When accidents occur, we all fear the worst. When we hear the sirens of ambulances we forego a few minutes of fighting for self-advancement amidst the maddening traffic to make way for a more important cause than arriving on time at work.
Though we live in a time of unprecedented medical knowledge and ability, we still feel a primal urgency when discussions of illness and emergency come up.
Now imagine a time when accidents and illnesses were as rampant as they are today, yet no ambulances with emergency lights flashing and blaring sirens were there to come to the rescue.
Imagine a place where childbirth, like today, had complications, where children got sick, where people were still people and sticks and stones were still breaking bones – only there was no hospital to rush to.
This was the reality Dr Larry Liddle and wife Marilyn (a registered nurse) arrived to in 1975, in the then humble (by comparison to present day) city of Al Ain.
So I asked Dr Liddle a very simple, but really, very enormous question, "What's changed?"
He sat for a minute, rolled his eyes searching surely endless thoughts and then produced an equally simple, equally enormous answer: "What's changed? Everything!
"When we arrived," Dr Liddle says, "not only were there no computers, but there wasn't really a phone system as such! It was a single line coming into the medical compound, that had extremely long cords so we could run around the rooms to speak on the phone.
It wasn't until the late 1970s that Al Ain got 'mobile' phones, which were machines the size of suitcases! Very modern at the time, but phones have come a long way. And it was in 1980 when the hospital office got an Apple computer."
Hard to imagine, isn't it? My friends tease me about my nice 'little' Nokia (circa 2006 - an artefact worthy of some museum I'm sure) for being too big. Imagine having to lug around a big heavy suitcase all day!
Well, technology certainly has bloomed and so have the lives of the Liddles. It was an interesting path that led them to Al Ain - quite literally in some ways as, at the time, the highway from Dubai wasn't fully paved!
When young medical students Larry (then studying premed) and Marilyn (then completing her nursing degree) met at Wheaton College in the US, they both felt a clear calling to use their talents in parts of the world where they would be most needed.
This is the first glimpse of their passion to serve those less privileged and to make a life and career out of loving people. (I remember in school, the main question on most minds was, 'What career can I prepare for that will most likely render the most money and security for numero uno: me?')
And yet so young in life came their commitment to the world beyond their own immediate self-interest. Even today, when discussing their retirement, they earnestly seek out opportunities to translate their talents into ways to help others. But more on that later.
Eventually their passion would lead them to Al Ain. Today there are over 30 doctors working at Oasis Hospital (a non-profit medical facility), where just last month the hospital attended to about 12,000 outpatients.
Oasis is a vital part of a very vibrant community, but 32 years ago, Dr Liddle was to be the only doctor for the young hospital. "Though I was the only one at Oasis there were other doctors in the area when we came. For instance,
Al Ain Hospital under the Ministry of Health, had been open for a few years.
When Oasis Hospital started in 1960, it was the first private hospital in the emirate of Abu Dhabi. People came from even as far as Oman," he recalls as he discusses some of the early conditions.
An interesting twist in their story is that originally they had the intention of living and working in Taiwan. It happened that the two founding doctors of Oasis (an American couple, the Kennedys) were retiring and the Liddles were asked if they would temporarily fill in for just a few months until other permanent doctors could be found.
Well, the short visit lasted over three decades and the Liddles say Al Ain has become "probably more home than our home-home in the States"!
Now, since they had not really been planning to live and work in Al Ain and because their stay in the UAE was supposed to be quite short, neither spoke any Arabic when they arrived. So in addition to all the regular difficulties of trying to settle in a foreign country they had to do all their work through an interpreter.
To ease day-to-day interaction with friends and colleagues, they were furnished with Arabic names. Larry became "Fowad", which means "heart" and Marilyn was named "Laila", a name that means "loving-kindness".
"There are many things we will miss dearly about Al Ain," they said, "but the most difficult will be to bid farewell to the people – friends who have become like family to us – when our time here comes to an end. We'll be coming back to visit as often as we can." Dr Liddle and Marilyn, or shall I refer to them from here on as Fowad and Laila, are truly people-oriented.
When asked how exactly their commitment grew from three months to three decades, they smile fondly and admit simply, "We fell in love with the people."
This affection was all too transparent, as Fowad and Laila bubbled over with stories and photos highlighting the history of the hospital and the friendships the years have produced.
They describe their perfect day as one where they are able to spend several hours over dinner or coffee, getting updated on all the happenings in their friends' lives. "And I'd be finished doing all my housework!" Laila adds, as though to demonstrate the most wild extent of imagination in constructing a hypothetical, perfect world.
Aside from all the wonderful friends, there is of course a great deal else that they regret being unable to take back to the US with them.
The Liddles have been really active in and out of the hospital over the years. They raised their two children in Al Ain and have always loved camping (in Fujairah and Khor Fakkan, among other places), wadi bashing, picnics and sand sledding: the whole run of all the different adventures you can fill your weekends with. Yes, the lives of the Liddles have truly bloomed in the sands of Al Ain.
With the private schools and local hospitality, Dr Fowad said, "We never felt like we've suffered. Our kids have probably had more advantages than they likely would have if they had gone to school in the States."
It is obvious the Liddles have made the most of their time here in more ways than one and that a deep bond with the people and places of Al Ain has formed.
During our conversation, the melancholy of leaving things that have brought so much joy was palpable, and the sterile hospital air was full of the presence of bittersweet. Watching a hospital and city grow for 32 years and then having to say goodbye.
Living with friends and family in Al Ain for so long, through so much change and now having to fly out, knowing returns will only ever be vacations and short visits. The excitement of seeing friends and family at home was always curtailed by a stinging awareness of what they were leaving.
So no more Arabian coffee and no more sand sledding, but the Liddles are able to take something very valuable back home. "Because of our experience with language and culture, we can take back all that understanding and help the Arabic communities in Chicago."
It became apparent that all this talk of retirement is somewhat misleading. Sure, Oasis Hospital put on an evening to celebrate the decades of work the Liddles have poured into the community and the plaques commemorating their contributions are up, but the couple shows no sign of slowing down.
"We retire in name only, not in caring, not in being involved," Laila said. So while Dr Fowad has officially removed his white coat for the last time, both he and Laila will remain very close to Oasis, using their expertise to advise and aid in medical administrative work where needed.
It is not often you meet people who make such selfless choices, let alone so consistently, in the face of difficulties, over such a long period.
For 32 years they lived and worked as medical professionals in Al Ain. Their innate urge to aid others has never wavered, even in the face of a wide array of challenges unique to living in a foreign country, challenges that at any time could have been erased by moving back to the US.
Each time, they faced these difficulties head on and made incredibly selfless decisions for three decades.
They have brought a lot to the UAE. Though many in the community would have the Liddles remain, we can only be thankful, and must trust that their decision now, though still tough, is yet again the right one.
Thank you, Fowad and Laila, for all you've done. For the legacy you are leaving behind. Your practical help has impacted the lives of thousands upon thousands of those you have treated. Certainly your heartfelt example of true compassion and love will continue to inspire all those you meet. Shukran.
We all wish you the very best in your future endeavours, and hope you visit us again soon.
Stephen Snowball is a Dubai-based freelancer
