First published in Femina, early 2005
Hearing from a South African abroad…
To: FEMINA
Subject: Tabuk
The sands of Saudi Arabia have been my home since 2003. My husband Pieter came over in June 2002 on contract to work as an agricultural engineer for the Tabuk Agricultural Development Corporation.
I had no plans to join him and he was set to return after two years. But when I visited him and heard there was a vacancy for a teacher at hte British International School, it was hard to resist. I joined him in September 2003, giving up my life in Paarl for a town in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert.
It has been a memorable experience. I’ve got to know a fascinating culture, seen the different faces of the desert – from gravel plains to golden dunes – and done things I never imagined I’d do, from snorkelling in the Red Sea alongside turtles, manta rays and scary barracuda, to camel riding and sleeping in the desert.
Although I’m not Muslim, I have to wear an abaya and head scarf at all times, except at work. An abaya (also called a burka in other parts of the Middle East) is a black cloak-like ‘dress’ that literally covers you from neck to toe. I also have to keep my eyes down at all times (to avoid making eye contact) and I’m forbidden to drive. At least I’m allowed to live with my husband now!
When I first arrived the authorities would not let us live together. I was put into single accommodation: all-women buildings with a security guard outside to prevent any men from entering. Reading through e-mails I sent soon after I arrived, I see that I thought that it made for ‘interesting living’. After 3 months I didn’t think the female blocks were ‘interesting’ any more!
Luckily we were given permission to move into a compound. Now we have our own ‘prefab palace’ that resembles the informal housing you find in SA, except it’s quite spacious. I’ve gone for a bohemian look and wallpapered the bathroom with pics from Sa magazines (including Femina).
We don’t get to meet locals unless it’s work related. Men and women aren’t allowed to attend public events together and they are usually segregated in the workplace. So we mix with the expats who live in the compounds ̶ our friends are South African, Canadian, Lebanese, British, American, Senegalese and Tunisian.
We’ve seen quite a bit of the country, including Al-Balad (the Old Town of Jeddah); Al-Deesa, a spectacular oasis with running water and tiny ferns growing out of the cliffs; Turkish forts; and the Hejaz Railway.
I’ve shopped for wacky incense burners, old copper coffeepots called dallah, tiny thimble-like Arabic coffee cups called finjan, and frankincense. I’ve eaten babaghanoush (aubergine puree), different versions of hummus, camel meat and enough dates to last me a lifetime! I’ve yet to eat kapsa, the huge platters of rice and lamb cooked in its own fat that is the traditional method of the Bedouins.
We rarely eat out. The food at restaurants ranges from inedible to bland and we have to sit in the ‘family section’ (cubicles that women sit in to prevent men other than their husbands from seeing them).
Alcohol is banned in Saudi Arabia and the law is strictly enforced. Sometimes you will see ‘Saudi Champagne’ on a menu, but it’s apple juice mixed with sparkling mineral water.
I won’t be renewing my contract this year. As a Westerner primed to ‘getting the job done’, I find the Saudi attitude of inshallah (if God wills it) hard to deal with. Also, the attacks in Al-Khobar (in May 2004 a building housing expats was attacked, leaving 14 foreigners dead) have left me feeling jittery and unsettled. We’re tentatively looking at Egypt next.
It’s been, and still is, a great adventure. But it’ll soon be time to say masalamah (farewell) to the deserts of Arabia.
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