Welcome to the Kingdom - Parts 3-4-5

This is the second installment of a multi-part posting. For the first installment, go here:

http://sparedfromtheshredder.blogspot.com/2008/09/welcome-to-kingdom.html


Continued from installment 1:

-3-
As the aircraft departed Houston’s InterContinental Airport, I settled into the flight, got comfortable and began reading the book on Saudi. I had plenty of time, as it and the connecting flight from Amsterdam would require about 12 hours. I was not encouraged by what I read. I discovered that Saudi Arabia practiced a very strict and conservative, interpreted form of Sunni Islam called “Wahabbism”, or in Arabic “Al-Wahhābīyya”. This dictated all aspects of Saudi society, from men and women’s role in that society, to women’s dress, to the treatment of prisoners in jail.

Saudi jails, it seemed, were nothing more than pits, about 12 by 12 feet and each containing 20 men. There was no food, with the perspective that it was all in accordance with the will of Allah; if it was Allah’s will, someone would bring food to the prisoner; if it was Allah’s will, the prisoner would starve. Of course, in reality anyone who was anyone at all would be spared from this situation. But infidels and others would not be spared. I paused to let this sink in.

What I read was not, in itself, all that disturbing. But the description of how this related to simple altercations such as automobile accidents, in which I might easily find myself, I did find to be disturbing. Apparently everyone uninjured, including drivers and passengers, were immediately carted off to jail after an accident, so as to sort out the “who’s who”. These were released and the others were tossed into the pit. The injured after medical assistance and assessment, were then tossed in, too! The fact that a passenger was not an active participant was irrelevant. He or she, as a passenger was there under the will of Allah, and was obviously a part of the problem. The author quoted State Department officials who recommended that a visitor, if involved in such an accident, should avoid the Saudi police, immediately leave the scene and go post haste to the nearest American Embassy. As I read, my initial excitement faded and was replaced by numerous concerns.

Several hours and 200 pages later, as I finished the first book, my concerns had been replaced by a dread. “What”, I thought, “had I gotten myself into?”

-4-
The flight arrived at Schipol airport and on disembarking I proceeded to the gate area for the continuation of the flight to Dhahran. Overhead, military style police in black uniforms and with machine pistols vividly displayed patrolled the terminal. Observing the hustle and bustle, the airport I discovered was a nexus for all manner of travelers. Arabs, Africans, Westerners and Jews all moved displaying emotions ranging from the sanguine to stern, from one area to another. There was no indication of any of the cultural hatred or disdain that one heard so much about. Apparently the display of the guards was effective. As I walked I saw bars serving beer and flashing lights directed one to the adjacent casino.

I verified my flight gate and time and, after checking my timepiece, rode the moving sidewalk to the gate. I checked my watch again and noted the elapsed time. With this information I returned to the main terminal, stepped up to a bar and ordered a beer. I enjoyed my time there and the people watching. Upon completing my beverage and relatively relaxed, I retraced my steps and returned to the gate, to await the boarding of the aircraft. Perhaps, I thought, I simply had a case of the jitters, and began to ease the fresh memory of the information gleaned from the book to the less accessible parts of my mind. Sure, it couldn’t be that bad. I would simply keep alert, observe the conventions and keep out of trouble. Besides, I thought, in 5 days I would be returning and I would be very busy until then; too busy to get into trouble. Things couldn’t get too far out of hand. As it turned out, my optimism could not have been more wrong and in 5 days I would be just beginning a task as arduous as any I had ever undertaken, and one which would test my emotional and technical limits.

-5-
I awoke from my nap to the announcement that the aircraft was about to cross into Saudi airspace. Eyes partially open, I observed the flight attendant collecting the glasses and bottles containing any trace of the alcoholic beverages we had been drinking. I noticed that the wheeled carts were stowed and locked. This, I surmised, was to respect the Islamic taboo with regards to alcohol. I settled back to my nap as we would be arriving in Dhahran airport at about 12:40 AM local time.

I awoke as the plane bounced in some turbulence and I could tell we were descending. Looking outside the windows, I saw it was dark and I could see lights in the distance. It appeared to be a small city. I tightened my seat belt and braced for the descent.

A few minutes later we were on the ground and as we slowed to a stop I thought, “Well, that was a pretty decent trip; so far, so good”. At the appropriate time and via a stairway I exited the aircraft and walked to the terminal. As I walked I was caressed by the warm Arabic breeze. So this was Saudi Arabia! That bubble burst as I was engulfed by a waft of jet fumes. I continued to the terminal and any notion of Arabian nights was completely and utterly extinguished. Inside the dingy terminal, illuminated by dirty, greenish fluorescents I saw four long lines of weary travelers, waiting for their customs inspection. Any thought of getting quickly to bed was instantly dispelled. I picked up my luggage and joined a queue to wait my turn.

The lines moved slowly forward and after about 30 minutes I heard a ruckus to my right as behind me three young and very noisy and jovial Saudi males, as could easily be determined by their attire, which includes the head gear identifying their tribe, walked past the queues and toward the terminal exit. As I observed the inspection process, I began to see how the system worked. Saudis walked to the head of the lines and through with no inspection. Other Arabs were detained slightly and after the most cursory of inspections, were allowed to pass. Westerners were inspected carefully or not, apparently at the whim of the inspector, but were treated with great courtesy. Non-Westerners who were non-Muslim were treated less civilly; this applied to Indians and particularly to the travelers who I later was told were Philipino. Interestingly, Muslims of certain countries, most notably Pakistan, were treated as lower class citizens.

Slowly the lines moved forward. A young woman, who appeared somewhat oriental, arrived at the inspector. I later determined she was probably Philipino or Malaysian; her lack of a burka veil or other Muslim attire suggests that she was Philipino.

She heaved her luggage onto the table and the inspector, upon opening it, began removing her articles of clothing. He eventually got to her undergarments and, after waving them in the air for all to see, threw those on the table. She was obviously perturbed; he was obviously making a point. Eventually he had completely emptied her luggage on the table. He then waved her ahead. She angrily repacked her baggage and strutted off.

Finally it was my turn. My passport was inspected. Inside, a special stamp, obtained from the Saudi consulate in Houston, indicated that I had a proper Saudi sponsor. Satisfied, the inspector passed it to a soldier standing beside him, who carried it to yet another soldier stationed and a glass encircled desk. Opening my luggage, the inspector gave it a cursory once over, flipped a few articles and closed the zippered flap. He opened my carry case and paused when he saw the books on Saudi Arabia – these had both English and Arabic titles. But he indicated I should close it all up and waved for me proceed to the military desk. Once there, the soldier with my passport opened it and inspected the photo contained within, comparing it to my face. He then turned to the proper page and reviewed the special Saudi Entry Visa stamp it contained. Satisfied, he gave the passport to a second soldier, seated at a computer terminal. On the screen I could see Arabic characters arranged in a neat grid; obviously a database. This soldier also reviewed my passport and then entered some information into the terminal. From a notebook he removed one of many small adhesive strips, upon which were printed characters in Arabic. He placed the strip vertically on the open page of my passport, and after pressing it to assure that it was firmly in place, closed the passport and returned it to the first soldier who then gave it to me. He waved me ahead and as I passed into the general area of the terminal, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was in!

I stepped outside and deeply inhaled the night air. There were many taxis available and that concern was quickly dispelled. I observed cabs of all sizes and shapes, from small dirty Toyotas to large bright yellow Mercedes. I hailed the first that I could get eye contact with and told the driver “Le Gulf Meridien”. I was staying at a four star French hotel in Al-Khobar which couldn’t be too far from the airport. The driver, a Pakistani, looked at me and smiled, revealing his tobacco stained teeth. Off we went!

Al-Khobar, even at 2:30 AM was a bustle. We drove and I drank in the scenery around me. Twenty minutes later we arrived at a beautiful hotel. Upon obtaining my room key at the desk, the bell captain took my bags and I was whisked via the elevator to the 7th floor and to my room. I made a quick inspection and was pleased to see that it had a balcony. Stepping outside, I observed an illuminated, open air swimming pool below. The night air felt full and seductive. I decided to leave the door to the patio open, and returning to the interior of the room, fell into my bed, exhausted, and was instantly asleep.

---to be continued ---