Reflections on Riyadh - ABD

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Reflections on Riyadh

It’s a quarter to nine on a Saturday morning. In the rest of our worlds this would signal the beginning of the weekend. In our current world, it marks the beginning of the working week.

Our weekends are the hardest part of living in Riyadh. That’s when we feel trapped more than ever, when our surroundings become reality. During the week we both busy ourselves with work and study, Andrew is at school from 7.30 to 4.00 sometimes 5.00 pm, depending on after school activities and meetings he has to attend. We have no time to think about where we are and what it’s really like.

What do you do all day? I get that a lot.

Well believe it or not, I actually am very busy. The morning starts with cleaning up the mess from last night in the kitchen and living room and making the bed, doing laundry, ironing my husbands work shirts and figuring out what to cook for liner. (Liner, is what the Dutton-Demetriou household does best. It is normally served between Lunch and Dinner and instead of it. So you will find us feasting around 4 or 5 pm, depending what time hubby comes home) I normally cook a complex meal out of a cook book for liner at around 2ish. I have taken cooking to heart and have sworn to learn how to cook properly by the time our two years are over. After all, it is a great opportunity for me to learn now, with all that time on my hands, right?

The second part of the morning is filled with my photography course which I have only recently started. It is an exciting time and I find it hard to pull myself away.

Around 3pm, little Ramsi Shaker comes for his one hour of tutoring. This happens daily and Ramsi and I have formed a very special bond. He is an adorable young eight year old boy. I met his mother during one of the housewives coffee mornings and she employed me straight away. I was a little surprised to find that he is no ordinary eight year old and although at first I was unsure of how well I could cope with teaching a child with special needs such as Ramsi’s, I have now found a way that I can see works and is benefitting him. I find myself looking forward to my time with him each day and I know he does too.

Another morning occupation for the expat community’s housewives, to which I now count myself to be a fully fledged member, are the much anticipated coffee mornings. Most of Riyadh is made out of compounds-areas of identical houses planted next to each other and normally with some form of entertainment hall, restaurant and frequently a swimming pool. Our compound, Al Waha, is one of the smaller ones but it is cozy and as far as I am concerned, there are more than enough facilities available. There is a large pool, a Jacuzzi, a sauna, a tennis court, a play room, a TV room, a hairdresser, a beautician, a squash court, a fully operational gym, a restaurant, a supermarket, a DVD store and a spare swimming pool over at the Annex ( the extension that was built a few years ago).

So back to coffee mornings. Well, a few of the compounds in Riyadh have coffee mornings on every month and we, the ladies of Al Waha, are super keen to get on the list and in the door every time there is one. These coffee mornings normally include little bazaars, where all kinds of brick a brack is sold, keeping the ladies occupied with spending their husbands hard earned cash. The first one I went to was only a few days ago at Kingdom Compound. Kingdom is really fit for a king, with multiple pools, extensive gardens and a huge bazaar on the coffee morning. Some German ladies sell home made German bread and pretzels, for which I happily queued up and there was so much Christmas paraphernalia around that I could not resist getting into the spirit of things myself. I walked out with way to much ornaments and way to little money left in my pocket.

Sometimes one housewife or another will have a coffee morning of her own at her home and I was lucky enough to be invited to one of those right the first week I arrived at the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

On my third day in the Kingdom, my husband had to go off to work, but sweetheart that he is he left me with a thousand Riyals and a kiss. I was off to IKEA that very morning to tackle the household’s needs. As I was trying to decide between the green bath mat and the orange one, I heard a couple of people speaking a familiar language. I held my breath, could it be? Greeks? In Saudi?
I started stalking two men and a blonde woman and listening to their conversations. Yes! I was right! Never had I been so happy to hear the Hellenic language being spoken. I approached the woman and smiled “Ellines?” “Ellines!” she smiled back. Maria and her husband have been in the Kingdom for four years and have no plans to leave any time soon. He works at the King’s palace as a chef and Maria is a happy riyadhi housewife. We exchanged phone numbers and kissed good bye promising to meet soon. Yes, that is how it works with us Ellines.

Sure enough the following day I received a text message inviting me to a coffee morning that Saturday. I was super excited.
Meanwhile my husband had asked around at work for any tutoring available and Mary, a colleague of his had given my number to a friend of hers who had a position. A few days after the meeting with Maria, I received a phone call. A man was on the other line interviewing me on behalf of his manager, who needed a tutor for his wife and child. The man sounded Hispanic, however when I mentioned my work at the Greek Schools in South Australia, he laughed and said in fluent Greek “Lets talk in our language then!” I couldn’t believe it. He continued by telling me that he and his half CYPRIOT wife Eleni where living just down the road from us. I started to become excited.

That Friday, Maria send me a message, suggesting I should get together with Eleni to come to Maria’s coffee morning that Saturday. So I picked up the receiver and called Eleni’s villa to arrange the details. My heart was pounding, I mean, this woman could possibly be very very annoying, very traditional and obnoxiously Greek (only Greeks will get what I mean by that) On the phone she sounded ok, but who knew? We agreed to meet the following morning at her villa.

I knocked on the door at 9 am. A little blonde girl not older than three opened the door. Eleni’s little daughter, is an angel like no other. I was greeted by Eleni’s mum and auntie that were visiting from Zimbabwe. Eleni came out from the kitchen and smiled. “Come to the kitchen, let’s have a cigarette”. I knew then, that this would become a strong bond.

The coffee morning at Maria’s house was wonderful. Her spread was unbelievable, everything from Salmon to perfectly scrambled eggs, four kinds of juices, tea, coffee, it was truly five star. A wave of panic came over me. I will never be able to compete with that, I thought. Maria, sweet natured as ever laughed at my anxiety! Her husband had brought all that food from the palace next door. King Abdullah’s breakfast scraps, where a feast in their own right for us mere mortals!

I made many new friends that morning and realized that it would not be half that bad, living in Riyadh. After all I was surrounded by women my age and older, from all corners of the globe, Spain, Greece, Germany, Zimbabwe, Bosnia, Egypt, South Africa, France, the Netherlands and they had all settled in just fine. This would become interesting.

On days where there is no coffee morning on, the grocery shopping has been done and the housework is being taken care of by the ‘maid’, (we don’t have one, but I do occasionally get some help) the ladies go shopping. Riyadh has no shortage of malls, most of them ridiculously expensive and unfortunately more or less identical. So if you go to Faisaliah or Kingdom Mall, little is the difference.
I can only describe living in Riyadh as being under house arrest. Although I have never had such an experience I am almost certain that this is what it must be like for Aung San Suu Kyi and now the very powerful Roman Polanski. Apart from the occasional shopping bus there is nothing to allow one to get out of the compound. So even if there is nothing that I may ‘need’ as such, I often find myself on that bus, to one mall or another. I take the chance to walk around the mall as an outing, an escape from my relatively large home and not so large compound grounds which one can walk around in less than ten minutes. Although fairly pleasant, it just does not compare to the freedom of walking in a park, or on the beach. You see, it’s not JUST the obvious element of nature that I miss. It’s the freedom to express myself through my clothing, my attitude and the freedom of speaking my mind.

The abbaya. Long hated garment of any expat housewife. Although there are some pretty ones out there and yes we do sit around comparing abbaya’s and say things like “where did you get that from”, it is a despicable garment none the less. I don’t have a problem with conforming to the status quo, by donning this depressing piece of fabric. After all I will not have to do so for the rest of my life and I thankfully don’t have to wear it anywhere but in public spaces such as malls and restaurants. On our compound I can walk around in hot pants and bikini tops if I so please and no one will bat an eyelid. I don’t but I could if I wanted to! The problem with the abbaya, is that it is hot. No I don’t mean hot as in sexy, it is HOT as is heat generating. The fabric is normally a ridiculous synthetic mix and the black color doesn’t help the situation much. Preferable I would just wear the damn thing with a short dress underneath, but, yes there is a but, the buttons on the front of the abbaya (it buttons up like a jacket) keep flinging open with every step you take, eager to expose bear legs under the black cloak. A struggle to find the perfect abbaya. But I have decided to fit mine with a zip. Will report back on the success rate.
And to answer everyone’s favorite question. NO. I don’t have to cover my head or face. An abbaya suffices. Well unless a muttawa (religious police) comes by. They can ask your husband to make you wear the shawl, or in my abbayas case the hood to cover the hair. A muttawa is not allowed to address a woman directly. I have heard of a case , were the muttawa asked an expat to cover her head and the expat turned around and gave him such a serve, saying “you can not talk to me, my husband is not here” and the muttawa put his tail between his legs and wagged off. Hahhaha, don’t worry, I won’t try it. Unfortunately I made a promise to a very special lady that I would not get myself into trouble here…Hmmmm. No, no, don’t worry mum.

As for speaking my mind or expressing my feelings freely, I will put it in the words of my adorable husband when trying to explain to me the rules of the Kingdom: “When unsure of what is forbidden in public, ask yourself this question: Is it fun? If the answer is yes, then it’s definitely haram!”

So there you have it. No laughing, no music, no smoking in public, no alcohol (that was obvious), no holding hands with your partner in malls etc etc etc.

I do find there are a few crazy ass contradictions though. I mean, there are full on lingerie shops in almost every single mall in Riyadh. It is not an uncommon sight to see a fully veiled woman standing in one of those shops holding up some very sexy pieces and inspecting the size to make sure it fits. Leaning over her shoulder is a shop assistance, a male, as females are not allowed to work. I mean seriously?! Men are allowed to work as lingerie assistants (and we are talking about very straight Indian men) and thus permited to fantasize about the black ball in a skimpy little nighty but are not allowed to see the black ball’s ankle, because that would bring them sinful thoughts?????? It is super uncomfortable having to ask a male assistant for a larger size of pink pantyhose and since there are no changing rooms in shops for women (that too is haram!!!!!) you often pick the wrong size. Unlike other items of clothing, underwear is non exchangeable. Halas. (finished).

In a country with so much wealth, I expected everyone to be at least middle class rich. I had read somewhere that it is one of the pillars of Islam to donate 10% of the household income to the poor and needy. Surely that would not allow for anyone in Riyadh to live in grave poverty? To my absolute shock and surprise, there are Saudi women with babies in tow begging on the footpaths of Riyadh’s Tamimi stores while hordes of Porche Ceyenne’s, Mercedes and Toyota Land cruisers, cruise on by. A sight I still find hard to deal with. All that wealth, from baby Dior, to diamond encrusted Tag Hauer watches on display in every corner of Riyadh and then the stark contrast of the misery and starvation.

There is nothing good I can say about this country. I am looking forward to the day where we will be released from this soul-less prison. Our driver, Jamil, is from Pakistan. He is a lovely man and I trust him 100%. We were in the car with him the other day when Andy asked him how long he had lived in Saudi. “10 years sir” he replied. Andy asked him if he liked it here and Jamil replied “No one likes Saudi Arabia sir!”. That sums it up. No one likes it here. Not even the Saudi’s themselves. They are oppressed people, under a regime that fears the fundamentalist Islamists so much that it has surrendered its freedom. They escape to their chalets in Switzerland and vacation in the Antartic. They have private Jets to airlift them out of this miserable country every weekend. That is the only way the rich Saudi’s can survive. The expats do the same. They may not all have chalets in Tuscany, but almost everyone I know, lives for the holidays, the ten days every 4 weeks in which they can escape their prison, breathe fresh air and be reminded once again of their humanity, their freedom.

It is an experience that I would never trade, it is a valuabe lesson of patience but most of all of gratitude. I am learning each day how to be grateful and thankful for the freedom that I have been blessed with, the freedom to think my own thoughts, the freedom that I will have soon enough to walk the streets, the beaches, the forests, the parks, without a black robe on, without being chaperoned, holding hands and kissing my gorgeous husband in the warm sun, free!
Well I have been typing away for a good hour or so, I better get back to doing my stuff. It’s been nice getting fingers to keyboard again, I should really do this more often.

We are off to Australia on the 22nd and back in Riyadh on the 3rd. A blessing to have an escape for this Christmas Season. Andrew’s company is paying for our flights Business Class on Singapore Airlines, we are both super excited about it, this will probably be the first and last time this happens so we plan to lap it up, big time!

Can’t wait to meet little baby Noah, the latest addition to the Dutton/Brown family and also little baby Christopher Aldred and Andrianna Kalinovic’s new baby!

So many babies and a wedding or two this Christmas will be a very special holiday indeed.

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Photos

Cheaper than water, petrol prices in Riyadh
At $4 for a full tank of petrol, the Middle East becomes your oyster, by car

chop chop square
where people loose their limbs and lives, downtown riyadh

Comments

[Maria Demetriou]

Easy and fun to read, good intresting contens
Thanks Alexia mou for ceeping up your writing, for sharing your expierience, it is like I am there with you. Love your Mum

[kamran]

hello
salam dear sir i like a sudia please accpet me job in sudia