By Susan Macaulay
The seeds of amazingwomenrock.com were sown one spring afternoon in
1993, when my husband Bob stepped off the shuttle bus that brought him
home from work.
It was a typical May day in Abu Dhabi – sweltering. I was off to the
gym, striding purposefully across the parking lot where the bus had
stopped to disgorge its tired and sweaty load.
When I waved, one of Bob’s colleagues shouted back jokingly: “You women
have it so easy – in my next life I’m gonna’ come back as an expat
wife.” Ouch! Salt in the wound. The expat life, at least for THIS expat
wife, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Yes, I had moved (willingly),
from my native Canada to the United Arab Emirates,
excited at the prospect of adventures abroad. And yes, life was
relatively carefree, but I often felt out of place in my new “home.”
The internet was still in its infancy, sites such as expatwoman.com and abudhabiwoman.com were non-existent, and there were few local resources available for women such as myself.
When I packed my suitcase for the UAE, I had left my career behind. Or
so it seemed. I went for endless interviews with countless
organisations, all for naught. I longed for meaningful work into which
I could sink my teeth.
A tale of two books
Inspired by the quip in the parking lot, I decided to write a book -
about expat women and how they contribute to their adopted communities.
That was in 1994. The book remains unwritten to this day.
Had I known Jo Parfitt then, the project might have gotten off the
ground. Jo is a prolific author, founder of several websites (such as thebookcooks.com), and a brilliant keynote speaker. But I didn’t know Jo then...
I was fortunate to ghost write another book, Rags to Riches,
the autobiography of UAE businessman Mohammed Abduljalil Al Fahim. It
was published in 1995, and has since been translated into six
languages.
Buoyed by that experience, I made a tentative start on my own book
project in 1996, when I conducted two interviews with author Gertrude
Dyck (The Oasis: Al Ain memoirs of 'Doctora Latifa), a remarkable woman who came to the UAE on a mission in the early 1960s.
(Happily, I reconnected with Gertrude in June 2008, as AWR was about to
launch. She generously agreed, 12 years on, to let me publish a serialised version of those interviews.)
Gertrude's interviews were as far as I got until a decade later, when I
resurrected the project in the form of a website. By that time, I had
been to China, left my husband and transformed myself into a new me...
Challenge & change
 In
November 2003, I attended an International Business Women’s Group
dinner, which turned out to be the beginning of the end of the life I
had known for 20 years. (At left is a pic of me circa 1998)
Representatives of Gulf for Good,
a local organization that raises money for charity, made a presentation
on their upcoming adventure challenges. On the spur of the moment, I
signed up for a six-day, 120-kilometer trek on the Great Wall of China, which I had long wanted to visit.
The arduous trek would take place mostly on the “wild” sections of the
Great Wall, so “challengers” had to be fit and healthy. I had been
quite sporty in my youth (skied competitively, was a good swimmer), and
I enjoyed hiking, cycling and squash. But other than irregular workouts
at the gym, I wasn’t nearly as active as I had once been. That was
about to change.
To shape up, I started walking. Compulsively. I arose daily at around 5
a.m. (to beat the heat) and shuffled (at least initially), along the
“corniche,” Abu Dhabi’s seaside boardwalk.
As the weeks went by, my half hour strolls lengthened and quickened until I was “wogging”  (half
walking, half jogging), for 90 minutes each morning. Several times a
week I ran up and down the stairs of our 12-storey apartment building,
in anticipation of the endless steps on The Wall.
I began to eat differently – mostly vegetarian and much less than
before. Women tend to gain weight during menopause, but I lost it (the
weight AND my mind at times!). Over the course of the next year, I
dropped 20 pounds (about 9 kilos), and become “petite,” more muscular
and lean.
As my body changed, so did I. I began to think, feel, and dress in new
ways. I stopped wearing big, baggy conservative clothes in shades of
black, blue and beige. Instead, I shimmied into fitted tops and tight
jeans. I began wearing bling and sayiing 'dahhhling.' Pink, a colour I
had eschewed my entire life, became my trademark hue. (The pic in pink above was taken in 2007)
Kaboom!
Not all, however, was as rosy as my rejuvenated wardrobe. My hormones
wrought physical and psychological havoc. As many women do, I suffered
the expected (and unwelcome!) hot flashes and mood swings.
I was an emotional powder keg a lot of the time. I cried at the drop of
a hat, publicly – in banks, travel agencies, supermarkets – as well as
privately – wherever I happened to be at the time. It wasn’t unusual
for me to find myself curled up in a ball on the floor of the kitchen,
bedroom or living room, sobbing uncontrollably, for no apparent reason.
Uncharacteristically, I also start to pray. A lot. For deliverance.
I was in a state of high anxiety for a solid year. One friend, a
trained psychotherapist, suggested antidepressants, she was that
worried about me. Ah, the joys of menopause. Or divorce. Or both.
(It turns out my experience isn't unique. For a blow-by-blow,
real-life, up-close-and-personal account of what transformation can be
like read Elizabeth Gilbert's fabulous book Eat, Pray, Love.
Absolutely brilliant. I was blown away to find that a woman 20 years my
junior, on the other side of the world, had captured the essence of MY
life by telling HER story. It's a great comfort, and joy, to know one
is not alone.)
Bob, my husband and best friend for two decades, suddenly became
someone distant who seemed either unwilling or unable to meet my needs.
Who could blame him? It must have been confusing to wake up one morning
and find a virtual stranger where your wife used to be.
Not surprisingly, our 20-year partnership fell apart at the seams. I
was devastated. He seemed in denial. We both tried our best, in our own
ways, but our best wasn’t good enough to hold the marriage together.
Up against the Wall Amidst
the turmoil of 2004 there were many gifts. Among them, the trip to the
Great Wall was remarkable. I rose to the challenge (as did everyone in
the group), made new friends and learned some wonderful life lessons.
Raising money for charity through group adventure travel was an
exciting, rewarding, life-changing experience for me.
The Wall
itself was fantastic – an architectural marvel that runs for more than
6,000 kilometers atop razor-backed mountains in the Chinese
countryside. It's wild, rugged, and astonishing in every way.
As I look back, I see the Wall as a metaphor for the process I was
going through. In some places it was crumbling, as I felt my life was
then, in others it had been rebuilt, as I hoped my future would be.
Perhaps most important, it was breathtakingly beautiful in all its
aspects, just as life is, with both its joys and sorrows.
I moved from Abu Dhabi to Dubai
in January 2005, and started to put myself, and my life, back together.
I felt at once powerful and free, yet vulnerable and afraid (still do).
What had I done? Was this all a terrible mistake?
I’m coming to learn there’s no point looking back. The only way forward
is…well…forward! I’ve also learned that new lessons take practice and
time, maybe even a lifetime, to implement. That which sounds easy in
theory can sometimes be extraordinarily difficult to execute.
Especially changing oneself and one’s relationships with others.
Inspirational reading
My quest for learning led me to read all kinds of inspirational books. Two in particular captured my imagination: Women of Courage and Women of Spirit, both by Katherine Martin,
a talented writer and editor who set out, in the early 1990s, to
explore the meaning of courage in women’s lives. (Sadly, Martin died in
January 2006 after her own courageous battle of cancer.)
The books were exactly what I had in mind when I interviewed Gertrude
Dyck in 1996. Based on personal interviews conducted by Martin herself,
they are collections of stories about women who have made a difference.
Unbeknownst to each other, Martin and I had similar ideas, at about the
same time, on opposite sides of the globe. Katherine acted on hers; I
let mine languish on the back burner. I read her books hoping that some
of the courage and spirit of the women she interviewed would “rub off
on me.” It did. I was inspired to resurrect my idea in the form of a
website. And this time, I felt compelled to make it happen.
Which brings me to March 2006….
Recent history
Six of us sit, slightly squeezed, in my tiny two-bedroom townhouse in Dubai. We’re brainstorming ideas for the website.
“You have to start by writing your own story. You can’t expect people
to do what you haven’t done yourself,” Lizzie is gently emphatic. The
LAST thing I’m in the mood for is writing my own story, which feels
distinctly uninspiring.
Life is not unfolding at all according to plan. Or at least not
according to any plan I had in mind. No sir. This is definitely the
UN-plan: fifty years old, recently separated, self-employed, “alone” in
a new city, menopausal and trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to “embrace
uncertainty.” Business is tough. Money, men and moral support are all
in short supply. I feel lonely, lost and overwhelmed.
Nope. This wasn’t my plan at all.
Along with the un-plan, I’ve got a big dream – to launch a website to
celebrate, motivate and inspire women. Developers are already working
on the site, the core of which I visualise as a database of stories of
women from around the world.
As the site starts to take shape, I begin to feel afraid. Terrified
actually. Where will the stories come from? How will people learn about
the site? Will anyone visit? And if they do, will they send a message , post a tribute or share a story ? Will I be able to afford to keep it going?
Lots of questions. Few answers.
But I dream on . And I seek the answers (to these and other questions), by challenging myself physically.
Getting physical
In November 2005, I hiked up Mt Kinabalu
(at 4,095 meters, the highest mountain in southeast Asia), with Elaine
Kelly, whom I’d met on The Great Wall of China challenge, and her
friend Lisa Rosen, with whom I also quickly developed a friendship.
It was grueling going up, even worse coming down. But the night sky as
we headed toward the summit at 2 a.m. was one of the most awe-inspiring
sights I have yet to experience. It occurred to me then that sometimes,
in order to fully appreciate the awesome beauty of the stars, you must
immerse yourself in total darkness. (I remind myself of that whenever
things seem a little black.) The view just down from the summit was
equally awesome.
In December 2005, at age 49, I participated in my first sprint
triathlon – half the distance of an Olympic event, but a triathlon
nonetheless. Three months later, I celebrated my 50th birthday with a
second triathlon, and took first in my class. (So what if there were
only two competitors in the over-50 females category?)
(By the way, congratulations and thanks to Julie Hall, Ironman triathlete, personal trainer and driving force behind the Dubai Tri Club. Julie expertly and enthusiastically organises most of the triathlon events that take place in Dubai.)
In May 2006, I tackled Mt Toubkal
, the highest mountain in Northern Africa, with my friend Elaine
(again!), and several of her co-workers. We had a grand time trekking
through Morocco's Atlas Mountains for five days before finally making
our way up the 'piece de resistance.' I fell ill with fever and had to
be carried by donkey to the base of the mountain, but after a night’s
rest I made it to the top, with the rest of the group, under my own
steam. It was exhilarating.
While I trained for triathlon, conquered mountains, and ran my business
, the website floundered badly. The developers I chose, and the
technology they used, were simply not good enough. After 18 months, the
fledgling site failed before it even got online. In November 2006, I
walked away from the investment I had made with nothing to show for it.
It would take another six months to save enough money to start again.
The next chapter
By coincidence, or synchronicity (depending on how you see it), I met a
new website consultant, in June 2007, and we started over from scratch.
This supplier promised to have the site up and running in 59 days. A
year later, in June 2008, we’re ready to launch. Almost.
How did 59 days stretch into 365? Contract negotiations, developer
issues (again... sigh), unexpected delays due to Vietnamese new year
(but vsmarttech did a great job in the end!),
functionality lost in host transfers, recoding, testing, debugging,
testing, debugging, testing, debugging, adding bits of new
functionality, testing, debugging and tweaking, tweaking, tweaking.
The site will never be finished of course. One of the myriad things
I’ve learned over the last three years is that websites are
never-ending works in progress - kinda' like we are.
Happily, the still-under-construction first version of
amazingwomenrock.com is finally here, online, a place for women around
the world to celebrate, motivate and inspire each other.
Now that I’ve finally built it, I hope they will come.
This website is dedicated to:
Emilie Patricia Macaulay (my goddaughter),
the amazing women in my extended family, my amazing friends,
and all the women of the world, each and every one of whom is amazing.
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I will eventually tell my story but it is too difficult for me to put it into words at the moment but eventually it will be told. Sometimes things that happen in life are for a reason but it is hard to see it when it is happening to you. Keep in touch and I will certainly pass on the website to my daughter and my close friends. Love Barb Cartmel