It was dawn on a November morning in 2003 and the sun was just cresting over the desert horizon. I popped up straight in bed. What was that noise? Was this it?  

Blankets and pillows went flying as I tripped over my pajama legs on my way to the window. I had arrived in the Middle East but 48 hours earlier to the peninsula country of Qatar, a small affluent country located on the tip of Saudi Arabia between Iraq and Iran.

Through my luxurious compound villa window I could just make out the muffled calls outside. Soon I heard another echoing call going out over the quiet city of Doha and then another, till three or four human voices were calling over the city simultaneously. This was it! I fumbled with the window latch; the call would only last a few moments and I couldn’t make out the message clearly.

All through the month of packing, processing and preparing for my relocation to Qatar I read and dreamed of the sights, flavors and sounds of Qatar. The one reverie that most excited me was the “call to prayer.” It just seemed to embody everything that was exotic and special about living in a Muslim country and I couldn’t wait for my first experience. The muezzin, a man appointed to call to prayer, climbs the minaret of the mosque five times a day and calls in all directions, "Hasten to prayer."

Suddenly, with a loud click the window shifted and flew up. I thrust my rumpled Texan head out into the clear morning air, ears perked tentatively, but the prayer call had concluded to a heavy silence, the last note echoing across the dawn. I stood there like a chicken with her neck stuck out the window, listening to the dead calm of morning. I’d missed it. 

I plucked my head back into the room and watched as the window now rolled smoothly back into place, shooting the window an accusing look. I gathered up the discarded blankets from the floor and snuggled back into bed a little deflated. Beaten by a window….

I decided although this may be my first major experience in Qatar, it was not going to be an omen to how the rest of my two-year contract with TAMUQ would run.  The morning would bring my first full work week at my new job at Texas A&M University at Qatar and I couldn’t wait.

Approaching the 2,500-acre “Education City” campus that day, it looked more like a construction site than an educational institution with multiple cranes towering over the manicured palm trees and modern style multileveled buildings rising from the desert rock. Each building of Education City represents a self-contained university campus and is designed by a world-renowned architect.

TAMUQ was to be designed by award winning architect Legorretta & Legorretta of Mexico, and specifically designed for teaching engineering and conducting research.  It would take two years to build and would be finished just about the time my contract was up. I drove alongside Cornell’s Medical College with its distinctive round classroom “pods” nestled between two modern towers. The Qatar Foundation building sits in the center of Education City and is designed with the clean stone intricate carvings associated with Qatari culture. The Foundation acts as Education City’s sponsor and parent, guiding the universities through the government, financial and cultural challenges facing us.

To my left, I see Virginia Commonwealth’s campus building designated with a beautifully carved wooden door almost two stories tall. Then I see the huge excavated hole in the rocky sand which will be TAMUQ’s new campus. It’s a busy beehive of activity as construction staff work around the clock on our campus. Carnegie Mellon will begin construction next—their campus will nestle between Cornell and TAMUQ’s campuses. Straight ahead, I roll down into the underground parking of the Liberal Arts and Sciences building, where TAMUQ is being hosted till our campus is complete. 

The Liberal Arts building is a glass jewelry box in the middle of the sands of the desert. Designed by Arata Isosaki, it is a unique structure of sculptured glass and geometric shapes. As I walk down the hallway towards my office I pass by Teba, our receptionist, wearing the long black abayah and black headscarf called a shayla. 

“Salam Aleikum,” she greets me.

“Alaikum wa Salam,” I return and flash her a smile. 

Around the corner I pass the finance hallway and Shannon Estrada bounces past in a business suit and fashionable heels. “Howdy Salam!” she exclaims. “Watch out for the cats—there are two still loose in the building from the construction site and I just saw the white one down stairs.”

The students are filing into the classrooms on the floor below and I watch them for a moment from the balcony. Qatari young men wear long white shirts called thobes and the white headdresses called ghutra. Abayah-clothed young women cram for a quiz together in a corner and laugh quietly among themselves. Blue jeans and Aggie T-shirts clad the students representing assorted nationalities from around the world. 

I walk the final stretch of hallway to my new office, plopping down in my chair to let out a long breath. My job for the next two years is to establish the department of HR for TAMUQ. Armed with a savvy HR director and one superb Qatari co-worker, we will tackle immigration, recruitment and hiring procedures, benefits, housing, cultural orientation, retirement, policies and procedures—to name just a few.

Sitting at my wooden desk in my all-glass office, I see a white fluffy cat stroll down the hallway, casually looking into each glass “zoo cage” as it passed by. My eyebrows rise as it crosses my doorway and glances in at me. 

Well, at least it isn’t a black cat.

Nicole Parker is assistant to Information and Operations Management Department Head Powell Robinson. She spent two thrilling years as an HR programs coordinator at Texas A&M University at Qatar. Born and raised in Bryan/College Station, she is certified as a Professional in Human Resources by the Society for Human Resource Management.