I usually travel in Riyadh city to do my errands or go out shopping in a private car. I am fortunate enough to have many Saudi friends who would send their driver to pick me up when the need arises.
However, three days prior to my trip to South Africa, I decided that I would hop on to the hospital bus for a bit of change and also to meet different people. Whilst sitting in the bus I realized that there were so many different nationalities on board. There were two Indian ladies sitting right at the back of the bus on the last row, the row that most of us wanted when we were in school especially during excursions.They were probably from Kerala, south India.The one lady had henna on her hands in a beautiful intricate design and her friend who was more on the plump side had the most lovely smile I ever seen. Despite being slightly overweight she had a beautiful face. She was fair with flawless skin and green eyes.They both came across as individuals with a friendly and pleasant demeanour. The women were speaking in their own Malayalam language. In front of them there was a group of Filipinos who were quite noisy and loud but at the same time they were very happy and alive. They were deeply engrossed in their own conversation which was naturally in Tagalog. Then came the two American women who were in their late twenties. They were sitting just behind me and did nothing but complain from our departure until we reached our final destination which was Hayat Mall. I wonder why do people reside in a country if they are so miserable and unhappy. They were complaining about the abaya, about the hospital systems and policies and of course how they disliked Arab people in general.The only thing they both seemed to love was the date shop in Kingdom mall that specialized in parcels and gifts made with a variety of dates. In front of me there were two South African women who hailed from Soweto. They were both nurses and assumed that I was a Saudi woman until I introduced myself to them. The one woman was out and about shopping for her eldest son's wedding. They were both bright and bubbly wanting my input and opinion about wedding dresses and shoes. Thandi was however disappointed that she did not receive any overtime shifts this month as her ward has been quiet due to the Eid holidays that have just passed by. She desperately requires extra money to pay off a huge house bond and also to buy gifts for the family with Christmas just a stones throw away. As I was chatting to them my mobile phone rang. It was Mrs S. She is an Indian woman who is married to a Saudi man. Actually her story is quite remarkable in a sense that she got married at the age of 14 to a man who was 50 years old. Her husband visited India years ago and fancied her beauty whilst she was walking down the road. He found out where she stayed and then visited the family home asking for her hand in marriage. Her father naturally refused the proposal but her mother insisted that she marries the man as he offered the family a high amount of dowry. Her husband is now old and unable to support his family and so she is forced to work. Luckily her kids are all grown up now and hence have become a pillar of strength and support in her life. Her sister was also married off to another Saudi man who is forty years older than her. Her husband is a very wealthy man but also a very cunning and dominating individual who does not allow his wife to go out of the house except on Thursdays. She lives in a huge house that has all the amenities and luxuries that anyone could possibly desire but somehow deep inside she feels as though she is a prisoner. She feels as though she has lost her autonomy and individuality. Her husband does not allow her to meet her sister or other family members and hence every Thursdays both sisters make a plan to meet at a park or shopping mall where they would pour their hearts out to each other. Very often they would invite me to join them for dinner or a picnic at the park. I was chatting to Mrs. S in Urdu and hence when I completed my conversation with her the two Pakistani women across me, on the opposite side of the aisle were astounded. Eventually, the lady closest to me plucked up the courage to ask me where do I come from,"Excuse me, Aap kahan sa aati hai? Aap Pakistani hai?."
'Nai Nai, mein Pakistani ladki nahin hu.." I replied. " I am South African."
"Nahin Aap South African nahin hosakti....Aap urdu jaanthi hai....Yeh to bahoti herani ki baat hai." She continued. She insisted that I can not be a South African woman as my Urdu was quite fluent in her opinion. She wondered how did I learn the language. The truth is I do not know myself how I picked up the language as neither of my parents speak Urdu. My roots go back to Gujurat in India and hence our home language is Gujurati. I continued having a brief conversation with the two Pakistani women as Baba, the middle aged Saudi driver drove through the busy streets of Riyadh. Traffic in Riyadh is horrendous throughout the day. Baba was singing away until the bus came to a screeching abrupt halt. One car tried cutting right in front of us causing baba to apply sharp brakes. Baba was so annoyed that he opened the window and started shouting at the driver of the beautiful black BMW. The man in the car was a young Saudi gentleman who seemed to be in a great hurry. After sternly shouting at the man, Baba closed his window and continued singing as the 1973 rickety bus made its way towards the mall. As my friend Ali always says, " It is 2012. These 1973 models seriously need to get off the road....PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT ARRRAY HAT" In front of the Pakistani women there were two middle aged Canadian women. The one lady is a laboratory technician and the other is a specialist physician. Both women were deep in conversation about their children. Jenny was upset about the fact that her son who just turned 21, has not left the family house. She wants him to get his own house and lead his own life.She has no desire or intention of supporting him any further.At this point I thought to myself how western culture is so different from Middle Eastern or Indian culture. In the Arab and Indian world, kids usually leave their parents house when they get married especially female kids. Of course my situation is quite different. I was brought up in a very broad minded, liberal home where my parents allowed me to fulfill my dreams and explore the world on my own. Numerous thoughts ran through my mind during the short thirty minute bus ride. With six nationalities on board one bus chatting and getting along with each other, wouldn't it be awesome if everyone across the globe just got along with each other? Wouldn't the world be a pleasant place if everyone simply respected each others religion, cultures and belief systems? Eventually, the bus came to a halt just outside Hayat mall. The ladies were all pretty excited to exit the bus and make their way into the shopping center to see what the designer shops had on offer. Baba looked visibly tired and fatigued after manoeuvring the bus through heavy traffic and narrow side streets in order to get to the mall as soon as possible. As I made my way to exit the bus, baba recognized me and his wrinkled face suddenly beamed with a smile. " kayfa 7aalak ya binti...shun akhbarak.....kayfa 7aalu ahwaalik....kullu taiyyibeen, kuwaiseen...".....he continued. He enquired about my well being and my family as he met my mom on numerous occasions during her shopping trips to Riyadh. Baba is a Bedouin man and hence does not speak a word of English. I continued the conversation with him in Arabic and then I noticed the two Pakistani women staring at me once again after looking at each other in confusion. I guess they still not satisfied with the fact that I am a South African woman. This is the power of language I guess. Through language I have made many friends throughout the globe. Language breaks barriers. As Nelson Mandela once said," If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart." Having said that...have a good day everyone....until the next bus ride...........
"Nahin Aap South African nahin hosakti....Aap urdu jaanthi hai....Yeh to bahoti herani ki baat hai." She continued. She insisted that I can not be a South African woman as my Urdu was quite fluent in her opinion. She wondered how did I learn the language. The truth is I do not know myself how I picked up the language as neither of my parents speak Urdu. My roots go back to Gujurat in India and hence our home language is Gujurati. I continued having a brief conversation with the two Pakistani women as Baba, the middle aged Saudi driver drove through the busy streets of Riyadh. Traffic in Riyadh is horrendous throughout the day. Baba was singing away until the bus came to a screeching abrupt halt. One car tried cutting right in front of us causing baba to apply sharp brakes. Baba was so annoyed that he opened the window and started shouting at the driver of the beautiful black BMW. The man in the car was a young Saudi gentleman who seemed to be in a great hurry. After sternly shouting at the man, Baba closed his window and continued singing as the 1973 rickety bus made its way towards the mall. As my friend Ali always says, " It is 2012. These 1973 models seriously need to get off the road....PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT ARRRAY HAT" In front of the Pakistani women there were two middle aged Canadian women. The one lady is a laboratory technician and the other is a specialist physician. Both women were deep in conversation about their children. Jenny was upset about the fact that her son who just turned 21, has not left the family house. She wants him to get his own house and lead his own life.She has no desire or intention of supporting him any further.At this point I thought to myself how western culture is so different from Middle Eastern or Indian culture. In the Arab and Indian world, kids usually leave their parents house when they get married especially female kids. Of course my situation is quite different. I was brought up in a very broad minded, liberal home where my parents allowed me to fulfill my dreams and explore the world on my own. Numerous thoughts ran through my mind during the short thirty minute bus ride. With six nationalities on board one bus chatting and getting along with each other, wouldn't it be awesome if everyone across the globe just got along with each other? Wouldn't the world be a pleasant place if everyone simply respected each others religion, cultures and belief systems? Eventually, the bus came to a halt just outside Hayat mall. The ladies were all pretty excited to exit the bus and make their way into the shopping center to see what the designer shops had on offer. Baba looked visibly tired and fatigued after manoeuvring the bus through heavy traffic and narrow side streets in order to get to the mall as soon as possible. As I made my way to exit the bus, baba recognized me and his wrinkled face suddenly beamed with a smile. " kayfa 7aalak ya binti...shun akhbarak.....kayfa 7aalu ahwaalik....kullu taiyyibeen, kuwaiseen...".....he continued. He enquired about my well being and my family as he met my mom on numerous occasions during her shopping trips to Riyadh. Baba is a Bedouin man and hence does not speak a word of English. I continued the conversation with him in Arabic and then I noticed the two Pakistani women staring at me once again after looking at each other in confusion. I guess they still not satisfied with the fact that I am a South African woman. This is the power of language I guess. Through language I have made many friends throughout the globe. Language breaks barriers. As Nelson Mandela once said," If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart." Having said that...have a good day everyone....until the next bus ride...........
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