Sofitel Alhamra Hotel, Jeddah, Saturday, 1999-02-20 16:00 local (Z+3)
It's Saudi Monday. Their weekend is Thursday and Friday, with Friday the big day religiously speaking. You know, all the fun things: public whippings, hand-choppings, occasional head-choppings, and for audience participation, stoning of adulterous women. A god-fearing society whose religious right is firmly in control, but not so firmly as before and, I predict, for not a great deal longer. Ten years max, maybe fifteen if they get really lucky. Why do I say this? Well, the signs are all around, but I won't take the time to detail them and the politics behind them. However, I will tell you of what to me was a both a sign and a remarkable experience.
In 2013 Saudi Arabia changed their weekend to Friday and Saturday.
About forty-five minutes ago, a Saudi Arab woman communicated with me...and I with her, and it has left me profoundly moved. I know that sounds really corny, but it's true. Maybe in my old age I'm becoming overly emotional, but if so, let it continue. What is so moving, though, is that I think I'm observing the potential collapse and fall of a political-religious system that I believe to be inherently evil.
Anyway, the woman and I were both in line at the single operating check stand at the supermarket across the street. She was number three, I was number four. The man being checked out had a full cart, as did another behind him. She also had a full cart. I had one bottle of Ocean Spray Cranberry juice, and was patiently waiting.
She had on the required black abaya including the black scarf covering head and neck, but she was not veiled. That in itself is a sign of the times here. It's still technically not allowed, but you see a lot of it now. It was a rare sight a few years ago.
Though she did not look at me directly, I could tell she had noticed that I had but one item. Twice she moved her cart slightly sideways, and I wondered if she was trying to indicate that I should move in front of her. But, given my uncertainty, I stayed put. Finally, when the customer preceding her finished, she looked directly at me and with one hand indicated that I should go in front of her. I nodded and did. As I accepted the receipt for payment of the cranberry juice, I turned toward her, nodded again, and simply said, “Shukran,” Arabic for thank you...and she nodded.
You would have to have spent time in this society to appreciate the full import of that small exchange.
Well, on to less weighty things, like the return trip from Delhi back to Jeddah, uneventful except for the pilgrims flooding the 747's lavatories, and that can be a real hazard as it leaks to aircraft's lower compartments, especially the forward lav as the E&E, the electrical and electronics compartment, is below it. Islam requires that Hajj pilgrims wash their hands and their feet before praying. Their preferred method of doing this on board an aircraft is to take a bottle of water into a lav, open it, lay it on its side, and quickly wash their feet as the water pours out. A sign in six languages posted at each lav tells them not to do this, but the Indian pilgrims are an undisciplined lot, and they do it anyway. We didn't have this problem on the Indonesian portion of the Hajj. They were more disciplined, and we had the advantage of having Indonesian flight attendants aboard that knew how to handle their own people. On Indian Hajj flights we have only our flight attendants and two Indian language interpreters. Except for the Nigerian Hajj, flying the Indian Hajj is considered the worst of those Hajjs that foreign aircraft fly.
Anyway, the purser came to the cockpit to say the situation was getting out of hand, so I made a very stern announcement that the practice must stop and then backed it up with a quick tour of the main deck. Talk about a mess. The very aft lavs were the worst; in addition to the pooled water, they were filled with vomit. I came back to the cockpit and made another announcement, telling them that if the water caused any problem at all with the aircraft's electrical system, I would have to land the aircraft short of Jeddah.
About an hour later the purser came to the cockpit and said the flooding was starting again and requested permission to lock the lavs, and we did. After that, anyone needing a lav had to be let in by a flight attendant, who made sure they didn't have any water with them.
A little more about Saudi's potential collapse. One of their fears is that ex-patriates could overthrow the government. After all, there are as many ex-patriate workers in Saudi as there are Saudi workers, and it is the ex-pats that physically run the country, that provide all the infrastructure. The Saudis do very little as they are neither knowledgeable enough nor inclined to do much. Ex-pats organizing as a political force that could strike and thus stop basic services is a real fear. That, of course, takes organization, and to prevent such organization, ex-pats here are prohibited from traveling within Saudi Arabia. Depending on your nationality and who you work for, you may be restricted to within just a few miles of your work and living place.
Now, however, the ex-pats have a means of communication that can allow organization even though they can't physically move about the country: the Internet. And that's one of the reasons Saudi has heretofore prohibited Internet access, but that has cost them dearly in business and national prestige, causing them to be portrayed as backwards, and they hate that. So, they have made the difficult decision, to Internet or not to Internet and they are going to allow it.
When we lived here, I frequently told C.J. that in the end, technology would destroy them. I am rarely right in predicting the future, but I think I will be on this.
Okay, time to see if I can get through the Hotel and Saudi phone system once again and log on. Everybody take care...Terry