Sometime at
dawn I first hear the muezzin and then the Imam. Listening to them is
beguilingly and I continue my blissful sleep. I have a hard time waking up at
6am when the alarm clock rings and tears me out of my dreams. I haven’t had to
wake up this early for a long time. Now I need to get used to it.
At 7.20am I
walk down the stairs to the ground floor and see a, from the sun orange lit
entrance. Unbelievably beautiful! I pass by the room with the security guards,
greet them and am greeted, and walk out of the building into the fresh and cool
air of the desert. ‘Ar’ar is located to the north-east of Saudi Arabia on
the Iraqi border. Jordan
is also not that far. It is known for its fertile pasturelands which lends
itself well to its principal occupation of sheep and camel herding. The
population of the city, according to the latest official government statistics
is 240,000. ‘Ar’ar serves as a significant supply stop for travellers on Saudi
Arabian highway 85.
The city
was founded in 1951, after the construction of the Aramco oil pipeline was
completed. It was initially an oil pumping station with a health centre and
worker housing. ‘Ar’ar got its name from the original oil field that existed
before the town, “Field RR”, one of the many in the country, which later became
‘Ar’ar. The name Arar means ‘juniper’ in Arabic.
Due to the
desert is the climate very dry and at night quite cool and sometimes below
freezing.
I’m
standing in front of the entrance, looking at the desert, enjoying the sunshine
and the fresh air. The colleagues are coming one by one and we greet each
other. Suddenly a few Africans appear and I wonder who they are. I’m told that
they are the people from the University
of Missouri and teach the
second year students. They are originally from Ghana,
but do their PhDs in the US.
This here, the teaching and training is part of their degree.
Suddenly I
hear a voice coming from one of the parked cars asking:
“Good
morning Theo! You are the new one, right?”
Oh, another
face I do not know!
It’s doctor
Suha. The doc is Turk, has been living in the States for many, many years,
holds two PhD titles and is the leader of the Missouri troop. Doctor Suha is one of the
best people I have ever met. He even gives free hugs to some of my colleagues
and everybody loves him.
Then comes
Mohammed, our driver. We get on a ramshackle Nissan-Bus that is parked in front
of the house and drive off. We drive across the city. On a city-highway though,
but you can see parts of the city and the centre. I am thrilled and can’t get
enough of the views. A quarter of an hour later we arrive at work and spread
out. Some go to the cafeteria for breakfast and the rest into the main building
to the kitchen. There is coffee, tea and bottled water for free and you can
have as much as you want. One more good thing about this part of the world.
I follow Murray into his office
and then into a classroom. I spend an hour watching him teaching the class and
then I get the opportunity to take over and teach the students. It’s not that
easy to keep those young men calm. They are full of energy and life and want to
know quite a lot about me. Also, they seem not to have a desire in having a
lesson, but would rather do something else. Although they are between 18 and 23
years old, I have the impression I have a bunch of thirteen-year-olds in front
of me. But they are funny.
After an
hour, I go back to Murray’s
office. I’ll be doing office duty the next couple of days. Putting student
attendances onto excel spread sheets.
At 3.30pm,
Mohammed the driver comes back and drives us in the same ramshackle Nissan-Bus
back to our residence. Hardly at home, all disappear into their flats.
In the late
afternoon, a few colleagues and I drive to a supermarket. Barely there and in,
I feel amazed from what I see. First, there is an area in which mobile phones,
laptops, tablets, etc. are being sold. A BlackBerry Q10 is 200 Pounds, an iPad
Mini 210 Pounds and an iPhone 5S is less than 420 Pounds Sterling! The prices are extremely low due to
the non existence of taxes. No VAT on products! Can you imagine?
From there
you go into the actual supermarket. Everything comes in large portions and
cartons. Rice is available only in sacks from 5 kilos onwards. Nothing
less, nothing smaller. The 500gr. pack as we know it, doesn’t exist. The
heaviest sack weighs 50 kilos. Washing powder comes in very large boxes, but in
one corner you can find small packaging starting from 90gr up to 200 something.
Bottled water comes in cups
(!), normal bottles as we know them and bigger ones up to 20 litres. I buy 2 of
the 20 litre ones.
Since you
can’t drink tap water and in no case use it for cooking too, you can buy
cooking water in big bottles, like drinking water. The meat counter is lean and
poor. Except mortadella (chicken and beef) in different flavours (with olives,
pepper, etc.), there is nothing else. The same with the grated cheese.
Mozzarella only. Sugar, too,
comes in larger packaging as we know it. At the fruit and vegetable stand you
can, thank God, shop normally. I feel a bit stupid with my three apples and
five oranges among all those Arabs who buy everything in large quantities, but
who cares!? I’m surprised when I discover that there is normal bread too, and
not just pita bread. By the juice, the selection is larger than at home. Here
you can find juice with exotic fruit, like guava.
I need a
bit longer than my colleagues, not only because I first have to find my way
through the supermarket, but because the Arabic script and numbers give me a
hard time. I find it interesting that there is a counter with nuts, grains,
etc. The tea shelf is stocked richly, but I’m a little disappointed to see Lipton
tea. I realise that people here like Lipton. There was plenty of it in the
kitchen at work this morning. But thank God, there’s not only Lipton, but
there’s Arabic and Moroccan tea too. Even one with German expertise! As I walk
through the aisles I see many women who are alone with no male company, and
many couples. It’s positively to see that the men push the shopping cart and
they decide together what should be purchased.
There comes
an announcement and the lights go slowly off and all ran to the tills. What’s
going on? One of my colleagues sees me and says: “Quick, to the till! It’s
prayer time soon and the shop will close. If you don’t make it on time, we’ll
have to wait until prayer time is over.“
So I make
my way to the checkout and make it in time out of the supermarket.
Everything
shuts here during prayer time. If you find yourself in a supermarket, you
should, when the announcement is made, proceed to the checkout as quickly as
possible. Since the people who run the supermarket know when it’s prayer time,
they make the announcement well in advance, so everybody has the chance to
proceed to the checkout and pay in time. If you do need a little longer, or do
not make it in time, you have to leave your shopping cart where it is and leave
the shop until the prayer time is over and the shop reopens. I read somewhere
that when prayer time starts, all the staff and the people throw themselves to
the ground to pray. This is nonsense and absolutely not true. Who writes this
rubbish I wonder, and why? Whoever wants to pray can go to a nearby mosque.
Restaurants
close too. But not hotel restaurants and hotel cafés. Because a hotel can’t
close, they simply stop cooking and serving during prayer time. But of course
there are exceptions. In bigger cities where many expats live, like in Dammam,
the door of the (western) restaurants is locked, the curtains or blinds closed
and inside is business as usual. There seems that the Mutawa – the religious
police, turns a blind eye. Not so in ‘Ar’ar. There are controls here and hefty
fines are imposed if a shop or restaurant remains open. That’s why most people
go out either in the early afternoon, because the time span between the third
and the fourth prayer is bigger, or they go out after the last one. Shops close
at 11pm, so there’s plenty of time.
I manage to
pay in time and wonder that I have to pay so little. Life here is really very
economic! Despite all the hectic, finds the cashier a little time to talk to
me. He speaks a little English and after he’s asked me where I’m from and what
am I doing here, he welcomes me to the city and to the country. I feel honoured
and touched.
Photograps can be viewed
here (opens in a new window)
