Halas

In checking out a fair number of blogs by people travelling or living abroad for extended periods, I've discovered a trend.  People often start out posting a lot.  They write ambitiously about posting every few days and for a while they keep it up.  Sure enough, after a few weeks, though, the frequency of their posts starts to decline.  They go down to twice a week, then to once.  By the third or fourth month there's only one post every three or four weeks.  And then, abruptly and without explanation, the posts stop.  Many times after only 4 or 5 months.  It seems, like so many others before me, I too have fallen victim to this trend.

I think the reasons are fairly plain to see.  You start out so excited.  Everything's new and different.  The simplest everyday experiences are instantly noteworthy and as a foreigner in a strange land, nothing fails to warrant comment.  But as the time passes, and you get more and more used to your surroundings, your daily life shifts from extraordinary to anything but.  You stop looking at everything through the wide eyes of a foreigner.  The blog posts stop writing themselves.  You find yourself feeling almost burdened by the obligation to continue to post and successive posts seem more forced or like more and more of a stretch. As the frequency of your posts become less and less, you suddenly realize that you've gone a month without posting.  After feeling like you've already disappointed your readers and like they've probably already given up on you anyway it's only too easy to stop altogether.

Excuses (or maybe explanations ;)) aside, I'd like to provide some punctuation to my blog.

My time in Saudi has come to a close.  I've left a little sooner than I'd originally planned and a little sooner than the fulfillment of my contract would have required.  The reason is that I preferred to have a solid month of travel time in the Middle East before Amy and I start our next teaching contract in Honduras (did I mention Amy and I took a contract in Honduras?)  I'm currently in Palestine after having spent 9 days in Lebanon, 6 in Jordan, and 2 on the east coast of the Sinai Peninsula of Egypt.  The trip has been amazing and unbelievably educational to say the very least and I hope to put my thoughts together about my experiences--although I'll resist the temptation to make any promises about future posts.

As for Saudi, I'm extremely satisfied with and would even go so far as to say proud of my decision to go.  As with anything in life, there is always something to be gained from experience and I can say unequivocally that I gained a lot from my time there.  I accomplished most of my goals, especially after finally being able to travel in the region, and have left a little wiser and definitely not worse off financially.  

I also don't want to make it sound like my time in Saudi was some sort of burden or equate it in any way to a prison sentence.  In many ways my lifestyle and quality of life wasn't much different than it's been anywhere else that I've lived.  I made some really good friends, friends whom I believe I'll be friends with for life.  I drank homemade wine at the compound almost every weekend, participated in weekly basketball games and was part of a social network that had frequent get-togethers, parties, and engaged in some pretty regular tom-foolery.  In many ways, I was very fortunate to be welcomed into a group of friends that had enough connections and experience in-country to build up this network and will always be thankful to those who welcomed me in with open arms.  I gathered that not everyone there doing the same work I did was so lucky.  But still, my experience of life in Saudi, as a single white American man, is that it really wasn't all that difficult.  While I would never force it on anyone and probably wouldn't ask a wife who wasn't 100% on board to go or to raise a family there, I, for one, got along just fine.  

I am happy that it's over though, if only because it means that Amy and I can start the next stage of our lives together, something we are both almost too excited about for words.  I'd like to tell you to stay tuned for the blog, A Relford in Central America, but if I've learned anything from my first blog experience, it's that at this point, the beginning, the tendency is to make promises to readers that don't get kept.  I do plan on at least starting a blog, though how much I post, only time will tell.  :)

Thanks for reading.

Sincerely,

A Relford

National Narrative

I was in class yesterday, and during some down time I checked my email on yahoo.  I was using the e-podium which projected everything I was doing onto the smart board in the front of the class, so everyone could see.  The first news story that popped up was about Iran and prominently displayed the Iranian flag on the screen.  My students immediately shot in.

"Teacher, Teacher.  Iran very bad.  Very bad, teacher."

Not usually one to discuss issues that could be controversial thanks to the express warnings we've all received to that effect, I couldn't help but probe for just a bit.

"Really?  Why?" I said, playing dumb.

"Very bad, teacher.  They not Muslims.  Shia not Muslims," said one student to the immediate confirmation by everyone within ear shot.

Ignoring the grammatical mistakes I've been trying unsuccessfully for 13 weeks to correct, I continued to goad them.

"Really?"

"Yes, teacher, not Muslims.  Wallah," they continued.  "And they hate all Sunni.  They want kill all Sunni."

"Really? Why?" ever the Socratic, I said, examining further.

"They want Mecca and Medina, teacher," a wide-eyed student exclaimed, emphasizing the obviousness of the statement.

"We hate them teacher, all Shia.  All Shia very bad."

"Why?"

"They lie, teacher.  They marry prostitutes.  They think like animals."

And then I posed the final question:

"And how do you know this?"

To which they replied:

"Everybody know this, teacher."

It was the last statement that left the biggest impact.  "Everybody" they said.  There wasn't the slightest bit of doubt.  To them, these weren't even widely held opinions, they were widely known facts.  It's not hard to understand how this narrative became as pervasive as it is.  The religious clerics in this country are extremely powerful and use a great deal of that power to implement their propaganda and their narrative from the very beginning of education.  But it was the unquestioning acceptance of this narrative that was the hardest for me to understand.

I didn't have the gumption to probe any deeper, not in class.  I wanted to ask them questions like "Have you ever met any Shias?" and "What are your experiences with Shias that make you feel this way?"  I wanted to find out what stories they're told.  I wanted to ask about the the history that they learn.  I wanted to know what they're told the Shia think of them, where they think the conflict will head, if they support Saudis and other Sunnis perpetrating sectarian violence and/or governmental crackdowns on and against Shias.

In other conversations that I've had with Saudis outside of school, and from the conversations I've had with teachers who speak Arabic and who have been here much longer than I have, I've learned that the epistemological questions (those dealing with how they've arrived at their knowledge) have for the most part never been asked.  Most Saudis take whole sale what their told from an early age.  This applies to what they know about Shias as well as what they know about Jews, Israel and also the West.  As a good friend of mine puts it, you have to understand "the power dynamics in this part of the world.  Some people in the region are only now beginning to conceive of how to challenge that authority, which includes thinking for themselves, rather than following what they're told.  Other nations are more politically mature, and have demonstrated their anger by ousting their leaders.  Saudi belongs to the former, and throwing off a national narrative is not easy, but it is slowly changing."

It's interesting because at the same time that my students will make gross sweeping negative statements about a group like the Shias or about Israel, affirming their narrative, a few even making statements expressing fondness for Osama bin Laden, none of them have any interest whatsoever in perpetrating violence, or advocating war.  It's really as though the words in their mouth are just that, only words.  They're the words that have been put there and never questioned.  When they come out, they're only coming out as words, not from anyplace deeper, as they've never been processed on a deeper level.

As a Westerner and an educated person, I like to think that I challenge the history and the narratives that I'm presented with.  I like to think that I know how to find alternative narratives, challenge the commonly perpetrated ones, and think for myself.  Whether this is in fact the case or not might take a lifetime to reveal.  Still though, I take a certain amount of pride in my supposed freedom of thought, and seeing a society who in general buy what their sold unquestioningly makes me feel a certain amount of contempt for those in power, and empathy for those under it.  At the same time, I can see that things are starting to change in this part of the world.  I know that ideas are spreading more easily and restrictions to those ideas are more and more difficult to maintain.  But it's not an easy process.  It's one that takes generations and enormous amounts of struggle to pursue.  Only time will tell if Saudis will be begin to challenge their narratives and what the results of that challenge will be.  So we'll just have to wait and see.  But an understanding of that narrative and the forces that keep it going are essential to understanding this place, or at least beginning to.

Cowboys, Sunshine, and Oil

When I lived in Prague, I generally got a pretty similar response from my students when I asked them where they'd like to go if they went to the U.S.  Most people would say they'd like to see New York City and San Francisco and then rent a car, and in classic American road trip fashion, drive around the west visiting the many great national parks our beautiful country has to offer.  I attributed the similarity in the responses that I got to the fact that while most Czechs I met could appreciate a cosmopolitan metropolis, what they really loved was "the nature".  Across the board, many of my students and Czech friends were always doing outdoor activities ranging from canyoning to camping to just hanging out at their cottage and their mentality was reflected in their dream of an American holiday.

So when I've posed the same question to my Saudi students and people I've met in and around the campus environment, I've noticed some interesting regularity in their answers as well.   Some say D.C. because they're interested in seeing the White House and our other government buildings.  Others say New York or L.A. mostly, from what I can tell, because of a familiarity due to the movies and television shows they've watched.  Much more frequent responses are Miami and Las Vegas.  Fame and reputation seem again to be motivating factors.  Miami is heralded by most here to be the best place for beaches and parties in the States, while Las Vegas is seen as the place where everything that would be Haram here (and in most places) is not only allowed but encouraged.  And of course my students like to mention that whatever happens in Vegas stays there (talk about an effective marketing campaign).  There also seems to be no conflict between so much being restricted in their culture and religion and them wanting to go to places famous for indulgence and vice.  Actually, these two facts seem to reinforce one another.  They'd like to go there because they can do everything that they can't here.

But one response I've heard with surprising regularity has struck me as particularly intriguing:  Texas.  Almost without fail, countless students express interest in going to Texas and for many, it's the first place they mention.  Not to knock Texas in anyway but this idea was very hard for me to understand at first.  I couldn't get past the idea that first, Texas didn't seem to be much of a tourist destination for foreigners, and second, that Arabs might not be all that well received by some folks down there.  Unable to drop the issue as it continued to come up, I've finally been able to ask enough students who were willing (and able) to explain their reasoning to me to develop an understanding.  Again fame and a presumed familiarity are big factors.

The fame of Texas is pretty easy to understand.  I mean, most people I meet in other countries couldn't tell you where Indiana, Montana, Maryland or Arizona was, but everybody could point out Texas.  I think that Texas has also developed a mystique through film and television and is seen by many to be the birthplace of the cowboy mentality that many people attribute to Americans generally.  George W. Bush's presidency recently contributed to this reputation.

But even more than the fact that most of my students have heard of Texas is the fact that most of them feel like Saudi and Texas are actually quite similar.  "Same Saudi, teacher," they say when I show surprise and ask them why they want to go to Texas.  And their reasoning is as follows:

Cowboys, they say, are the equivalent of their Bedouins.   Both ride around astride animals in the open desert, tote guns, and hold somewhat less modernized beliefs.  To my students, there's really no difference at all between the two. Bedouins just raise camels instead of cows  If fact, when I've asked them about the Bedu many just simply say, "You know, teacher.  Same cowboys."

The next similarity cited is the climate.  While some of my students express a fondness for cold weather (their concept of "cold" being pretty different than a Mid-Westerner's), many have expressed a severe aversion to it.  Texas' weather, though, seems to them to not be much different at all from Saudi's and therefore would require no adjustment and resulting discomfort.  Climate is also a major reason why Miami and Las Vegas are high on a lot of my students' list.

The third reason (as you might have guessed from my post's title) is Oil.  Texas, they say, is an oil state.  Saudi is an oil country.  There are even a few prestigious universities in Texas, mostly in Houston I'm told, that have petro-chemical and engineering programs where a lot of Saudis do exchange course work.  Some even stay on to work in Texas.  This contributes as much to Texas' familiarity as it does to the similarities that Saudis feel KSA and Texas share, as many students have a relative or friend who has studied or worked in the Lone Star state.

For another similarity, one student went as far as to say that like Saudis, Texans love fast food and tend to be overweight, stereotypes that I neither confirmed or denied, but the fact that those ideas about Texas made it this far was interesting to say the least.

After grasping all of this, I wasn't sure what was more interesting:  the fact that my students wanted to go to the place in America they felt was the most like Saudi, or their reasoning for believing that that place was Texas.  The latter being kind of hard to disagree with.

When I suggested that some people in Texas might be Islamaphobic or prejudiced against Arabs, the response from some was surprise.  Most kids though, didn't give it much thought and kind of dismissed it out of hand.  I couldn't tell if this was because they figured that would be the case anywhere they'd go in America or if it was simply because they didn't think it was true, but I don't think the suggestion discouraged any of them whatsoever from their dreams of a Texas vacation, not that that was my intention.

So, again, interesting stuff to think about:  perceptions of places in the states, my students wanting to go somewhere they feel is just like Saudi, the contributing factors to those perceptions and familiarity, my own stereotypes regarding some places in the states, them wanting to go other places where they can engage in all things Haram (Miami, Vegas).  Regardless, I couldn't really argue with their reasoning.  I can suggest other places they could go that I've found to be beautiful or interesting.  National Parks, states like Vermont and Oregon, cities that I think are cool.  Most, however, have a pretty good idea where they want to go and what they want to do and don't seem all that interested in 'the nature'.  But I could never criticize anyone for wanting to travel anywhere.  Because despite what anyone says, you always have to go there and see it for yourself, whatever your reason.

A Good Weekend

This weekend offered me a few 'note'-worthy opportunities that I'd previously not had, and both were pretty cool.

Saudi Football (Soccer):

A student who I recently started teaching privately mentioned that he was going to a football match on Wednesday.  When I told him that sounded like fun and that I hoped he had a good time, he asked me if I'd like to go.  "For sure" was obviously my response.  It was to be an Asian Champions league group match between Saudi Champions Al-Hilal and a team from Doha, Qatar.  

He didn't call me until almost 8:30 on Wednesday night, so, thinking that the plans had fallen through, I was already out at the compound having a few glasses of home made (vinegar) wine with 7up. This was pretty unfortunate because I didn't have my camera with me, but having had a few glasses of wine, as we approached the stadium, I did find myself wondering if I was the only one in the joint rocking a little buzz.  

The stadium itself is quite impressive from the outside and the design is both unique and quintessentially Arabian.  It's made to look like a giant tent in the middle of the desert, which is pretty much what it is, and it was at this point that I both appreciated my buzz and wished I had my camera.  (check out a Google images search of King Fahad International Stadium if you wanna check it out)

Once inside, the thing that was most notable to me was the distribution of fans in the various sections throughout the stadium.  There were three prices of tickets that allowed access to one of three general admission seating areas.  The 20 Riyal (~5 bucks) ticket area looked nearly full.  It was directly across from us and stretched the length of the field.  It was two tiers and both levels all the way across were rocking pretty much the whole game.  Our side of the stadium was divided into two sections.  The center was VIP and while I wasn't told how much the tickets cost it was apparent that they were out of our price range.  The seats were painted yellow and those in attendance were basically all wearing white thobes and shmars.  The section wasn't nearly full and the fans there sat quietly and comfortably.  On either side of the VIP's were two general admission areas with tickets costing 150 Riyals (~40 bucks).  We sat in one of these sections which weren't nearly full either and the folks sitting around us were mostly younger people wearing western clothes (lots of European football jerseys) and some parents with young children.  

What stood out to me was that your view of the field didn't change with the price you paid.  In fact, you could get the same seat with the same view directly across from the VIP section in the center of the field (equivalent of the 50 yard line) for an eighth of the price.  What you paid for was the type of people you were around and how tightly packed you were sitting with them.  The stadium on this particular night was only about a third full (the seats behind both goals were almost completely empty) but it also occurred to me that in a sell out, when everyone was pretty packed into their seat, that there really wasn't much difference between the sections in terms of how comfortable you were.  It seemed to be more of an issue of status than anything, which considering other things I've observed here so far, wasn't all that surprising.

The game wasn't too exciting but a header goal just after halftime and another goal late gave Al-Hilal a 2-nil victory and sent everybody home feeling fairly satisfied.  

An Estraha:

On Thursday night, my good buddy David invited me to go along with him to a little event that his students had planned.  They were his class from the previous semester and had decided to get together and honor David and the other teachers who taught their section.  They rented what's called an Estaha which is basically a little place outside of the home to hang out.  Ours was a walled in area on the outskirts of the city with a large room for indoor seating, a barbecue, a small kitchen, a praying area, and a decent sized field of grass in the middle.  Estraha, which literally translates as "a break", are traditionally places that men go to gather and it was cool to see what one was like and share in the experience.  

The students picked us up and from the beginning two things were immediately apparent: 1) that planning was not the students' strong suit and 2) The teachers (and me by extension) were to receive the utmost respect.  

We had to head all over town to pick up another student who was trying to coordinate with other students to arrange rides for everyone.  Once in the car, finding the Estraha took another hour thanks to the fact that no system of addresses exists and that no one was quite sure how to give us good enough directions to guide us in.  We stopped a few times to ask people if they had any idea where the Estrahas were and finally, with a bit of luck, we happened upon it. 

We were a bit pressed for time because we had to be at another party later that night for a Polish friend of ours who was moving to Dubai.  This, however, put us in direct conflict with the general mood and from what I could tell, the culture.  There was absolutely no sense of urgency when it came to getting things put together and started with any sort of promptness.  For the first couple hours we all just kind of sat around in the seating area and chatted.  Arabic Coffee was poured, then tea.  Little bread pastries and cakes were distributed as people showed up bearing the gifts they'd brought.  Dates of course were served with the coffee.   There was also an assortment of juice.  Casually the gathering moved outside as it cooled down.  Some people kicked the football around.  David and I brought a frisbee which a few of the students got a kick out of.  There was also a t.v. set up outside which the students had rigged a PS3 to in order to play football video games.  We all just kinda sat around.  

For their lack of planning and promptness, though, it certainly seemed to work.  They seemed to plan on not planning and were totally cool with just hanging out as things took their natural course.  It made me wish we didn't have somewhere to be so we could just sit back and enjoy the relaxed atmosphere as well, but we were forced to encourage the guys to get things moving a little more quickly as our hour of departure grew closer.  We were finally able to get some guys to light the barbecue and we got to enjoy some delicious kababs (of which they'd bought 13 kilos!) and some cake before we had to go, an hour and a half after we'd originally planned.  It seemed that despite our best efforts, even we had succumbed to "Arab Time".  

When it came to dealing with us, the students were extremely outgoing and genuine.  One of us was always given the front seat in any car we rode in, and the students wouldn't let us get up to get anything.  They poured our drinks, and brought us the dates and sweets.  They were extremely appreciative of David and the other teachers who were there and even honored them at the end with a large cake decorated with pictures of their class.  It was nice to see students, even though they weren't mine, in this setting.  It highlighted to me the difference between the amount of respect a lot of the students have for the educational process (which is very little) and the amount of respect they have for us teachers as people.  It was also really great to hang out with some students socially.  There really are a lot of good kids amongst them which sometimes can be hard to remember when you're only dealing with them in the classroom and getting the worst of their behavior.


The going away party ended up being your usual expat compound fun complete with a hangover that always seems to be so much disproportionately worse than it should be.  There is something about homemade wine coupled with being in what has to be the brightest country on earth that makes even a tame night regrettable.


Altogether it was a good weekend.

Reaction

With the news that Osama bin Laden was killed by American Special Forces at a compound in Pakistan, concern for U.S. interests and citizens abroad has increased.  Being in Saudi Arabia, bin Laden's birthplace, the home of his large extended family, and not to mention, where 15 of the 19 September 11th hijackers came from, it is understandable to be a little more worried.  Some people here feel the same way.  The morning we all woke to the news a couple of the older Brits on my bus told me to expect notification from my embassy planning for all Americans' immediate evacuation.  One of them suspected that we'd all be on a plane within 24 hours and suggested if it wasn't the case, I should demand it first from my employer and then from my embassy.  This same man also hasn't been out of the hotel alone since the news hit on Monday for fear of being confused for an American.  And while I guess I can understand where this guy is coming from, his reaction is more than a little extreme.  The news' portrayal as well as my own experience of not only how the Saudi public but indeed how much of the Arab and Islamic world feel about OBL and his death paint quite a different picture.

The Saudi government long ago disavowed and publicly disowned Osama bin Laden.  He has been an enemy of the House of Saud longer than he has been of the United States.  He's proved to be a destabilizing personality, an embarrassment, and has cost the Kingdom a lot in terms of its reputation around the world.  Seeking out and killing or capturing members of Al Qaeda has been a priority of the Saudi government for a long time now and hundreds of suspected terrorists or people with terrorist links have been arrested and detained, Guantanamo-style, especially since the infamous attacks on Westerners and Western compounds that happened in the wake of September 11th.  The bin Laden tribe, who became rich building many of the roads and highways in and around Saudi Arabia and whose company name, The Bin Laden Group, I see plastered all over construction sites in Riyadh, have long ago disowned Osama as well.  They also consider him a murderer, an embarrassment, and a source of shame.  The government and his tribe of course have a lot to lose financially by not publicly disavowing OBL, so their campaigns of criticism and distancing themselves in that respect are somewhat understandable.   However, the opinion that he's an indiscriminate murderer of Muslims, Christians, and Jews alike, and a criminal against Islam seems to be fairly widely held as well -- at least from my experience discussing the matter so far.

For a moment, I considered taking on a different persona.  I practiced how to say "I'm Canadian" or "I'm Czech" in Arabic, just in case I was asked about my nationality.  I even, somewhat jokingly, got some basic facts about Canada and specifically about Vancouver from a colleague of mine, just in case I was questioned further.  But when it came down to it, even the first time that I was asked about my nationality by a cab driver, something that happens as soon as I get into a cab every time without fail, I didn't even hesitate.  "Anna Emriky" (I'm an American) I said.  More than just not wanting to lie and not wanting to let my behavior be dominated by fear, I wanted to know what this guy thought.  I was pretty sure he was Pakistani, as a great number of the cab drivers in Riyadh are, and I wanted to get his reaction.  As is usually the case he exclaimed positively when I told him where I was from.  He said things like "welcome, welcome" and asked me how long I've been in Saudi.  And then I asked him "So, what do you think of the news about Osama?" and this was his response:

"Very good.  Very good.  Bombs no good.  Dead no good.  Maybe now no more bombs (motioning from the sky).  Good thing.  Very good thing."

Now I was pretty sure that the bombs he was talking about initially were the ones that would have come in the form of terrorist attacks orchestrated by OBL.  The second ones though, when he made the gesture of bombs coming from a plane, I assumed to be a reference to the U.S. drone strikes that have taken place in Northwestern Pakistan and which have caused deep rifts between the two nations' governments as well as sowing anti-American sentiment among a number of Pakistanis not only in the NW region of Pakistan where the Taliban have a strong presence, but also among middle class people from various segments of society.  This man, for one, seemed to think that the death of Osama was a good thing.  The next two cab drivers I had, another from Pakistan and the second from Afghanistan (the first Afghani I'd met here) both shared the exact same opinion.

My students, despite my best efforts to avoid political conversations at all cost, have expressed almost entirely the same opinion, that Osama's death is a good thing and that he was a perverter of Islam and a murderer of innocents.  I did, however, interrupt an argument where a group of students were yelling at another one, and when I asked what was going on, the spokesman for the group said that the other student had a picture of OBL on his phone and was saying that he was sad.  The group was berating him for this and arguing that Osama was an evil person.  This was the first I'd heard about any one being even remotely sad about bin Laden's death and has been the only instance as of this writing.

Now I am well aware that I am not encountering a large sampling of the Saudi and/or foreign population and that I should resist making generalizing assumptions based on my experience so far.   I am also aware that it only takes one person enraged and radical enough to carry out an act of violence.  But while I won't take any unnecessary risks, I still won't let fear dictate my behavior.   The reaction to the news of the death of Osama bin Laden has not been cause for concern, in fact, it has been quite the opposite.  I will continue to be aware of my surroundings though, as I have always been, but for the most part, life here is continuing as normal, and trust me, I think I will be just fine.

Maybe Not: Streets and Gutters

Despite my best efforts at cultural sympathizing, some things about life in Saudi Arabia are hard to understand.  No matter how hard I try to suppose that my initial resistance to certain things is somehow biased or due to how I've been socialized, there are some things that still, at the end of the day, I just can't wrap my head around.  Initially, it was my hope that I could take everything as it came for what it was; that I could recognize things as different from what I am used to and not necessarily as better or worse; and that even things which at first glance seem to be so difficult for me to excuse could at least be attempted to be understood.  After five months here, I can now say that this hope has failed to be universally realized.  The stuff I'm referring to ranges in scope, application and significance from simple annoyances to disagreements over the dominant cultural ideology.  It also must be remembered that a lot of Saudi people themselves might want to change many of these things if they could.  So, at the risk of revealing my own Amero-cetrism and cultural and national intolerance, I've decided to relay some of these issues.  The first couple deal with matters of practicality.

When driving around Riyadh, there is enough to frustrate anyone.  From the crazed drivers flying up on everyone's tail to the youth taking any and all liberties, blurring the lines between transportation and recreation, to the 30 year-old buses and box trucks over-flowing with Bengali workers being transported to and from work sites with no consideration seemingly being given to their safety, it's a harrowing scene to say the least.  All of that, coupled with the fact that in order to obtain a driver's license in Saudi, little more than a note from your father is necessary, and it's easy to see how cultural understanding can fail.  For me though, the system (or chaos) does seem to have some functionality to it.  Everyone expects people to drive crazily, they allow for it, and react accordingly.  My biggest frustration, however, comes when trying to get somewhere I've never been before:  There are no street addresses in Saudi Arabia.

What pass for addresses are actually more like directions.  When I got what I thought was an address for the post office, I was given a sentence in Arabic that translated as something like "Go down so-and-so street, take a right at the third round-about, then drive for 10 minutes and it will be next to the fish restaurant." The directions themselves use landmarks which change frequently and street signs are almost nowhere to be found once you've gotten off of the highway.  With no addresses, there are of course no mail boxes, so anyone who would like to receive mail has to get a P.O. Box.  You would think that this would actually simplify the mail system and that it would run like clockwork but in fact the opposite is true.  I know quite a few people who are still waiting for packages that were sent to them months ago and the fact that I received two in relatively quick order is viewed by most as a miracle.  The private courier services have a system that seems to work for them:  they take your phone number and call you for directions when they get close.   All of this would be excusable in a country with no infrastructure to speak of, but in a modern city like Riyadh, even the Saudis themselves have consented that an address system should be implemented.  That was two years ago, they just haven't gotten around to it yet.  Soon, they say, Inshallah.

Another practical matter which is also related to infrastructure is that of a gutter and drainage system for rain water.  None currently exists in the country, including Riyadh and Jeddah, the two largest cities, and what they do have consists primarily of a few large holes to collect water.  After it rains, they just pump the standing water from the streets into large trucks.  It rains more than one might think here and if there ever is a significant amount low spots in the streets fill quickly.  For two years now floods have killed many in Jeddah, and even in Riyadh large floods completely filled underpasses and caused deaths in 2010.  Again it is an issue that the government here knows they need to address but no progress has been made in implementing a solution.  Like too many things here, it seems like if they can just weather the storm when it comes and immediately after, preparing for the next one fails to become a priority.

The Words of God

Something that stood out to me when I first got to Saudi and started learning common words and phrases in Arabic was how much God (Allah) was invoked in conversation.  It literally seemed like every other word or phrase contained within it the word Allah.  Greetings, interjections, exclamations, especially the most common ones, all referenced God or something pertaining to him.  Take the standard greeting and its response:

A salam alaikum -  May God's peace be upon you
Wa alaikum salam -  and may his peace be upon you

It seemed heavy to me.  I thought about greeting someone in English that way and the gravity of the statement stood out even further.  More deep sentiments when translated are also extremely common.  If someone asks "How are you?", it's very common for the response to be "Alhamdullilah"-- Praise be to God.  If someone says something surprising or wonderful and you wish to exclaim positively the response is "Mashallah"-- It is God's will.   "Inshallah" I've already posted about and it's frequency in use, while invoking ideas of fate and determination to some (we won't mention names), is again a reminder of the pervasiveness of referencing God constantly throughout the day.  "Wallah" means "I swear by Allah" and is used as commonly as we would say "really" whether to emphasize something or to question someone and ask for confirmation.  "I'm wallah tired teacher.  Wallah sick.  Wallah," is an excuse I hear from my students much too often.  "Yallah" is how to say "Oh God" and is used in prayer but is also how you would exclaim if something negative happened.  "Ma Salama" translates as "go with God's peace" and is used as a farewell.  There is also a phrase that I'm unable to pronounce and therefore unable to remember or relate to you all that translates as "May god correct and guide you" that is often interjected when someone says something ridiculous or misguided.

Again, I started thinking about speaking this way in English in normal situations.  I couldn't get the idea out of my head of someone asking me how I'm doing and responding with "Praise the Lord!" or maybe "Praise Jesus!".  While I found some humor in that image, it also got me thinking that the idea really isn't all that foreign after all-- definitely not for religious folks-- and why wouldn't you say that if you're doing particularly well.  It became apparent that the English equivalent of a lot of the other phrases are also used if not as frequently, almost as much.  Take for example 'Mashallah' and 'Yallah'.  Both are used the same way English-speakers say "Oh My God"-- one in a positive sense and the other to exclaim about something negative.  We say "Oh My God" all the time (OMG), or if not, some more benign version such as "Oh my goodness", "Gosh", "Golly'', or the like.  We also say "I swear" or "I swear to God" fairly often as well.  Less common and more old-fashioned, we even say "God help you", if someone is terribly wrong, or possibly somewhat sarcastically in a situation where someone says something ridiculous-- almost a direct translation of that phrase I can't pronounce.  "God willing" isn't that uncommon of a phrase either.  Suddenly after some reflection, I began to think that maybe the references to Allah that I was hearing so frequently really didn't set the Arabic I've been exposed to very much apart from English after all.  "Goodbye" even comes from the Middle English word "godbwye", a contraction of "God be with you", and is the equivalent of the Arabic "Ma Salama".  Further reflection and discussion ensued.

I then began to think that the reason we are less likely in Christian-dominated societies to use the word 'God' is for fear of offending the religious, meaning we are actually more sensitive to religion.  After all, it is seen by many as taboo or as using the Lord's name in vain and therefore we've developed less offensive words like 'gosh' and so on.  Just when I happened to think this wasn't the case within Najd (the region of Saudi I live in), I learned from a bilingual buddy of mine that they do in fact have more benign versions of phrases used negatively like 'Yallah'.  I also found out that there is an equivalent of "God damn it" which translates more literally as "Damn God" and is by far the worse swear you could use around these parts.  Again, similarities were outweighing differences.

It should be noted that the dialect of Arabic as well as the phraseology used in Saudi and particularly in Najd is not the same as it is in other places.  I've learned that people in Sham (the part of the Arab world comprising modern day Syria, Jordan, Lebanon and Palestine) are much less likely to use a lot of the phrases I've mentioned in this post.  They very often won't even greet each other with 'Salam Alaikum' and much to the chagrin of folks who do, won't return others' 'Salams'.*  So the words and references I'm mentioning should be thought of in the context and environment to which I'm exposed, one that is inherently more religiously inclined.

Still though, (as I hope is always the case with my 'notes') it's interesting to think about: the use of invoking God in language.  It makes you think about not only the roots, frequency and usage of phrases with 'God' in them, but also our own awareness of those phrases and their deeper spiritual meanings.  It reminds me of one of the most common exclamations used in the Czech Republic, "Ježíš Marie", which literally translates as "Jesus Mary", and how everyone from the elderly to young children use the phrase constantly, seemingly without any thought being given to offending anyone.  Where as in the States if I went around belting out "Jesus" or "Jesus Christ" every time something happened worth exclaiming about I'd be sure to offend people, the secular nature of their society means that the words themselves have very little meaning in any religious context.  They are just simply the words they use to exclaim whether positively or negatively.  The religious sentiment has been completely lost.  

In Saudi though, it is my feeling that the context is never forgotten; that the deeper meaning is purposefully referenced; that they are literally and meaningfully speaking of God, his peace, or invoking his name; and that this is done more frequently than in English speaking societies.  This may be because I feel that in the States we don't necessarily mean our similar phrases as literally and that religion and spirituality aren't as ingrained in our speech and daily life.  It's also hard not to notice the frequency with which people will add words like "Alhamdullilah" and "Inshallah" into much of what they say.  I have no doubt that this feeling has some inherent bias and is due, at least in part, to my own subconscious urge to reinforce my preconception that Islamic societies are inherently more religious than western ones.  I could be wrong, but still, again, it's interesting to think about.

*The common Shami greeting is "Marhaba" although devout Muslims anywhere in the world and people in more religious regions of Sham will often use "Salam Alaikum".