After I arrived in Saudi I spent a few days in Riyadh
before being sent to Khamis Mushayt but it was not certain that I would stay there in
those early days and after a little time Ali Badi the most senior man of the
Saudi photographic personnel and respected in the civilian world asked me “Mr. Mike
would you like to stay here?” I was already starting to love the place and
naturally agreed “I will write to my Head Quarters and ask them to have you
stay”. It was the start of a long friendship based on mutual respect, although
he was a Bedouin he was a natural gentleman and a great friend to me.
My future was
decided from that point on. BAC paid their personnel at Khamis hardship money,
it was at the time the back of beyond and my room was half a converted shipping
container, not much in the way of luxury. The swimming pool had leaked so it
had been turned it into an open air cinema; I remember once watching a film of
Janice Joplin’s life after the first reel I was the only one left in the
audience and the projectionist was begging me to leave. There was a sex film at
the time Emanuel and for that the cinema was crowded only for half of them to
walk out early on but when Jungle Book was playing they were standing in any
available space, funny people expatriates.
I do believe that
expatriates are a breed apart, an American I worked with much later on said
“Don’t judge the people back home by the guys you meet out here”. In part I
think he was right, it took a special type of man to live in those conditions
in an all male camp for years and only get home for 15 days three times a year.
There were homosexuals in the mix but by and large I found them just fine and
at times exceedingly funny when they played up to it. There was one we called
Sweet William who later on became friends with my daughter Karen, his favourite
saying to her was ”You’re safe with me dear” and they got along well.
Of course for the
heterosexuals there was a hospital full of nurses just down the road, they were
expatriates too and most if not all were well able to look after themselves. In
our compound we had a club with a bar serving homemade wine (grape juice, sugar
and yeast, if you’re really thirsty kill it after a couple of weeks!) and
Sadeeqy a form of spirit brewed in an illicit still hidden between two innocent
looking walls. Saudi being a dry country but aware of the needs of foreigners
came to the understanding that as long as we behaved ourselves they would
ignore our social habits. We did find once one of the Saudi guards would nip in
after the club was closed and finished off swill in the bottom of the glasses
left on the tables, I never heard what happened to him. There was the time when
we were warned about a raid by the Mutawa (religious police feared by ordinary
Saudis and expatriates alike) quickly the stocks of booze were poured away. The
booze then collected in the storm ditches where some vagrant donkeys took to
alcohol like expats and were seen staggering about the area for a couple of
days.
(There will be no blog next week as I am away but it will return on the 7th November)
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