"You’ll all sign ‘death letters’ upon entry, i.e., that you agree to abide by the Kingdom’s laws and understand that you’re accountable to their justice system," said the cheery letter on the subject of "Life in Saudi Arabia" from our contact in my employer’s (heretofore referred to as the Firm) field office in Riyadh.
During the weeks waiting for our visas, life in Saudi Arabia had often been the conversation topic during lunch with my colleagues. Yet the conversation followed a similar pattern of jokes about what would happen to us if we did this or that. We would usually end up getting certain body parts chopped off in the end. At least one of the guys made the mistake of telling a joke about the consequences of chewing gum in Singapore. There I found some gauge for the level of actual understanding, or the lack thereof, on which these jokes were based. I’d often say, "Nah, it can’t be that bad." Yet, I found myself utterly unable to determine whether the jokes were just jokes or whether they could be bad jokes that turn out to be true.
Unfortunately, words from those few who actually know something about the region were not exactly reassuring. One of my officemates, an Egyptian who had lived in Kuwait for a number of years, supposedly said that there was no way they could make him go to Saudi Arabia. I wondered why. Staffing for the Saudi project was difficult, to say the least. No women need apply. No Jews. No practicing anything other than Islam. Family men don’t want to go because of the distance from home. Single guys don’t want to go supposedly because of the lack of alcohol and women. Then again, it wasn’t exactly like I had much of either in New York anyhow. So I suppose I was a prime candidate for a job like this.
The announcement about the project and the request for volunteers came out months ago. The project was said to be nine-month long. I suppose there weren’t exactly a whole lot of takers, so a few days later, the commitment was reduced to more like three months. I didn’t volunteer for the Saudi project. I suppose California would have been a very nice alternative to Saudi Arabia, but I knew I would say yes if asked. The day after I got back from the wonderful trip to Mardi Gras, I learned that two officemates of mine had been staffed on the Saudi project. That’s when I realized that I actually wanted to go – not reluctantly agreeing to go when asked, but actually wanting to go myself. Somehow the fact that Saudi Arabia is so inaccessible otherwise held attraction to me. Besides, I was getting tired of not being fully staffed on a client project. By all accounts the project itself seemed to be an interesting one. I guess the list of people who can’t or don’t want to go is long, so it didn’t take long before the partner in charge asked me and a few other people about it. I replied that I would indeed be interested in going. The next day I faxed my passport cover to our contact in Saudi Arabia to get the visa application process rolling.
Terrence
KLM Lounge at Schiphol
Saturday, March 13, 1999