samba, crowd, but no carnival

I needed to remit some money home. Somebody recommended that I do it through the Samba Bank. I thought it was a bank with a Brazilian connection. But it turned out to be the local avatar of the Citibank of USA. In this country all foreign banks must operate under a Saudi name, so the Citibank has become the Saudi AMerican BAnk, while HSBC has similarly become the SAudi British Bank (SABB). There is also a Saudi Fransi Bank and a Saudi Hollandi Bank.

There was a big crowd inside, and I was told this was because it was the beginning of the month, so many expatriates were repatriating their wages. People were standing in serpentine queues with grim faces, visibly upset with the pace of the proceedings. I was unaccustomed with the procedures, so I needed some time to figure out what to do. After waiting in several queues, filling up five forms and putting my signature on numerous documents (including the aforementioned forms) I was finally through in only two hours and fifteen minutes (including the inevitable prayer break). The transfer was electronic, so the actual money transfer must have taken just a fraction of that time. The lesson is, if you want to send money through a bank, you'd better do it before pay day.

gun shots for fun

Last Monday evening I was alarmed by the sound of what I thought were gun shots. There were four shots (?) within a span of about five minutes. I peered out of my window to see if there were any clues to what was going on. There weren't. The last terrorist attack in Saudi Arabia took place many years ago. The government has done a good job in curbing terrorism. You can still see the security measures in place. The security barriers around key installations and compounds inhabited by Westerners, the prime targets of terrorists, and the check points on the highways are reminders that in spite of the prevailing peace, there is no room for complacency.

The next day I told a colleague that I heard some disturbing noise the previous night. Before I could say what sort of noise, he asked whether they were gun shots. He told me that guns are sometimes fired for fun during wedding celebrations. And I thought such things could only happen in Pakistan!

an american amongst indians and bangladeshis in saudi arabia

Al Isa Soukh is one of several shopping centres on Dhahran Street near where it meets the Prince Turki street. Take any alley to venture into the area behind the shopping centres, and you'd find yourself in a different world. This rundown area in downtown Khobar, I hear, is the point from where the city grew and spread outwards. The original inhabitants have moved out, to be replaced by migrant workers from South Asia. You will see more Indians and Bangladeshis here than Saudis. You will see signs in South Asian languages, Bengali and Kannara newspapers displayed in shops and snack bars serving puri, dosa or samusa. There's even a paan shop, selling betel leaf with everything that's supposed be in a cone of paan (betel leaf). People clad in lungi (sarong)roam about doing what South Asian men typically do: chat, sip tea and spit on the pavement. You'd feel like you are in a South Asian city. The filthy and smelly environment helps to reinforce the illusion.

So when I met Ted, who has never been to South Asia, I decided to give him a tour of the area. Ted is an American who is on a short visit to Saudi Arabia as an Aramco (the Saudi Oil Company) consultant. We met in blog space and decided to meet in person Monday afternoon in front of Al Isa Soukh. After the tour of the area populated by Indians and Bangladeshis, we headed for a Thai restaurant run by Filipinos. The food was good, although there was nothing special about the "special fried rice." And the "fried chicken" turned out to be stir-fried shredded chicken with assorted vegetables. Ted was surprised to find no napkins; there was a box of tissue instead.

We talked about our lives and families. By the time he looked at his watch, it was already 8 o'clock and he had missed his Aramco bus.

duststorm

On Wednesday morning when I met a young Saudi colleague, he began to talk about the weather after the usual greetings. This doesn't seem to be a common practice here, but my colleague had spent some time in England in a bid to improve his English; and the weather here that day was different and bad.


It was the first of two days of sandstorm. Actually it was more like a duststorm with more dust than storm. When I looked out of the window on Wednesday morning, it was like a thick fog had formed overnight. The sun looked pale, like the moon but a bit brighter. By nightfall, I could smell the dust inside my flat, like you do when you dust stuff that hadn't been touched in years. I had bouts of sneezes and coughs. By the next day everything inside was covered with a layer of very fine dust particles, although all the windows and doors were shut. Friday was spent cleaning up the place to make it habitable.

I am not looking forward to any further opportunities to talk about the weather.

pun intended?

The coverage of the sewerage network is not extensive here. The area where I live has no network. So septic tanks are used instead. The problem is, either due to the relative impermeability of soil, or the high level of underground water table, or both, the tanks get filled pretty fast. There's a big school near my house. A few weeks back I noticed a tanker lorry sucking out the contents of the school's septic tank. Yesterday, when I was going back home, I noticed malodorous water overflowing the tank. This morning on my way to work I found two tanker lorries stationed near the septic tank, getting ready to to swing into action. The name of the company engaged to do the work was emblazoned across the larger lorry-- Areeky. I think it's a mere coincidence but can't rule out the possibility that it was an intentional pun. I hope I won't pass a reeky septic tank on my way home today.

position available for a chimp

I like to read newspapers in their print versions. Internet versions can serve the basic purpose of giving you the news. But newspapers, to me, are more than just a medium of delivering news. It is an indispensable implement for relaxation and part of a lifestyle. The Internet cannot give you (as of yet) the exhilarating smell of fresh newsprint. With the Internet version of the daily newspaper, you cannot solve crosswords or sudoku while reclining in a comfortable position. You cannot drink a reinvigorating cup of hot tea while scanning the news on the Internet without the constant worry about accidentally spilling the beverage on your keyboard.

I like to read classified ads in newspapers just for fun. They give you insights into a society that you may not otherwise get. The two Saudi English dailies feature less than half-a-page of classified ads. Not much in terms of volume, but you can go through all of them without feeling guilty for wasting your time. Here is what I have learnt after following them for several weeks.

1. There are lots of Indian Sunni Muslim bachelors in the Kingdom who are desperately searching for brides. These men are in most cases. Hyderabadi.
2. Indians, bachelor or otherwise, are people least satisfied with their names. Everyday there are many Indians announcing that they have changed their names.
3. Do not entrust Filipinos with the safekeeping of anything valuable. They have a tendency of losing their passports. On any given day, there would be a number of them announcing the loss of their travel documents.
4. Doctors and nurses are a very optimistic lot. They presume they can swap their jobs in remote desert locations with people from the same profession working in bigger, more livable, cities.

There are also 'wanted' ads, looking for people to fill vacancies. Usually they require the prospective employee to have some training and/or experience and a 'transferable iqama'. I know that iqama means residence permit/document required by all expatriates, but I don't know what transferable means in this context.

Recently there was an advertiser looking for a trained chimpanzee. Chimpanzees are not native to the Kingdom, so I am sure all prospective candidates will be expatriates. No mention was made of transferable iqamas, though. I wonder what kind of training the advertiser is looking for. Eating bananas? Climbing date palms? Spitting in the face of onlookers? I mean, what sort of functions do chimps perform, apart from monkey business?

Photo credit: patries71

trip to riyadh

My family has not joined me yet. When I call home, my younger son, aged seven-and-a-half, always asks me if I have seen any camels. I have to explain to him that contrary to his expectations, there are no camels inside the cities here. He is used to see cows, goats and horses strolling free along the streets and grazing in the fields in our city, so it is hard to convince him. My consistently negative response to his queries over the past two months was probably making him wonder whether I really deserve the high opinion he has about me.

I have finally put his doubts to rest. I recently made a trip to Riyadh by bus. It was an evening bus, so I didn't get to see much of scenery on the way. But I boarded a daytime bus for the return journey, and sure enough I spotted lots of camels along the way. I called my son and gave him the news. My status as the most amazing man in the world is no longer under threat.

The SAPTCO (I guess that stands for Saudi Arabia Public Transport Company) bus that took me to Riyadh was a 'VIP' bus. The bus that brought me back was an ordinary one. The fare of the former is almost 150% that of the latter. It has fewer seats, and food (a sandwich and an apple) and beverages (juice and tea/coffee) are served by an attendant on board. Otherwise there is not much difference. The drivers are careful and polite.

I had been warned not to hire a car/taxi, as the drivers have a tendency to cruise at suicidal speeds putting the lives of their passengers and themselves at risk.

Photo credit: kevin (iapetus)

this is a book, in case you don't know

This is the second time that I am going through an extended period of residence in a country where language is a handicap for me. My earlier stay in Japan was easier, because I was enrolled in a language class where I learnt rudimentary expressions used in day-to-day life in Japan. Never mind that the only people who undersood my Japanese were other students from the same school. I tried my newly acquired skills on some Japanese and they apologetically informed me that they didn't speak Greek.

But here in Saudi Arabia there is no such arrangement for us to learn Arabic. I can only rely on what I had learnt at high school. We had two years of Arabic education. I think one of the books was called Alkitabul Jadid (the new book). I don't remember much of what I had learnt. There were sentences like 'attilmizu swalihun' which means something that I can't remember. There was also the sentence 'haza kitab' which means 'this is a book.'

Unfortunately, such knowledge of Arabic is not only inadequate, but also of no practical use. Try to imagine a situation where I might be required to inform someone that 'this is a book'. I can't think of any. If, in fact, I try this phrase on someone, the person spoken to would at best have pity on me, assuming that I have gone nuts; or, in the worst case, take it as an insult assuming that I think he is an imbecile who can't tell a book when he sees one.

I would rather keep my mouth shut than utter inane phrases in Arabic. Khalas.

alternative use of garments

The Iraqi journalist attending the Bush press conference in Baghdad demonstrated an alternative but effective use of footwear. Saudi men wear sandals most of the time, which may not perform as well as missiles aimed at detested foreign dignitaries. But they have their own imaginative ideas about unconventional use of garments, as reported in two news items in The Arab News of 1 December, 2008.

In one incident, a prisoner sentenced to jail for drug trafficking hanged himself from the prison window while the guards and other inmates were busy praying. The man used his ‘ghutra’, the head scarf worn by Saudi men, to end his life.

In the other, more bizarre incident, a Saudi patient in his 30s went to see a doctor at a hospital. The doctor, a 56-year-old Egyptian national, refused to see him because he did not have referral papers from the hospital administration. Such impertinence infuriated the Saudi. So he locked the door of the room and began to beat the physician with his ‘igal’, the headband worn by Saudi men. Hospital staff and other patients who heard the screams of the doctor and his nurse broke the door open to save the poor doctor. The irate patient was later arrested by police. Good thing he wasn't wearing a belt.

street with no name

I have rented a house. Unfortunately, it does not have an address. If you want to call me I can give you my phone number, if you want to send an email, I'll give you my email address, but if you want to visit me at my house or send me a snail mail, sorry, I can't give you an address.

I scanned the form lease deed in Arabic that I had signed but found nothing that resembles an address. There is no number on the building and no sign on the road revealing its name. I hear that this is common in Saudi Arabia. Most people rent post boxes for their mail. People give directions to their homes from well known landmarks. Turn left after the mosque and then right at the third intersection and then left after the pharmacy and my house is the fifth one on the right, or something like that.

This is a big inconvenience. I am buying furniture at stores and cannot give an address for delivery. Instead, I write down the nearest landmark and my mobile phone number. When the van arrives at the landmark, the driver calls me and I have to direct him to my home, which is not an easy task when do not share a common language.

I thought maps might help. In Japan, every house has an address, but since the roads are not always neatly arranged, finding an address can be difficult. So they rely a lot on well prepared detailed maps. I prepared a map of the area surrounding my house with the landmarks marked. But the delivery people, it seems, are not accustomed to reading maps.

For a telephone connection, I was told I need to give the telephone company my water connection number. I was confused because I could not see any relation between telecommunications and water supply. Now I know that the water meter number, which is prominently displayed on the water meter and visible from the road, serves as a surrogate address. If you can get to the general location of a house, you can track it down by looking at the water meters.

So if you want to visit me at my place, let me know and I'll give you my water meter number.