Every so often, the air here turns beige. I’d never seen beige air before living here. The sand storms of Saudi whip the tiny grains in to swirls that coat the air like a fine mist. You can reach into it, pull back your hand and feel as though you’ve touched a heavy cloud. It’s quite pretty while it lasts. The pool outside my window is under lit and appears bright blue against the misty wind. Afterwards, everything is covered in sand. It creeps in from under the doorway, it coats the outdoor furniture, and it causes me to sneeze 5 times without a break to catch my breath in between. I miss the weather changes in the states. Although I know the East Coast has had some crazy weather over the last few weeks, I miss waking up and not knowing what the day will literally look like. It’s beginning to heat up here – it was 93 degrees a few days last week, but it’s a different kind of heat. It’s not heavy and it’s not damp, rather it’s dry and light.
When I accepted the position to work here, I was under the impression that I would have to cover my head at all times while outside the walls of my villa. To my surprise, I found the rules a bit more flexible because I am not a native Muslim. I am obligated to cover my body with my abaya, however covering my head is not something required of me. I was told that I needed to have my headscarf with me at all times, in case a man or policeman told me to cover my head for whatever personal or traditional beliefs. Although I stand out, I have had no issues with this from anyone. That changed about two weeks ago, while walking through the corridor of a mall. People in Saudi do not look at me when I’m out. I haven’t quite figured out if it’s a personal thing or if it’s a cultural thing; although, from what I’m told it is a sign of respect and humility to not let your eyes wonder from one person to the other, especially a female. I have learned to also steer clear of obviously staring at someone else (I seem to have a problem with this, whether I’m at home in the states or abroad). So, you can imagine my surprise and fear when a very large man walked right towards me, brought up his hand, and began to point at me, all the while yelling, “Sister of Saudi Arabia, cover your head! Cover your head!” Staring right at me, I could see he was offended and I could certainly hear it in his tone. While ruffling nervously through my bag, I continued to walk outside, found my driver, jumped in the car, and took a deep breath; although my instinct is to strike up a conversation about why he saw my head as so offensive, and possibly tell him to “get over it”, but I am fully aware of the magnitude and strength of this country’s belief system and it’s not mine to challenge. What is mine, at this time, is the ability to observe it and try to make sense of it all.
After two months of “laying low” in my compound, I made a connection with a fellow expat from a forum that I joined when I arrived. He has been in Saudi Arabia for roughly 9 months, working as a vascular surgeon in the new, state-of-the-art hospital that is receiving praise throughout the city. I can’t tell you how nice it was to have a reason to get dressed up again. It doesn’t matter what you wear here usually because you’re covered from head to toe. In compounds (where most expatriates reside), you are allowed to remove your garb and sit comfortably in your modestly and/or not-so modestly chosen clothing. The compound that I am living in is a small, private segment that does not generally match the description of other compounds in the area; including only 7 villas. The one that I was invited to had roughly 27 apartments and more than 65 people living there from around the world; India, The Netherlands, the USA, Canada, Germany, Brazil, China, England, Scotland, and Italy, to name a few. Similar to hostel living, only with typically longer stays, the connections made are short and happy. After hours of conversation and food, I left with a smile that carried over for days. True to what my Dad tells me, I am someone that gets energy from being around other people; I mingle and bounce from place to place and group to group. I knew that the isolation here would be a part of the experience and something that I would have to adjust to and deal with, but I certainly felt energized after my visit with other people going through the same thing that I am. There is truth to the old idiom that there is in fact, “safety in numbers.” There is also comfort and sense of relief to admit that it’s hard.
Although I would like it to be true, but just because I’ve left the USA doesn’t mean that my bills have suddenly stopped. Student loans, storage bills, car payments, and credit card payments are still attached to my American name, and since leaving they have also been attached to my automatic bill pay. I don’t need it often, but while sitting with my new acquaintances I was reminded of how lucky I am to have people at home who not only support me emotionally, but are there to help with the little imperfections and financial issues that pop up when not living stateside. Some of them were not as fortunate as I. How do people make these moves without love and support from others? How do they leave what’s known behind, if they don’t the support system to remind them to keep their chin up? The ironic twist of fate (at least for me) is that you can’t leave without them, but they are the ones that you long to get home to see and hug.
We all have friends, loved ones, or acquaintances that operate on their own time schedule; you might actually be the person that everyone knows who is like that. Saudi has its own time schedule, which we appropriately refer to as “Saudi time.” As I have mentioned before, the stores here are closed from 9 – 12, and additional are closed 5 times a day for prayer. Although prayer times occur at roughly the same time each day, the exact times change according to the moon – making them not exact at all. When you make an appointment with someone, or you schedule an event, the common response is “Inshallah”, which basically means, “I’ll get there at that time, if God is willing.” As someone that enjoys punctuality and sense of sureness when it comes to appointments, this has been quite a trip for me. There is a sense of steady pace here that cannot be pushed or shoved to move faster, by anyone, and I admit that I am mildly impressed with the California-esque attitude (not to be stereotypical) of moving throughout the day ignoring the fact that the rest of the world is moving two steps to your one, because as I have heard not only here but in the states as well, that “it will all work out in the end.”
I recently learned that Saudi women, from the middle and upper classes, return home to their parents’ house for the first month after giving birth. There are two reasons for this: First, women are not supposed to have sex with their partners immediately after giving birth; the body needs time to heal. Women move home so that they are not able to tempt their husbands, because they won’t to be able to entertain their man’s sexual urges. (Needless to say, I definitely have some strong oppositional ideas about this institution). The second reason for returning to her parents’ house is because it is assumed that the woman needs time to rest. Her mother waits on her and takes care of her needs during this time of disconnection from the regular world; essentially absolving fathers of parental duties for the first month of their child’s life. I called my mom and told her that I was thinking about instituting this in our family when/if I started to have children. Take a guess how you think that went over. I have to wonder about the paternal connection that the father’s are missing out on. Psychological speaking, there is so much growth and connection that starts immediately after giving birth between both parents and the child that it makes me wonder what the cost of this lack of involvement brings.
One of the highlights of the last month was taking another trip to “The Barr” (desert). This time, the desert that we visited was more private and had a sense of tranquility about it. I took a walk up the dunes behind out site and slide from top to bottom down a 50ft hill of sand. All Arabs are descendents of true Bedouins; people that lived simplistic lives deep in the desert, surrounded only by tents, sheep, and family. Although this way of living has been drastically altered over the years, due to the development of technology and the influx of monetary income, the ideals of this lifestyle are still strong amongst the Saudis. There are a few people that continue to live as close to this mindset as possible. During my time in the sandy abyss, I was treated to a traditional Bedouin feast. As I mentioned, Bedouins were Sheppard’s, so it was no surprise that sheep was the protein and star of this meal. Skinned and gutted, the sheep was tied with metal bands to a bar and sunk into a 5 foot deep fire pit. Hanging just below the carcass, was a pool of uncooked rice. During the cooking process, the fat from the sheep drains into the pan and flavors the rice as it cooks. An hour and half later, kneeled on the ground, we were served the two whole halves of the animal. I was showed how to pick it apart, and how to use the scoop-and-push method to shovel the food into my mouth; utensils are more of a modern thing; let me just say that this wasn’t as easy as it sounds.
As a self declared foodie, I have watched enough of the Food Network and bizarre food shows to know that the head of the animal is often considered the best part. There aren’t many opportunities in my household to hold the head of a cooked animal and “have at it”. I went right for the cheeks, apparently the most tender and fatty piece of the animal. Next, I moved on to the tongue. As a rookie to the tongue eating world, I was instructed that I needed to rip the top layer off (the taste buds) to expose the muscle below. Doing as I was told, I took a bite and was unnecessarily proud of myself. Sitting in the bowels of a multi-colored Saudi Arabian tent, sipping tea from a hot kettle (tea is something that I am still trying my best to like), and feeling full, was one of those moments that I will never forget.
