I came for a year and now, six years later, I’m leaving. So this morning,
as I breakfast outside our villa in the quiet green of the compound, I wonder how
best to capture the essence of my life here in just a few words. It’s much more
than having to wear an abaya and headscarf whenever out of the compound,
something I hated with a passion when I first arrived.
It's a feudal society run by an absolute monarchy. It's wealth from oil and thousands of royal family members who enjoy a life of luxury and privilege vastly different from those outside its lineage. It's women begging at intersections, sometimes in 50 degree heat and often holding small babies. It’s tall, state of the art skyscrapers, Faisaliah and Kingdom Tower, beside the adobe mud buildings of old Diera. It's a souk which sells very little that is made in Arabia. There’s hardly any indigenous craft. The small enamel bowl I picked up last week had Made in Slovakia stamped on the bottom.
It's a feudal society run by an absolute monarchy. It's wealth from oil and thousands of royal family members who enjoy a life of luxury and privilege vastly different from those outside its lineage. It's women begging at intersections, sometimes in 50 degree heat and often holding small babies. It’s tall, state of the art skyscrapers, Faisaliah and Kingdom Tower, beside the adobe mud buildings of old Diera. It's a souk which sells very little that is made in Arabia. There’s hardly any indigenous craft. The small enamel bowl I picked up last week had Made in Slovakia stamped on the bottom.
It’s a traditional nomadic culture, where Bedouin women once rode camels
in the desert, but nowadays in the city, cannot drive cars. It's repressive and
ugly. Buildings, sky and road, all the colour of sand. Sand, which swirls into
storms come April and May. It creeps under doors and squeezes beneath window
frames so that every surface is covered in a thin layer of gritty dust. It's the beginning of time. In the desert west of Riyadh, sea fossils
litter the ground, because all this was once the bed of a prehistoric ocean. Ancient petroglyphs all over Arabia show in pictures the peninsula’s earliest desert
dwellers. History made real, palpable and right in front of you. It's Madain Saleh, the Nabataeans’ second city, deserted, silent and stunningly well
preserved.
It’s muttawa, religious police, the protectors of virtue and preventers
of vice. They’re the ones who enforce gender segregation and patrol malls,
shouting at women to cover up when a headscarf has slipped or an errant ankle
is showing under an abaya. It’s Chop Chop Square because sharia (Islamic) law is
implemented for criminal acts, and public executions still take place here.
It’s prayer five times a day, the mandatory closing of shops and restaurants during
prayer times and rushing to get out of the supermarket with your groceries,
before the shutters go down. It’s double and triple motorway parking outside our
nearby Al Rajhi mosque during Friday prayers.
Diera Souq; shutters going down for Asr (afternoon) prayer |
It's deprivation. No movies, no theatre, no music, no art. Music, because
it’s believed to arouse inappropriate
emotions, and art because the Koran forbids the representation of the human
figure. It’s the dangerous pastime of desert drifting because there is nothing
else for young Saudi men to do. It's traffic carnage. Drivers who have no
regard for rules or safety. Unbelted, young children fly through window screens
like small projectile missiles upon impact. It's a city without natural beauty. Riyadh means garden, and once it was
a lush oasis, but the green has long gone. The date palms along the central
median strip of the street approaching our compound were chopped down to make
way for new street lights. There’ll be no replanting. It's pockets of green in areas outside Saudi jurisdiction. The beautifully landscaped Diplomatic Quarter walking track, for instance.
It’s a country focused on a vision for 2030, investing billions in nationwide metro transit systems, highways and high speed long distance railways, while planning sexist and racist passenger segregation that will guarantee failure. All against a backdrop of a multi-billion financial city comprising never-finished clusters of empty skyscrapers, a salutary mirror-glass reflection of an earlier vision, planning and greed.
It’s a country focused on a vision for 2030, investing billions in nationwide metro transit systems, highways and high speed long distance railways, while planning sexist and racist passenger segregation that will guarantee failure. All against a backdrop of a multi-billion financial city comprising never-finished clusters of empty skyscrapers, a salutary mirror-glass reflection of an earlier vision, planning and greed.
And, of course it’s desert. On the one hand, stunning Edge of the World
vistas and on the other, yellow sandy roadside expanses, dotted with discarded
car tyres. Saudis have turned the desert into their own personal rubbish dump.
Conservation and environmental awareness are as unknown as the phrase, ‘pick up
your rubbish’. All because in this country there is always someone else - low
cost imported labour from third world countries- to do the cleaning, the
tidying and the picking up. It’s
stopping at traffic lights beside a car driven by a Saudi driver and seeing the
door open just wide enough to let a cascade of rubbish fall to the ground. And
it’s the absurdly comic. Saudi families sharing picnics in the most unlikely
places. An empty city space beside piles of building debris or another
favourite, the Ikea car park. Carpets on the asphalt, and frisbees in the air.
It’s driving home from Bahrain at sunset, seeing the endless roadside dotted
with parked cars and men with prayer mats out, leading family members, all performing
sunset Salah.
It’s contradictions and experiences like none other. It's what you make
of it. Friends on the compound. Travelling to remote parts of Saudi: Farasan
Island, Taif, Qassim. And then one day it's a trip to King Khaled International
Airport, knowing that this visa is the Final Exit Visa. And on the plane,
before you leave, it’s deleting the prayer time app on your cell phone, because
it's not something you’ll ever need again.
Oh my God, I cried. Will miss reading you. Best of luck.
ReplyDeleteAnd me, you. All the best.
ReplyDeleteYou forgot to mention anything about the people, Saudi's, while you only talked about your experience in Riyadh. I hope you experience other cities like Dammam and Jeddah and stay for similar time. That doesn't change some facts about what you said for Riyadh and Saudi Arabia
ReplyDeleteI have visited Dammam and Jeddah and enjoyed them both very much, but most of my time in Saudi has been spent in Riyadh, which is why I focused on that in this post. Thank you for your comments.
DeleteAs a saudi I say thank you for every letter you had wrote , and to all expatriates who came to Saudi Arabia and helped in its development. I wish you the best back home and hope that you will always remember the bright side of your experience here. Allow me to not agree to what you said about women begging at intersections , saudi driver opening the car door to let a cascade of rubbish fall to the ground and that saudi families sharing picnics in the most unlikely places beside piles of building debris or at the Ikea car park. I would say that these are exaggerations if not lies .
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading my post and for your feedback. I have many happy memories of my time spent in your country.
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ReplyDeleteJust discovered your blog, thanks to Nowhere mag. Shame I came too late to the action, but I know I will enjoy reading it through from the beginning, interested myself in the way the rapt enchantment and polite reticence in a new culture moves, if we are honest and if we have allowed the place to seep into our lives, toward an honest weighing of the good and bad, the not unhappy acceptance that no place is perfect, that all places have their ills, their cultural malaise, their backward and self-defeating traits. That there have been good and bad experiences in even the most seemingly paradisical of places.
ReplyDeleteSo are you "at home" now, and have you started a new blog?
"...Home is where your life
holds you in its hand and, when
it is ready, puts you quietly down."
Cheers,
Nat
Thanks for sharing such a awesome information.
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