A woman will always welcome a massage which promises to take away all the aches and sores, and I am no different. I recently had the opportunity to purchase a deal for a Hot Stone Massage from Cobone; a website for introducing city-specific deals. This massage was being offered by Laylaty Beauty Centre located in the Khalidiyya District of Jeddah.

My experience started by making a phone call to make a reservation. I made a point to mention that I had purchased the Cobone Deal. I felt that they have kept specific times for such customers, as the lady took her time in giving me an appointment. Truth be told, she was courteous and tried to accommodate me at a date and time which suited us both.

Once the day of my Hot Stone Massage appointment arrived, I reached the Salon fifteen minutes earlier than my appointment. I entered the Salon to an empty reception. There was an office located off-side the reception, where a lady was seated. She was in my full view, as I am sure I was in hers. She did not make an effort to greet me, neither to welcome me. After waiting for five minutes or so, I turned and addressed the lady for assistance. Subsequently, she stepped out of the office and shouted for someone to come and help me. I, as a first time customer, did not like this attitude, and felt awkward to be there. Soon after, another lady arrived, took my cobone (coupon), and called the masseuse to lead me to the massage area.  I was not offered a seat to wait, nor was my abaaya taken away for hanging, as is the norm in most salons here.

Once in the massage room, the masseuse put on soothing music, and informed me about the massage. I liked the fact that she mentioned that she was a trained Reflexology Masseuse, with experience of working in spas in Singapore.

The masseuse already had the stones in the heater, warmed to skin touch. Once she started the massage, she was really good in terms of pressing all the right pressure points, as well as placing the stones on my back and shoulders in a methodological manner. The oil she used was baby oil, although I would have preferred eucalyptus or lavender oil. However, I was not given a choice.

The masseuse went about her work quietly and efficiently, periodically asking me if I was experiencing any pain, and checking to see if the stones were warm enough for my comfort. The massage lasted a good one and a half hour, and consisted of a full body and face massage.

When she had finished, the masseuse gave me instructions to avoid cold beverages, and not to shower until the next morning, as this may create an imbalance in the muscles. I appreciated her guidance, as not all masseuses offer this kind of after-service consultation.

Finally, I returned to the reception, and left soon after. I was not asked for any feedback. If I had been asked, I would have raved about the masseuse.

Overall, even though I was initially put off by the attitude at reception, the skills of the masseuse won me over. I highly recommend the Hot Stone Massage at Laylaty Beauty Salon to my friends and readers.

Hussien Al-Mohasen

May 5th-9th  from 6-9 p.m.

Please RSVP to info@roiya.org

or on http://www.facebook.com/events/369933459724160/

Lamees A. Bashawri

Ro'iya art consultancy Location: Ro'iya art studio, B04, business park, behind Jamjoom Mall, Jeddah

+966 5 5858 4994

Jeddah, K.S.A

For those tuned in to the promise of things, Young Saudi Artists measures some telling parameters in the nascent art landscape of Saudi Arabia.

In its second edition this year in February 2012, the Young Saudi Artists takes on a character of its own as an art event, emerging as a spirited amateur art expo. In the nascent art landscape of Saudi Arabia, this event serves two purposes – it diversifies the range by offering an alternative kind of art experience, casual and more democratized in mood, but in the long-term, it also harnesses an emerging loose end of creative output, which might wither for want of timely mentorship and encouragement. In the wider international art market, the Saudi art scene is, although phenomenal in its rise, still a fledgling one, grappling with the very real challenges of the art market - the realities and forces of demand and supply, and a constant guarantee of artistic produce. It is with an eye to the future that this platform was created to nurture this embryonic art life, rising to life swiftly although haphazardly.

Who are these young Saudi artists? With very few exceptions, these are mostly youngsters, falling in an age group of 16 to late twenties. They are college and university graduates, some majoring in design and some not, high-schoolers ‘on a break for self-discovery’, professional or amateur photographers, doodlers, bloggers, and part-time creatives who have pursued some form of creative activity for some time, related or unrelated to their professions but have only recently found the opportunity for a significant and irreversible visibility, both home and abroad. Activities and forums of expression, exhibitions, talent-hunts and competitions for amateurs have begun to emerge here only as early as a couple of years ago, as off-shoots of the larger umbrella of Edge of Arabia, and have caught on like wildfire since. These newly created opportunities are mostly the motors that spurred these youngsters towards performance and recognition. What the banner of these initiatives, among them Young Saudi Artists, offers them is an initial walk through the first stages of preparedness, so that those who have the grit can go on and prove their mettle in the many ways available to young artists in the region today. The work that YSA showcases is really an undefined loose end, still indistinct in form or prospect, but it is an end nonetheless, and wisdom calls for timely mentorship and nurture rather than skepticism and abandon.

 



Mixed bag under a promising banner

Both last year and this year, around 23 artists participated in each show. Although some of the participants are not Saudi by nationality, they live here and have absorbed and interacted with local culture to some degree, so their voice matters as much as any other in any portrayal of the Saudi experience. Unlike a formalized, rigorous art exhibition, here a simple participatory call is sent out along with a deadline. In coming years, the organizers might match a higher level of participant readiness by introducing more stringent restrictions into the equation, and raising the quotient of challenge, but for now, the only curatorial principal is creativity and the will to participate. A lot of the artists didn’t exhibit works specifically created for the show, but works from their repertoire which they had exhibited in the recent past. In that sense, for some participants, the event was not an instigator, but a first formal and public show-case.

Those who have been following the birth of this chapter will know that the subject of contemporary art in Saudi Arabia and a lot of the activity that takes place around it is largely a question of creating new attitudes of recognition, appreciation and responsibility towards the subject of art.  This challenge was valid as much for the artists as for the audiences. For the artists, some of whom have never stepped foot inside a professional work environment, the nervousness of a first public performance, the pressure of deadlines, and the semi-official ‘act’ of the opening night, were all  first-time experiences  and therefore, significant challenges. Some of the young participants had their families and friends by their side for support. If the preparation helped fashion attitudes of readiness, the event itself was a measure for how far they actually came. The energy of the event was proof that they really and genuinely cared not just for the technicalities and the art works, but also for the larger purpose of the event and their role in its midst as ambassadors. At this point in time, one cannot be a young artist in Saudi Arabia without feeling a sense of responsibility and leadership towards society. In the dialogue which is contemporary art in the Kingdom, people are beginning to listen and engage, and the artist currently stands as an agent embodying several active roles – agent provocateur, role model, leader, historian. He is invested with an irrational power, and with this great power comes great responsibility. Beginning to not just recognize, but savour and fully embrace this responsibility would be a natural first step for these beginners. Without a doubt, they held up their end of the ‘conversation’ really well. Some of them had to work their way around personal setbacks; one artist was in a car accident and bed-bound just before the exhibition, another artist lost her father while another artist’s artwork was severely damaged minutes before the exhibition, but none of them cowered or backed out. This dogged determination, and the knack for maneuver around obstacles are all attitudes that will serve them well, for the road for the artist in Saudi Arabia, although beginning to emerge and in full view, is far from easy.

On opening nights, Young Saudi Artists is also a great barometer for what art is coming to signify in the lives of an average Saudi today. Interestingly, only a few days after the 21st February, 2012, the day that Young Saudi Artists opened in the Athr Gallery in Jeddah, Edge of Arabia, the first comprehensive retrospective of contemporary Saudi art in the country closed elsewhere in the city. It had gone on for a month and it went by the title ‘We need to talk’. In releasing art into the country’s bloodstream, the metaphor of a long overdue conversation was constantly emphasized. Unsurprisingly, then, this metaphor was literally enacted on the gallery space at YSA. The floor was punctuated by groups of artists and people in easy exchange. Most of the artists made it a point to be present for the second night as well. The call for engagement that was resounded by Edge of Arabia had already begun to be heeded. The attendees were people from all ages and all walks really, with a common attitude of curiosity and undisguised delight towards art. They were a gloriously random mix, with a loose common concern. Pretty much like the event. This randomness and the spirit of inclusiveness that is its raison d’etre, is, to a large extent, the event’s charm. The eclectic nature of the event and its range of appeal is mirrored in the diversity of the collectors, who range from the Greenbox Museum in Amsterdam to young as well as seasoned collectors and corporate collections.

At the 2012 edition of Young Saudi Artists, the 44 works by 23 artists scanned subjects that varied from deeply personal to socially and politically engaged, and the skill level varied from rudimentary to promising. The appeal of works scanned all colours; eye-catching, purely decorative, lyrical, thought-provoking and visually stunning. As works of art, they negotiate the harmony between form and message sometimes gracefully but sometimes laboriously and awkwardly. However, this is not an event for the punctilious critic who gloats in pointing out deficiencies, it’s an event for the believer who is excited by the idea of germination, and who sees the promise more than the flaw.

The still, quiet centre of faith: Lujain Abulfaraj’s work

Lujain Abulfaraj is a Saudi who has been residing outside the Kingdom in neighbouring Gulf states for the past 15 years. Although away from her country, she gets to visit very often, and the spiritual symbolism of Saudi Arabia’s best-known centres of Mecca and Medina runs like a melody through her pink-bled series. With a mother from Mecca and a father from Medina, a sense of deep spirituality informs both her being and her work, a spirituality which is perhaps closer to the heart of all religions rather than just Islam. If anything, it’s the mysticism of the words from a Hadith which is also the title of the series (‘There is no difference between an Arab and a non-Arab except in faith’) combined with a sense of slow motion that the pictures exude which makes her work one of pure magic. It portrays groups of people (back views and profile views) at different stages in the ritual of worship (some performing ablution with the water of zamzam, some at a point in the circumambulation of the kaa’ba, some at the entrance to the Masjid Nabwi in Medina). The scene of a congregation at the Kaaba, with its millions drawn like fireflies to a common centre of light, and uniting over and above their differences in a common act of faith and seeking is a poignant and poetic visual metaphor for the spirit of unity, equality, and brotherhood which is the cornerstone of Islam, and the cornerstone of the interpretation of faith that the artist grew up with. It is this magical encounter with this over-powering, larger-than-life force visually accessible to the frequent visitor to the Holy cities that is one of her most active and nourishing memories, the force that energizes her and what she attempts to capture in this poetical work.

Bound to the first work by a sister shade of pink, Mohammed Naseem’s charming triptych is called ‘Seen wa Suaad’ (‘Seen and Su’aad’).  The base of the canvas is a speech bubble with ‘Muhammad…’ written inside, and a certain space upwards of it is a cloud with a clutter of letters. When a Muslim utters the name of the Holy Prophet, it is incumbent on the listeners or the other members of the audience to say ‘Peace be upon him’. In a gathering, when a whole crowd of people utters it, it sounds like an endless murmur, falling and rising several times before its end. All we hear out of the whole string of letters is the ‘seen’ and ‘suaad’, like one prolonged and continuous lisp drawn out in several tiny waves.  The comic-strip- like composition, the bubble-gum mish colours of fluorescent pink and yellow, and the jumbled scrawl of Arabic script on the top point light-heartedly to the comical underside of quotidian details that routinely escapes us.

 

‘Seen wa Su'aad’ by Mohammad Naseem

Ahaad Al Amoodi’s work is centred around Balad, an area called the heart of Jeddah. Balad is the old city, the earliest settling zone, which has now been slowly pushed to the south, as urbanization continues to stretch the city’s periphery further and further to the north. The cluster of houses in this once-elite region bear names that are familiar today as belonging to the city’s most successful and well-known families, best-known for the industries, trades and businesses they own. Their family homes, once bustling with life and housing several generations under one roof, are now reduced to empty shells. The art work comprises of two framed etchings of facades from Balad, which are instantly recognizable to any Jeddah resident, having almost become a symbol for lost heritage. In front of these etchings is an installation, which looks like an upward-spiraling embrace of stick-like limbs of wood and steel. It took me a visit to Balad to appreciate the full impact of the skeletal erection in which the precariousness of wood is supported by the sturdiness of steel. The houses in Balad are several storey high with fronts of latticed wood, moist with decay and hollowed by age, frail and ready to crumble. Mere vestiges remain, flimsy as filigree, and the abandoned zones, now occupied by squatters and illegal occupants, mostly labourers unable to afford decent housing, are a rude caricature of its former glory. Some say a few serve as a sorry excuse for old people’s homes, and that some old people have been abandoned here to neglect and a sad end. Empty houses attract ghosts as much as ghost stories; with the air of mystique that hangs heavy on the houses, one can no longer tell fact from fiction. Some facades were devoured by fierce fires that blazed through the region in 2009, and one can still see the charred cheek of concrete where the tongue of fire licked it. It has a deeply sleepy mood to it, and one can’t help but wonder if the slumber that hangs heavy on the region is the lull before a final passing out. Perhaps the only question that remains is how long. Ahaad’s work poses a screaming question about the end of abandoned heritage and points to how new materials, appropriation, and imagination can sustain heritage.

 

(Left) Work by Ahaad Al Amoudi (Right) Picture from a recent trip to Balad

What Heba Abed’s clumsily christened ‘Fraco-Arabic Man of Scotoma’ loses in grace of name, it makes up for in intent. Franco-Arabic is the popular chat Arabic, a Latin transcription of Arabic. ‘Scotoma’ is greek for blind-spot. Heba suggests that the progressive linguistic simplification, the digitalization and the modernization of Arabic might lead to a linguistic and existential blind-spot. Her message is encased in an engaging form that tickles the sense of touch. She uses the form of the abacus to echo her message. On one side, the revolving squares have three layers of text embedded in them, a big and a small font in Arabic and one in Latin. The surface of the squares is reflective, so that we catch a quick glimmer of the scripts in light, but as soon as one struggles to focus on the message, one is unable to rest the eye serenely or surely on any one of the scripts we see reflected, they disappear before the retina can imprint them. Super-imposed upon this surface of square (sub-divided into keyboard like buttons) is something of a unisex human form. The message here is that as we dilute language, we lose the flavour and uniqueness of our identity, and become neutralized, homogenized humanoids, something like the human version of MacDonald’s. On the other face of the abacus, in clear, readable, script are messages that reaffirm the valour and the history of the Arabic language, referring to different historical epochs and the cultural shades that coloured the language at certain epochs.

‘Franco-Arabic man of Scotoma’ by Heba Abdulaziz Abed

Twenty-three year old Soraya Darwish, is Egyptian and is exhibiting for the first time in Saudi Arabia, a country where she has lived all her life. Her first break as an artist came some months earlier at a group show at the Ara Gallery in Dubai. She belongs to the significant expat community of Arabs who have grown up almost entirely in Saudi Arabia, and merge their native culture and the adopted Saudi culture in an interesting blend. Her work, however, transcends these distinctions and applies to the whole Arab belt, if not every man who has been falsely stereotyped. It is ironically titled ‘Nice to meet you’ and instead of a scene of social politesse as one would expect to see, the central piece features a digital print of a young Arab girl holding a gun straight at the viewer. It is displayed in a small square zone with walls on three sides and spaced pillars on the fourth. We first see the pillars and the text on them stating clips from newspapers and media dismissively presenting Arabs and Muslims as terrorists, using the swaying rhetoric of facile and unwarranted statistics for thrust. In the dark corner, peering through the black pillars, the girl with the gun almost forbids us to enter. When we enter, to the right, on a wall-sized screen, is a video screen with a clip on repeat, of which we only register a woman in burqaa holding a rifle and shooting blindly skywards in a street, where soon after, panic ensues and people scamper about for life. The darkness of the messages predisposes us to a mindset in which we only see the violent; every human seems like a murderer and every flickering object a fire-arm. It takes some settling time for the mind to decipher that alternating with images of the woman and gun fire in the video clip are shots of ordinary girls sitting in a café and laughing over a blazing candle from a birthday cake. These girls are the artist and her friends. They are clad in abbayas, as was the shooting woman, and in the mind’s initial panicked state, the candle seems like another explosive until reason settles the vision and allows for distinction. Similarly, as we draw closer to the still of the demon-girl, we see embedded within the pixels of the image small images of ordinary people, family life, children, and scenes from everyday. And once we have seen those smaller, truer molecules of being, close-up, when we distance ourselves from the image, it doesn’t scare any more, and we leave cleansed in the mind and heart.  Over the 20 days of the exhibition, the pillared wall was used as a public scribble zone and the audience participated by writing messages on the walls. When I went the last day, there was enough love on the walls to drown out the hate of media half-truths. Soraya’s work is like an exercise in corrective perception; we enter in darkness, and squint our way to light and vision.

‘Nice to meet you’ by Soraya Darwish: Would you dare to step up close and have your stereotypes crushed forever?

Another art work became an exhibition icon because as luck would have it, the strangeness of truth it absorbed became truer than the strangeness of fiction it portrayed. In an uncanny but delicious twist of faith, the message that the artwork embodied was acted out in real life itself, making it that alluring alloy of truth, fiction, and great timing that secures its reputation in popular memory. The work in question is by Basmah Felemban, a 16-year old high-school graduate taking a break to find her groove. It contains the symbol of the healing hand of Fatima, a three-fingered hand with a thumb on each side, in the shape of a fly-swatter. This symbol, like a decorative object, is encased inside a red emergency box with a transparent glass door that usually houses a fire extinguisher. A line reads, ‘In case of an emergency, break the glass.’ In popular culture, this amulet is believed to prevent against the curse of the evil eye of the ill-wisher who, merely by beholding something enviously, causes harm. The Arabs, like Asians, are inherently superstitious people, and believe in the power of symbol. In daily conduct, handling and dealing of situations, their natural bent of wisdom favours a more lenient approach rather than a coldly rational one. However, Basmah feels that sometimes this leniency degenerates into a posture of convenient escapism, and we find an easy exit from situations and problems using the convenient excuse of the evil eye. Over time, this moral laziness hardens into habit, and we habitually overlook reasonable, rational explanations for phenomenon and make out way out without self-accountability. For example, if someone’s child falls ill, instead of analyzing reasons which might involve personal neglect, question their parenting practices or beg for reform, they could conveniently say that someone gave them the evil eye and attribute the blame to another person. This way, they’re not only shutting out responsibility but also the learning that comes from facing discomfort. Basmah’s claim to a rational rather than a superstitious (and responsible, rather than escapist) reading of things was put to a slippery test, when minutes before the actual exhibition, the glass from the door of the exhibit broke without anyone tampering or as much as touching it. Although devastated, she looked past the scores of people telling her that some jealous competitor had given her the evil eye. The glass was replaced, but it broke a second time, shortly after the replacement. She was ‘lucky’ the third time round, but her luck stayed put only because her salvation was reason. The second accident had forced her to delve into the possible reasons for the repeated breaking, and she discovered that the frame holding the glass in place was crooked, which disturbed the balance of the glass. A logical solution was plexiglass, and it has stayed in place since. ‘Luck’ or ‘ill-luck’, then, was merely physics, when looked up close.

'In case of an emergency, break the glass'. Will inert symbols save us or active reason? (Picture by Basmah Felemban)

How does one sum up the common narrative of the show? I'm afraid there is none, except the narrative of a will, belief and the readiness to participate.  Any responsible appraisal that has the courage to be more hopeful than condescending, more optimistic  than realistic, that speaks from a standpoint of regard for local culture rather than lip-synching to fashionable opinion imports and most importantly, one that understands first-hand the challenges of being an artist, a curator, or an agent of change in Saudi Arabia will agree  that it really is  the most important narrative of all - the will to be part a significant change, no matter how small, the belief to keep doing it, year after year, and the readiness to be there against all odds.

- Naima Rashid

Author and journalist John Gunther once said, "All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast". Thus, when one morning, two of my colleagues and I were having a particularly slow start to the day, we latched on to the notion of going out for breakfast. One of my friends suggested Papaya, and I not having heard of this eatery before, immediately opted to give it a try.



The restaurant was a beautiful place behind Sawary Mall adjacent to ‘Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf’.  As soon as I set foot out of the car, I knew that no matter how the food tasted, I was sure to enjoy the atmosphere. As we passed through a narrow corridor to reach the gate of the restaurant, I could see beautiful plants and banana trees covering the walls. There was a small lounge with very artistic benches and lamps. As I entered the restaurant, I felt as if I were in a greenhouse, surrounded and filled with exotic plants and trees. The roof was made of glass and I am quite sure the effect would be enchanting on a rainy day.

The interior was spectacular with very comfortable chairs and lovely plants and waterfalls. The sound of the birds chirping made us feel as if we were seated in a tropical forest. Since we reached there at 9:30 in the morning, the restaurant was practically empty. But as time passed, people began to pour in; mostly ladies and students with their teachers.



Soon after, our waiter brought us the menus, and I was pleasantly surprised to see very reasonable prices. We ordered steak and eggs with hash browns, french toast, a cheddar cheese omelette, manaeesh and a chocolate mousse dome. For beverages, we ordered coffee, hot chocolate, and pacific paradise instead of coconut. I asked the waiter to add strawberries.



Our food was served within 15 minutes. The waiters were well-trained and very polite, and I was very pleased with my order. Extra bread and butter was served. Although the steak would have tasted better with some extra sauce but with a little sprinkle of salt and pepper it was delicious.  My co-workers were wearing a very satisfactory look on their faces, and everybody was delighted with their food.



The average cost of the breakfast was SR 35, or SR 65, depending on the order. Lunch or dinner, however, may cost up to SR 60 - 80.


I will definitely go there again, maybe for lunch or coffee. If you want to enjoy a lazy day or simply have fun with your family or friends do visit Papaya. I would really recommend going there during the day-time in order to truly appreciate the ambience.

Jeddah Blog talks to Susie of Arabia about blogging, transitions, and the highs and lows of life in Saudi Arabia.

Prominent among the voices in the Saudi blogosphere are those of non-Saudi women married to Saudi men. As narratives of cultural experiences, this data is significant because the authors bring a natural ease of expression, documentary zest, outspokenness and an analytical bent of mind to bear upon their superset of experiences in Saudi Arabia. Being married to Saudis, they have a direct canal to the culture that they are tackling through the deep end – direct immersion. Where their clarity of observation, their willing embrace of a foreign culture, and the amusing contrasts between an Eastern and a Western culture meet, a thing of great value and beauty is created.

‘Susie’s big adventure’ was among the earliest blogs written by an expat. Along with Carol Fleming of the well-known American Bedu, Susan has revealed her true identity, and shared very real and personal details on the blog. From the fairy-tale romance that led to her marriage to a Saudi, to her reasons for the move to the Kingdom and perhaps, most courageously and significantly, an intimate account of the emotional journey that the move was, what it meant in terms of cultural learning, loss of personal freedom, the real frustrations and difficulties of adjusting to a second culture diametrically opposed to her native culture, and finally, the apprehensions as the mother of a teenager straddling two completely different cultures.

Whether we are learning or suffering, the choice to share personal details, putting them out at large into the world, makes us both courageous and vulnerable. To Susie’s blog, it lends a very human touch. At best, it feels like flipping through the pages of someone’s personal diary, and at worst, like listening to a very angry friend letting out steam. I am sure that like me, a lot of you feel that you know her and her family, having been her readers and confidantes. But we sat her down nonetheless, for a long one, about blogging, the highs and lows of life in Saudi Arabia, and the intersection of these.

Growing up Captain Kabob: Marinated in  Florida, USA for 14 years and grilled to perfection in Saudi Arabia. A mother always wants them 'well done'.

When you started blogging, what was the general blogging scenario like in Saudi Arabia?

When I started blogging several years ago, there were not as many blogs coming out of Saudi Arabia, and definitely not as many photo blogs or blogs written by Saudi women as there are now.  The Saudi blogging scene has literally exploded in the last few years.

Do you feel that blogging, as a platform, allows you to say things that you wouldn’t otherwise be able to, in a country like Saudi Arabia?

I think that blogging allows me to be more vocal and more widely heard about issues in Saudi Arabia.  That said, bloggers do not have free rein to be disrespectful or critical of the government.

Did you ever feel that you have acquired the habit of self-censorship, living in Saudi Arabia?

I believe every blogger in Saudi Arabia must practice degrees of self-censorship.  I find this to be a very difficult thing for me to do because there are so many things that are confusing and that I do not understand about the culture, so I may not realize I am treading in dangerous waters.  My mindset is totally different culturally from the Saudi mindset.

Reading your blog, the posts go from sunny and naively optimistic to somewhat cautiously resigned.  Am I right in reading this?

The first year I spent in Saudi Arabia I almost felt like an excited wide-eyed child seeing and learning new things.  Everything was amazing, exotic and really interesting.  After that first year, however, the reality of the restricted ways in which I had to live my life as a woman in Saudi Arabia really began to annoy me.  As an independent American woman, I had always done everything for myself, and in KSA I am totally dependent on my husband for everything.  It’s very hard to accept living this way.

Was it cathartic to blog about the cultural transition that you went through?

I had reached a point where I felt that my blogging was very one-sided,  presenting life in Saudi Arabia in glowing terms and avoiding the topics that bothered me.  I felt I couldn’t continue in this vein and retain my integrity.  People need to realize there are both good and bad things about living anywhere in the world.   I feel more comfortable that my blog now presents a more balanced view of life in KSA, although I get some hate mail that accuses me of Saudi-bashing and being too negative, and other hate mail that accuses me of pandering to Saudis and being blind to the realities of Saudi Arabia.

'Humour is also a way to say things.' Tongue-in-cheek posts about potentially scandalous issues. Regular readers of Susie's big adventure would remember some of these images.

Have you ever landed in trouble while blogging ? Tell us about the time your blog was temporarily taken off the horizon, so to say?

At one point, in 2009, my blog was blocked in Saudi Arabia for about 10 days.  I have to admit it made me nervous.  The ironic thing is that I believe it was blocked because of a post I wrote about censorship within the Kingdom.  People can submit websites they feel should be blocked to the government agency that oversees this.  I think that oftentimes the site is just blocked without anyone actually looking into it.  If enough people contact the agency to unblock the site, then someone will actually take a look and determine whether or not the site should be blocked. 

In the Saudi blogosphere, there is a contrast between the blogs by expatriates at some level of transitioning in Saudi culture, and locals. The former tend to be tinged by some measure of ‘orientalism’ (using the term in the broadest possible manner, not succumbing to any clichés whatsoever) while the latter tend to be quite harsh in their criticism. What are your comments about that?

I think that many Westerners see Saudi Arabia as somewhat of a romantic yet barbaric fantasy world because it remains such a mysterious and closed society to this day.  The internet has certainly helped to dispel the air of mystery surrounding KSA.  I realize my point of view is tinged by orientalism and may be very different from those of real Saudis.  I would never be so presumptuous to think that I could speak for Saudi women.  I can only speak as an outsider living in their country, and I don’t have the cultural knowledge or experience of native born Saudis.  But does that mean that my perceptions shouldn’t count or have any validity? 

  
How far does reality measure up to the 'romantic yet barbaric fantasy world' that Saudi Arabia is in the minds of most Westerners?

What would be your list of most positive and most negative facts about life in Saudi Arabia?

Positives:  relatively low crime rate and sense of personal safety; great shopping; no taxes and in general, cheaper cost of living, so a sense of a better lifestyle; having maids and drivers is affordable for many; slower pace of life; things like hearing the calls to prayer, mosques everywhere, wearing hijab, learning Arabic and studying Koran, etc which make living as a Muslim easier; medical care and medicines are readily available and cheaper than in the West, although the quality of care can vary greatly.

Negatives: lack of women’s rights and freedoms, including guardianship, driving, travel, too many things to list; gender segregation to the extreme, rendering normal socializing and making friends very difficult; male- dominated society; single women are often harassed by men who can get away with it; no traffic enforcement makes for the worst traffic and accidents in the world; brutally hot climate restricts time outdoors and makes being outside unbearable for women who must be covered in black; not enough activities for families, women or young people, which can make life very boring here; government bureaucracy and political corruption; racism and discrimination against certain nationalities; poor school system and no programs for special needs kids; exercise and sports for women and children are discouraged; businesses closing for prayer times is a pain; very limited resources and public facilities like parks for sports, picnicking, etc.; terrible air pollution; feelings of loneliness and isolation, almost as if living in a prison, especially for women; very little in the way of nature or scenery to enjoy; lots of dust and dirt and a filthy environment - litter is everywhere.

Recently, Saudi Arabia has been a lot in the headlines because of women’s driving and such. What do you feel about the traditional term ‘women’s rights’ in the context of Saudi Arabia? What is it that Saudi women desire most in terms of rights? What are your comments on the lag between their perception of their rights and the West’s perception of it? Do you feel that the driving issue has been completely blown out of proportion? How important is it exactly? I remember one of your blog posts about it. Could you elaborate what it feels like not having the liberty, and how it undermines your confidence? How would Saudi women react if they were granted the right to vote today? Are they ready for it?

I was brought up believing in equality and I don’t see any equality in Saudi Arabia.  While some older Saudi women might be perfectly content with the status quo, more and more younger, well-educated and well-traveled Saudi women are beginning to want more out of life.  Saudi women are denied even the most basic rights.  And most of it hinges on the antiquated and unfair guardianship system in place.  Imagine a grown woman not being able to do anything in life unless she first obtains the permission of her husband.  Although many Saudi men “allow” their women dependents (wives and daughters) to pretty much do whatever they wish, other Saudi women are not so fortunate.  I cannot leave the country without my husband’s permission - this is rubbish!  I was a working woman who drove, traveled, and handled all my own affairs until I moved to KSA, and now I must depend on my husband for all of my needs.  Why?  Am I not capable?

Like I said before, I cannot speak for Saudi women.  I feel that this is a battle they must fight themselves, if simple rights and freedoms are what they want.  I can, however, speak as someone who has lived elsewhere and who knows what I am being denied in Saudi Arabia just because I am a woman.  To me, the guardianship system is the biggest obstacle to Saudi women’s rights and freedoms that exists.  Get rid of the guardianship system and 90% of the oppression that Saudi women face will disappear.  The rest of the problems, as I see it, lie in cultural and tribal customs. 

The driving issue has not been blown out of proportion at all.  It’s huge, as well it should be.  It is an unfair and discriminatory practice that has literally crippled half the population of Saudi Arabia, causes unnecessary expense for families, and places women in situations that are contrary to Islam. Women driving is not against Islam.  The fact that Saudi Arabia is the only country anywhere that prohibits women from driving makes KSA appear backward and oppressive to the rest of the world.  It’s really a very simple issue, but the Saudis have talked it to death with all these scenarios of “What if?”  They act as if women are not capable of doing things or making decisions on their own.  It’s insulting, humiliating, and condescending.   Granting women the right to drive is a very important issue, although it is a very small hurdle toward achieving their full rights in the big scheme of things.

Not being allowed to drive in KSA makes me feel like a little girl who is being punished - and I don’t know what I did wrong.  Since I am not fortunate enough to have a driver and my husband won’t allow me to take taxis by myself, I am often left languishing at home alone, bored, and waiting for him to drive me somewhere.  There are weeks when I never set foot outside our flat.  Spontaneity is out of the question anymore.  I cannot just pick up and go to the store if I need something.  I cannot go visit a friend without making arrangements ahead of time, and even then I am dependent on my husband to get me there and pick me up.  I cannot go out just to take photos, which I love to do, unless my husband has the time and the inclination to take me.  Being in Saudi Arabia, I am totally dependent on him - and he certainly doesn’t need that added stress and responsibility, especially since his heart surgery last year and the fact that I am perfectly capable of driving myself. 

Of course Saudi women are ready to vote!  They were ready yesterday. Voting, too, is a very small step for women, and even though women are supposed to be able to vote in 2015, I remain skeptical that it will actually happen.  I know the way things work in KSA and I wouldn’t be surprised if 2015 rolls around and the elections are canceled, or the government will claim that measures have not been put into place to accommodate women voters.  I would love to be proven wrong on this, but only time will tell. 

Watercolours by Susan

Do you feel that much too often, a Western model of reform and change is superimposed on Saudi Arabia?

I do think the West tries to impose its standards and desires on the rest of the world too often.  Saudi Arabia seems to be able to pick and choose the ones it wants to adopt and leave the rest. 

What should ‘change’ look like in Saudi Arabia, if at all?

Women need to achieve adult status in Saudi Arabia.  Under the guardianship system, Saudi women are legally considered children their entire lives.  This is where the change must start.  After that, the sky is the limit.

Which blogs do you follow regularly? Which ones are your favourite?

There are so many blogs that I love.   The ones that I am most interested in are written by women, like  Saudiwoman’s Weblog (http://saudiwoman.me/); American Bedu (http://americanbedu.com/); Blue Abaya (http://blueabaya.blogspot.com/); Future Husbands and Wives of Saudis (http://taraummomar.blogspot.com/); Sabria’s Out of the Box ( http://saudiwriter.blogspot.com/);  and so many more wonderful ones too numerous to name.

Do you have a real-life relationship with your fellow bloggers?

I have friendly relationships with several other bloggers.  We email each other privately, are friends on Facebook, and speak on the phone. 

Is the blogging community in Saudi Arabia somewhat like a community/fraternity? Would this have been possible in real life, without blogging as a bridge?

Yes, I believe there is a fraternity within the blogging community in Saudi Arabia, and worldwide, for that matter.  In a place like Saudi Arabia though, I doubt that the friendships I have made through blogging would have been possible without it.  People are very isolated in KSA and it’s not that easy to meet others.  Blogging has opened those doors.

Have you personally met some of the bloggers here? Have you wished to meet them in real life or have you preferred to keep the relationship ‘virtual’?

By chance, I met a fellow blogger in Jeddah who happened to recognize me when I walked into the shop where he worked.  I have met several other bloggers in the US who attended a party in my honor and another blogger by an arranged meeting.  I have totally enjoyed meeting fellow bloggers and would love to meet more.

Do you sometimes feel that one could learn more about Saudi Arabia through the blogosphere than through mainstream media?

There is so much potential to learn about Saudi Arabia through reading blogs.  One should keep in mind though that many blogs are about personal experiences, observations, and opinions, which can vary greatly from one person to another.     

Does Saudi Arabia feel like a second home now, after all these years?

I am that person who lived in south Florida for 15 years and never really felt it was my home.  I feel like Saudi Arabia is the place that I am living now but I still cannot see myself living here long term. I long to call the Pacific Northwest my home. 

All images by Susan Khalil.

- Naima Rashid

A special morning screening of the documentary 'ARAMCO Brats Story' in the relaxed, congenial environment of the JCEC. Watch the movie with like-minded people, and linger awhile afterwards to chat and make friends. Do see the trailer and the post on Susie's blog below for an idea of how the earlier screening went.

English Documentary Showing “ARAMCO Brats Story”

Monday, April 23


At the Jeddah Cultural Exchange Center (see map below)

Film Starts at 10:00 a.m (running time: 1Hour 30 minutes)


Ladies only


 SAR 15

Heavy appetizers / Hot & Cold drinks will be provided

TRAILER http://bratstory.com/trailer.html

For reservations, simply write in with your full name at team.jeddah.blog@gmail.com.

A feature documentary film that brings to life Americans 'feelings for Saudi Arabia. Messengers of friendship between Americans and Saudis in this post 9/11 world, Aramco Brats are children of expatriate workerswho were employed by Aramco (Arabian American Oil Company) and who spent their childhoods within the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. HOME - The Aramco Brats' Story is a feature-length independent documentary film revealing the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia as seen through their eyes. The film is an amazing depiction of Saudi Arabia, Arabs, and Islam narrated by Western citizens of all faiths, who choose not to concentrate on religion, but rather look at the other cultural aspects that many overlook when unfairly judging these people and their nation.

You may also refer to Susie’s blog post for her write-up on the rooftop screening earlier this month.