American Chick in Saudi Arabia by Jean Sasson Read Free Book Online

Arab with a European education. When wearing the Saudi thobe and ghutrah he looks rather dashing.
    An international man, Peter was an only child to his parents and was raised in Alexandria, Egypt, where the Sasson family had settled to become wealthy cotton plantation owners. Peter was then educated in an exclusive school in England, and lived in France and Italy before traveling to Saudi Arabia. He arrived in the kingdom the year before I accepted a position at the hospital. Self-assured and resourceful, he is willing to take on any exciting exploit.
    "Take care, then," Peter said before warning me, "I saw a mutawah walking in a side alley."
    A mutawah ! I look left and right.
    Even in 1979, when the kingdom is filled with Western working expatriates, the Mutawain remain uncompromising clergymen who cling to their role of policing public morals throughout Arabia. I had made the discovery early on that even the ruling royal family can do little to curb the barbaric behavior of the Mutawain . This inability to act is partially fueled out of fear that the powerful clerics will call for the royals downfall from the loudspeakers mounted on the towers of the kingdom's neighborhood mosques. In order to keep the al-Saud family secure on their throne, Saudis and foreigners alike must endure relentless scrutiny from these inflexible men.
    The Mutawain are fearsome opponents. Since arriving in the kingdom, Peter and I have both suffered unpleasant experiences at the hand of these angry men of religion.
    I pat at my veil and scarf to make certain that none of my hair has escaped my black coverings. The Mutawain will not wink at my deception.
    When I hear the conspicuous shouts of a mutawah mingled with the cries of women from a nearby street, I decide to leave the area.
    I study the figures in thobes around me, searching for Peter. Then I recognize him conspicuously staring at my feet. He is checking my identity by inspecting my shoes. This morning he had tied a small colored ribbon onto the black strap of my shoe, a trick we had heard was routine in Saudi life.
    "I don't want to lose track of you and grab the wrong woman," he said, and had laughed. "It would be off with my head!"
    As I stroll in front of him, I nod my head and whisper, "Let's leave this place."
    Peter speaks without looking at me. "Where now?"
    "The Bedouin souk."
    This Bedouin souk, or antiques market, is a favorite with many expatriates. No souk is more evocative of Saudi Arabia's past. And for some unheard of reason, the Mutawain seldom harass women in this area.
    The Bedouin souk is a maze of alleys off Uthman ibn Affan Street. Many times during the past year, Peter and I have spent enjoyable hours browsing through the open stalls where daggers, coffee pots, incense-burners, camel bags, and antique weapons are on jumbled display.
    The likelihood that my hands were stroking old muskets used in the days of Bedouin tribal raiding parties never failed to create electrifying images in my mind.
    Prior to my arrival in Saudi Arabia, I had mistakenly believed that all Saudis were Bedouin. I quickly discovered that there is a marked difference between settled city Arabs and nomadic Bedouin Arabs. These two groups have long distrusted and disliked each other.
    The educated Saudis I know at the royal hospital routinely scorn and ridicule the Bedouin and act embarrassed to be connected to this mainly uneducated facet of their society.
    The Bedouin way of life has changed little since the time of Prophet Muhammad, (Peace be upon him) the founder of the Islamic faith. These proud people feel that their own lifestyle is superior to that of the urban dwellers, or "Godless sinners," as the Bedouin call them. There were times that the Bedouin refused to enter the settled interior communities of Arabia without first stuffing cotton or cloth into their nostrils, asserting that their city brethren had an obnoxious odor.
    Although Bedouins can be found throughout the kingdom, there are