Mike's Saudi (11) Khamis cafe and an American hooker

In Khamis Mushayt at the time I was there, there was café I used to frequent from time to time. For those who are used to Starbucks this café represented the exact opposite. It had low lighting that fed in through open gaps in the walls, an earth floor, crude wooden tables, an Asian toilet that no white man would visit more than once and a most wonderful atmosphere. Apart from the toilet I loved the place; it was like stepping back in time they must have had cafes like this for hundreds if not thousands of years,  here you could meet the real locals, drink coffee and smoke a hubbly bubbly both of which were on the menu. Very few expatriates visited the place therefore the local were intrigued by those who did and would try their disjointed English on you and you would answer in even worse Arabic. You would all have a great laugh while trying to understand what we were saying to each other. One great gift of the local Arab was their ability to laugh which quite naturally totally removed any strain from the encounter. After some time you would shake their hand as you left having had a great time and not understanding a word of what had been said. But when you returned they would welcome you back for another couple of hours of joyous mystifying conversation.   Later I took Karen in there, she was much more adventurous than her mother, it was quite a surprise for the all male clientele but she got along famously with them all, the old boys accepted her as one of their own, amazing.

Just mentioning the hubbly bubbly there reminds me of much later on when Syb and I were in Dahran we had a rather ornate one in the corner of our lounge which was more for ornament than smoking as it had several small holes in it. By this time I was working for the Saudis but closely with the Americans and we used to socialize, it was to Syb’s amusement that at one time she asked the male partner of a duo visiting us “Have you ever tried a hooker?” Hubbly Bubblys also being called Hookas. It was a mistake the first time round but the strained embarrassment on the husbands face was a delight to see, then as Syb indicated the pipe in the corner of the room the relief was just as much fun. Having learned from this first experience it was something she was to repeat on every new American couple that visited us. To their credit our guests usually had a good laugh and we were all able to enjoy the joke.

Our new Newfoundland friend

A review of my book ‘Life with my Newfoundlands’ in Newf Scene (The newsletter of the Newfoundland Club) whilst being very fair bemoaned the fact that we no longer had a Newf of our own and suggested that we could perhaps find one to cuddle occasionally. As fate would have it a couple of days later we found a Newf close by owned by some very pleasant people who we met in unusual circumstances.

A parcel was delivered to our door while we were out, it was just left leaning against the wall by the front door which we never use and cannot be viewed from our usual exit point. However a neighbour phoned us up and told us about it, true it was a large heavy parcel addressed to a building we didn’t recognise. Fortunately there was the address and phone number of the sender on the label so we contacted them and asked them to do something about it. Early the next day we received a call from the person who was expecting the parcel and he volunteered to collect it. He arrived within a few minutes and as he thanked us; his eyes lit on our Newfoundland wall, “I’ve got a Newfoundland dog” he said. The conversation then turned from parcels to Newfs and ended up with an invitation to visit their dog.

Naturally we took up the invitation, we hadn’t had close contact with Newfs since Hogan had died and that was some years ago. We had longed to have contact with them but the opportunity had never arisen before, so now was our chance. We arrived in their yard where several cars were parked but what we noticed most was a large black head stuck through the cat flap. He was obviously excited and we were afraid he would tear the door off its hinges so we quickly went over and made a fuss of the head. In a few minutes the door opened and a huge ball of black fur leapt out at us, if you know what a Newfoundland’s greeting is like then you will know how it was on initial contact. Loki calmed down after a little while and we all introduced ourselves.

He was just a year old and owned by two busy people, we got an invitation to visit him or borrow him whenever we wanted, a gift from heaven, at the moment we are discussing how best to use this wonderful chance. We visited him again yesterday he was much calmer and much more demanding of fusses and now have an open invitation to visit him any time we like. It’s funny how a miss placed parcel can open up the world to you, our reviewer was right we now have a Newf to cuddle.

 Life with my Newfoundlands  -  amazon.com/dp/B00JY83NJO

 

Mike's Saudi (10) Saudi Justice

It seems to me that much is misunderstood about the punishment as dictated by the Koran it is widely believed that if a man steals his hand will be severed and this is so. But I believe the thief is given three chances and the man must admit his crime; if he has stolen food because he is hungry then it is the communities fault for not supporting him. I once saw a criminal on the plane I was travelling on, chained to his guard, I heard he was to be executed for what crime I don’t know but all he did was to recite the Koran. He showed no fear whatsoever and looked quite calm.

We used to live in town where our villa was surrounded by the usual purdah but in this case the top three feet had fancy block work. My wife saw a couple of eyes looking through the block work at her on several occasions. I took this up with Abu Garda (see blog 5) and he said “Tell your wife to get a stick and next time she sees him let her poke his eyes out. Nothing will happen to her” Naturally she didn’t but it did show their approach to this sort of thing, however I’m not too sure how they would react to an expatriate wife blinding somebody.

I was told of a case where a man working on the roof of a building fell off onto a man below killing him. The dead man’s wife could choose between financial compensation or demand the death of the man who had unfortunately killed her husband. The case came before the Saudi judge and as was her right the woman chose that the death of her husband’s killer despite the judges advice she insisted. The judge ruled he could not deny the woman her right but he could decide the manner in which it should be accomplished. “You will throw yourself off the same building on to your husband killer so that he might die in the same manner as your late husband” the woman settled for compensation. I have a great respect for Islamic justice; it was nice to live in a country where there was virtually no crime.

Mike's Saudi (9) Memories of Khamis Mushayt

As I’ve been writing this blog about my memories of Saudi Arabia I thought I better look up the places I knew well on the web.  Youtube seem to have a reasonable selection of video clips and I was shocked Khamis Mushayt a village at a cross road that I loved is now a modern city with hotels and great shops. To think I was there when the first “Supper Market” opened, yes that was the way they spelt it. A large roofed space filled with piles of everything you could think of, the supply of goods was a little uncertain. I remember a rumour going round that a truck of Golden Syrup had delivered it’s cargo to the “Supper Market” and you better get down there pretty fast if you want some. When Syb joined me out there straight from the UK, she decided to have a bath “Look at this insect I had to shush it on to the side while I had my bath” it was a scorpion. We had a lot to learn and I’m glad to say both she and my daughter Karen caught my enthusiasm for the place.

I don’t know what it was that appealed to us as life was pretty basic and perhaps that’s what made it so special a simple life with genuine people, the fact that we didn’t speak the same language made no difference., It was the first place we had lived in Saudi and in many ways I wish it had been the last when we understood more of the culture. Somehow looking back on it we lacked some of the understanding we gained later.

I was fortunate in having Ali Badi as a friend, he gently introduced me into their way of life, religion and culture. In those early days before Syb and Karen joined me Ali and I spent a good deal of time together at his house where we had to chase a goat out of his lounge before we sat down to a small cup of Arabic coffee. I never saw his wife as she would make the coffee and leave it behind the door for Ali to collect. I never stayed overnight at his house as I lived close by but I was there for breakfast one day when we planned to visit Wadi Mahala the only stream in Saudi to run throughout the year; it came up out of a hole, ran for maybe a couple of miles and disappeared down another hole. In parts it was wide and shallow, Ali parked his car in the middle and threw water over it “Look Mike Saudi car wash”. That was his sense of humour, one day I found him sitting in a deck chair stripped to the waist “To day I’m English” he said as I approached.

I often wonder how my Saudi friends are getting on, we’ll all be old men now and their neck of the woods is now full of modern cities and has big trouble just round the corner. It’s a very different world.