Saudi Anthems and Orchestras

National anthems from 20 countries are being sung with pride and tears most days here in London, just before kick off for rugby games at the Rugby World Cup 2015.  I've even learned a couple of the ones with catchy tunes.  After belting out the Kiwi anthem prior to an All Blacks game it occurred to me that I have never heard the Saudi Arabian National anthem, not in the entire six years I've lived here.

Does Saudi Have A National Anthem?
I had to turn to Google to find out if there was a Saudi National Anthem and was surprised to find there was.  When the religious peeps go around telling folks that music is forbidden this expat finds it a little contradictory for the country to have a national anthem, largely because anthems need music and they are usually played publicly.

Perhaps if I watched soccer (aka football) I might hear the Saudi anthem more often as it's boomed over loud speakers prior to the international football matches that national team participates in.  I made that discovery while trawling YouTube looking for the lyrics to the Saudi anthem.  The mass of male spectators at football matches are enthusiastic in their rendition of the anthem.  It's quite heartening to see as I have always found Saudi's quite a fun loving bunch although the Saudi's public face is supposed to be so emotionally reserved.

But I don't watch Saudi football, not because the Saudi hierarchy, in their wisdom, won't let ladies in to stadiums to watch the games (which makes me wonder how many Saudi women know the words to their national anthem? ) No, it is simply that rugby and rugby league are my spectator sport of preference and if there is a Saudi national team for either of these codes, I haven't seen it, or their anthem singing, in action yet.

North Queensland Cowboys NRL Premiers 2015...that's my team.

The Lilting Royal Salute
Yes, Saudi has a national anthem and the instrumental version, called the Royal Salute, doesn't sound the least bit Arabic (to my very uneducated musical ear).  In fact it sounds quite fan farish and, well, lilting.  But more surprisingly, it is orchestral!  Why be surprised?  Because I have no idea if Saudi Arabia has an orchestra capable of playing the song!  If there is a National Saudi Symphonic Orchestra, or anything vaguely similar, they don't seem to make many public appearances.  There's no advertising for Season Tickets or a monthly event Calendar that I'm aware of.  Heck, I don't even know if there's a concert hall in which the orchestra could play if they do exist.

Apparently the Royal Salute is only played at very formal kingly type of occasions, presumably using a recording given the apparent lack of orchestra, though I'll never know because, being a mere femme expat, invitations to Saudi formal functions don't often come my way.  (If a Kingly type is reading this a royal invite would be gratefully accepted.  Just saying.)

Anthem Origins
According to Wikipedia Saudi officially adopted their National Anthem, called Aash al Malak, in 1950 although it was first composed in 1947 by an Egyptian composer, Abdul Rahman Al Khatib, at the request of King Saud when he was visiting Egypt.  It has been adapted three times since that original composition.  Once in 1958 when lyrics were written by Muhammad Talat though, for reasons I can't find on Google, apparently they were rarely heard.  Again by Seraj Omar who arranged the brass instrumental version.  And finally in 1984 when new lyrics written by Ibrahim Khafaji were added.

Saudi National Day has recently come and gone and there were loads of festivities planned, but I am wondering whether or not the Saudi National Anthem was ever played publicly for people to sing loud and heartily on the day.  (Unfortunately I was out of the country for this Saudi National Day but on previous days I don't recall hearing an anthem, though to be honest, I may not have recognized it if I did hear it.).

So here it is, the Saudi National Anthem with lyrics and including transliteration, so you can sing along, and translation, so you know what it is you're saying.

Now I have no excuse not to know the Saudi National Anthem though, as I still have problems getting into soccer games or receiving invites to fancy receptions where I could sing it loudly with gusto, it makes me wonder whether it's worth learning it.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Turf Wars

Turf wars are everywhere, even in our compound.  Our opinion of said wars, both feral and human, swings between entertained and confounded.  It is amazing what people will get their knickers in a twist about in this place.  This week it's cats.

We have a few cats on the compound, most of them wild.  (Actually all of them, bar an import from Portugal, are wild).  There are a few people who feed the cats. Either they have, like us, semi-adopted a cat (whose name is Cat, a name the grandchildren consider a non-name), or they simply put out plates of left over food for whichever cat is wandering by at the time.

There are other tenants on the compound, we'll call them the 'The Anti-Catters' (AC's for brevity), who consider the cats a bit of a nuisance,  I'm guessing they, like many of their fellow Other Arabs, aren't really animal loving people. (Perhaps this is gross stereotyping of Other Arabs, however I have seen so many of our Other Arab residents jump in sheer horror when something live with fur on it enters their personal space that the conclusion isn't that hard to reach).

I have to say that, on the rare occasions when all the compound cats do decide to crawl out of the sprinkler storage systems, where they like to spend their days in relative comfort, and sit about waiting for a free nighttime feed from whoever is cooking on the Bar-B-Q, there are quite a few of them.  Occasionally there is a spot of caterwauling too, but as I sleep next to a nightly chainsaw called Snoring Hubster, cat calls don't generally make it onto my night sounds radar.

Recently, emails have been flying between the AC's and Management about the cats on the compound.  Apparently one or two among our population of felines has been attacking children.  I hazard a guess that said children like to chase the cats into corners.  Any child capable of chasing a cat into a corner is old enough to understand that cats, wild or otherwise, when chased into corners are not very friendly.  I'm not sure if the parents have taken the time to explain proper treatment of animals to their offspring so that cat chases and subsequent scratches would highly likely be avoided.  Or perhaps the parents have tried this course and aren't aware that the child they are raising isn't a very good listener  -  a category into which a number of kids around here seem to fall.

So the cats have come under fire and all must be removed, according to the Anti-catters.  Others of us approached Management about the Trap, Neuter and Return (TNR) program that Open Paws offers and Management was very open to the idea.  However, the Anti-catters weren't happy with that plan at all.  They wanted, neigh demanded, removal of all felines on the compound.

We've tried explaining that removal of the current, relatively healthy, fairly stable population of cats will probably result in one of two things, (or both if we get really lucky) - an increase in vermin such as mice, rats, lizards, roaches and scorpions, or the removed population will simply be replaced by wilder, more mangy, street cats who will scrap each other over there newly aquired, recently vacated territory.  We even mentioned that neutering will reduce the number of new kittens being produced and will also result in less yowling because cats yowl when on heat and mating.  But all our explanations are falling on deliberately stony ears under the excuse of 'religion'.  So we even sent through a few scholarly discussions about how neutering is actually better for cat health.  But the Anti-catter's still won't be persuaded.

We have come to the conclusion that such stone walling is not actually about the cats or the common sense of our argument.  It's about the Anti-Catter's getting their own way.  You see, our current management is relatively new, so the Anti-Catters have seen an opportunity to exert some control over compound affairs.  Why they feel the need to exert such control is beyond me, but they do. Possibly this urge hit them because new management is a woman with a soft touch.  Previous management (also a woman but made of sterner stuff) couldn't be bothered with the pettiness and demands of our resident Other Arabs, so kept them, and their politics, where it belonged - out of our faces.  The new management, unfortunately, prefers to entertain them, hence their politics and turf wars are now beginning to divide our compound.

To make matters worse, should the new management try to make a decision that the AC's not like, they simply run to the bloke above her, (we'll call him Over The Top Management), who just happens to be of the same nationality as the AC's and he, naturally being of the same ilk, the sort of ilk that doesn't want men to appear weaker than women, but doesn't seem to mind if they appear somewhat more stupid) supports everything they say.

It's quite sad.
And annoying.
At the same time.

So, as far as the cat saga goes, Miss Management decided to do the responsible thing and agreed to the TNR program.  The thought that cats would be clubbed, drowned or dumped in the desert made her feel bad.  Consequently, we cat adopters got together with Miss Management and worked with Open Paws to trap the cats.  Our Lovely Vet neutered the cats.  And then the AC's kicked up a stink!  They sent emails saying, neigh demanding, that the cats not be returned.  They must have been quite aggressive emails for Miss Management to turn around within an hour and tell Our Lovely Vet to keep the cats.  (I know it was within an hour because it takes me 40 minutes to walk to the nearby mall and when I passed by Miss Management on my way out she was quite positive about the cats, and before I'd reached the Mall, Lovely Vet rang to ask what the heck was going on as Miss Management had changed her mind).

Miss Management did concede that those who had adopted cats could go and pick them up but the cats were to be kept indoors at all times!  I'm guessing the AC's and Over The Top Management felt very good about themselves demanding those terms.

Much discussion was had between Management, we cat adopters and Our Lovely Vet (not necessarily in that order).  In the end it was concluded that Management had entered into an agreement to Trap, Neuter and Return.  The trap and neuter part went without a hitch.  The return was going to be completed one way or another.

So it appears that the the cats are back, (minus two - a mother who had to be euthanased and another who management was adamant was not to be returned).  Should Miss Management, at the behest of the Anti-cat lobby, decide now to trap and remove the cats, she can. But a cat that has been trapped once is highly unlikely to enter a trap again...so good luck with that folks!

(The Anti-Catters might be interested to know that there is also a new cat on the compound.  A huge grey male with a massive head and big nuts!  I'm guessing he's one of those wild street cats who took advantage of the fact there were no cats on our compound for over 48 hours and decided to move in and claim his new turf.  Here's hoping he never gets chased into a corner by the resident kids with no ears, because by the looks of him, he could do some serious damage.)

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Boys To Men In Saudi

While wandering the aisles at an exhibition in Riyadh one day, a kerfuffle broke out just ahead and female security in their stern brown uniforms were surrounding a woman and her children.  As is usual in Saudi whenever something exciting is going down, the commotion drew the attention of attendees in the near vicinity and soon a small crowd had formed, with the sound of a shrill and angry exchange taking place.  It turns out security was objecting to the age of a young boy who had entered the female only section of the event, (he looked about six), and his mother was just as forcefully objecting to her offspring being told to wait outside.

www.mydoorsign.com

I have no idea why this woman took her child to this event. Maybe she wasn't aware it was Ladies Only.  Maybe she believed that six was still young enough to be an innocent child and, like the other youngsters being allowed access (though admittedly most of those were in push chairs), didn't expect there to be problems.  Perhaps she didn't have anyone to babysit said child, and let's be honest, if a mother were to leave her youngster alone at the door she would probably be labelled a bad mother plus run the risk of losing who child to some abductor (terrible thought, but not unknown to happen!), so it's no wonder she insists that he is coming with her, grabs his hand and attempts to drag him in behind her.

The young boy in question looked a little confused and frightened mid kerfuffle, the mother agitated and the security stone faced and adamant that 'He is not to go one inch further!'

Security coming down on mothers and their youngsters has happened at a couple of events I've been to, though having never stuck around to see the result of these exchanges, I can't say who wins out.  The incidents do make me wonder how old a boy has to be before he's no longer a child in Saudi eyes.  Apparently, looking six is getting on in years.

I presume young male children are excluded from these events because they may see, or be at risk of fraternizing with, uncovered, unrelated women.  What I used to doubt was whether the boys are old enough to compute what they are seeing, or if they even care.

On trying to recall what my brothers were thinking about when they were between the ages of six and nine, all that comes to mind is riding bikes, pretending they were super heroes and asking for food.  I seriously doubt how pretty, or otherwise, the lady next door was even entered their heads at that age.  In fact, the only reason they would have been the least bit interested in the neighbor is if she had freshly baked biscuits for afternoon tea and had brought over a tin full to give away!

But this is Saudi, and boys are raised with different ideas.
I know a seven year old who is well aware that the Arabic teacher (a male) who has just arrived to take him for his after-school lessons is not to be let into the same room as me, so he has asked the teacher to wait in another area until I'm gone.  And yet another young boy who is concerned that my head and face are not covered as I leave his home (I have no idea what his parents tell him on that score).  And at extended family functions young boys learn they are the conduit for communication between the male tent and female section as they are sent back and forth between each.

The first time I witnessed how many of the social and cultural rules that young Saudi boys knew I admit to being stunned, first in an impressive way (as in, Whoa, look at that!), then in a sad way (as in, O my gosh, he's so young to know this already.  What's gonna happen when he meets the big bad west!)

Discussions with fellow expats on these eye opening occurrences usually results in 'brain washing' comments entering the conversation which is a bit unfair.  We laugh watching our grand children mimic their parents when on Skype but forget that they are, in fact, also learning behaviors, rules and attitudes. We forget how quickly children learn from their environment, how much the culture of a place is taught and learnt in the home before a child hits school or the big wide world.

How difficult must it be for Saudi parents to explain we westerners, who quite obviously have slightly different ideas on life, to their children.  (Of course, the lazy parents will take the quick option and simply say we are infidels not getting to paradise.  I guess they aren't interested in raising future generations with rounded attitudes).

I have been informed via the expat grapevine (and yes, that makes it rumour) that Saudi women provide all care for the children till the age of seven, then the fathers step in and take over a boys care while the mothers continue to raise the girls.  There may be an element of truth to this, though Ii'm not silly enough think it means seven is the age of transition from boys to men in Saudi Arabia.  It's more a question of logistics because there has to be a point in a young Saudi boys life when the father (and his brothers and uncles) becomes a lot more involved with their sons upbringing, largely due to the segregated environment within which boys must live and try to make sense of life.  Another expat friend believes twelve is the age of no return for a Saudi boy due to approaching puberty - at that point he's completely thrown into the Saudi mans separate world, ready or not.  Here's hoping he's ready!

When boys truly transition to men in Saudi is, no doubt, an individual thing as it is around the world.  And I say 'truly transition' because there is simply no one 'magical moment' when 'boys' become 'men' in the true mental, emotional, responsible sense of the word.  (We had to wait almost 50 years for one of the brothers to grow up!)   And I don't believe for one second that a male child is mature enough, in any sense, of being a capable guardian to his mother and older sisters,  This particular Saudi law or cultural practice or religious edict or whatever it is, that makes women dependent on their male children or young male siblings for all their needs if no other significant adult male is around has be given the heave ho!  (I actually think the whole guardian system needs to go, but that's for another discussion).

Unlike girls in Saudi Arabia, boys do not get lumbered with a sign that announces to security guards (and anyone else who needs to know)  "My developing body has physically transitioned to manhood.  Separate me from the females because now, I'm dangerous!'' - (Perhaps they could put that on a shirt...)

... This means security guarding the inner sanctums of malls and family only places from 'single males' has to take take a wild guess at the age of a child and often times simply being a boy (and an extremely young one at that) seems to be sign enough. for exclusion.   For example, I've seen a boy, he looked nine, having been sent out by his mother to buy drinks for his younger siblings, denied entrance back into the Family Area of a mall food hall and told to go sit in the singles section.  He looked like he was gonna cry and his mother clucked her way over to him, lambasting security all the way.  I couldn't help thinking some of the rules in this country are a bit stuffed.  On the other hand I also thought she was being unfair to security - after all, these are your rules!  (Living in Saudi can seriously mess with your head if you let it.)

The sign for a matured girl is easy to identify and, if the mothers have done a good job, girls look forward to their first blood and the marking of their transition to 'womanhood' with an all covering abaya and niqab with enthusiasm.  Having to give up playing kids games with the male cousins of similar age is simply part and parcel of the process.  (I do wonder how, overnight, you can become too beautiful for male to look at just because you had a period because, let's be honest, most menstrual related activity is a far from glamorous affair!)  One can only imagine that girls who are not prepared for the great cover up that accompanies 'becoming a woman' must be somewhat traumatized by the entire process.

If you think about it, the abaya and niqab ensemble does little more than mark you as a female , and one of reproductive age at that.  Putting newly menstruating girls into them is akin to branding packaging with a tag line 'Need Offspring? - I'm Good To Go!'  (Post-menopausal women don't have to wear the niqab, so I've heard, because they are considered 'past their use by date' but most continue to do so out of habit, and I reckon the old girls still get a thrill out of the young men throwing phone numbers at them because of what they imagine is under the black attire!).

I have heard stories of Saudi mothers not letting on that their daughters have begun menstruating, so they don't have to be marked as 'available' quite so soon and who can blame them, childhood is over so quickly and adulthood lasts for decades in this modern day and age.

Without any outward sign of a boys age, the judgement of whether or not that boy can pass as 'child' or be denied access as 'man' is left to the discretion of the security guards and their assessment that said boy is too large, too old, or too handsome to be allowed in to the inner sanctum of 'Women Only' areas with mum or 'Family' areas without her, much to the chagrin, I've noted, of many a mother.

Playing Outside in Riyadh

The Saudi women I know with growing children would love to have space to say to the kids, with a hand-on-motherly-hip, 'Go outside and play! You're getting on my wick today!' But in Riyadh, only the rich have homes with land around which a child can run and play. And even then, most of the year, day or night, it's too darned hot to be running around outdoors.

So an energetic six year old boy gets to boot his football in the apartment (most of the women I know live in apartments) until told off for knocking photo's off the wall and vases off the coffee tables or just missing someone's head as the football rebounds around the room, from wall to wall.

His energy is then directed to the area in the house set up with swings or slides in lieu of an outdoor park, (usually one of the bedrooms unless the home is large enough for a games room), where said six year old begins hassling his siblings or attempting to destroy the thick plastic slide, much too young for him now, set up in a corner of a room.  The siblings naturally start screaming and crying (hassled siblings the world over do that, after all!).  Mother shakes her head, utters words in Arabic that I presume go along the lines of "Wait till your father gets home", picks up the youngest crying child to pacify him and shuts the salon door for a moments peace, and only a moment, as seconds later the door bursts open as Rambunctious One is looking for attention and some way to use that pent up energy!  With very little in the way of space available in the home for physical activity, being annoying becomes flavour of the day.

There is hardly an expat who isn't guilty of making negative comments about Saudi parenting skills (or what seems to be the lack thereof), but once you understand the trials, you can more appreciate the situation.  What would you do with a six year old boy looking for action in a two or three bedroom apartment, with outdoor temps too hot for after school play almost every day?

Certainly I remember organizing games for my own three kids on those days when they needed adult involvement in their recreation and where playing quietly on their own just wasn't going to happen.  But I also had the great outdoors to turf the kids into when they tired of organized games.  Most of the middle class Saudi villas I've been into only have a footpath circling the house where the kids can be sent to ride their bikes, which is great until growing boys reach that age when they need more space!  And though boys in particular need a way to test their mettle against other boys, young girls also like to run and ride about, and boot a football too, so when the sun is beating down outdoors, quite often the dining room and table turn into an impromptu scooter or roller skating velodrome.  Raucous bedlam, of course, prevails.

It's not unusual for cousins to come visit, which simply means more pent up youngsters racing around the house and as the kids get older, the rough and tumble gets more boisterous and nicely selected furniture takes a hammering being used as a trampoline, escape route, wrestling mat or jungle gym - depending on the game in progress!

There are times I feel sorry for the kids in Saudi. I feel even more for their mothers who have no idea how to deal with the rambunctiousness of growing energetic children stuck indoors. If a live-in-maid is present, I feel sorry for her too because, once mum gets fed up with squawking kids, guess who gets the job of quieting them?  Of course, ignoring the maid seems to be a common theme in every home I've been in as, just moments after being handed off to a maid, the kids are back!

Taking the children to the green park down the road so they can burn off excess energy is generally not done by Saudi women on their own, I've noted, even when the temps are cool enough.  They either wait for Dad to come home so they can go as a family or plan a group visit with their sisters who, I gather, are all having 'Energetic Child Causing Havoc' issues.  Football in the street is not as common as one would think in this soccer mad part of the world either, not in Riyadh central anyways, and I can only presume the traffic is blamed for that.  Though football fields are dotted about the city, they are generally only for males so, once again, the energetic son must wait for his father to come home and be in the mood to take him off mums hands, while the energetic girl has to hope Dad's in a frame of mind to take them both to a park so she can get some air about her, too.

Venues like Gymbaroo and My Gym are opening up in Riyadh to give very young kids somewhere to expend physical energy, but they cost money to use that not all families have and they require transportation, not something every woman has at her beck and call, either.  Localiser Mall has a Kids In Motion Gym providing exer-gaming (a combination of exercise and games) for kids from 6 to 13 years of age.  It's an awesome place with a rock climbing wall, ball handling center and separate area for dancer-size type activities.  But again cost and transportation can prove an issue.

The Saudi mothers I know look forward to the weekends because often it means the kids will be taken to the family farm where they can run and play about outdoors with all their cousins.  If the husband decides to take the kids to his family's farm for the evening, if not the entire weekend, the mothers are over the moon!  Peace and quiet reign in their otherwise hectic space.  Child free coffee with the girls sounds like bliss!  



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Spam

I love my email.  It's been with me since the internet exploded on the human race.  I've worked hard to keep it safe from fruit cakes, fruit loops and scurvy internet predators who love to send all sorts of nastiness and Spammy, virus ridden messages to my email address in the hope that I'm an idiot and will open them!  (OK, so, in the early days, once or twice, I might have been an idiot - but I wised up real fast!)

In fact, for a long while, me and my email were cruising along quite nicely with unsolicited advertising of the seedy, saucy, begging and otherwise unasked for kind, kept to a minimum.  It has probably helped immensely that most companies the world over, even the little ones, have learnt the value of protecting consumer info instead of palming it off, for a fee, to third party rabble.

Yes, all was going fine with my email down in Kiwiland.  And then I moved to the Middle East.

It seems that companies over here are happy to sell out my information in a heartbeat.  And that sucks.

On arrival in KSA it did cross my mind, for a fleeting moment, that perhaps I ought to be xtra wary (as usually I'm always wary) who I hand my email to in this region.  But I shrugged the thought off presuming, wrongfully so, (obviously), that companies world wide were hip when it came to protecting client information.  The assumption I was dealing with companies with integrity was a bit naive too, I guess.  Integrity in business isn't really a catch phrase in this part of the world is it?

Now, when I open my junk mail to check for valid messages that I haven't yet identified as worthy of freely accessing my emails inner sanctum of safety, I can't believe how much crap is in there!  It's like being back in the 90's!  And it's starting to turn dirty. Disgusting scumbags!  Getting Horizontal For Free - my adaptation on their words, so you can guess what they were saying - is what I married my husband for, not what I expect to find advertised in my email!  (My email has been so clean for so long that I actually forgot how dirty spam can get.)

Over the years I've kept, and dumped, a number of temporary email addresses, purely used to sign up for things I'm interested in and might like to receive more information about.  If they are an honorable business, the address won't get spammed and I can, eventually, if I feel the urge, change my sign up details to my proper addy.  If they aren't, well, it's easy to see.  So I dump the address, and the company, and go find the interesting information someplace else.  I'm having to do that again, here in Saudi, as protection of my information from third, fourth and probably fifth parties has proven to be somewhat lax.  Oh the lengths one must go to, to get Spam off the radar and feel safe online.  I thought all that was behind me, but no.  Here we go again!



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Beggars in Riyadh

Beggar: www.blueabaya.com

Have you ever given money to beggars in Riyadh?  I have.  Not often, admittedly.  I tend to agree with all the news reports dissing the existence of beggars and the kindness of Saudi residents.  Sometimes, though, the spirit moves me.

It never moves me to give to kids.  With all the press about kids being used in professional begging gangs, I'm afraid a kid in dirty thobe pleading at my window does not tug on the heart strings. Except for this one time, when I seriously wished I could take the young fella home with me.

He couldn't have been more than eight years old and he was crying, really crying, so distraught at the traffic lights. I thought, 'What A'hole (yes, that's that word I thought because, lets face it, I'm a basic kind a gal) turfs an eight year old child out into Riyadh streets and tells him to beg for money. Seeing him so upset and sad, it wasn't hard to imagine he'd been kidnapped from a loving home in Yemen (because according to every Saudi and taxi driver I've spoken to, all beggars are Yemeni) and found himself shafted into this sorry life in Saudi with a pimp monitoring the money in his take home begging bucket.  Yes, the imagination kicked into overdrive at the sight of the tears streaming down this young, lost face bawling by the roadside.  Sorry as I felt for him, my wallet remained shut.

Beggar woman: Gulf News

When a woman pushing an obviously disabled child is roaming among the traffic I will reach in my purse for some spare cash and hand it over if she happens to pass by my window.  Although Saudi does have charities and hospitals or care units for the disabled, I understand they are only for Saudi nationals.   Though upon reflection, I haven't seen many such women lately.  Perhaps those charities are doing their job for all Saudi residents after all.

On the extremely (read ex-treme-ly) odd occasion I've given a few Riyals to old men.  But they have to look reeeaaallly old.  And a bit beaten up and doubled over.  And Hubster has to be there attempting to wrangle my spare cash off me.  Typical that a man in a male dominated society will feel sorry for an old bloke.  I tend to think, 'He's a man - send him to a mosque, he'll be fine!' - heartless, weak female living in Saudi that I am.

I don't really see begging as the kind of career move I would choose, though until one hits rock bottom one never really knows what they will do, do they?  If rumours are true and beggars make a fortune, as in this story "begging women being caught with 70,000Sars", then perhaps heading up a professional begging gang may have more rewards than I thought, though somehow I doubt it.   And I doubt even more that professional gangs have a financial planning scheme that will one day have everyone off the streets.

Being grateful I'm not at the bottom of the pond with the gravel dwellers (Oh aren't I a snot!), I will occasionally donate to beggars provided they fall into my very narrow criteria and I'm feeling generous - and it's a rare occasion when those two moons align for Kiwi generosity to happen.   This sounds like a less than giving attitude but I tend to agree with the Grand Mufti in this Arab News headline the other day...

Grand mufti: Don’t give zakat to beggars

The mufti was encouraging folks to give their money to charities.  I'd like to give my money and/or time to charities in Saudi, unfortunately, just as I'm choosy which beggar gets my money, so am I a little fussy with charities and their ability to do what they claim without pilfering the funds off for themselves. This article earlier in the year from the Saudi Gazette...

EP charities ‘need urgent reforms’

...didn't increase my confidence any.  Basically it says charities in Saudi are not that well run at all.

For those who do want to donate time or money to a charity, finding one they're happy with can prove challenging.  There isn't, to my knowledge, a central, comprehensive list of charities available to the public with details about what each does, where they operate or how to contact them, although apparently there are 700 charities registered with the Ministry of Social Affairs.

If someone could whip that up that charity info onto a website that would be fab.  And better still, if you could state whether or not they welcome volunteers, that would be awesome too because I know a number of expat housewives looking for something purposeful to sink their teeth into while living in Saudi.  The best thing I've found so far is this list of Saudi Social Organisations from Araboo, and it's way short of the reputed 700.  Perhaps if all these charities were doing what they claimed, there wouldn't be beggars in Riyadh, would there?  Maybe that's why there isn't a published list.

Kite,
Kiwi

Sighting the Ramadan Crescent Moon

Monday evening all eyes will be on the Saudi sky - well, Muslim eyes anyway, attempting to spot the crescent moon signifying the start of Ramadan.

We were talking last night about the need to sight the moon when, after centuries of astrological study and using latest technology, it should be possible to pinpoint exactly when the moon in its crescent form will appear over the horizon after the sun has set.

But the moon must be sighted.
Actually seen.
Not imagined behind a cloud.
Whether by the naked eye or through binoculars (I have no idea if binoculars were around in the early Islamic days, though it is perfectly acceptable to use them now).

The latest weather forecast is a bit of a worry though.  Dust storms for the next three days might make spotting anything in the sky a bit difficult.

Hubster and I will be staying in Riyadh for most of Ramadan.  Many expats choose to leave the country when Ramadan is imminent.  Granted, it can be tough for non-Muslims who remain here as we're expected to be respectful of the Holy Month and implement a number of changes to the our daily routines and behaviors so as not to offend.

To be honest, the only thing that is really challenging for this non-Muslim is remembering not to eat or drink anything, not even water, when out in public during daylight hours.  Not that there is any reason to be out and about during the day - almost everything is closed or on an extreme go slow.  It's common knowledge among expats to get all your visa applications lodged, and returned, long before Ramadan.  Official working hours for the Public Sector this year are 10 a.m til 3 p.m, though in reality everybody considers those hours a guideline only.

As expats need to be mindful of their actions even in the workplace, Hubster usually takes a packed lunch to work and eats discreetly behind closed doors.  Restaurants are closed during the day, though supermarkets open for a few daylight hours so families can get the shopping done in preparation for the long awaited evening meal.

The first Ramadan I was here our compound cafe closed out of respect, the sign taped to the door said, for Ramadan.  It didn't really bother me, I have a Nespresso at home.  The other non-Muslims, however, weren't very impressed.  After all, they said, we live in this space to deliberately separate ourselves from the 'craziness' outside these walls.  So, ever since, our cafe has been open during Ramadan and I admit to going there, though mostly to use the free WiFi.

Private Sector companies, if they can, change their operating hours completely.  Nighttime simply becomes daytime.  For example, at the ladies gym down the road the Ramadan hours are 9 p.m. - 2 a.m.  I have no idea who actually goes to the gym at those hours.  I certainly don't!  (Most gyms with annual subscriptions offer one month free, with Ramadan in mind).  

Riyadh city comes alive in the evening after Iftar when families are together, gifts are exchanged, prayers are said and the fast is broken.  And the food....Most hotels put on huge Iftar feasts every night for an entire month and if you want to go, it pays to book!

All Malls open after Iftar too and, if you go up to the Globe in Faisaliah or the Sky Bridge in Al Mamlaka Tower, you can watch the constant, unbroken chain of headlights backed up on every road into town as people emerge from their homes to enjoy the night life of Riyadh, such that it is.  

Mosques also ramp up their activity during Ramadan as the faithful gather to hear Imams read the Quran in its entirety over the course of the month.  

If you're a Muslim, no doubt Saudi Arabia during Ramadan is a great place to be.  In fact, the non-Saudi Muslims I know love being in Saudi for Ramadan, not because they are particularly pious, but because Saudi has shorter daylight hours so they aren't fasting as long as Muslims in say, the UK.  Plus the entire country stops for Ramadan which is extremely supportive, as opposed to other countries who couldn't give two hoots about your fasting, or the temptation to eat that is everywhere, and where forgiveness for your exhaustion and crankiness due to hunger is unlikely to be forthcoming.  

Signs for Ramadan started appearing about town a couple of weeks ago.  This one at Tamimi was one of the first.  No doubt, when that crescent moon makes its appearance on the Saudi horizon many a Ramadan Kareem will be said.




Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Saudi Pulse And Women's Rights

The Arab News has a section called Saudi Pulse for local journalists to have their say.  One item in particular caught my attention the other day.  Saad Aldorasi wrote, 'Lets get to the root of the problem'.   He talks about Saudi  women’s rights, protection against domestic violence, abuse and sexual harassment and gives his take on where the problem comes from and how best to prevent it. 

The article didn't catch my attention for what he said.  What he said is glaringly obvious to anyone caring to look.  What did surprise me was that he said it.  Plane, frank, no beating around the bush.  That in itself shows the changes happening in Saudi.

It's heartening to see that media (and Arab News is considered as one that tows the government line) is allowing Saudi's to voice a good hard look at themselves while, at the same time. offering up possible solutions.

Enjoy the read from this weeks Arab News, Saudi Pulse.


Ka Kite,
Kiwi

That Passport Is Mine, Thanks

Travelling to other countries in the northern hemisphere is one of the perks of living in Saudi Arabia, especially for we antipodeans from New Zealand who were bought up so far from the rest of the world.  When we expat friends get together chatter often turns to places we have been and places we are planning to go.  If nurses are in the group discussion invariably turns to the added difficulties of planning trips because as part of the vacation application process, they have to ask to be given back their passports.  In Saudi, employers, aka sponsors, keep employee passports.

Apparently there is no Saudi law that says employees have to hand over their passports to their sponsors, which makes the practice not only a human rights violation but also illegal.  Yet it is accepted common practice.

Protecting Investments
The sponsors claim they keep passports to protect their 'investment'.  They somehow believe that holding passports will prevent their employees from running away.  One has to wonder why an employee would want to run away from his work place?  And where the heck would they run too?  Certainly they can't go home.  Saudi is the only country I know of that you can't get into without an entry visa, nor can you leave it without an exit visa, both of which your sponsor has to agree to have issued.

In reality, the keeping of passports by most sponsors is little more than a way for them to maintain control over employees.  Usually control is via unscrupulous means - largely bribery, both monetary and mental or emotional, and sometimes through physical abuse.

The Saudi rational is a stupid and baseless claim because a worker can go to his embassy and get a new passport issued without needing any other documentation.  All the embassies here are well aware  how badly treated many workers are in this country.  It's a pity they don't, or can't, do more about it.  The Saudi sponsor is simply hoping workers are not au fait with their working, human or civil rights - and many of them aren't when they first arrive - that's why they still demand the keeping of passports.

If Saudi sponsors really wanted to protect their 'investments', they'd be nicer to them.

Good Sponsors and A'holes
In my mind there are two types of sponsors - Real and Fake.  There are also three sub-categories of sponsor - Good, Bad and Downright A'hole.  Every sponsor relies on an agent located in the workers home countries to find, and sign up, the employees.  From what I've heard, agents have two classes - Greedy and Greedy A'hole.

Real Sponsors and Key Holding Henchmen
Real sponsors actually do need workers and go through the legal process to obtain them, which along the way does require them to pay fees and things to have their workers bought over here.  The Real Good sponsors will treat their employees well - paying them on time, not extorting money out of them, not flogging them with unreasonable demands re: work hours, and adhering to contract terms regarding benefits and vacations and and so on.  Why they keep the passports in this case is beyond me.  Perhaps they think it will make them work harder?  (Quite frankly, if I knew a boss was going to make it ultra-hard for me to go home and see the fams on a regular basis, I'd slow my work rate to the bare minimum.  Wouldn't you?)

Often times, especially for larger companies, once the worker lands, it is not the sponsors themselves who deal directly with the workers but administrators employed by the sponsor.  Suffice to say, their role can really go to their heads and quite often it is this over-inflated ego sitting at an office desk that can stuff up a workers life.

For example, nurses have told us that if they have a holiday planned getting their passport back isn't usually a problem provided the man holding the key to the cupboard storing all passports isn't away sick or on holiday himself the day a nurse is allowed to collect it.  (It seems worker's passports are held in such low regard by companies they aren't even kept in a metal safe for safe keeping.  Just a cupboard that can be burnt to the ground with all its contents if there ever was a fire.)

Yes, the employers and their Key Holding sidekicks are such control freaks that they like to make employees wait till the very last minute before giving them their passport.  (At least the Key Holders at the hospitals our nurse friends work at are like that).   Of course, nurses aren't just given their passport.  No, to get it they have to hand over their iqama, or residency card.  (The iqama states who you are, who your sponsor is and is required identification for expats residing in the country that you are expected to carry on your person at all times).  On your return from holiday, the nurse goes back to Mr Key Holder, hands over the passport and he gives back the iqama.

If Mr Key Holder is away the day the nurse is permitted to collect her passport (and yes, they can be away the day that's been organised to go see them) the nurse can find herself in a bit of a pickle.  Being Key Holder is a powerful position.  Arabs don't really like sharing their power with anyone else so, generally speaking, there really is only one key holder.   And according to the peeps we know, their Key Holders don't give a rats bottom if they bugger up someone else's vacation plans by not handing The Key to a proxy Key Holder when he (or she) is going to be absent from the work place for a while.   We've had more than one nurse friend panicking about what to do if Mr Key Holder doesn't get back into the office on time for them to make it to their booked flight.

Bad To The Core Sponsors
The Real Bad sponsors can really be bad to the core.  These type may not give a shit what lies the agents say to trick workers over here. They don't care that A'hole agents are preying on the sad and desperate situation of the disadvantaged, lying about absolutely everything and charging unsuspecting, naive families a fortune for the mistake of dealing with them.  I've heard workers say things like, 'I finished my hospitality study and was told by the agent I'd be working in hotel management, but instead I'm working as a waiter and have another five years before I will have paid back the sponsor what he says I owe him so I can get out of here!'

This type of sponsor feels he is owed by the employee.  He wants to squeeze as many hours work out of his worker as possible or else he doesn't think he's getting value for money.  From the accounts of workers who are stuck in this situation, (and if you talk to enough workers they don't hold back telling you), these sponsors tend not to pay on time (if at all), they expect you to work unreasonably long hours day and night doing things you never signed up for, they certainly don't think you deserve to go home for any reason and they do believe they own you.  Stories abound from this group of employee who hail largely from the Indian subcontinent, parts of Africa or Philipines, about not getting home for two to three years or more, partly because the wages suck and it takes that long to save up any cash, but also because the sponsor holds on to their passport and won't give it back.

Take our taxi driver for example.  He wanted to go home for his wedding and had given his sponsor plenty of advance notice about his upcoming nuptials but he had to keep putting the date off for weeks because the sponsor would not give him back his passport.  And one of our security guys has been here for five years and still hasn't been home to visit his family in Sudan.  Even after being told on one occasion "Book your ticket you can go, we'll give you your visa and passport", the company reneged and, as these guys don't get paid enough to buy the flash airline tickets where you can get refunds or change your flight dates, he lost his money and was very upset - but what could he do?

Fake Sponsors
Fake sponsors are those who are selling the 'Free Visa', a name that is completely contrary to the actual process of getting one because it can cost workers on average about 15,000 SAR to get.  As I understand it, to sell Free Visa's the sponsor first has to defraud the Ministry responsible for issuing visas by overstating the number of worker visa's his company requires.  Heck, I've heard some sponsors lie about actually having a company at all.  Once they get the visa's they engage a middle man to sell the visa's.

Many workers, those who have been around the traps a while, prefer the Free Visa.  It means when they get here they are pretty much their own boss.  All they have to do after buying the visa is find a job and ensure they pay their sponsor the regular monthly stipend he demands for getting them into the country.  To make sure they pay, he keeps their passports.  The Fake Good Sponsor (if there is such a thing) and his Middle Man agent are completely up front with the Fake Employee about the whole process and everybody is happy.

In the above case, once the worker finds a job even the Eventual Employer is happy because, one, he didn't have to pay to bring the employee in and, two, he can pay him less because he's here illegally and is happy to take what work he can get.  Loads of construction companies hire Free Visa workers because the blokes need the work and will do the hard labor jobs.  (It's common knowledge round here that you won't find a Saudi doing hard yakka work on a construction site these days.  That type of work is too far below them, though I think they're afraid of breaking a real sweat or getting blisters).

Keep Your Passport
When fellow expats contact me saying they are coming over I make a point of telling them, 'Keep your passport.  Don't let the employer take it.  It's not a legal requirement of your employment to have to part with your passport.'  Granted, most people who contact me via the blog are western blue collar types who wouldn't think twice about standing up for their rights.  I get the impression the laboring and service staff fraternity would be given utter shit for refusing to hand over their passport when asked.

Hubster has never handed over his passport to the employer.  Someone did ask once.  He said no.  When he says no he does it with this 'You want to mess with me, go ahead, make my day' kind of look.  The first time we did have to hand over passports to the admin guy to get our iqama's and exit visa's, we were a little nervous they may not come back.  Thankfully they did.   But no-one as ever asked for him to relinquish his passport to his employer for 'safe keeping' again.





Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Salah Still Catches Me

You would think after three years I could organize my day around Salah times, but no.

Message to self - do not rely on other people to look up Salah times to see if they conflict with 'lets go do something' arrangements.

Hence I am sitting on Tahalia St spinning my wheels (not literally, unfortunately) because the call to prayer started up as I was heading out.

Only if you've lived here can you fully comprehend the huge deflating sigh that escapes your lips, the heavy slump that drags down your shoulders and the slow, 'oh no'  drop of your head that always accompanies that moment when you realise you buggered up your timing.  Salah has caught you out - again.

Sent from my iPhone wishing you a fabulous day :)

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Cooking Show Censorship In Saudi

Censorship always takes a bit of getting used to in Saudi.
So much that seems 'normal' to the wicked west comes under the scrutiny of the Censorship Committee.

We get used to faces fuzzed off advertising, blacked out with pen or stamped over with price tags.  Why?  I believe recreating human images is not permitted and women's faces aren't to be seen in public at all.

Bare arms and legs in magazines and packaging are colored in black because the amount of skin shown in public must be within the bounds of modesty.  Musical instruments used to be unnamed in text books although, given the number of shops in Riyadh that are selling the unmentionable piano's, guitars, saxophones and drum sets, I'm presuming this censorship has been lifted.  (You can read more about that in my post 'Is Music Allowed In Islam?'  And, of course, words are bleeped out of movies and TV shows.

I can understand bleeping some oft used derogatory swear words out of TV shows.  Really, I can.
But censoring cooking shows?  What objectionable words could possibly be in a cooking show?

One afternoon while a friend and her Hubby were watching the cooking show "Who's Coming to Dinner" they kept hearing a bleep.  It was rather annoying.  It took a while to figure out what was going on.  The meal being whipped up by one of the contestants was 'Pork Belly', sorry, make that "Bleep Belly".

Every time there was any mention of the 'animal in the genus Sus, within the Suidae family of even-toed ungulates' (thanks for that definition Wikipedia even though I can't actually pronounce some of it) there was a Bleep.

Bleep chops
Bleep belly
Bleep roast
Bleep kebabs
Ham Bleep

Seems a bit weird when you can buy bacon over here.
Everyone knows bacon comes from swine Bleeps.
(I wonder what they called Swine Flu in KSA?)

If The Powers That Be are going to pretend Bleeps don't exist to the extent that they censor a cooking show for any word related to the deplorable P-Beast, they really ought to find another word for bacon.  Perhaps Turkey Bacon manufacturers could run a Middle East wide competition for a substitute name!

Anyway, this story got me pondering, as most stories in Saudi do.  Are Muslims not allowed to say or hear the word pig or any relative of?   Is it considered it a swear word?  Is Piglet to be deleted from Winnie the Pooh books?

My encyclopaedia of information - Google - was searched.  As per usual there was a lot of cross religion hatred that had to be sifted through to find reasonable discussion.  (If any censorship needs to happen it should be for comments on forums - some of them are absolutely obscene).

The result of my search?  Apart from being disgusted by the number of people in this world who are seriously demented, hateful and have limited vocabulary based around the 'F' word, I discovered this.

The majority of Muslims are well balanced folk who, unlike the Censorship Committee in Saudi, are well aware that the animal called 'pig' does exist because it is a creation of God. 

The word 'pig', and any derivative of, can be said in full - you do not have to spell the words when speaking (or whisper them) for fear of eternal damnation because they are words related to an animal that does, in fact, exist as per above paragraph.   It is also possible to read stories about, and look at pictures of, pigs for the same reason.  Just don't eat pork.  

'Pork' is a word that exists to identify the name of the meat from the animal, pig.  Its use assists Muslims to stay on the correct path and utilise good grammar and questioning technique.  When at a Bar-B-Q in the west 'Is this a pork sausage?' is a much better question than, 'Is this sausage from a pig?'

Quite simple really.
(And I'm so glad for Piglet.  He is the cutest Pooh character!)

Discussions regarding why pork is off the menu for Muslims were also in abundance on my Google search and were also the target of obscenities, swearing, name calling and general bad feeling being thrown about from both sides of the issue.

If people don't eat a certain food because of their convictions, that's fine with me.  Given that saying or hearing swine related words doesn't appear to be a problem for most Muslims around the globe (well, the ones who accessed the same internet sites I did), I'm uncertain why the Powers That Be in Saudi find it necessary to censor them off a cooking show.


Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Inside the Saudi Kingdom Documetary

Inside the Saudi Kingdom is a BBC documentary that Hubster was watching on YouTube the other day.  He  suggested I take a look at it.

Initially I wasn't that keen.  I figured a doco on Saudi would be full of the usual stuff - westerners who don't actually live here complaining about everything to do with Saudi Arabia.  (Although I do, occasionally, gripe about certain aspects of life in KSA I figure any woman who lives here has certain stuff to complain about).

Instead we had a Saudi, and a prince at that, Prince Saud bin Adbul Mohsen, talking more frankly than I've heard a Saudi speak in public before about some of the issues facing Saudi Arabia, particularly regarding the difficulty of balancing tradition, religion and the rapid pace of change.

There was some feedback that said, in short, the prince was putting on an act for the camera's.
Maybe he was.  However, knowing what I do of the country and the efforts being made to transition from conservative cultural thinking to a more modern system that works for Saudi Arabia, many of the comments the prince made about issues facing the country were fairly accurate.

It's an hour long documentary but, for those of you who have no idea about Saudi and want a glimpse into what the place is like, Inside the Kingdom is worth watching.

Ka Kite, 
Kiwi

Too Much Taxi Tension

Our current taxi driver (not Mr Noor who is still enjoying a break back in Pakistan) was telling us a few stories about customers and situations that cause taxi drivers in Riyadh a lot of tension.  Initially I thought he was going to tell us some entertaining tales, but he was quite serious about how much trouble his passengers, and KSA official types, are prepared to drop him into.

The Drug Carrying Passengers.
Apparently, taxis are sometimes used for deliveries by Saudi drug dealers (and yes, drugs is a problem in the land of Islam).  Our driver said these passengers are quite open about the product they are carrying because they know who is more likely to take the fall should trouble in the form of a drug bust or random car search take place.  Mr Drug Dealer will dump the drugs in the taxi and plead ignorance of any wrong-doing.  (Not sure whether the drug dealing passenger actually does get off scot-free given he is also in the taxi, but like drug dealers everywhere I guess they try).   Our driver said, 'These people cause him a lot of tension'.

I can see how that would be the case.

The Black Market Booze Guy.
Our driver told us about a bloke from Kenya, or thereabouts, who used to call him every three or four weeks.  When picked up he always had a bag that he would put in the boot of the taxi.  Taxi drivers tend to be wary of bags put in the boot by people who are not going to, or from, the airport because at checkpoints taxi boots are always checked.  And guess who gets the blame for any shady contents in the bags?

One night our driver asked the passenger, What's in the bag?
The passenger said, That's none of your business.
The taxi driver took it upon himself to look in the bag when the chance to do so presented itself.  (I'm in two minds if this was ballsy or really dumb!)
What did he find?
A whole stack of cash.
He asked the passenger, Why do you have all this cash?
The passenger told him (in a nutshell), I sell black market booze.
The driver dropped the passenger at his destination and told him, Don't ring me again.  I don't want your bag of money in my taxi!
As our driver said, 'This problem would cause me too much tension.  If the police found the money they would say I knew what it was.  And they would check my phone and see that this man has rung me too many times, so I must be helping him.  I would be in too much trouble'.

Yep, I could see how that could happen.

'Check the Iqama'
One night our driver had a passenger in the car when he was stopped at a checkpoint.  The officer on duty asked for Iqama's.  The driver handed over his.  The passenger did not.  Guess who got into trouble for the passenger not having their Iqama?
Why am I to blame for him not having an Iqama? he said.
You should check that your passengers have their Iqama!
But that is not my job.  I am just a taxi driver.
You shouldn't drive people who don't have an Iqama!
For two hours our driver, and the passenger, were held before being released with a repeated caution - Only take passengers who have Iqama's. (I didn't ask if the un-iqama'd passenger was put back in his car taxi, too).
'This night caused me too much tension', says our driver.

I can imagine it did.

The Royal License Plate.
Certain number combinations are considered 'special' in KSA.  It's Saudi's own version of numerology.  Our driver told us about a friend who, on a return from holiday, was given a new vehicle by the taxi company.  He went forth to find passengers and make a living.

A few weeks later his friend was pleading with the taxi company to please change his license plate.  The police kept pulling him over and holding him, sometimes for hours, because his licence plate number was 'special'.  He shouldn't have that kind of number.  A number with all those zero's should only be for royalty (his number had 000 in it).  His argument that he had no control over the number plate that came with his taxi fell on deaf ears - ears that were certain he was lying.

'Sometimes our license plates or phone numbers cause so much tension', our taxi driver said.
Ridiculous as that sounds, I believe it.

These were just a few of the things our driver was regaling to Hubster in the front seat while I, initially enthralled by the prospect of Taxi Tales, decided the negativity of these stories was upsetting my mojo, so shrank into the back seat and plugged in my iPod in an effort to block out his words.

Before being picked up by the taxi my day had been relatively happy.  By the time we reached our destination my mood had subdued somewhat.  As I told Hubster, the taxi driver managed to hand over too much of his tension!


Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Don’t get too excited about Jeddah’s new aquarium

I spent this morning chuckling over an article by Sabira S Jawhar in the Arab News - Don’t get too excited about Jeddah’s new aquarium.  Pertinent pieces of text, which had very little to do with the aquarium itself were read to Hubster as he sat at his desk attempting to start his day, but being distracted by moi who was finding the item quite entertaining.

The article targets some subtle criticism at Saudi's Virtue Promoters who tend to be guilty of poorly considered, rather backward behavior that is in stark contrast to the goals of Saudi's current hierarchy in their attempts to move society forward.   It's Saudi's version of a tug-of-war.  Enjoy the read - Don’t get too excited about Jeddah’s new aquarium.

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

What Do Men Wear in Saudi Arabia?

It's common knowledge that women can't step out in Saudi Arabia without an abaya on, but what is acceptable clothing for men in this Islamic country?

Expat men can wear whatever they want so long as it's not Stubbies.  Islamic protocols dictate that the more acceptable form of clothing for covering the lower half of the expat male should be long pants.  Knee length shorts will, generally, be tolerated.  Hubster has only been approached twice regarding his choice of attire as he wanders down the street in his long shorts.  Given that he doesn't actually own many other forms of pants those approaches have been for nought.

Photo credit: www.theinspiration.com

Every now and then we have seen a bloke jog down the road in sports shorts which turns a number of heads, though I'm not sure if that's the shorts, the shock of seeing legs in public or the fact that someone is running for fun!

To cover the male torso, long sleeved shirts are preferred though T-shirts are very common.  I've never seen singlets.

Men from the South Asian part of the globe wear their own form of national dress.
Saudi men wear thobes.  Thawb is an alternative form of spelling, but as 'thobe' tends to be pronounced similarly to 'robe' then that is how I spell it.

Usually, Saudi thobes are white in color though, during the winter months, Saudi men have the option of a color change to brown, blue or even black to better suit the season.  Why women are not afforded the luxury of different colored abayas during summer months has been a question on my lips for some time.  An answer is not expected.

Expats tend to be less than complimentary regarding the Saudi male traditional dress.  'Dress' being the basis of most of the taunts.  Because we back home tend to run around in grass skirts on special occasions - if you ever get to Waitangi or Polyfest you're sure to get an eyeful of grass covered or, often, bare Maori butt - as far as this Kiwi is concerned, what Saudi men feel comfortable wearing is fine with me.  I just wish they'd quit dictating women's fashion!

My nephew at Polyfest

Personally I think most Saudi men look quite dashing in a thobe.
All white and pressed and sparkling clean.
Whether or not Saudi males know how to wash and press their own thobes is something I've often contemplated.  My guess is not many, so well done all you maids and dry-cleaners out there.  The men are looking good!

The thobe, like the abaya, tends to hide the effects of over-indulgence in the sugar loaded food so popular in this country although there comes a point when fat just cannot be hidden!

The Saudi male costume also involves a 3 piece head set - a cotton hat, a folded piece of fabric (more commonly called a Shamagh or Gutra) and an Igal, a thick black cord, that holds everything in place.

Saudi men seem to constantly play with their Shamagh, throwing it over their shoulders, just like a girl with long hair would do.  Or rearranging their head pieces.   As a fellow countryman said, they look like they're poncing around.  No doubt some of the rational for Shamagh flicking is vanity or grandstanding for anyone watching but I'm not going to hold that against them.  This article 'Vanity and The Modern Man is an entertaining look at what is going wrong with the modern male and his relationship with his own appearance on a global scale.

One of Hubsters Saudi friends says it's quite difficult keeping the Shamagh steady on your head - its like attempting to balance a book on your crown all day, hence the constant fiddling.  He also says the headgear gets a bit heavy as the day wears on, so he chooses to go bare headed when he's in the office.

Completing the Saudi male ensemble is a cloak that can be worn over the thobe.  I call these The Flowing Golden Capes as they're often trimmed in gold coloring.  The cloaks are usually worn on formal occasions.  Just tonight at the Aussie Embassy National Day function (which was very good, by the way - big ups to the Aussie's for this occasion) a number of Saudi guests were wrapped up in their capes.  The capes looked warm and snugly and the men looked quite regal.

What do Saudi men wear on their feet?  I admit to not actually knowing the answer to this question because looking at Saudi men's feet has never been on my list of things to do.  Hubster, on being asked what his friend H wears on his feet, replied 'Shoes'.  How undescriptive is that!

If you're interested, this website, Discover Saudi Arabia., has a nice page explaining in more detail the traditional muslim clothing of the men and women of Saudi Arabia.

Execution of a Maid

There is no nice way to say beheading - execution, executed, beheaded.

Sri Lankan maid, Rizana Nafeek, 24 years old, was beheaded a few days ago.  Her crime - killing a child left in her care.  At the time she was 17.  She had been in Saudi Arabia for one week.

Apparently her documents had been falsified by the agents who sent her here, stating she was older than she actually was.  She went to work as a maid and nanny in a Saudi home, having never worked in either role before.

Since her imprisonment there have been calls for clemency, proof of Rizana's true age has been presented and Saudi was reminded of the International Conventions it is a part of, particularly the Rights of the Child which states that no child will be subjected to torture and no participating country can impose capital punishment or life imprisonment without the possibility of release for anyone under 18 years of age.

But all of that was for naught because in 2005 a mother lost her baby and, as is her right according to Saudi law and based on a date printed for all to see in a legal Sri Lankan passport document, she refused to pardon Rizana and accept blood money.  So a young woman was sentenced to death and now another mother, in another country, is feeling the anguish of a lost child.

If I was walking in the Saudi mother's shoes, would I have made the same choice?
I'm glad I've never had to know.
I hope I never have to find out.

A Memorial to Rizana is a thoughtful piece that looks at all parties involved in the execution of a maid in Saudi, from the culture and laws of Saudi Arabia through the politics of poverty and corruption in Sri Lanka and beyond.


Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Woman in Man Only Cafe!

Where should I wait? is a question I've asked myself on a couple of occasions as the only woman in a man only cafe in Riyadh?

Why am I in a singles (man only) cafe?
Ordering food or coffee usually. 

Why don't I go to a place with a family section?
Because there isn't one nearby.

My activities in Riyadh have required traversing the city in various directions at varying hours of the day and when I first started cruising across town in the back seat of a taxi I noted with just a teensy bit of frustration that Riyadh's suburbia had a serious lack of options catering for a woman's needs, more specifically family sections for those "Crikey's I could do with a coffee and a bite to eat! moments or the more delicate 'I just need to use a loo' activities.

Although Riyadh is going through some serious urban spread right now with popular franchise establishments popping up beside the main highways along with the much demanded housing, many of them are still singles only - with the possible exception of McDonalds.

But when one has the beginnings of a headache from lack of sustenance or requires a feminine convenience more immediately than later, driving off in search of a Golden Arch is not always an option so the man in the driver seat, (who at the moment is not Mr Noor because he's back home visiting the wife), is instructed to slow down at the nearest local establishment featuring food and beverage signs to assess if there may be a family section.

When it's obvious women are meant to stay home to eat and drink the driver happily says, 'Maybe the next place ma'am', and begins to drive off while the women in back gets a touch angsty because Bugger It, she wants coffee!  And who the heck designed this city not to have family sections out where most of the families live!  The driver, registering female angst, stops and does not comment as said female fights her abaya out of the back seat and heads off into the male only domain of the place he was about to leave.

Can women order from places without family sections?
Yes.
How do you do that?
Saudi women know that entering a male (singles) only cafe or diner on their own is frowned on so generally don't attempt to go into the place.  They will, however, catch the attention of the wait staff, usually by signalling to them through the window or after opening the door enough to wave at them, so the staff come out to take their order.

Being, on occasion, an obnoxious westerner who goes through phases when she can't see any reason why she should hang about outside, I simply walk up to the counter and ask if I can order.
To date, most wait staff have said yes.

Where I wait for my order can differ depending on the shop, the time of day, the number of men present or my steely determination.

Initially I simply wait at the counter till instructed otherwise.
Some wait staff, in response to my presence say, ''I'm sorry ma'am but you have to go outside and we will come and bring your order', which is somewhat irritating mainly because it makes you feel like a second class human.  Granted, this is usually when the store is busy and more than a few Saudi blokes are in situ or the perceived risk of a Muttawa drive by is high.

While loitering outside a cafe because femaleness is obviously far to germy to be inside waiting for takeaway coffee, one can, if they're going through a negative phase, begin to wish men had to wait out in the heat covered in a black garment.  Glaring at men seated indoors has been known to occur.

As always, being a well balanced Kiwi, one should remember the more positive experiences here in Saudi at men only coffee shops and there are quite a few.

One early weekend morning the establishment I entered was completely empty except for the two service staff going through their store opening routine.  They told me to have a seat and enjoy my coffee indoors because there wouldn't be any Saudi male coming round for hours - they'd all still be in bed.

At another men only diner (and for some reason most shwarma places are men only) in the middle of a hot summers day the waiter asked, 'Where is your car? presuming I would be waiting in it and he could bring my order once it was ready.  When I said I came in a taxi and pointed it out he said, 'Wait inside ma'am' and directed me to a spot near the door, in the shade, out of harms way.  I'm presuming the idea of a lone female sitting in a stationary taxi with unrelated driver is a worse evil than lone woman waiting for her order in a male only shop.  Whatever his reasons, it's nice when you meet service staff who are pleasant and thoughtful.

At another male only eatery I asked if I could use the toilet!  Well, perhaps "Where's the toilet, I need to use the toilet!" could more aptly be described as a desperate demand than a request.  My Kegels efforts went west many moons ago and the thought 'I ought to do something about that' only sporadically crosses my mind.  Usually at moments of full bladder desperation.  The staff must have registered the fact that 'No' wouldn't be a good answer because they said, 'Of course ma'am' as I raced on passed and shut the door.

And during one of Riyadh's blustery winter nights with rain threatening, the stars aligned to leave an acquaintance and I standing outside our locked school with a taxi 'On the way'.  We decided to head for the large coffee cup sign down the street to find this place only catered to men, all of whom were conversing while tucked up nice and warm inside.

The place did, however, have an area of sheltered outdoor seating and it was to one of these tables we headed to wait for the taxi just as the rain started to fall.   The wait staff came out and we explained our plight.  He said, 'No problem'.  He brought us cushions for the hard plastic seats and asked us what hot drink we'd like.  While enjoying our brew another male type arrived and a discussion ensued between him and the waiter, complete with gesticulating in our direction, and the words 'woman, why, and taxi' being bandied about. (Both being Arabic students we utilised this situation to test our Arabic language knowledge).  We deduced the discussion was about us and this was confirmed when the waiter came back to check if we were happy and my friend asked if we should wait elsewhere (though we had no idea where) and he said, No! You are fine. Some men here are crazy!

Though most places will serve a woman, at a few male only diners the bloke in charge will begin hollering at you the moment your hand touches the door and before your foot passes over the threshold, 'Man only, Man only', while waving you away, which is an extremely unwelcoming carry on.   Such performance only serves to get your back up and can bring on a negative phase.

Fortunately such performance hasn't been met often.
The most recent occasion was an extremely warm summer evening and Hubster was with me.  As we don't own a car we had been dropped off by the taxi and were walking, taking in the views of Riyadh at night.  We got a bit peckish but the only eateries we could see nearby were men only.  We stopped at one to order a bite to eat with the intention of catching a taxi home to consume our feast.  There was a space just inside the door and I decided to stand in the cool out of the way because the heat outdoors was getting uncomfortable, while Hubster joined a queue to make our order.

The duty manager began hollering and waving me back out the door.  Hubster had a 'discussion' with him that went something like this:

H - Stop shouting at my wife.
M - She cannot be in here.  Man only. Go to a family section.
H - Where is your family section?
M - We have no family section. This store man only. 
H - So how can she go to the family section if you don't have one?
M - Man only. She must wait outside.
H - She's not waiting outside.  It's hot outside.
M - She cannot be in here with single men.
H - There are single men outside.  You want her waiting outside with all the single men out there?  While I'm in here?  Don't be ridiculous!
M - Sir, women cannot be here. 
H - Then stop shouting and hurry up and get our order.

As we were leaving a young Saudi man ushered his wife through the door and she went and stood in the spot I'd just vacated.  Milliseconds later, the hollering started again.  We had to smile.

Regardless of how you are welcomed (or not) to place an order at a male only diner or cafe the service staff do try to get the order filled immediately.  Women aren't generally left to hang around in such circumstances so where ever you choose, or are directed, to wait it almost certainly won't be for long.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi