The Ayjooza* News Network: Faster and More Accurate Than Al-Jazeera?

Before leaving America to come and live in Saudia, I met a woman from my husband's neighborhood in Al-Hassa who'd come as a travelling companion for a Saudi princess. During a pizza party with the princess, we chatted for a bit. This woman from the other side of world already knew all my business before she'd even stepped on the plane. At this point, I hadn't yet met my in-laws in person and this woman wasn't even related to my husband's family nor was she a friend of a family member and hadn't known in advance that she'd be meeting me. So, how on earth did she already know so much about me?!

You know you're a Hasawia (female Hasawi) when you know who your new neighbor is, what their dirty laundry is, and any and all gossip associated with them before they've even moved in.

Information passes through old Hasawi neighborhoods at a dizzying speed. This may be the reason that basic DSL connections are still under 1mg in the country…old women's wagging tongues far exceed the download speed of even the most modernized server so, why upgrade? Every weekday, there's a long-standing social tradition in the older neighborhoods. Old ladies file out of their houses after 'Asr prayer, sometimes armed with plastic baskets holding vacuum thermoses of hot tea and coffee and a few jingling glass tea cups as they walk to visit other old ladies in the neighborhood. The reason I say "old ladies" is because this tradition is dying out amongst the younger generation in newer neighborhoods.

Cities have expanded and completely new neighborhoods have sprung up in the deserts uprooting people from their old familiar neighborhoods and regrouping them into new, unfamiliar, constructed neighborhoods. Houses are bigger and further apart than in the old neighborhoods making it hard to get to know you neighbors. It's also harder to hear the arguments in the houses next door and you can't casually see their comings or goings without staking them out from your window either. All of the sudden, privacy reigns in the newer neighborhoods. Unlike in the older neighborhoods, you now need to announce your visit well in advance if you plan on visiting anyone to avoid majorly inconveniencing them.

Back in the old neighborhood after 'Asr, the old ladies knock on an open front door or clap their hands to announce their entrance to the residents inside. In many older houses, the magellat, or women's parlor, is located off of the family's living room. This means that the guest/intruder gets to see who's kept up house well, who's kids aren't cleaned up, and whether or not your hair was brushed upon stepping in the door. In order to keep up appearances, many women I know who live in these old neighborhoods sleep until noon then, cook lunch, eat, then rush to make fresh tea and coffee and promptly clean up and shower before the 'Asr prayer hits. If she's running a bit behind schedule, she risks un-announced guests arriving to see her and her house looking all torn up…what gossip fodder that is!

Ladies take a seat in the magellat in front of the a/c and are given a cup of water as they cool off a bit. Not having yet caught their breath and still wiping the perspiration from their faces with the inside of their now flipped-open face-veils, the Ayjoozat begin the day's gossip session with an exchange of pre-determined pleasantries to be said AT each other not TO each in a swift, simultaneous, robotic exchange without an obvious ounce of true concern to their demeanor:

"How are you…how's it going…how's your health…how's the family, good?…how's your parent's?...how's your mom's uncle's wife's father's cousin twice-removed's daughter doing?" (Ok, so I embellished a bit… but that's how it feels sometimes!)

Wedding invitations are like gold to these old women, there's really not much else to do around town. Anyone who receives an invitation with a +1 on it is everyones best friend. Many animated conversations revolve around events at these weddings and filling in the blanks for any non-attendees:

"Oh my God, there was this girl in a half-there purple dress! She was shaking her thang like this and her boobs were hoisted up like that (complete with actual booty shaking and boob-hoisting motions)"

"Ya, but the bride's mom, NO shame! Her hair's cut so short and she's wearing a sleeveless dress like this, at her age! And how's her stomach so flat?"

"Gurl, I heard she had a tummy-tuck and lipo just for the wedding"

"I heard they paid XXXX amount of money for the dress and they got it from Jeddah. And the tagagat** cost them XXX per hour and they were brought in from Kuwait.

"I saw so-and-so. I heard she's hired a lawyer to get a divorce from her husband"

And the beat goes on…

In one afternoon, sometimes 3 or 4 women visit my MIL's house. After sitting at her house for a bit and exchanging gossip, the women leave and many times go on to different houses to visit other friends in the neighborhood. Now it's math time:

4 women visit my MIL's house each bringing with them one piece of gossip to add to my MIL's gossip. After the exchange of gossip, each woman who'd originally had one piece of gossip leaves my MIL's house with 4 new pieces of gossip totaling 5 juicy tidbits. Then, each woman goes on her separate way once leaving my MIL's house and goes to another friend's house with her 5 bits of information where she meets 4 more women at the next house. She then spreads her 5 juicy tidbits to the 4 new women at her other friends house while acquiring at least 4 more juicy tidbits, at least one news bite from each woman totaling 9 interesting news bits for the day (I think). But if this is the second or third house the women at the other friend's house had visited that day, each woman may have more than one juicy tidbit to pass on!

Who from my readers is good at logarithms? LOL!

*Ayjooza= old woman

**Tagagat= female drum players/singers at weddings and parties (hired band)

Disappearing Daisy

I'm the incredible shrinking Daisy!

Fasting doesn't bother me much. I'm an "eat to live" kinda gal anyway so as long as I get a caffeine fix at least once a day, I'm fine. Trouble is, I usually don't eat full meals on my best days- I'm a picky eater (not variety, just the method). I eat enough but it's a result of picking at small amounts of generally healthy food during the course of the day and/or while cooking and I rarely eat a full plate of food at any meal.

I delivered Buddy last Ramadan and wasn't able to make up those days till the month before this, resulting in two consecutive months of fasting. I think that 's why I'm so ready for Eid this year. Since my picking habits have been altered by Ramadan and I'm not staying up the whole night grazing like most people I know, I'm losing my 'womanly' curvesL

Want to follow the Daisy Diet Plan too? It's as easy as this:

1. Fast 2 months straight.
2. Breastfeed an insatiable infant till he sucks the vary life-force out of you.
3. Stress yourself out with trying to write an academic research paper with three children home on school vacation.
4. Make yourself so tired that by the time it's sunset and you're allowed to eat, fall asleep a few minutes after taking your first bite. Then, don't sleep any more than 4 hours in any 24 hour time period.
5. Don't buy any of your favorite bootyfoods from Dammam because it's too hard to go anywhere during Ramadan.

Seeing as how I'm too stingy to go and buy clothes to fit my new Ramadan figure, I'll just have to gain the weight back after Ramadan's finished:P

Good Mourning Al-Hassa

Usually during Ramadan, the streets and shops open and are all lit up as life begins after Taraweeh prayers finish around 8:30pm. Since we haven't bought the kids their Eid clothes yet and time's running out, we decided a few days ago that we'd go out after prayers last night. We picked up some of DD's nieces for the trip and set out before 9pm but, something wasn't quite right.

Daisy: Traffic seems unusually light going through the souk.

DD: What time is it? All the shops are still closed.

Daisy: Prayer's done with, is there something special going on for the Shia today?

Ah yes, this must be the reason. I vaguely recall seeing an unusual amount of black clothing on offer at the markets during the past few weeks.

Shia make-up around 1/3 of the population of Al-Hassa as well as there being small groups of Sufis and almost every denomination of Sunni Islam as well. Because the tenuous tranquility of the town exists at the expense of our Shia neighbors freedom to practice religion and express themselves as THEY deem correct, we Sunnis are usually completely unaware of various Shia customs and religious practices.

Although we Sunnis work, study, and many times live next to Shia Hasawis, the topic of religion is verboten due to its volatile nature and the gag-order that's been imposed on the Shia minority . Sunnis and Shia don't pray together and Shia have their own masjids, labeled "Husaynias", which they go to for prayer but are restricted by the government to announce only the Sunni call to prayer at Sunni designated times over the loudspeaker because it differs slightly from that of the Shia. Marriages between the sects are also virtually unheard of in Al-Hassa and if it does occur, it would usually be a Sunni man with a Shia woman. Due to the lack of genetic homogenization, Hasawis can easily distinguish on-sight which camp one belongs to due to the distinct facial features and mannerisms each group exhibits which may not be apparent to a non-Hasawi observor.

With respect to any Hasawi Shia that may be reading this and to the education of all my readers...I know I'm only touching the tip of the iceberg in my description of the rift that exists between the two sects as well as the ensuing discrimination and although I sympathise with their plight. I won't pretend to completely understand its ramifications as a member of the majority.

Measures have been taken(read "smackdowns") by several institutions such as schools and companies to quash the expression of many Shia religious observations; the most obvious to Sunnis are the various days of mourning which Sunnis do not acknowledge. Due to nepotism, tribe pride, and wastafarians running rife and most times, unchecked, Shia have long been kept out of even the most basic employment by the Sunni majority.

Sound familiar?

Like many minority populations, such as Jews in Europe, this has forced them into self-employment and +90% of the women's souk in Al-Hassa as well as most of the gold-merchants are Shia-owned. The majority of times, speaking from my own experience, this isn't a problem as I observe Sunnis buying from our Shia businessmen without reservation.

Now, back to our shopping trip gone bust:

DD quickly called one of his Shia acquaintances to ask him what's happening...no answer. Then he tries calling one of his Shia-knowledgeable cousins while driving through a ghost-town of a souk. He confirmed that Shia were indeed, mourning the assassination of Ali ibn Abi Talib (RAA), the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet (PBUH) who died on the 21st of Ramadan in the city of Kufa in 661 CE. This is one of several days in which Shia observe mourning but Sunni Muslims in Saudia, although we highly revere Ali (RAA), do not. We Sunnis in Saudia only observe the two Eids within the framework of our religious practice. Had so many shops not been closed for mourning, we would have never noticed/remembered the event.

Determined to salvage the evening, we decided to seek out a restaurant. We will try shopping again tonight but not before we consulted our Shia-"expert" again to confirm the mourning would be finished by then to avoid another wasted trip out. Driving through town armed with our renewed inter-cultural understanding of our Shia brethren, we took notice of the vast amount of businesses closed during peak shopping times. Whole swaths of town were as black as the clothing Shia children were wearing while walking to "Husaynias*" in stark contrast to the Ramadan lights on open Sunni businesses.

DD: "I can't believe I've lived here all my life and didn't realize what was going on!"

Sorry, Can't Help Ya

I have to admit, there are days that I feel bad rousing DD out of bed when I know he hadn't slept, in order to take the girls to school in the morning. Most of the time, it's only because he doesn't have enough self-discipline to go to bed the night before instead, hanging out with his friends and family who've stayed up the entire night. However, there are days when he'd legitimately been working hard long into the night and it's entirely up to him to take the girls to school in the morning, such as today.

Daisy:

(poking an unconscious DD) Yella, goom! (get up), it's time to take the girls to school.

DD:

Aagh, I haven't slept at all for days.

Daisy:

I know, but the girls are all dressed and waiting for you.

DD:

Let them stay home today, I'll take them tomorrow.

Daisy:

Just make yourself get up and take them, maybe you can come home and sleep again.

DD:

Their not even having lessons now, don't bug me, let them stay home today.

Daisy:

Believe me, I wish I didn't have to bug you like this but I don't have any choice, I can't help you out here. It's up to you.

In England, my husband had me as a backup, and vice-versa. As most busy couples, we had an intricate schedule to follow every day based on who was free during the school drop-off/pick-up times. If I was working or had a lecture, it was up to him and if I was on my way home from being out, I'd pick them up. Being a typical Saudi man, he was never at his peak in the morning so many days it was up to me to drop the girls off on my way out.

My ability to drive in England also meant that DD's schedule was undisturbed by other necessities of life like food shopping and general errand running. Being the manager of the house, I could get all the stuff done as I needed, when I needed, and exactly how I needed without having to recruit my reluctant husband unnecessarily for things I could, and wanted to do, myself. As far as he was concerned, food magically appeared in the refrigerator and new clothes appeared in the closets despite him never stepping foot in a shop, something he dreads with every fiber of his being.

Since returning from England, many arguments, too much stress, and a lot of hurt feelings have resulted from this one, core issue which sinks its razor-sharp, rank teeth into almost every aspect of our family life:

I can't drive here.

We're not from one of those families that can easily afford to bring a live-in driver from S.E. Asia to do all those errands I usually did for myself, nor do we want one. Also, we can't easily afford to pay a Saudi driver just for the school runs nor, do we want to. There's no public transportation and a lone woman takes a chance with her safety and moral standing any time she takes a taxi alone. Many teachers here sometimes spend close to half their salaries just to pay some putz to drive them to their jobs and back.

Financial implications aside, does anyone else here agree with me that they aren't comfortable trusting their children with men they don't know anything about?! I fear anything with a penis coming within the general vicinity of my children let alone saying;

"please, take my children with you, alone, every day as long as they eventually make it to and from school. I don't know anything about you or your real history and you could be the world's biggest, most perverted, undiscovered pedophile but I will allow you free access to my children".

There are those who have an old man in the family, who's long been retired, to act as a type of chaperon. Well, that's great if you have one in your family but my FIL is in poor health, deaf, and blind so he can't help out. Some send their maids as chaperons for their kids which is bad as well. You may be putting your maid in a compromising situation, leaving your maid vulnerable to a possible assault or even, her hitting on the driver! There's a reason that in Islam, a man and a woman shouldn't ever be alone together, because Satan is always the third in such a situation.

-

One of my friends brought her maid's husband from Indonesia as the family's driver. Because it isn't proper for her to be alone with the driver, she had to bring her maid with her every day to be dropped off and picked up from her job. If this isn't ridiculous enough in itself, her youngest two children, who stayed with the maid while she was working, had to be hauled along with the maid every day just so my friend could go to work! Needless to say, my friend didn't work for too long with this complicated mode of transport. Because of her not being able to drive herself to her job in educational research to improve this country's deplorable education system, Saudi Arabia lost a well-educated woman's contribution to the betterment of the country.

-

There are those within the country who, when confronted with women complaining that they aren't able to get out and about say, "Stay at home! A woman's place is in the home". Hey, I'm at home sometimes an entire week without even stepping foot out of my house even once. However, necessity dictates that I need to go outside to pick out food (which my husband can never do correctly on his own), to purchase myself and my children clothes, or to visit family members or sick friends. Even the strictest hard-liners can't dispute those requests as legitimate reasons to go out. So every time one of these situations pops up in my home, a dialogue such as this follows:

Daisy:

(to an obviously tired DD) We're out of vegetables, when can you take me to get some?

DD:

I can't today, I'm too tired and tomorrow I have meetings before and after it's time to pick up the girls. Even I don't know how I'm going to manage to pick them up, After I drop off EttaMae (who's school's an hour's drive round-trip) I only have two hours to sit and do any work until I have to pack up and set out again to pick them up. Since school's started I've hardly been able to get any work done.

Daisy:

I wish I could help, but you know we have to depend on you to do this and we don't have any other options. This is food we're talking about my dear, not something that can be put off.

DD: Ok, tomorrow inshallah.

(tomorrow comes and goes and despite my understanding and sympathizing with DD, I'm irritated at the situation...)

Daisy:

(as DD walks in the door from work, trying to still sound nice despite a rage building inside) you didn't get any fruit and vegetables, we've already been out for a few days.

DD: I was too busy and I forgot. I'm too tired now to go out again.

Daisy:

Then don't take me, just try to stop on your way to or from someplace and grab a few things. And while your at it, we're out of bottled water and chicken too...

DD: My God, it's always requests, requests, requests from you.

Daisy: (citing the driver-less, Saudi woman's credo)

I don't have any other choice, what else am I supposed to do?

-

This same dialogue has been repeated time and time again, in houses across the country for many different situations. It's the material for Ramadan tv series depicting a young woman dressing like a man out of necessity to drive, and another women facing honor-killing by her brother for accidently being alone in a car with a strange man.Whether it's waiting anxiously at home praying for our kids to be dropped off unharmed by a total stranger or turning into shrewish nags in the eyes of our husbands in order to procure basic necessities of life, not being able to drive doesn't just affect the women in this country.

-

I'll leave you with a glimpse into the past, at marketplaces in Al-Hassa in the years 1938 and 1947 and the last one from around the same time in Riyadh. This was back when no one in the country drove, unless it was by donkey-cart or camel and towns were so small, most things were within walking distance. Take special notice of all the women, shrouded in black draping from their heads, going about their shopping. They enjoyed a freedom of movement and an ability to do things for themselves that has been stolen from us in modern times. If you'd like to sign the petition via email by sending your name, profession, nationality, and city of residence, for women to be given back this basic freedom, enjoyed by Saudi women in the past, by allowing women in Saudi Arabia to drive, it will be open for some time to come.

-

This first photo from 1938 is entitled "Vegetable and Fruit Vendors" from outintheblue.com. Hey, you there in the photo, can you buy me some while your at it?

This is from Riyadh

Where's My Camera!

Feeling a bit hot under your abaya? Well now there's help. Go out and buy yourself a "TIT" fan!

I think I'd need to read the enclosed instructions to see exactly how to use it 8 different ways although I've already deduced a few possibilities; left of, right of, below, above, or between your tata's.

Are you a non-Caucasian in a far-away country and don't recognize racist slurs in English when you see them? Then the "Darky" watch is for you.

I'm wondering if this is a cruel joke played by the watch-makers or another in a long tradition of linguistic nuances lost in translation (although it's transliterated as "Darky" in Arabic, not translated)

Now's my chance to post some of the pictures that I've been snapping while I'm out and about town. Besides, I don't have it in me to type actual words anyway. A few weeks ago I got to go on another whirlwind tour of Dammam and we stopped at an Applebees to eat. If you remember my issue with Bootyfood, you'll know how special these trips to a western restaurant are.

DD got his wings

Iced-tea, a particularly reviled drink in my in-laws house. Despite her seeing me make it several times, my MIL still makes the same disgusted face every time she sees me pouring tea over ice!

**DD crashes in the booth** Oh, poor baby had to drive two whole hours to get to Dammam! My heart bleeds for you! And apparently, so does my steak...all over my potatoes YUCK!

How the Grinch Stole Ramadan

In imitation of Dr.Suess, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”


This “Daisy”
Before marriage,
Liked Ramadan a lot

But then DD,
Who only eats food from Saudi-ville,
Apparently did NOT!

DD made her dread Ramadan!
The whole Ramadan season!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one knows the reason.
It could be that his gut wasn’t digesting quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his belt’s fitting tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his belly’s not at all small.

But,
Whatever the reason,
His belt or his poo
He becomes the Grinch during Ramadan, and makes Daisy blue
Staring down at Daisy’s food with a sour, Grinchy frown
At the warm, cooked meal below as he tossed a fork down
For he knew every Saudi during Ramadan ate tons of food
And his wife’s low-cal food puts him in a bad mood

“And they’re making lugaymat*!” he snarled with a sneer.
“This food’s not for Ramadan! It’s salad, my dear!”
Then he growled, at his wife he was looking
“I MUST find a way to keep Daisy cooking!”
For, during Ramadan, he knew…


…All the Saudi kids don’t sleep at night, instead,
Would stay up till bright and early. Then rush to their beds.
And then! All night noise! Oh the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That’s one thing Daisy hated more than the cooking, THE NOISE!

Then the Saudis, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast! Not pray more, just feast!

And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

They would start on custard, and greasy, fried samboosa**

Which Daisy wouldn’t cook cuz of the DD’s large karsha***.

And then, they’d do something most important of all!
All good Muslims in Saudi-ville , the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with the Qur’an blaring
They’d stand shoulder to shoulder, and the Muslims would start praying!

They’d pray! And they’d pray!
AND they’d PRAY! PRAY! PRAY! PRAY!
And the more Daisy thought about Ramadan and prayer,
The more Daisy thought, “I’ve gotta grow me a pair!”
“Why, for 11 years I’ve put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop DD from demanding so much chow!”
“…But HOW?”

But hungry DD had a different idea!

An awful idea!

THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL,

AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" The Grinch Laughed in his throat.

And he made a decision “on me she must dote”.

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Grinchy trick!

"I’ll have an attitude problem, I'll act like a big dick!"
"All I need is a threat..."

The Grinch looked around.

But since Daisy’s so mellow, there were none to be found.

Did that stop the old Grinch...?No!

The Grinch simply said,"If I can't find a threat, I'll make one instead!"

So he called his Mom, and his older sister too.
And he told them “From Daisy’s cooking, I’ll soon be dead”.

After whining to his mom, he went to her house to feast!
He devoured so much food, he resembled a beast!

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash.

Why, that Grinch ate every last bit of their hash!

And the one speck of food

That he left in the house

Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.

Then

He did the same thing

At his sisters’ houses
Leaving crumbsMuch too small

For the other families’ mouses!

He stuffed all the food in his big mouth with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned the Grinch, "I’ll make them pity me!"
And the Grinch told his mom, “Daisy’s food really lacked”

That’s how Daisy’s Ramadan got hijacked.

He turned her month into one long cooking spree!

With so much hard work, there’s hardly time for prayer free.

It was quarter past dawn...

All the Saudis, went a-bed

All the Saudis, went a-snooze
This is Ramadan since Daisy wed
It’s been a life of baking! Frying! Chopping!
No energy left, even for Eid shopping!

And the Grinch, with his grinch-belly bloated with grub
Has caused Daisy to bite her nails to a stub.
About Daisy’s cooking he constantly nags,
And of his mom and sisters he frequently brags.
Because of DD appetite, Ramadan’s such a chore
Trying to concoct things she’s never cooked before.
Her culinary creations, the in-laws now abhor
“What a bad wife she is for the son we adore”

And what happened then…?
Well…in Saudi-ville they say
That DD’s jelly-belly
Grew three sizes in one day!
And once his belly didn’t feel quite so light,
You’d think he wouldn’t take another bite.
Rather than grazing all night, he could go and join prayers,
To save his soul and forgo angry Daisy’s stares.

The End

Boy am I gonna hear about this when DD reads it LOL!

Inshallah yours will be a more Islam-centric Ramadan.

*A fried desert traditionally eaten during Ramadan.
** Similar to Asian “samosas”…deep fried pastries with meat or cheese filling.
***Jiggly belly.

Update on the pursuit of my degree

Don't worry...I'm not goofing off. Put the whip back Hema!

I temporarily don't have access to several resources, crucial to my dissertation, so I thought I'd take a few hours break and write something fun for a change.

Update #1: Buddy's fever is gone now and despite how deathly ill he appeared at first, he only got about 2 dozen spots on his body. And his babba decided to shave his head to make his hair grow in thicker.

Update #2: I actually think I may be able to get my dissertation done. At some point, after I'm finished, I'm going to detail the uphill struggle it's been. Unfortunately, it's shared by many mothers all over the world but even more acutely by women in Saudi Arabia.

Update#3: Ramadan is due to start and since I'm trying to finish up my paper, the month is going to be completely ruined for me as well as affecting my family. For all of my non-Muslim readers, just imagine working through Christmas on through New Years while everyone around you is celebrating. It's gonna bite.

I'd like to take a moment to thank Cairogal and Hema for their support with my studies...it helps to have people backing you up:)

A pox on all your houses

If I were a Hasawi, I'd think y'all gave me an eye. You were so jealous at the thought of me earning my Masters that your collective bad will found its way to my family from all corners of the globe and inflicted poor little Buddy with Chicken Pox at the same time he's teething. The result: a naked, drooling, inconsolable, polka-dotted 10-month old baby with nothing but wet towels and ice-packs over him to cool his 104F (40C) fever for the past three nights. I have the night shift when his fever's the worst and must be monitored carefully, and my housekeeper is taking him for a few hours in the afternoon so I can get a few ZZZ's.

This is not conducive to finishing my dissertation!

At least I'm not so arrogant as to really believe that the entire cosmos was nefariously aligned, at the whim of a blogging ne'er do well, just to malign little 'ol me. But then again, I'm not Hasawi.

Desperate Daisy won’t be blogging for a while

As if I haven't neglected my blog enough these past few weeks, now I need to take it a step further. I've been informed by the University from which I haven't technically graduated from that if I don't get my butt in gear and submit my dissertation, they'll give me a zero for it. This means that I'll graduate with a Masters degree with a big, fat, ugly D- written on my transcripts for my accumulated GPA once they've averaged the zero for my dissertation which will negate all the rest of my hard work. Imagine applying for a university lecturer's position like that:

Daisy (to perspective employer at a Saudi University): "Oh yes, I do have fancy, expensive degrees from a well respected and highly ranked English university and would like you to give me an academic position and a fat paycheck every month . "

Perspective employer: "How impressive! May I see the transcripts you're hiding behind your back?"

Daisy: "Is that really necessary? My diploma is really pretty and decorated with an official seal and calligraphy. It's proof that I really did pass…can't that be enough?"

It's now or never folks. Please root for me these next few weeks as I work sleep deprived, with a lack of resources and through the din of my children all vying for mommy's attention. I'm sure I'll get the dissertation equivalent of "Final-itis", the dreaded affliction of students around the world come assessment time, and think of witty and positively brilliant posts to write instead of working on my thesis. If that should happen, I need all of my readers to gang up on me and redirect my focus back onto my dissertation until I've finished to avoid the dreaded "D".

People Watching

"That girl's abaya's so tight I can see the wedgie her panties are giving her", said DD as we sat in the hospital waiting for EttaMae's speech therapy appointment to begin.

"So what are you doing looking at her a** for you twit! What ever happened to "believing men, lower your gaze"?!

I'm not at all surprised as this is DD's favorite hobby right after vegging out in front of the TV: people-watching. And it's not just women he's watching either, otherwise I'd be a bit more uptight about it, LOL! The government hospital is a great place for people-watching and it contains a cross-section of Saudi society with every social/ethnic/economic group within Saudia represented. I'm guilty of people-watching too, although less obvious than DD as its done through my veil, and commenting on some of the more unusual characters that fall victim to our scrutiny.

Daisy- "You don't like men looking at me as I walk past so why do you do it to other women", I asked my ogling hubby.

DD- "Well, I can't exactly beat up everyone who looks at you now can I?"

Daisy- "How would it make you feel if I sat leering at every man that went by", I asked?

DD- "Be my guest!"

Daisy- "Huh?!"

DD- "Let's take a look at the selection in front of us now, shall we. Take this guy for example (pointing in front of him)...he's short, bald and he's got a pot-belly. Men, in general, are ugly. Women are much better to look at."

Daisy- "Yeah, but you're looking at it from a man's perspective. Try looking at it through a woman's. Do you think I've never been out walking somewhere and had a "WHOA BABY" moment when seeing a good-looking guy?" ***but of course immediately diverting my eyes and neeeeeever leering;)*** "You do realize there are good-looking guys out there, right?"

I'm not sure if DD thinks that a magical spell was cast on me at the signing of my marriage contract which only gives me eyes for him or what! The man is obviously delusional or else he's depending heavily in my piety:)

me- "Didn't your mom every give you a "it's not nice to stare" lecture when you were a kid?"

DD- "No, can't say she did, it's just kinda understood when you get older I suppose."

me- "Uh, ya think? It doesn't seem as if you reeeeeally understood all that well, wouldn't you say!"

Maybe next he's gonna claim that men just can't help staring.

I won't be in town to respond to comments so converse amongst yourselves for a bit:)

Government Warnings About Skin Bleaching

What a coincidence, weren't we just talking about stuff like this in the comments section of my last post? Seems like enough women have fallen victim to whitening "treatments" in salons that something had to be done about it. Today, two pamphlets were stuffed under our door compliments of the Saudi Food and Drug Authority. One warned the nation's women of the dangers of these "whitening" procedures done so frequently now, here's the English summary of the pamphlet and here's the full Arabic version.

I have one childhood friend in America who was diagnosed with skin-cancer before the age of 30 from trying to bake her beautiful porcelain skin into a "California glow" and I've got Saudi friends on the road to Cancerville from trying to bleach their tanned-by-God skin. I remember the reaction we all had in my high school history class when we learned how European women in the 1700's used to eat arsenic wafers to kill off the hemoglobin in their blood to make themselves "whiter" as well as applying layers of arsenic and lead-filled powder to their bodies. Apparently we haven't evolved as far as we thought.

I won't be in town to respond to comments so converse amongst yourselves for a bit:)

Um Kisha

*Kisha- an adjective describing hair texture which lacks a direct translation into English, but falls somewhere between fuzzy, wiry, nappy, or kinky.

While doing a dissertation on "Lawrence of Arabia" a few years ago, I came across a passage in which T.E. Lawrence talked about how reviled curly hair was to the Arabs he came to know and the extents one would go to in trying to rid oneself of the unattractive feature. Apparently things haven’t changed much in a century.

I’ve watched women lay their heads down on ironing boards and iron their hair. I’ve taken desperate sounding Saudi friends to Afro/Caribbean salons in England to interpret for them as they get their hair relaxed and their pocketbooks fleeced. I’ve comforted someone close to me as she cried for days because the straightening treatment she did to her hair caused it all to break off starting an inch away from the roots. “Dark and Lovely” is sold most everyplace hair-care products are and even the kids’ version is available. Brylcream is purchased by the gallon and Vaseline is apparently great on hair too. Hours upon hours are spent with hair dryers and straightening irons trying to smooth wavy, curly, and wiry locks.

In a past post, I’ve already mentioned part of MaryJo’s inheritance from me…my hair. Although far from its former glory, my hair possesses a much sought after feature amongst Arab women…it’s straight. Smug little MaryJo struts her stuff knowing that in everyone’s eyes, she’s got straight, shiny, ideal hair like this advert:

Then there’s her younger sister, poor little EttaMae, aka Um Kisha:

So... what to do about it?

I hear constantly… “Adeli kishat-ha” (fix her fuzzy hair) coming from my in-laws mouths. Last night they were telling me to chop it all off. No one wants to be seen out in public kisha or with someone who’s kisha. Because her hair is baby-soft and ridiculously thin, hair creams and oils won’t do and makes her look like an oil tanker leaked on her head. No chemical treatments for my baby so park the “Dark and Lovely” back on the shelf. When I went back to America I tried all the standards like Pink Lotion and Frizz-Ease…nothing! I spend a lot of time hovering dangerously close to a wiggly, impatient 7-year-old with hot hair-styling equipment on Eid mornings just to have my work destroyed after 5 minutes of play.

Then last year, I got a great idea…

“When I go to the States I’m gonna get EttaMae’s hair braided”, I told my husband.
“What do you mean “get it braided”, go and braid it yourself”, he replies, thinking I mean I’ll put a braid or two in her hair like normal.
“No, I mean braided all over. I lack the talent and the patience to do it myself so I’ll get it done while I’m at my sisters. I’m sure she knows someone who does it out of her house so I don’t need to pay salon prices. I’ll take her when we first get there then she’ll keep them in till it’s time for us to come back.”
“Oh no, don’t do THAT to her hair”, he says with a disgusted look.

Hmmm, struck a nerve.

So, braids are out of the question for my Um Kisha.

My sister is thrilled with the new tracks she just got. She’s a big fan of falls (those fake ponytails) and had several lying around her house which at first glance, looked like sleeping animals on her dresser. I’m glad she’s found away to deal with her troublesome hair and although I’d like to be able to tuck the kisha away underneath fake hair…we can’t do it. Muslim women are not allowed to wear “false hair” because of how Jewish women used wigs instead of truly covering their hair. So after a summer in the States of going natural and sporting a ‘fro on top of her head that rivaled anything from the ‘70’s, we came back to Saudia and many hours of wrangling her kisha hair into submission.

I know in the past, young Gulf Arab girls used to wear several thick braids in their long hair kind of like this:

Even Bedouin men wore their hair in two or three braids. It was kinda a unisex hairdo…the Pocahontas braided look. Today, young girls may wear a ponytail with several braids in it, but non wear their hair down with braids. Way back in the days of the Prophet (PBUH), some women used to wear their hair in what was described as, “closely braided”.

Book 003, Number 0643:
Umm Salama reported: I said: Messenger of Allah, I am a woman who has closely plaited hair on my head; should I undo it for taking a bath, because of sexual intercourse? He (the Holy Prophet) said: No, it is enough for you to throw three handfuls of water on your head and then pour water over yourself, and you shall be purified.
(Sahih Muslim)

Braiding seems like the most sensible option but despite its history in this area, no one does it now. Instead, all the “Um Kisha’s” of the country prefer the seemingly endless applications of chemicals and electrical appliances. I guess healthy, braided hair is old-fashioned.

Update: Thanks to everyone for the numerous suggestions on how to manage EttaMae's hair woes. I'm working through them one at a time to see what works best at taming my girl's wild hair and will post the winning solution (and I hope there'll be one) in a future post:)

The Great Abaya Debate: Head vs. Shoulders

My readers from outside of the Kingdom cannot possibly understand the time and passionate debate that Saudis devote to this issue. Families quarrel over it, marriages dissolve over it, women have been damned to hell by clergy for it and signs have been hung in public about it. Never since the days of "tastes great, less filling" has there been a public debate of such mammouth proportions: should the abaya be worn from the head or shoulders?

Many non-Saudi people are now asking themselves, "why don't they get rid of it all together"? Trust me, the abaya's extinction ain't happening any time soon. For well over a decade now, what kind of abaya a woman wears is like wearing a public advertisement of her moral values, level of religious dedication, and ethnic background.

I established from before the time I got here that I wasn’t going to wear a "head" abaya. I’d been forewarned by my ‘bad-girl’ Saudi friends about how awkward and uncomfortable they are so my decision was made before I got here. To make matters worse, my mother in law bought me a head abaya and sent it with my husband preceding my leaving America. I gave this monstrous, heavy black tent a test run and it turned me sour. It was much bigger and heavier than this one:

Upon arriving here the first thing I did, while wearing that big ugly heavy abaya from MIL was go to the souk and place an order for a "shoulder" abaya to be made for me. I had to be advised as to what the local styles were so that I wasn’t pegged as a foreigner or weird looking just by the sight of me. I never got one of the really skinny or showy abayas, I always had them cut very wide and flowy as well as forgoing all the sparkly crystals and embroidery. There was a catch…I was pregnant. After a few months my baby belly became really obvious so I decided to return to a head abaya so I didn’t look like a black python who’s trying to digest a whole rabbit. I went and had one made with lighter fabric than the one my MIL sent me, no zipper or snaps down the front (old-fashioned), and a slimmer design like this one: I found out it wasn’t so bad. It’s actually cooler than the shoulder abaya. After wearing it awhile I was mostly unbothered by it (except getting in and out of the car with baby stuff). I cooled down even more by forgoing the rectangular scarf under it all, just wearing a three-piece face veil with no scarf under it all. Mmmm, breezy. Loved it. I found out some unexpected benefits: the flirters all but left me alone.

Perceptions of women wearing an abaya from the head:
-She is a religious woman
-She is a traditional woman
-She is not looking to flirt
-She is modest

- of course she's Saudi

Pros of wearing head abaya:
- Judged by others with the above listed criteria
-If I put my hand up to the a/c vent in the car I’ve got a central cooling system that goes up my sleeve and all around inside my abaya.
-No/less flirters
-I can hide friends underneath my abaya with me…no joke, I did this at a wedding once with a friend who couldn’t find her’s when the groom was going to enter.
-Easy to breastfeed a baby under. The whole kid fits under there and people maybe wouldn’t even guess the kids there.
-Don’t worry about a big, huge, pregnant belly. You’ll still look pregnant but it’s not that obvious…you could just be fat.

Cons of wearing a head abaya:
-Hard to look left/right, up/down without the stupid thing needing to be either held on or readjusted.
-Once you get up from a seated position you gotta hoist it back up onto your head.
-Hard to carry stuff on your shoulder (purses, baby bags) without yanking it off your head.
-Can't manage carrying a wiggly baby/toddler with all of the above issues.


Perceptions of women wearing an abaya from the shoulders:
-She is modernized
-She’s a “bad” girl
-She’s rebellious
-She’s young
-She’s irreligious
-She MUST be looking to flirt


Pros of wearing a shoulder abaya:
- Unobstructed movements including looking around, getting up and down from seats or in and out of cars.
- Carry as much as you can.
- These two pros are ALL I need to prefer a shoulder abaya

Cons of wearing a shoulder abaya:
-Although maybe ok for a teenager, looked down upon as undignified for anyone older than that. -All of the perceptions listed above.
-Here comes the flirters.
-Stuffier
-Cant breastfeed as discreetly as with a head abaya.
-You look weird very pregnant.

Considering I've had several Hijazi friends that don't even cover their hair, I know that these issues may have already been dealt with long ago in other parts of Saudia. But here in Al-Hassa, the debate still rages on. Attitudes can vary drastically with regards to what's appropriate, even within the same family. My husband prefers for me to wear an abaya from my shoulders, although I'm the only woman in his family who does. Unfortunately due to public perceptions, the choice is not necessarily one based on beliefs but rather, on what the neighbors are gonna say about them.

All images were taken from www.essenceofblack.com

More American Hasawis

We have a new friend that we've welcomed into the fold of the SBB (Sunday Bitching Brigade). The first thing I did was introduce myself then convince her to read my blog when she got home that night. Poor dear, I got her hooked on blogging now too. She's just starting up so keep an eye out in the near future for posts... if she's ever able to put down her adorable twin baby girls to type:)

From the new blog Camel Crusher :
Welcome to my blog. I hope that you will find my stories interesting. I know I have believe me. I am here to create the picture of an AMERICAN wife, married to a Saudi. The ups and downs, acception, denial. Top 10 of Saudi Arabia. Driving to Dammam, Khobar. Spongebob Squarepants...lol

Al Hassa, Hoffuf, SA

Hasawis And Their Seeds

When I first took my furnished apartment upon arriving to Saudia from America, I found a stick-on bindi left over from the previous tenants embedded into the seemingly clean short-piled carpet. From this bindi, I had accurately guessed (later to be confirmed by my new neighbors) that the former tenants were Indian as wearing a bindi is an Indian thing to do. I wonder if the people who took the apartment after us guessed accurately that Hasawis had lived in the apartment upon the discovery of discarded seed husks which had remained deeply buried in the carpet fibers, unseen to my eyes as I cleaned, which tend to pop up one at a time during successive cleaning sessions.

From a previous post- tips on spotting a Saudi Hillbilly:

#1 You know you’re a Hasawi if there’s a pile of chewed-up spit-out seeds shells on the ground next to you.
#12 You know you’re a Hasawi if you must have a bag of seeds, della of tea and beyalas to “travel” to Dammam. (Dellas are vacuum thermos flasks and beyalas are little glass tea cups).


My first days with my in-laws, they stayed with us in the temporary furnished apartment that we’d rented for a few days to welcome me to the family. On the first night, they came with vacuum thermoses of tea and Saudi coffee and distributed plates of various toasted and salted seeds such as sunflower and melon seeds. They sat sipping tea, chatting, laughing, and putting handfuls of seeds in their mouths.

I watched in silenced shock as my new family members deftly maneuvered the seeds around their mouths with their tongues to crack open the shells, extract the inside of the seed, and move the empty shell to the outside of their mouths leaving the husk dangling from their bottom lip waiting to be orally projected out onto the floor in front of them- all without the use of their hands. It was reminiscent of watching those large parrots at the pet store eat their seeds, cracking them open with their beaks and extracting the inner part with their tongues.

Within a half hour of the first seeds being consumed, the living room floor was filled with discarded seed shells which then became embedded into the bare feet navigating through the shell piles. This facilitated the migration of seed shells throughout the entire apartment as they resettled on the previously immaculate carpet once shaking free of their podal vectors. There wasn’t a corner left unmolested by a seed’s presence in the entire apartment. Several times during my in-laws stay, the husks were swept up by a hand-broom (as I hadn’t yet been able to buy a vacuum) once seed-appetites had been satiated for the evening only to have a fresh coating redistributed during the course of the next tea/chat session.

This was my introduction to Hasawis and their love of seeds.

Previous to coming to Saudia, most of my Saudi acquaintances had been either Hijazi or Najdi. People from all different parts of Saudia eat seeds, although not necessarily in the manner previously described. What sets Hasawis apart from the average Saudi seed eater is the frequency and amount of seeds that are eaten as well as the manner in which the husks are disposed of. Although I have seen many Hasawis delicately remove the empty seed shells from their mouths with their fingers and neatly dispose of them in a designated receptacle, more prefer the spittoon-style disposal method onto the floor/ground. This irks me to no end- especially if it’s MY carpet!

Keeping in mind that I may be generalizing, I didn’t apply the seed-eating/spitting stereotype to ALL Hasawis. However, year after year of witnessing countless discarded seed husks around town around have confirmed that this is indeed a wide-spread Hasawi convention. Also, I’ve come to learn that some Hasawis use eating seeds as a way to help with appetite control when dieting or to stop smoking. With the exception of peanut shells on the floor of a well-known steakhouse chain, I’d never before come across seed husks when in public. Here are a few locations I’ve seen piles of seed husks:
· friends and family’s cars
· the park
· the desert on the outskirts of town- despite its size there are usually petrified seed husks mixed in the sand.
· in parking lots
· on supermarket floors
· on the ground in the souk
· in the sofa-cushions of just about any Hasawi home.
· at the beach
· outside my children’s schools
· outside the hospital
· in DesertFlowers knickknacks
· inside computer printers
· thobe pockets

There are more, but you get the point.

DD has not only infuriated me with this seed-habit, he refuses to alter it any despite my trying to convince him with logic. Yesterday, while watching the Saudi vs. Indonesia game, he called for the housekeeper to bring him up a plate of seeds. I started telling him he shouldn’t be eating seeds now; Buddy is 8 ½ months, crawling and putting everything he finds in his mouth. I’m worried a broom-evading seed husk could get lodged in his little throat. After he deflected my objections with a look that says he doesn’t give a damn and I’m just nagging, my housekeeper arrived with the plate of seeds. Unaware of my having already reprimanded him, she started chastising him too. Apparently, the middle-ground was reached because by the end of the game there wasn’t a seed husk left on the floor because they’d been respectfully discarded in the trash bin. Thanks DD…and it only took 10 years folks!

So…if when in Saudia you see a pile of seed husks on the ground- chances are, a Hasawis been there.

Indomie Rage

It's time for me to come down from my organic high-horse with a confession to my readers. I've forced gallons of organic juices down my kids throats and carried whole-grain energy bars and raisins in my purse to snack on. I refuse to give my babies formula and only rarely let my kids eat candy. Besides my occasional binges on booty-food, I eat healthy and so do my kids. Oh, how the high-and-mighty have fallen...and fallen straight onto my hypocritical a**:

I've been needing an Indomie fix at least once a day...usually late at night. I get withdrawal symptoms which include grumpiness and not helping old ladies in supermarkets like Hema when she's having a PotNoodle rage:) (all symptoms of instant-noodle withdrawal syndrome)

My housekeeper is the one who got me started on it, and she got my kids hooked too like some sort of Indonesian carb pusher. And the stuff stinks! We all reek after eating it but I can't stop. Is there a rehab for this stuff?

Retiring the oldest working Jawal in KSA

Saudis are obsessed with having the newest and coolest mobiles. Some of my Saudi friends get a new mobile every few months in order to be seen holding only the latest models. Seven months ago, my really cool mobile from England got ruined by water. This isn't hard to do with 3 kids in the house! I quickly had to find something, ANYTHING to put my SIM card into so I wouldn't lose touch with life. Since we didn't have the funds to go out and by a brand spankin new mobile right away, around SR 1,000 ($260) for a reasonably accessorized mobile (which is the only type I like), I dug out an old mobile that hadn't been used in years:

By Saudi standards, being seen with this phone in public is the same as carrying around this phone:

I bought this phone, already discounted, the first year we were in England in the summer of 2001. This was before color monitors were widely used, before there were cameras, multimedia and video on mobiles, and there's not even a polyphonic ring tone let alone an MP3 player! Simply put, it's simple. I could place and receive calls and type out a simple text message.

Six years is the equivalent of a century in technology years and the very next year after this relic was purchased, we'd already moved on to nicer and more advanced mobiles as we did every year after that thanks to new mobile contracts with free new phones included:) This mobile was then destined for a dusty life the junk drawer, never to see the light of day again until we packed up our household for the return trip to Saudia. Before leaving, we gathered all of our mobiles acquired through the years and decided which mobile would go to which family member upon our return to Saudia with this particular mobile reserved for my technologically-challenged mother-in-law. Since we don't have the same deals on phones with new contracts as is available in England and the US, you have to pay for the full price of any new phone outright. This can hurt.

We came back from England bearing gifts of mobile technology for our kinfolk like some sort of Saudi Santa's. My mother-in-law, who can barely manage to dial her home phone and frequently has one of her kids do it for her, accepted her mobile with relief. All her friends had one and now she could be reached when her ride comes to pick her up from weddings and social gatherings. Her happiness lasted exactly two days. Upon going out to the next gathering and proudly displaying that she too now had a mobile like everyone else, the grim truth was revealed to her in a conversation such as this:

"That' a really old model", her friends told her.

"What ever do you mean?", my mother-in-law replies, having previously been blissfully ignorant of advances in mobile technology.

"Well, look at mine. Mine is in color, and I can take pictures, and I changed the color of it and hung these cute little dingly-dangly thingies off of it. Noooooobody carries around old ones like that anymore (said with a disdainful glance at the painfully unflashy old mobile). Have your son buy you a new one since he must be rolling in lots of money now that he's just finished his PhD two months ago."

Rejected and scorned by a woman who doesn't even know what the hell SMS is, this mobile was one again fated to a existence without purpose and a return to the junk drawer. There the phone languished until it came time for me to work in a university here. All of the students had to turn in their phones with cameras into the office and I wasn't allowed to take mine into lectures either for fear someone may take pictures of all these uncovered young ladies. In order to stay connected, I got out the only mobile still around without a camera in it. I grudgingly carried it around the university, constantly having to reassure people who poked fun at my unfashionable phone that it was only used inside the university...my cool phone's in my office.

Upon the death of my cool phone for which I mourn to this day, seven months later, I was forced to once again use the rejected mobile. Even it's name in Arabic is unattractive*, "Al-Aaneed" "العنيد" or stubborn/persistent, because apparently it's to stubborn to die. Every month there was something else that sucked up the salary, making it impossible to buy a new mobile.

Having a cool mobile is crucial here, and even the poorest are clamoring to have nice phones. The line was drawn when I noticed that domestic workers were coming into the country with nicer phones than what I was carrying! Even DesertFlower offered for me to use her phone when out shopping with me one day instead of face the embarrassment of being seen with me while I dialed my eye-sore of a mobile (I know she was just poking fun at me:). Once, upon finishing a nice conversation with one lady doctor in a hospital, I tried to explain that my phone was too old and I didn't have enough battery to record her number in it in order to call her and chat again. She took it as a snub and a hint that I didn't want to be friends with her and left very abruptly, obviously offended.

Al-humdulillah...Finally, since last night, I can return the "stubborn" mobile to the depths of the junk drawer and talk in public without shame:

And since it has a 3 mega pixel camera on it, I no longer have to lug my camera around with me in order to capture visual jewels from around town to display on my blog.

First thing I did was put my WeeMee as the wall paper:

*jawal-colloquial for mobile/cell phone

* many mobiles are given names by the general public according to characteristics that particular mobile embodies.

Science, Abayas, and Thobes

Last week we went on one of our whirlwind treks to Dammam with one destination in mind (at least in DD's mind): the Prince Sultan bin Abdulaziz Center for Science and Technology. We took along two of DD's teenage nieces along with our own two girls at left a whiny, teething Buddy at home with his Grandma, our housekeeper, and an aunt all taking turns trying to console our little 8 month-old prince.

I highly recommend anyone with kids in the EP to go to this place. The kids all had a blast and we enjoyed watching them press buttons, turn levers, and pull ropes. There's many hands on, interactive scientific displays as well as a place for younger kids to play and learn. There's also an IMAX theatre showing educational films which was the biggest hit with the two nieces. Although feeling like I was looking over the edge of a cliff down into a volcano then teetering out a helicopter door was kinda cool in my mind...the two teens begged and pleaded to wait and see the next show as well as any others we could fit in before closing time. I then realized...this was the very first time in their lives they'd ever been to a theater!

Movies aside, one display in the exhibits called "Cooling Down With Color" caught my interest. I was trying to sneak this picture without anyone seeing me since many people here throw hissy-fits at the sight of a camera so my apologies for the blurriness (and this is AFTER I cleaned it up in Photoshop). Just above the picture were two plates, one colored white and the other black. The instructions read as follows:

1) Press the button to heat up the colored surfaces

2) Wait 30 seconds

3) Touch both surfaces. Which is hotter?

4) Which one cools faster?

It then goes on to read:

"Dark colors absorb more heat than light colors. This gives light-colored animals the edge in hot environments."

I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say 1) a man wrote this 2) the man was not Saudi and 3) I'm not the only woman who's stood reading this while wearing a black abaya next to their white thobe-clad husband and had this thought...

"No sh**, Sherlock!"

Hasawi Asses

Well...what did ya think I meant?!

And yeah, that was a mean dust storm going on in the background of those pics, just outside the city on the road to Dammam.

GO TO BED!!!

I remember on several occasions in my youth, sleeping until noon. I also remember how lazy, unproductive and hung-over I’d feel for the rest of the day as a result. No one could ever accuse me of being an early-bird however, I’d usually be up by 9-10 AM at the latest.

I first entered Saudi Arabia in the summertime, during the break from school, almost 10 years ago. Since we’d just moved from overseas, we didn’t have a home of our own and so we lived in the in-laws house. During the summer, the number of people in the house increases as my sister-in-law comes from Jubail with her 4 kids and various other related children come and spend the night. At one point there were 17 family members residing in the house with 5 bedrooms and a couple more children going in and out.

My in laws house is old and built in a traditional way on one floor. The family living room is located in the center of the house with all the bedrooms surrounding the living room. There’s no “yard” like in western homes and the original patio has long been built over to accommodate the growing family on such a small plot of land. The numerous children have no place to go “out” to play so they play in the living room. There are whole soccer games, tag games, climb the entertainment center games, and various other games played out in this small living room as the adults try to talk through the din. This is bad enough during the rest of the year but during the summer, it becomes a type of purgatory to be endured until school starts up again.

Sleeping habits here vary from family to family. Several of our family members allow their kids to be up the entire night until it’s time for them to go to school. They then get dressed and go to school only pass out immediately upon returning home and eating. They then wake up some time in the early night hours after missing all the days prayers and repeat the cycle the next day. Several of my sister-in-laws kids have been caught dozing off in school. Mothers complain about this and about how sleep deprived they are as a result of their children's bad sleeping habits. My response is, “tell them to go to bed” accompanied by a look which says “DUH!”.

This backwards sleeping schedule isn’t limited to children. While teaching at a university here, I noticed several of my students arriving to my 8 AM lectures in full make-up and complicated hair-do’s. For a while I thought, “wow, what time did they wake up in order to pull that look off?” I didn’t take long to figure out that they were waiting to go to bed after my lecture finished at 10 AM. Several housewives go to bed after their kids go to school then wake up at around noon when they come home.

Getting back to my first summer in my in-laws house…

The first few weeks after arriving in Saudia were spent with my new family and of course, following their lead. I ate what they ate, went where they went, and slept when they slept. I had absolutely no choice in what time I slept seeing as how the door to my bedroom was off the living room where the entire family spent their time and the children played till they were worn out. Even when I tried my hardest, I couldn’t sleep at night because of all the noise in the room next to me. Also, my toddler felt as if she was missing out on all the fun and wanted to join her new cousins instead of being confined to bed at night with mom.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-laws would get to sleep some time after sunrise a 5 to 6 AM but the kids (all under age 10 at that time)… still had a few more hours of noisy, raucous play in them. They’d stay awake for at least 3 more hours after adult supervision had given up the struggle and went to bed, doing basically anything they pleased. They go up to the roof and throw things down onto the street below, they’d go to the kitchen and “create” culinary masterpieces, they’d bounce on sofas and use overturned tables for forts and dancing platforms. Being kids, they’d go in and out of their moms room with various complaints and requests waking her to solve their problem. She’d also have to rise to seek out the source of wailing after one of the “dancing stages” gave way and broke under them or they misjudged the distance between the top of the wardrobe to the bed when attempting flight. Eventually around 9 or 10 AM they’d start to wander off to bed one at a time and the house would finally be peaceful.

This type of schedule went on or rather, dragged on till it seemed that I couldn't’t take any more. I constantly had headaches, my toddlers behavior was awful because of the lack of structure, and I felt so down and depressed as a result of being away so far away from everything familiar to me. Eventually, we got our own apartment and I could have things the way I want them right? WRONG! Because our social life revolves mainly around the family, whenever they had get-togethers I have to do it according to their schedules, not mine. The weekly gathering would commence sometime around 9PM and go till 1AM at night. That was fine for them, whose kids had just woke up shortly before they left the house at night but for me and my kid, we’d be sitting there exhausted wanting to go to bed. They’d follow this schedule during Ramadan too. Everyone would sleep after sunrise and not wake up until after 2PM in the afternoon in order to pray thuhr prayer before ‘asr was called and to start cooking for the evening meal. Since sunset was at 5:30pm they’d only do without food for a few hours…kinda like skipping breakfast. Doesn’t seem like fasting to me.

The only exception to this backwards sleeping in this family is the working men. They follow pretty regular schedules. Once when I’d mentioned what time I normally sleep and wake my father-in-law commented, “what are you, a man?”

I spent two whole years like this, going against the grain of my in-laws backwards sleeping schedule. Whenever I’d mention wanting my children to sleep at 8 PM at night on school nights, it was almost as if I were being cruel to them. Then, we went to England where the country sleeps with the chickens. Most places were closed by 6 or 7 at night except for pubs and the weather was so crappy most of the year there wasn’t anything else to do but sleep. This suited me fine but my hubby was still sleeping on Saudi Standard Time, staying up most of the night doing his studies.

We’d come back to Saudia every year during the summer break only to have me counting the days left till we’d go back to England so I could get a full 8 hours sleep. I loved being around the inlaws but since we’d given up our apartment when we moved to England, we were in the family’s house during these trips home with a few dozen feral kids running amok. Summer trips here became hellish with fatigue as well as boredom due to the bad weather. I wasn’t the only one suffering as all the mothers of these wild children complain endlessly about how tired they are. It becomes a type of contest of sorts; “I’ve only slept 2 hours in 2 days”, one will say as another confirms she’s had only one hour more sleep than her. Women are dozing off while sitting and chatting with others and everyone is popping headache pills and drinking liters of tea.

Am I the only one who doesn’t understand this situation. I know not all Saudis do this as many of my friends as well as some family members do force their families to sleep at night, although they are in the minority. Some argue that’s it’s due to the harsh weather that people stay awake at night. This doesn’t make any sense to me because the a/c is working no matter what time they wake and sleep. Also, this is not traditional as many older family members have confirmed. Most people in the past used to be awake all day with a siesta in the afternoon.

As for myself, I’m going to sleep (when I have things the way I want them) around 11 to midnight. I wake for fajr as this is the time my baby wants fed too, and go back to sleep until mid-morning. Most stores open up after 4 pm until around 11 pm so if I need to go and buy something we go out in the evening. This seems to me to be a sane alternative to the sleepless chaos going on in my in-laws house. My mother in-law couldn’t even keep her eyes open yesterday when I saw her because her head was throbbing due to sleep deprivation. Since we’ve had several family activities recently, our sleeping schedule is going much later with me finally getting to bed after I pray fajr (I’m in the process of shifting it back). We have 3 girls spending the night at our house with the understanding that when at my house, they must sleep at night and wake-up mid-morning.

I’ve been saving this post for the summer break only because that’s when I feel its bitterness the strongest. It’s normal, for many places around the world, for kids to stay up later and sleep in during summer break. As many other things in Saudia, this is taken to the extreme!


***sung to the tune of “where’s my little dog gone”***

Oh where oh where has your Daisy gone?
No new posts! oh how can that be?
She’s not sleeping till way past dawn.
“School’s out” means no blogging for me.

I may not be able to respond to comments due to lack of time and a crappy Internet connection...please don't get offended as I do get to see them although I may not be able to acknowledge them online till much later:)