Monday, March 08, 2004

CLasses in the Kingdom

A capital offense in Saudi Arabia is mysticism; that is, folk cures, bells, books and candles are not only forbidden, but anyone caught practicing magic will have his or her day in chop chop square. Weekly decapitations is a much anticipated event and one of the few events in this country where crowds are allowed to gather. New Age? "Well, for one, they sell candles and incense. . ." what else? "You can buy greeting cards and nice stones like geodes." I was surprised the book police allowed it.

Of course the pragmatic Saudis schooled in concepts of real politik and international trade are still hoping for the best. But it is that conservative element again who are giving no ground. They seem to have developed a seige mentality and they've circled the wagons. Hence, the 60 mm German MGs and 22mm guns posted around my compound's barricades of concrete and concertina wire.

I teach soldiers--enlisted--the rank and file, sons of the great unwashed not-so-silent majority. This isn't a matter of defending their faith; it is a matter of ridding the world of infidels (with extreme prejudice) because what's been drilled into them is that in the best of all possible worlds, tending one's own gardens is passe. Saudi Arabia is a freakish country made the more freakish by its veneer of modernization. The abuse of women is appalling and this one issue alone, in my immodest opinion, makes it one of the world's largest pariah states and should receive no less than those sanctions imposed on Libya or South Africa.

J. seems to have been blessed with a contented character. I am sure he prays daily, asks for nothing in prayer but protection of his wife and children who are not here with him. J. was on one of the Riyadh compounds that was bombed last May. The explosions broke windows in his house. S. is a pariah. He won't stop talking about himself. Worse than that, he won't let those around him stop listening. How can this fellow not be aware that a person who won't make eye contact and who only lets out an occasional, non-committal grunt hears only static? With my face hidden behind a book, how can he not understand that I wish him to shut up? I am not listening to him when he is talking about his ex-wives, talking about his last job, talking about his hobbies, about where he's been, why he only goes out with women half his age, how many important positions and how much prestige he's previously held. Yesterday, I returned to the office. J. hadn't returned from class. S. looked busy highlighting exercises in a book. There was a comfortable moment of silence that lasted 15 seconds before S. asked me, "So where do you think you'll go your next time out?" "I haven't decided." I mumbled then buried my nose in a book. "Me? I've decided I'm going to the United States for several reasons, and I'll tell you why." he began, gorging himself on that defenseless moment of silence.

One day fades into the next. I need to believe that what happens next will be different. This is what has always sustained me. This is also why routine brings on decay. I have always and will always choose change over survival.

I sit in an office waiting for classes to begin, thirsting for patience. Two years on this job means early retirement to Hua Hin, Thailand. That's how long most fellows stay. It's a matter of remembering what I will want versus what I want now.

Unlike every other country on the planet, Saudi Arabia suffers from a lack of female energy in the work place. At work there is no sense of life, sense of self, of death or regeneration. It is all male contempt for one another and quiet competition to lead the pack.

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