A Night At Abu Jifan Fort

Abu Jifan Fort came on to my radar earlier last year, in March to be exact, via a random conversation with a random person - there are a lot of random people in Saudi, so such conversations are not that surprising really.  He mentioned there was a fort down near Al Kharj, though he had no idea where.  So I turned to Google to see if, maybe, it was a known landmark, though not too hopeful of a result as Saudi was still largely under-mapped.  But to my surprise, there it was in the middle of the desert, literally, with no access to it at all.

A closer inspection of Google maps identified a road part way and a run of power lines passing nearby.  Where there are power lines there must be a track, of sorts.  So Hubster was advised to load the hired 4WD and some firewood while I stocked the chilly bin with food and the back seat with our sleeping bags because we intended to camp the night.

We drove down toward Al Kharj and turned eastwards after refuelling with gas. Having earlier identified two possible options for reaching our destination it was time to figure out which route would work best for us.  Waiting till we got closer to the desert to make this decision was done for two reasons.

One, given the amount of development that is taking place in this country, Google cannot always be completely relied on for route planning.  Sometimes you turn up and there's a road where the written instuctions say there shouldn't be.  Other times where there should be a road you actually find yourself at the edge of the desert with car tracks angling off in all directions into the distance.  It can be a bit freaky leaving the saftey of solid tarmac for the unkown desert.  Some days you turn up and find someone has built an apartment block.  Laying eyes is alwasys best when heading off exploring in Saudi, especially when you don't really know where you're going.

And Two, the man I married had, yet again, been paying absolutely no attention to any route suggestions I had been passing on to him previous to leaving home.  This fact was borne out when, as we passed through our compound gate he said, 'Which way?'  I sighed, somewhat exasperated, knowing it was going to be one of those days when he wasn't really looking forward to this trip, he was simply humouring me.  I also knew that if this fort visit turned out to be worthwhile, he'd be singng it's praises for weeks. My fingers were crossed for praise singing and my exasperation was put on the back burner as he was pointed in the right direction, but honestly, there are times when I think that if I didn't need him to drive, I wouldn't take him at all!

We decided sticking to the ashphalt for as long as possible was the best idea so headed off to the road with the power lines.  We followed that till it came to the end, then we were on our own.  The wadi that greeted us was a little rocky, and we set about finding a way through it in the general direction of the Fort.  This was definitely a four wheel drive expedition as the route became rougher the further we went and did not always follow an obviously marked trail - at least we couldn't find it.  Hubster had to get out of the vehicle a couple of times to assess whether we would make it over a rocky incline or two.  I was grateful he came along for some driving, when it comes to navigating through rough terrain he has more balls than me, (figuratively that is...OK, and literally).

We eventually came across a graded track of sorts that seemed to start in the middle of nowhere for no particular reason.  Although it was graded, it was also steep, narrow - the vehicle just fit through - and rock-strewn, so a bit of care was required as we wormed our way up it.

Once through this escarpment the land leveled out and was much easier to drive.  We checked our bearings and set off, once again, in the general direction of the fort.   Finding a relatively well used track we followed it and found ourselves at the base of some low lying hillocks with the depressions of old wells.  The faded track split in two and we decided to take the one that disappeared into a nearby wadi.  As we rounded the bend we were greeted by the sight of the fort sitting solitary above the wadi bed.

As we drove nearer we were quiet with our own thoughts - mostly questions on my part.  Why had the fort been abandoned? Who uses it now?  Who used it then?  What was it like to live here?

The afternoon was late and Hubster was hankering for food so we decided to set up a permanent camp in the wadi  near the wells and get a fire started with tea on the boil.  There was plenty of greenery (I prefer a bit of foliage for toileting purposes - we might be married but there are some things you just don't want to know, right?) and we could fossick for extra firewood.  Tomorrow we would get an early start to explore the fort.



Our camps are very basic setups.  Chairs to sit on, carpets to rest on and, later in the night, to spread our sleeping bags on and a fire to cook our steak over.  What more do you need?  As we don't own a tent, there is not much option for any other kind of set up.  We did try sleeping in the back of a vehicle once, but really, hailing from the 'a bit large' brigade, there is only room for one of us comfortably.

To make the ground more comfortable we also have an extra sleeping blanket that we lay on top of the carpets, under our sleeping bags.  To date we have not been hassled by dust storms, wildlife or rabid dogs, although we did find a scorpion nestled under our sleeping blanket once.  Hubster got such a shock he shooed it off quick smart into nearby desert grasses....I was like, 'What did you do that for? I wanted to take a photo of it'.  He realized that maybe he had over-reacted.  'We could go look for it', he says.  'Yeah right, lets search for a scared critter in long grass, away you go, mug' (Kiwi word for blockhead).  Mr Scorpion did not become photographic famous that day.

Word is that the name Abu Jifan refers to this very wadi, above which the fort sits, and the wells dug into it that have offered travellers a respite from the long days of traversing the desert in both Islamic and pre-Islamic periods.  The wells still have water in them today.

In 1864, foreign explorers wrote about two routes that passed by Abu Jifan -  one that connected Riyadh to Hofuf, a major east-west thoroughfare to the gulf apparently, and one that linked Wadi Dawasir and Sulayal to Hofuf.  It is possible there were more routes from this spot that locals used but were not confirmed by early European visitors, which sounds reasonable given it is thought that the wells date back to the Bronze Age, as judged, so I read, by the masonry lining them - which means the wells are quite old.

Rumour has it that when the modern Saudi Arabian road network was initially being drawn up there were plans to maintain this historic route as a main highway, so part the cutting we came up was one of the first pieces of road construction in Saudi Arabia.   But a change of plans meant that the road went nowhere near the fort, hence it sitting all alone in the middle of the desert.

From the main entrance the fort looked a little forlorn and worse for wear. The gate was broken, the old trespass sign was almost unreadable, though on the otherside of the driveway was what looked to be a perfectly new sign declaring Abu Jifan to be a palace.

An guard post and in the distance a lookout

View to the fort from a lookout, with a guard post visible in front of the fort.

The fort is not as old as the wells that serve it.  Apparently the official purpose of the fort was to protect the travel route, and remnants of old guard outposts can be found at each end of the track that runs in front of the fort, while further out are what appear to be lookout posts.  Before the discovery of oil, the only money coming in for the country was through charges to pilgrims and traveling caravans and, as this was a main route and watering hole to and from Mecca and the Gulf, it seems reasonable to build a collection point along it, though how long ago, and whether or not this fort was erected specifically for that purpose, I can't say.

I read somewhere that the fort was used in the 1950's by the National Guard, though I can't confirm that either.  About the only thing I do know is that the sign out front claims the fort was protected as an archeological site by which ever King was on the throne in 1972. Abu Jifan became famous in the history of modern Saudi because the original King, Abdulaziz, stopped at the wells on his way to Riyadh in 1902 to claim back his heritage.                                            

Abu Jifan is apparently admininstered by the Ministry of Antiquities and Museums who rebuilt it around 2007, presumably to be used as a tourist spot.  It has subsequently been abandoned for reasons unknown, which I have to say actually makes it look kind of cool for we romantics or highly imaginative types.  You know what I mean, imagine telling camp fire stories around a lonely, hard to reach abandoned fort next to ancient wells - the tales you could tell and the visions you could conjure up in the minds of the impressionable of camels and dust weary travelers, the sounds and the smells of pulling up water and setting up camp and preparing for battle - that kind of thing.

The visions that met us as we walked beneath the entry arch to the fort proper spoke of glorious plans that had come to a halt. Tagging decorated the walls and the doorways were dark, almost pleading to be lit up again with life and love.  We went from room to room wondering what it would have been like to be posted here.  The recent refurbhisment meant that along with the traditional fire hearth in each room, there were also power points.  The central courtyard is dominated by a concrete base that was obviously some unfinished designer vision.

The mosque with it's traditionally built ceiling was lit only by the sunlight as it half heartedly crossed the threshold through the door we had opened, preferring to shine its full brilliance outside.  Other people had obviously found the place quite intriguing and had stayed for a lengthy period judging by the cold ash of a fire in the middle of the mosque.

The silence at the fort was deafening as we looked out between the rooftop parapets to the wadi beyond.  I did wonder who will maintain this fort into the future.  Apart from the fact it doesn't seem to be a tourist stop, the skills required to upkeep an adobe structure are fast disappearing in this country as ongoing construction favours concrete.  Historic adobe buildings deteriorate - that is their nature.  The only blessing Saudi has is that it doesn't rain here much. But even slow decay will eventually lead to collapse for this abandoned palace unless there is a maintainence plan in place.

We left the fort to take a look at the surrounding hills and didn't have to go far to find what looked to be the remnants of an old village forged out of desert rocks.  The stones were piled into squares that could only be dwellings - in some it was easy to identify what appeared to be entry ways and fireplaces (to my non-archeologically trained, possibly imaginative eye).  We spent a bit of time pcituring how harsh it would have been living here.  Makes me glad of my brick and mortared home.  Oh the quandries of balancing the love of modern life with the desire to not forget history.

We spent a bit of time exploring the area and then it was time to figure out how to get home.  It is not necessary to retrace our steps driving out the way we came in.  This took a bit of explaining to The One Wth No Ears for reasons mentioned at the beginning of this post.  We headed toward the row of power lines and simply followed them all the way out to Khurais Road.  It was easy peesy.  I have to say, I'm glad we chose the exciting way in to Abu Jifan and, because it was getting late, I was just as grateful there was an easy way out.  And by the way, praise singing is long and loud when our trip to Abu Jifan is mentioned.

Location of Abu Jifan



For a little more detail:

Red is the way we went in, Blue is the way we came out.

I hope you enjoy your trek to Abu Jifan Fort if you chose to take it.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Stunned Falcons, Layla Lakes and Water.

The picture is beautiful.  A blue water lake fringed with green grasses and a jet boat pulling a water skier.  If that is in Saudi we need to go find it, I said to Hubster. So Google was searched and searched again for the location of Layla Lakes.

We took Mr UK with us on this trip.  He was on a short stint back in Riyadh and loves road tripping with us.  Either that or he didn't have a better offer this particular weekend.

We set off quite early because our first stop was just south of Riyadh to watch a falcon display in the desert.  There were Ooooo's and Ahhh's as the birds were carried out on their perches and displayed.  Then Oooo's and Ohhhh's as the live bait was bought out and released into the air for a raptor type breakfast.

Mr UK and the rest of the group were impressed with all falcon related activity and the falcon handler was a wealth of information.  The birds displaying their speed, grace and aggression as they swooped in on their prey in the brilliant blue sky, a perfect backdrop to the brick red dunes on a crisp but clear autumn morning, was spectacular to watch.

The sight was only marred by all the rubbish sprinkled over the desert. If someone could please invent biodegradable plastic bags - and cheap ones because Saudi businesses won't buy them otherwise - that would be great.   (And I'm looking at SABIC here - you great massive corporation of plastic related inventiveness.  Take up the challenge for your country if not the world and create truly safe, biodegradable plastic bags!  Either that or sponsor nationwide education on how to put rubbish in bins, preferably in all languages of those who live in the country because, lets face it, its not just resident Arabs throwing their shit around the countryside. Or sponsor the supply of reusable canvas bags in supermarkets while training the grocery packers on the concept of ”Less plastic, Better Environment."  PS - I know someone happy to spread a Two Bag Rubbish Revolution message if you'd like to sign him up).

The ducks who made a dash from their open cage narrowly escaped becoming a mid-morning falcon snack.  We watched with mounting tension and nervous chuckles as one escapee waddled up the dune past a falcon resting in the sand seemingly oblivious to the imminent danger, while the falcon, looking on in total disbelief at the sight of the bird shuffling through the sand in front of him, seemed stunned into inaction.

We're out....RUUUUUNNNNN!

Falcon: What the......?
Duck:  Got to escape, got to escape...puff, puff, pant, pant.

Falcon:  Ya shittin me...

Falcon:  (Confused, stunned, falcon face)

Falcon:  (Doing a double take)  (Contemplating action)
Duck:  Got to escape, got to escape....I'm at the toooooppp!!!

Falcon:  *Sigh*...doing nothing is making me look bad.
I have to go check this idiot out.

Falcon:  Hey duck
Duck:  Got to escape, got to escape

Falcon: From? (raised eyebrow look)
Duck: (realizing this is a Falcon) ARRRRGGGGGGGHHH

Duck:  please don't kill me, please don't kill me

Falcon: Hmmmmmm...(pacing, thinking like)

Today's your lucky day duck.
Get outta here before the Falcon man sticks you back in the cage

.

The Falcon man caught the duck and put it back in the cage.  We asked why the Falcon didn't seem interested in ripping the duck to pieces.  Probably, he said, because the duck was too big.  The birds won't take on large prey if they don't have to because of the risk of damaging a wing.  Wing damage is not good for a hunting bird.

A sigh of relief was breathed for the duck that this Falcon had already eaten.  This group was not into totally unnecessary blood letting.


To top off the morning, everyone who felt inclined got to hold a falcon. Or rather, the Falcon got to hold them.  The claws on these birds are quite large and very sharp.  Leather gear is a necessary accessory for this photo opportunity, as is not minding holding bits of shredded pigeon - presumably an incentive to keep a falcon steady and quiet for the photo shoot.

After a spot of qahwah, a few more photos and a chinwag with fellow early morning Falcon watchers, it was time for us to head out of town, further south, to our intended destination of Layla.

Layla is about 300km's from Riyadh.  It wasn't so much to the township we were heading as to the lakes outside of it.  According to my research there were 15 lakes in all, some of a very large size.  Having unearthed a map on Google we headed toward the pin drop on my phone, and yes, having an almost direct route to our destination felt like I was cheating on this expedition.  We are so used to traversing this country almost mapless.

Although our early exploits in the desert had taken place in the cool of the morning, we arrived in Layla in the hottest part of the day.  Possibly not the best planned timing but then I was driven by this picture of water based sports...

Source

Yes this is Layla lakes only a few short decades ago.

On the other side of town we turned onto a side road at the end of which was a rather long fence, slightly old, and a gate, slightly ajar.  The vehicle was parked and we walked through to see what could be seen.

Topping the Saudi version of a country fence - sand piled into banks by a digger all along a boundary line - a squeal of excitement passed my lips. The boys clambered up to see what brought on such uncharacteristic behavior.  

Ummmm....errrrrr.  

Is that someone's house?

It looks a bit wrecked.

Where's the water? 

Just a few of the comments being made by my weekend travel companions about the deserted buildings we were looking at.  They were confused.  I was excited.  We were in the right place.  This was the reputedly never opened Layla Lakes Resort, built when the lakes were a weekend respite destination from the heat of the desert.

Now the lakes are dry sinkholes -  geological marvels of little use to the man who spent a fortune erecting the nearby retreat.  The depleting of the country's water table sank the resort as the water in the nearby lakes disappeared before his eyes.

We stood at the edge of the now dry lake beds  They are rather large.  So large in fact, we didn't make our way around them - the heat beat us back.  We looked for ways to walk into the bottom of the deeper hole - the water must have bubbled up from some cavity in the ground and that would have been a great find - but there was no easy trail.  Part of a natural bridge between two of the deeper lake's had caved in as well, suggesting a search in that area might be a risky adventure.  The pigeons we disturbed were easily flying in circles in the shade of the deep wells, teasing us with our clumsy efforts. 

The small formations on the side of the big lake, shaped like cups that one could imagine making excellent cascades as water poured over them or making homes for fresh water critters, and the much larger ball and boulder shapes making up the sides of the deeper lakes are apparently of significant geological interest - a Saudi Caves article has more information for you geologically inclined readers who would like to find out more about this.  All I know is the formations are slowly, but surely, turning to dust.

Though this location can be marked off as something interesting we visited in Saudi, it was a sad sight not just because of the haunted looking buildings.  Saudi has a major water crisis that I'm not sure everyone in top positions has been appropriately addressing in their rush to build new homes and expand their cities.  And for people who hail from the desert the Gen Y and Z populous don't seem to have much of a water conservation mindset.  Water is wasted everywhere.  Drivers can be seen early in the morning washing sponsor cars every day, I've watched maids run water in the kitchens cleaning the dust from between the drupelets of blackberries till the fruit practically shines - a completely unnecessary exercise if you ask me.  And it is possible to stroll past water leaking on to the road from a hidden but obviously broken pipe for days in Riyadh.  In saying all that  though, I have to admit, as I look out at my well watered compound residence with its green trees, lovely swimming pool and quaint but unnecessary rockery water feature, my choice of home probably isn't helping the water situation much.

 

Rumour has it that the guys responsible for this country's watery plight are now playing a 'Steal from Peter to save Paul' strategy, which basically means locations in Saudi that still have sufficient underground water for their local population, like Al Ula for example, are being 'encouraged' with lots of wheeling and dealing, much to the disgust of the local residents, many of whom are small plot family farmers and gardeners, to send their precious resource to other areas of the country marked for rapid expansion.  Not exactly a long term strategy and one can easily envisage Al Ula winding up with sinkholes like Layla Lakes and Al Kharj (whose sinkholes you can read about in this post Al Kharj and the Eyes of Najma).

We left Layla Lakes contemplative of the future of this country and its drive to rapid modernization and growth wondering if it was all really worth it if such action is bleeding the country dry.  One day, perhaps like the falcon and the Layla Lakes resort owner, the country will be left stunned at how it buggered its water supplies up because of their early arrogant lack of concern for its limits.

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Truly Amazing Ha'il and a Car Rally

Our first trip to Ha’il is one that will be remembered fondly for many years to come.  Hubsters work colleague suggested that we visit Ha’il, his home town, to watch the annual Ha’il Car Rally.  The idea of watching cars racing in the desert dunes certainly appealed, so we agreed to go.

The flight from Riyadh was very quick and we were picked up by a young man who whisked us off to our hotel and a waiting home cooked traditional meal that was not only delicious but was a perfect introduction to the region.

The 2016 Hail International Cross Country Rally is organized by the Saudi Arabian Motor Federation (SAMF) in conjunction with a few big wigs from Ha'il.  Thanks to the father of Hubster’s work colleague we were fortunate enough to be invited to the opening ceremony held at the Maghwat Conference Center.  It is a very impressive location with the mountains of Hail standing solid and proud against a clear blue sky, proving an imposing yet beautiful backdrop to the formalities.

I followed the boys out to the official seating area and, looking around at all the white thobes and checkered ghutras, came to the conclusion not many women were here.  Hardly surprising that in a land where women aren't permitted to drive female rev heads are few and far between at a Saudi based car rally. (I did double check that our invitation was in my handbag, just is case someone queried my presence).  

The officials arrived among a rush of buzzed excitement and the speeches began. To be honest I didn't know who was who or what exactly they were saying so at some point, because my Arabic still sucks, I passed the time taking pictures of the guards on the mountains and rows of male feet - I figured that would be visual representation of the lack of females without pin pointing any particular male. (If I could have inconspicuously knelt on the floor for really good shots I would have, but The Hubster was giving me the evil eye for being a fidget).

The presentations by officialdom were over quickly as everyone was keen to get to the real purpose of the day - seeing and welcoming the cars and drivers.  Initially I thought there weren't many rally cars present as none had been spotted on our arrival to the conference center, but soon the sound of revving engines could be heard and the procession of vehicles grew as, one by one, the cars waited their turn to drive up on to the purpose built platform for the official briefing signifying the start of their rally before disappearing up the valley in a cloud of dust.

We lined up alongside TV cameras, photographers and news crews to take our own photos of the vehicles and drivers.  It was a well organised occasion with just the right amount of pomp without being over the top before getting down to business - a great way to start our car rally experience in Hail.

Our next stop was to watch the start of the Super Special Stage, a compulsory part of the event for all crews according to rally regulations I found on the net.  There was a buzz of excitement as rally cars lined up on the road and the general public gathered around their favorite driver and his navigator to offer encouragement while they waited for their start time.  Many a call could be heard as groups chanted their support.  Four-time winner from Saudi Arabia, Yazeed Al-Rajhi, and his German navigator, Timo Gottschalk, were popular among the crowd.  

The teams were more than happy to pose for photos with a thumbs up.  As the vehicles approached the starting gate crews could be seen checking and rechecking their safety harnesses and helmets.   There was security on hand to keep the spectators organised as the rally proper got under way to the sound of grunty engines and flying sand.  

It had been an exciting afternoon and it wasn’t until we were seated on the floor of the oldest restaurant in the heart of Ha’il, At Turathii, watching local dishes being uncovered that I realized how hungry I was.  

I love the way Saudi meals are eaten around a central dish.  It doesn’t bother me in the slightest that I have to use my hands to eat.  And I'm perfectly happy sitting on the floor - so long as there is room to stretch out my legs.  Discarding scraps on to the plastic sheet that protects the floor in front of me suits me just fine as well.  Clearing the setting and carrying off the leftovers to whoever may be waiting for them is a breeze too.  The whole arrangement is my kind of dining.  At this meal we had jarish, harisa, murguk, and more.  It was a feast and absolutely delectable. 

That evening, after a rest in the hotel, I was dropped off at the family home, while The Husband went to an Isteraha to spend the evening with a few of the younger Hail men folk. 

I've met a number of married western expat women who are not happy that, should they visit a Saudi home, they will be separated from their husband and whisked off to goodness knows where and have to cope on their own.  It can be a scary idea, of course, being out of your comfort zone and alone, especially when a language barrier is also included, but in the scheme of a lifetime it's only for such short while.  It does help to be prepared for such occasions.  These days I make sure I have my phone fully charged and, for extra insurance, the charger in my handbag because the Arabic dictionary on my phone gets a workout.  (I use the English Arabic Dictionary by Xung Le - available free on Google Play and iTunes in case you were wondering).

I think if you want to get the most out of Saudi it pays to get over your fear of separation else you will miss out on some awesome experiences.  When I arrived at this family home the adults, consisting of mum, grand-ma, grand-dad, a sister, and a younger brother were all sitting around an outdoor table enjoying lively conversation and snacks in the cool night air while younger children were running around. 

They steered me indoors to the guest room while a discussion took place outdoors to determine who should come and keep me company.   I asked if it would be OK to come outside and join the family instead of splitting everybody up.  And besides, it was such a pleasant evening to be sitting outdoors.   Seconds after my request I was ushered to a seat at the patio table and spent the next few hours getting to know the family.  They were wonderful.  So relaxed and all with a keen sense of humour.  Being with them reminded me of our own family gatherings at home with its good natured banter, the ebb and flow of discussions and that sense that this is where you belong.

It had been an excellent day.  Truly excellent.  That night we settled into the Golden Tulip hotel very impressed with our first full day in this northern city.  We couldn't wait to see more.

The next day was Friday and our itinerary for the day was a spot of sightseeing.  First we went to A’arif Fort which, though closed, affords an excellent view of the city and the enveloping arch of mountains within which the municipality is nestled.   We drove past the Qishleh Heritage Palace and then headed up to the top of the hill at Samra’ Park.  From there we could survey the city of Ha’il out to the distant horizon.

It was into this distant horizon that we ventured later that afternoon.  Our host family took us into the mountains we had been admiring where we clambered among the rocks after enjoying another sampling of home cooked traditional food – this time kayaba and a spicy chicken dish on milk baked rice, called sliiq. 

We then had the option of going to watch the afternoon rally in the desert or to visit a local historical grave site.  We chose the siteseeing because we presumed we had the next day to watch the rally.  The grave, and attached mud ruins, are reputed to belong to folk legend Hatim Al Tay, the most generous man whose stories of giving and generosity have been passed down through the generations and are said to epitomize the spirit of Arabic hospitality.  The sun was starting to set while we were at the site, turning the mountains aglow in various shades of burnt orange.  It was time to move on.

That night this Wifey headed back to the family home where I felt as welcomed as all the other relatives who were coming and going that night, while The Husband went to a gathering of local tribal leaders.  (I really ought to get him to write a piece about that shouldn't I).  It was there that a gentleman extended an invitation to attend a celebration at the small village of Al Mortadh, about 60 km south of Ha’il the next day.  

Of course, Husbster wasn't quite sure what it was exactly we had been invited to.  The way he explained it to me we were going to an Ambassador's house for a coffee and then we'd go to the desert for more of the car rally.  So bright and early the next morning we were picked up and, after a U-turn or two, found ourselves guests at very important and rather large international event.  (Not quite coffee).  

Thirty years previously Marcel Kurpershoek, a former Dutch diplomat was posted to Saudi Arabia.  He traveled extensively through the northern and central regions establishing contacts with tribal leaders and Bedouins to research and learn their history and stories through their poetry.  He has since written a number of books on the what he learned during that time.  This day was a celebration of his return to the village of Khalid Al Dabais, one of his valued contacts.  (The complete Corpus is available on Amazon.)

There was a minor hiccup when, because we arrived earlier than the Ambassador and because the village wasn’t expecting another white guy other than said Ambassador, we were mistaken as the guests of honor.  As with all mixed gender hui (Maori word for gatherings) in Saudi, the men and women were housed in separate areas so, once I realized what was going on, some Arabic words were dredged from the back of my brain, and supported via Arabic Dictionary on my phone, to explain to the collected group of females busy taking my photo that I was nobody really.  The proper guests were yet to arrive.   (Hubster had a translator to do his Arabic communication out in Man Tent). 

Photo Credit: سبق حائل

Even with my extensive range of Arabic language skills and Hubsters English speaking colleague, some things were still lost in translation.  After the real guests had arrived, (that being the Ambassador, his daughter, a female translator and a group of media personnel for a planned documentary on the Ambassadors travels), one local Saudi woman insisted we should be allowed to sit out with the men once the formal welcome was over and the speeches had begun. (At least that is what I gathered she was saying, while getting me to follow her out to the gate).  I wasn’t too sure that was a good plan, given there were a lot of men who might be upset should a mere femme simply wonder out into their midst, and asked, more than once, if she was sure.  The local men thought otherwise, too.  There ensued some form of discussion and the woman, believe it or not, won out because midway through proceedings we three western females were ushered to seats out in the Man Tent. 

To my surprise, and most definitely to his, The Hubster was called to give a speech too.  He did well thanking the people of Ha’il for their fabulous hospitality.  And their hospitality was fabulous…and it hadn’t finished yet.  After a photo with the Hubster in his newly gifted Bisht, Shamag and Guttra, I was ushered back to the ladies side for a display of dancing by some of the younger women and then moved to the dining hall for a huge lamb meal.  This was meat heaven.  (True Kiwi.  Love lamb).  Some of the honored guests were not so thrilled, being vegetarian as they were.

Soon after the meal it was time to move on from the village to a couple of other places that The Hubster had been invited to, that being a visit to a camel farm and then qahwah at the remarkable home of another local leader, Muhammed al Suaied.  It is not often I see The Hubster overwhelmed, but there were so many people offering open invitations to him, and accepting I was tagging along too, that he was quite overcome.

It goes without saying that we had a great time in Ha'il.  The next day Hubster sent me a message, ‘Still buzzing a bit from weekend.  Truly amazing’.

Ka Kite,
Kiwi