meet the muttawa

Last Wednesday we had our first brush with the Muttawa, the dreaded religious police of Saudi Arabia. My wife and I were walking down the street in a shopping district looking for a shop to buy school uniform for our kids. At one road intersection, we were waiting with a crowd of pedestrians for the traffic to stop so we could cross the narrow, one-way street. A four-wheel drive vehicle pulled up and allowed us to pass. I was surprised and pleased because I don't see such gestures here often. I raised my hand in appreciation without noticing who was at the steering wheel. Once we were across the street, I heard someone yelling from behind. I turned around and saw it was the driver of the four wheel vehicle. The only word I understood from what he was saying was 'madam'. I had never seen a Muttawa before, but I had no problem recognising that this was one, and I knew he was exhorting my wife to cover her head. I waved at him and told my wife what it was about. She promptly covered her head with her scarf. That satisfied him and he drove off to find other deviant souls to save.

15 minutes later we had finished our shopping and were returning to our car when the loudspeakers of the local mosque blared out the call for prayer. We saw the same Muttawa drive down the street exhorting the people on the streets to go to the mosque (I guess).

I have read so many horror stories involving the Muttawa in the newspapers here, I was hoping I would never come accross one of them. I am sure, though, that the bad publicity they received is only due to a few bad apples. Newspaper reports also suggest that the government has taken measures to curb the excesses committed by the Muttawa. Friends who have been living here for some time say that the Muttawa have assumed a more low key profile in recent times. I hope it remains like that.

hand shaking between men and women

Among South Asian Muslims, it is unusual to see men shaking hands with women. Most women do not feel comfortable shaking hands with men. The general rule for men is, wait to see if the lady extends her hand. If not, greet her without shaking her hand. Women in public positions are especially keen not to shake hands in public view because that might infuriate the more conservative section in society.

So I was surprised to see, on a number of occasions, men shaking hands with women here in Saudi Arabia. May be, I thought, the men are mahram--fathers, brothers, sons, grandsons etc.

I was even more surprised to see the picture published in The Arab News in its 22 April 2009 edition. The picture shows King Abdullah of KSA shaking hands with the visiting Bangladeshi Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina, who is not wearing an abaya, the black dress every woman here has to wear in the presence non-mahram men. Mullahs in Bangladesh, if they ever see this picture, would be in a fix. They would feel the urge to lambast the PM for touching a man who is not related to her. But criticising her would mean indirectly criticising the man in question, the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, and the leader of a country that strictly adheres to Islamic principles.

I'm sure they will ultimately find out a way to skirt the issue. May be they would discover a genealogical link between Hasina and King Abdullah. Hasina, after all, she has the title 'Sheikh' dangling in front of her name. Now wait till she shakes hands with Manamohan Singh or Barack Obama.

Photo credit: SPA, Arab News

happy new year!

Mid-April marked the beginning of the Bengali year 1416. Last Wednesday there was a small party in Dammam attended by Bengalis from both Bangladesh and India. The program was held inside a compound and we had dances, music and recitation of poetry. I was told to either sing or read a poem. I opted for the latter because that would be a lesser torment for the audience. We had a sumptuous feast--biriyani, tandoori chicken, beef rezala, etc. I enjoyed my first Bengali New Year in the Kingdom. On Friday, the Indian Bengalis had a day-long program at Jubail and some Bangladeshis arranged a mela (fair) at Azizya. I attended neither, but was glad to know that Bengalis here organize so many events to celebrate their culture.

Happy New Year!

family reunion

I had been unable to post anything in this blog for some time. My wife and two children arrived exactly a month ago, and I had been busy with buying furniture, enlisting their names in my residence permit, getting the kids into a school, and trying to make them get used to life here without feeling bored. The last task, fighting boredom, is still a challenge, especially as far as my better half is concerned. To break the monotony of staying at home, I take them to shopping malls and restaurants, and sometimes to the Corniche or to meet friends. But now the monotony breaking routine itself has become monotonous, and I don't know where else to take them or what else to do. Luckily, some of our neighbours (from the subcontinent) are very social and call on us from time to time. They have made the adaptation process of my family much easier.

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