Part 9

The chant of the Imam wakes me gently, I open my eyes and stay in bed until the alarm rings. Various thoughts and scenes are going through my head. The supermarket visit was, as a good friend of mine says, like a window into the life of the local population. You can watch the people doing something ordinary, something banal and learn something out of it, how they work, how they function, how they behave. I was surprised to see beer – alcohol-free in many different flavours that do not exist at home. Several western, among them many German breweries and some Asian ones, sell here their beer in many fruity flavours, that don’t exist back home. Another positive thing I’ve noticed is how civilised and friendly the people are. When the announcement about the shortly commencing prayer time was made, and the lights were slowly going off, the people walked slowly to the check-outs and didn’t rush. The people back home however react differently. I witnessed in various supermarkets, when the announcement about closing in 15 minutes is made, how the crowds run towards the check-outs and try to do their shopping as fast as possible and many are nervous and scream and shout.

Another thing I noticed was that men push buggies and carry children on their shoulders. In many parts of Europe there are talks about effeminate men who have forgotten to be man and masculine. Oh well!

But one fear remains. The fear of looking at women. What do you want to see? Asks my subconscious, there’s nothing to see, they’re veiled! That’s true. But I’m still afraid that if I look at a woman, an Arab of small stature will appear out of nowhere, jump on me, push me down to the ground, scream something in Arab and I’ll find myself in a dungeon on bread and water.   

Images of Riyadh shoot through my head and how clean it was there. Unfortunately that’s not the case here in Ar’ar. You see rubbish on the streets.

Will my luggage arrive today?

When I go downstairs I see the sun shining through the entrance door and the whole hallway is illuminated in a soft orange colour. Outside the air is clear, cool and dry. The ride in the old bus is again a delight and I enjoy every single moment of it. Today I’m going to spend the whole day in the office again.

When I go outside in one of the breaks to have a cup of tea and breathe some fresh air, some passing by students greet and approach me and ask to be photographed with me. An incredible number of BlackBerries and iPhones appear and all the photos are immediately uploaded on Instagram. How was that again with the prohibition of taking photographs? I didn’t know that the Arabs are so technically savvy. You always think of wilderness, desert, Bedouins, old fashioned people, Taliban, Al Qaeda, etc. Good to see that it is nothing like that!

My Egyptian colleague calls the airport and asks the Pakistani guy about my travel bag. He says that it’s still in Ha’il and doesn’t know when I’ll get it. He’ll keep following my case.

At lunchtime we go to the cafeteria to eat. The sign above the entrance says ‘Cafetaria’ hihihi!

As a teacher you can jump the queue, you don’t have to wait with all the students. I do not want to jump queues as I think that that’s not right and would rather queue up, but the students don’t let me do that, ask me to go ahead and step demonstratively aside. I am really touched. My colleagues jump automatically the queue. This looks arrogant with some, while others say thank you and sorry to the students.

The offered lunch is, how shall I put it? ENORMOUS!!! There are two different salads, plain rice, rice with sauce and either with pieces of meat or vegetables, chicken (every day differently prepared: cooked, boiled, grilled, etc.), spring rolls, soup, a vegetable soup that can be either eaten as a soup or poured on top of the food as a sauce, pita bread, dessert, fruit and drinks. All that for only 5 Riyal – something like 80p!!!

We teachers have a separate room for us. It is small and mostly chilly and with bad air, that’s why some of the staff sit outside with the students. Also the management has a separate room at their disposal.

In the afternoon I go with a colleague to the nearby petrol station. There is a grocery store where you can find pretty much everything, except fruit and vegetables. What amazes me are the prices. Although it’s a petrol station market, the prices are either identical or similar to the ones of the supermarket. I have to grin when I notice that a litre of water costs as much as a litre of petrol: 45 Halala – about 8p.

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