Back in Saudi

When I arrived at the Dammam airport, as usual (it is beginning to seem), they took my passport, told me to get my luggage and come back to wait. What’s wrong? Is something wrong with my visa? Just wait, five minutes. I wait. And wait. I refuse to sit down out of defiance. He said five minutes. This seriously annoys me. It’s because I’m a woman traveling alone. Another officer finally arrives and looks through my passport. Husband? No husband. Who you work for? I’m a teacher with ISG. Where you going? Home. Al-Khobar. Company here pick you up? Yeah, sure. (I’ve learned to say yes. Last time when I said no, that I was taking a taxi, it took twice as long with more officers coming and being told I can’t take a taxi alone.) OK, OK. They let me go. This only took 20 minutes. In August it was 45. Another white, single woman is being treated to the same.

The taxi sped along the freeway at 120 kph, then suddenly the driver hit his brakes and started to quickly cross over 3 lanes of traffic to the shoulder. There was no road block, so I had no idea what was happening. He got to the shoulder and nearly turning his car toward the desert, he started laying on the horn and shouting. There on the side of the road, a herd of camels sauntered along only a few feet from the road. The Saudi taxi driver honked and shouted and moved to the next closest camel, trying to scare them away from the freeway. As we sped away, he got on his cell phone and called the police.

He made several other phone calls on the way home. With one hand holding the phone to his ear, his other hand was needed for two purposes: holding the steering wheel or gesturing to the person on the phone. Often it was the latter.

I’m back in Saudi.