a house and a floor, but don't think I'm going out of my way to be your friend. Elizabeth Toman: I think you're really pretty. I look forward to seeing you around sometimes. Mikhail Thatcher: Thank you for your help. I don't know if I really trust you yet, but talking is nice. Dariya Zaymidoroga: Study buddy. Indigo Blume: You're just annoying. Leave me alone. Sina Aleardi: Stay on your half of the room, and I'll pretend you don't exist. I wouldn't be surprised if you are the Devil. Serenity Oliver: You're pretty cool. That tarot stuff is interesting, and you're really nice.

Abigail Elizabeth Sorenson-Faulkner
Application ● Horse

Things Are Looking Up with Roderick Faulkner and Fiachra Fitzsimmons is Finished Just Like the Good Ol' Days with Katherine Carr is Finished The Capacity to be Greater than our Suffering with Cara-Jean Kitchi is Finished Ki Mint Vet, Úgy Arat with Ráhel Sárközi is Ongoing As Deep As Any Blade with Sina Aleardi is Ongoing The Rest of a Champion with Mycroft Hollins is Ongoing Show Jumping A with Class is Ongoing Show Jumping B with Class is Ongoing Hunters A with Class is Ongoing Hunters B with Class is Ongoing

What I think about... Roderick Faulkner: I would do anything for you because I love you. You're the highlight of my day. Katherine Carr: Thanks for letting me ride Rabbit and the other unassigned school horses. Cara-Jean Kitchi: You're so quiet and shy. Don't worry, just work hard and try your best, and I'll make sure the effort is rewarded. Sina Aleardi: Mycroft Hollins:

Roderick Anthony Faulkner
Application

Things Are Looking Up with Abigail Sorenson-Faulkner and Fiachra Fitzsimmons is Finished On Being Humble with David Adams is Ongoing Just Keep Swimming with Class is Ongoing Geometry A with Class is Ongoing Geometry B with Class is Ongoing A Lonely Affair Indeed with Kensi Lawliet is Ongoing

What I think about... Abigail Sorenson-Faulkner: You're my darling wife, and I couldn't ask for anyone better. David Adams:

Ashley Andrew Stephens
Application ● Schedule

Another Day, Another Destiny with Jennifer Hart is Finished Put Through the Paces with Isaiah Beringer is Ongoing Beggars Can't be Choosers with Katherine Carr is Finished It's Just You and Me with Katherine Carr is Ongoing Bienvenue à Français! (Welcome to French!) with Class is Ongoing

What I think about...

Natalie Irena Popović
Application ● Horse ● Schedule

First Impressions Matter with Fiachra Fitzsimmons is Finished What of War? with Class is Ongoing An Introduction to Herbal Medicine with Class is Ongoing

What I think about...

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

First Christmas

Christmas was still a new cultural event in Qatar. It was always an expat thing that Khalid never understood growing up. December 25 was just another day where life continued on as normal. December 18, Qatar National Day, was the big festive event in December. Out of curiosity, the Arab boy asked his driver to take him to the Sheraton Hotel to see their Christmas tree. He stared in awe at the ornaments glittering in the light and draped off the branches of the fir tree. Trees were a rarity in the desert, and it was amazing to see something so huge and green indoors. Without thinking twice, he pulled out his phone to take several pictures. Boxes wrapped in brightly colored foil adorned with bows and ribbons spread out from underneath the tree. He couldn't recall ever seeing anything like a Christmas tree with the multitude of colored ornaments and various dangly objects that served a purely decorative function.

A middle-aged lady with greying hair exited the elevator near the lobby. She wore a red blouse with a prancing reindeer appliqued on the front. A brown Coach purse hung off one arm. She glanced over in Khalid's direction and detoured to go over to him. In broken Arabic, she asked if he spoke any English. When he answered in the affirmative, the lady's eyes lit up.

"Have you ever seen a Christmas tree before?" she asked.

"I saw a little one, but that one wasn't real," he said.

"Well, today, Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Three wise men visited the baby and brought him gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh. In memory of that, we give each other gifts," she explained.

Khalid thought a few moments before shaking his head slowly.

"I brought nothing to give you. I'm sorry," he said.

The lady smiled gently, "It's alright. I know Muslims don't celebrate Christmas."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of chocolate shaped like Santa Claus wrapped in bright foil. Khalid could only stare at it, unsure of the identity of the jolly fellow printed on the wrapper.

"Here, take this. It's Santa Claus. We tell our children that Santa Claus brings them presents for Christmas," she held it out to Khalid.

"No, thank you. I'm not Christian," he politely refused.

"I insist. You should have it," she pressed, familiar with the local customs.

"I can't accept. You are too kind," he said.

"Take it. Consider it your first Christmas present," she insisted.

"Thank you, ma'am," he took the chocolate.

"Think nothing of it. Good luck on your studies," she said.

Khalid glanced over his shoulder to where his driver was standing motioning for him to hurry along. She followed his gaze and quickly pulled her business card from her purse, handing it to Khalid.

"If you're ever planning on visiting London, let me know. But go on; I don't want to keep you."

He glanced down at the card as he took it. Karen Price. The Guardian. With a quick thanks, he nearly ran back to join his driver, switching seamlessly into Arabic. Before jum'ah, Khalid really wanted to get Liana something nice. He hoped it would be a nice gesture and an attempt to show respect to her Western culture.

During the drive to The Pearl from West Bay, Khalid couldn't stop thinking about Liana. He loved spending time with his friends and seeing his family again, but he missed school. So far, she was the only person he would even consider classifying as a friend. He watched the buildings roll by along Lusail Expressway. The ocean was an ever present sight on the horizon. The car turned onto Pearl Boulevard which crossed a stretch of water to reach the largest island of The Pearl. The place was known to be inhabited mostly by expats and included stores with all the luxury brands.

There were two places in particular Khalid wanted to visit. The first was Al Fardan Jewellery, and if they didn't have anything he liked, then it was a visit to Georg Jensen. Khalid's driver kept him company and held the credit card. After the fifteen million dollar shopping spree, Khalid's father decided that the driver would be responsible for carrying the card though Khalid still had to sign off. At school, he only had a debit card that was loaded with a thousand dollars each month for spending.

Even though Khalid loved some of the chokers and bracelets at Al Fardan, nothing looked appropriate for a girl his age. At Georg Jensen however, he found the perfect gift after a solid hour of searching. He set his sights on a white gold sun pendant with a single large white saltwater pearl in the center. Each of the twelve rays was studded with a small diamond. He picked out a matching eighteen inch curb link chain thinking that it would be long enough to be tucked away while riding and durable enough to not snag and break on something. The price of the pendant and chain never crossed his mind.

"You have very fine tastes, young man," the jeweler said in Arabic.

"Thank you. I'm buying it for someone special," Khalid replied.

"Well, she will be very happy. Maybe next time, you will be buying a ring for her."

The jeweler held out the small box with the pendant proudly displayed on a black velvet pillow and the rest of the chain tucked underneath. Khalid nodded his approval and finished paying for the item. He was practically bouncing on the way back to the car eager to get back to America and present his gift to Liana. The only thing that could be better would be sharing his city with her. He didn't care if it was improper for them to be together--her being a non-Muslim girl and him a Muslim guy. They could go walk along the Corniche, see a show at Al Shaqab, spend a day shopping at The Pearl, explore Aspire Park, go camping, he could show her his falcon, it would be amazing. As the car pulled into the driveway back at Khalid's house, the driver only had one thing to say.

"Don't let your mother know how you feel."

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

Stepping out into the familiar desert climate made the realization of being home sink in. The sun hung low in the sky, and it wouldn't be long before the muezzin calling azan would be heard all throughout the city. The lights from the building shone a little bit brighter, but it would be a few hours yet before the Doha skyline truly glittered as an oasis in the desert. The black Mercedes cruised along an unusually open stretch of road for that time of day. Inside, a gentleman in a tailored suit sat at the wheel while a boy dressed in traditional Qatari garb stared absently out the window.

"You're awfully quiet. Is anything wrong?" The driver asked.

"No, I'm okay," the boy responded after a long silence.

The car fell silent and the driver, Rashid, was content to leave the boy in peace. He wondered what America was like and what happened to turn such a boisterous child silent. He missed their chats about football and light hearted arguments over camel racing. Even at the airport, Rashid could tell his favorite child was different even though he couldn't quite give a name to it. He wished that Khalid would at least be excited to see his twin sisters again. They were begging to come along for the ride to the airport.

Rashid made the final turn onto the street where several members of the Al-Kuwari family lived. Gated mansions lined the street with high walls to enforce privacy. The Mercedes came to a stop in front of a solid gate with decorative cutouts in geometric patterns. From the inside, two men dressed in thobes pulled the gate open and closed it after the car passed through.

From one of the upper rooms, two girls watched the black car approach. Their faces were only visible for a moment before they raced through the house to the front door. Flower beds lined the cream colored brick lane, and a stone canopy provided shade in front of the main entrance. Trees and grass in the front part of the property offered relief from the desert heat. A large car port off to one side and hidden from street view sheltered Land Cruisers in various colors, a new Rolls Royce Wraith, and a Volvo sedan.

The driver opened the door for Khalid before going to get his luggage out of the trunk. Aisha and Fatima threw the wooden front door open and ran to greet their brother.

"Khalid! Welcome home!"

The boy found it impossible not to let a grin spread across his face as he knelt down to embrace his younger sisters. Even Rashid cracked a small smile seeing Khalid apparently back to his normal self. He remembered when the twins were just born and how Khalid would sneak over to the ladies' side of the house just to sit with them. No amount of lectures on indecency could deter him.

Hissah came out next and embraced her son for a moment before holding him at arm's length. She frowned and promptly slapped him across the face.

"Your agal is crooked, and the nis cobra looks sloppy and unfinished. Your hair is long like a girl, and I know I don't have four daughters. Stand up straight, you're slouching like a good-for-nothing Nepalese. What a disgrace. Isha starts in twenty minutes. You will be joining us."

From just inside the house, Nura and Ali watched through the open door. No one said anything or moved until the matriarch of the house was out of sight. Ali was the first out and exchanged cheek kisses with his little brother.

"Welcome home! Any cute girls in America? Can you introduce me to anyone hotter than Maryam?"

"Ignore him, little brother. Maryam will be a good wife, and Inshallah, will teach dear brother about maturity. Aba and Muhammad will be home later. Mama was furious when they said they wouldn't come home from work until late," Nura interjected.

Khalid only nodded still recovering from his mother's scathing welcome. He was gone barely a month, but it still stung that his mother didn't even show any sign of being glad he was back. Within the minute, everyone ducked back inside. A Filipino maid handed Khalid a cold can of Coca Cola which he took gratefully. Rashid followed carrying the luggage. Soon, the familiar sounds of azan echoed throughout the house, and all its inhabitants stopped to perform wudu and gather in the small prayer room. Even though he was good about praying five times a day in America, Khalid could feel his mother watching his every move waiting for him to make a mistake.

The grandfather clock in the dining room rang eight times marking the start of dinner. A crystal chandelier above the table offered illumination, and the ceiling was decorated with a bright floral pattern in the arabesque style. Fresh cut flowers in glass vases adorned the side tables around the edge of the dining room, and the usual centerpiece, a scallop shaped silver platter with Arabic calligraphy reading Kuwari in gold inlay was pushed off to the side. Ahmed and Hissah sat at either end of the table, and some of the relatives showed up to dinner as well. Once everyone was seated, each person recited the prayer before eating. Oh Allah! Bless the food You have provided us and save us from the punishment of the hellfire. In the name of Allah.

Hissah watched the table and snatched Khalid’s hand as he made a reach for the machbous. The low Afaa left the boy shrinking in his chair. She kept her death grip on his wrist until Rashed, Khalid’s grandfather, set his hands back in his lap.

“We wait until everyone is finished,” Hissah admonished her son.

He ate in silence for several minutes glancing sideways at his mother every so often. A young man in his twenties with mussed hair and an ochre colored thobe gave Khalid an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much, little cousin. I’m sure Aunt Hissah is happy to see you again,” the man said.

“Yeah, sure. How’s my falcon behaving?” Khalid picked at his soup.

“She’s great. Your hard work with her paid off. She caught a pigeon last week. If you want, we can go hunting tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not!” Hissah interjected. “He’s getting a haircut tomorrow. I told Ahmed that America would be a bad influence on the boy, and look, he came home with long hair and a sloppy ghutra.”

“I don’t really see what’s wrong, aunt,” he shrugged.

“Abdul Karim! You do not talk back to your elders!”

Hissah looked ready to launch herself across the table at her nephew. Khalid shrank even further in his seat while Abdul Karim did his best to ignore his aunt in favor of helping himself to more rice and vegetables. At the other end of the table, Rashed, Ahmed, and Muhammad were engaged in a heated discussion about investments.

“Balen! What was he thinking?!” Muhammad slammed his fist on the table causing everyone to start.

“Boy, you’re not wrong to be startled, but if the investment succeeded, the value would have tripled if not more. At the time, the risk was appropriate,” Rashed said calmly.

“He lost everything. How will he make it back?” Muhammad pressed.

“Not overnight. But we’ll recover. There are other projects. You are always so careful with your money. You are too safe. It is an important lesson to learn that risk is good. You will be a better husband to Hessa if you can learn to take chances. Not all of them will end in success, but if you make smart chances, Inshallah, then more will end in favor than not. The same with money. You are a quick learner, Muhammad. Inshallah, you will be a good member of the company.”

“You are a smart man, son, but you still have a lot to learn. This internship is good for you,” Ahmed added.

“Nura, stop slurping the saloona. It’s unbecoming of a young lady,” Hissah scolded.

Without needing any further encouragement, Aisha and Fatima started slurping their soup trying out out-do the other with the most obnoxious noise. However, a single glance from their mother soon put an end to their entertainment.

“And Ali, stop slouching. What has gotten into you? What will Maryam think if her husband can’t even sit up straight?”

“Yes, mama,” he mumbled.

“Speak clearly when you’re talking. You’re not some growling animal,” she snapped.

“Yes, mama,” he repeated louder.

“So, Khalid, tell us about school in America. Have you met anyone important?” Ahmed asked from across the table.

“It’s alright. America is nothing like here. It gets cold, and not all my classmates come from rich families. Though, I met this girl--” Khalid said.

“You what?!” Hissah screeched.

“Yeah, there’s this girl I met from the Mars family,” he explained.

“Ahmed! I demand you transfer our son back to the school in Doha. I told you America had fallen in debauchery! That country has corrupted him! Talking to a girl! No son of mine would ever do something like that!”

“Ha-hay,” Ali said barely masking a grin.

“You watch your mouth, Ali!”

“Mama, we just talk!” Khalid defended.

“Just talk?! Just talk?! That’s how it all starts! Just talking! Then what? Touching? Groping? Talking is the start down the road of fornication!” Hissah was in absolute hysterics.

“She wanted to know what Doha is like. She’s never been here.”

“A likely story. Why were you even talking to a girl in the first place?” Hissah scowled.

“In America, there’s no gender segregation. I have girls in all my classes except one. Liana and I get along really well. Actually, I was wondering if she could come here over the spring break .”

Ahmed frowned and shook his head, “You would bring a non-mahram female that you don’t intend to marry into our house? I’m surprised at you, Khalid. You were to focus on your studies, not go around picking up girls. Of course, if you’re really that interested, I’m sure your mother and your aunties can find you a suitable bride here.”

“Yes, aba. I just thought--” Khalid lowered his head.

“No, you didn’t think. You didn’t think about the reputation we have to uphold or the traditions we value. When you go back, I don’t want you spending time with this Liana or talking to girls. Understand?”

“Yes, aba. I understand,” the boy said glumly.

“To change the subject,” Ahmed continued, “How do you like your new horse?”

“I love him! Alhamdulillah, he’s so much better than the other horses at school. There’s a show when I get back to school, and I entered us into the show jumping competition. Inshallah, we’ll be even better in competition than in practice,” Khalid visibly brightened.

“If you’ve been taking good care of Cosmopolitan and think you handle more responsibility, I can arrange to have Sarab arrive at the school the day after you return. You just won’t be able to ride her here.”

“Really?” Khalid’s face lit up. “I thought you said you’d never send Sarab to America.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I take that as a yes?”

“Of course!”