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.

 

Mike's Saudi (8) Three more wives

I realised the other day these blogs I’ve been writing are all of times in the 1970s and 80s much will have changed and in the Middle East, it will be a very different world to the one I knew out there. I feel that Syb and I were out there at a most interesting time a time which is now lost as is much of the world of my youth in England. It is odd that in my last year or two out there, relationships seem to be changing hardly noticeable but a slight estrangement in the way friendships continued. It was hardly noticeable but I believe the religious authorities were worried about the increasing influence of the west not in a religious way but more life style and aspirations most of which were frowned upon by the Koran. Or was it the seizure of the Grand Mosque in 1979 that eventually turned the tide?

I believe the Koran specifically forbids Muslims from trying to convert others to Islam, but as is in their nature my Saudi friends were keen for me to become a Muslim and although they couldn’t try to convert me directly there were other ways in which they would try. One of these was for me to become a Saudi national which would mean I would have to become a Muslim. I loved their way of life as an outsider but to live in a country where the law and culture is bound to the Koran and to learn the Arabic language would be a great strain for one who had been brought up in conservative England, although financially I would have gained tremendously. My problem was to explain without hurting or offending my friends that I really wasn’t Saudi material. I thought I had a fool proof plan I would explain that Syb, who had many Saudi lady friends who lived in large family circles, would be lonely living without the support of her family. “No” my colleagues said “Marry three more wives then she would have a family to be company for her”.

Somehow I didn’t think Syb would approve but it was the way of their religion to allow a man four wives at the same time. The theory was that men need more satisfaction and four wives would avoid adultery, however another three wives would be very expensive, even at that time, and tiring, as all of them would be required to have equal status as instructed by their religion. I thought it better to encourage my colleagues believe my excuse.

Mike's Saudi (7) Meeting Mansour and His Father

There are times in life when you meet people who you naturally trust and almost immediately become friends, so it was when Mansour and I started to work together. He was what might be described as a middle class Saudi with western leanings but a strong reliance on his faith. So he tended to understand me and my sense of humour and I had by this time been in Saudi long enough to more or less understand him. Within a few hours of our meeting I had taken him home and introduced him to Syb, we had a cup of tea made the Arabic way which impressed him, then, much to our surprise, he suggested we go to his home to meet his wife. This should be seen in the context of the time and of Islam, wives did not meet other males outside the family.

We were naturally flattered. When we arrived at his home both of us were ushered in to the family lounge and introduced to Fateeha his wife and the children. Syb and Fateeha immediately took to each other and learnt to converse with each other in a half English and half Arabic over the coming weeks. Because we all seemed to integrate so well from that moment on we became members of his family and whenever we visited we all used the family lounge, the only exception was when non-family men or women visited, then we used to split into the two lounges. Mansours extended family was very large and we were introduced round “This is my brother from another mother” was not unusually his father had had many wives but no more than four at a time as was required by Islam. We met him later at a wedding when he was over 90 and was considering another wife, Syb met the lucky lady(?) who was 40 at the same event and she was adamant she was not marrying such an old man. I believe she won out.

Mansour was an influential person his father having been with King Saud when he united the country, before that he fought with the French and it was rumoured that he could hit a egg with his rifle from the back of a galloping camel. If you have seen a galloping camel you will know what feat of shooting that is, if it’s true. The wedding was the only time we met the old man, unfortunately we spoke no Arabic at the time and felt much embarrassed as he reeled off the languages he could speak; it seemed in the end that English was one of the few he was unable to speak. But even though we couldn’t communicate directly, there were plenty of people who could translate for us. I really admired him he had such a great presence. Oddly enough Mansour and I never seemed to speak about him again and I have no idea how he fared.

I seem to have strayed a little from where I started but I will return to Mansour and Fateeha in later blogs. I know that some of the background against which I write seem strange to those who have not lived in an Islamic society. Syb’s book ‘Inshallah’ does give a fair picture of a Muslim family life in the way we experienced it in 1978.(amazon.com/dp/B007OIX3XM)   

 

Mike's Saudi Six - A Street in Dahran

( Sorry that this blog is late but we had an issue with the computer our only digital device it ok now)

Towards the end of our stay in Saudi Arabia we lived in a large but developing city in the east of the country. Despite the surroundings there still existed some traits of earlier customs, one of which was that Bedouins would come into town, bringing items from their earlier lifestyle to sell largely to Westerners. I could hardly imagine a Saudi buying what they considered old junk and which we considered prized historical artefacts.

The Bedouins would sit on the board pavements surrounded by these items and drink tea ignoring all who passed by. If you saw something that you found particularly attractive the form was to sit on the pavement alongside the seller and talk to him in English and he would answer you in Arabic as though he knew what you had said. He would during this meaningless but necessary conversation offer you a tea, of course you accepted as it would insult him if you refused. He would then take the cup he had been using toss the dregs away, swill some fresh tea round in it to clean it out and refill it and hand it to you.

After some time as you sat drinking his tea you might indicate the item you were interested in; at which point he would nod and in an unhurried way write some figures on a piece of paper. Now before you went on this type of shopping it was essential to learn the Arabic numbers. (Early in my Saudi career I offered more than the seller was asking!) He would hand you the paper which represented the starting price about this time he would find another cup and you would sit together in conversation as before drinking tea and altering the figures on the piece of paper until a mutually satisfactory price was arrived at; this could take up to an hour or even longer.

During one such episode, I was in the process of negotiating a price for nicely crafted wheel from an old well. I think I’d got it down to about half the original price when an American lady walked up bent over my Bedouin friend and offered him full price. He looked absolutely disgusted and waved her away, what she failed to see was that this was much more than a sale it was a social occasion. From my side it was a great way to spend a morning and get a piece of Saudi history, I still have the wheel and treasure the memories it brings back.