INFIDEL BEHIND THE PARADOXICAL VEIL: A Western Woman's Experience in Saudi Arabia

by Jeanette M. English

Overview

Most Western non-Muslim women couldn’t envision surrendering their freedom and being forced to comply with Saudi women’s entrapped customs which have existed for the past 1,400 years. Did you know that Saudi Arabia’s religious police, known as the Mutawa, can take any woman to jail for not covering her hair or wearing an abaya? How would you imagine yourself living a life being compelled to abide by the power and values of men: not being able to drive, talk with your driver, shop alone without a male escort, leave the country without a male escort, or be seen alone with a non-related male?

INFIDEL BEHIND THE PARADOXICAL VEIL - A Western Woman's Experience in Saudi Arabia is a personal story of startling encounters such as mentioned above while Jeanette English lived in Riyadh, the most restrictive city in Saudi Arabia, where women who by Shariah law and culture are considered to be the weaker sex. Jeanette candidly unmasks a unique experience which exposes the enigmatic issues affecting Saudi women. Their struggle for equality and freedom of choice is a hot topic with an accelerating interest in the subject of male dominance over them, stirring an intrinsic controversy over which many Westerners are confused.

This is a timely book offering extraordinary insight into the real Saudi woman before, during and after the author’s year in Riyadh which will turn a few cynical heads toward understanding the issues and challenges in their achieving fair treatment, particularly now in the 21st century. Forced to wear the hijab, Jeanette read the Quran and, in learning about Islam and talking with Saudi women, was able to look behind the veil which many Westerners can only read about. Most authors and journalists who write on this subject have not lived her experience.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781456728083
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	02/24/2011
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
File size:	926 KB

Read an Excerpt

INFIDEL BEHIND THE PARADOXICAL VEIL

A Western Woman's Experience in Saudi Arabia

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By Jeanette M. English

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Jeanette M. English
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-2810-6

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Chapter One

Marhaba To Saudi Arabia (1995)

I'd never had a driver before. I thought I might make an excellent candidate for riding in the back seat of a car, since I have acquired the knack for back-seat driving while occupying either the front or back seats.

"But, a whole year!" I exclaimed to my husband, Manny, who was briefing me with such news. He had been hired to a position as CEO of a 500-bed, 2,700-personnel with l,800 daily outpatients teaching hospital in Riyadh, the capital city of Saudi Arabia. Although English and/or Arabic languages were required to be spoken, there were 75 various dialects spoken and 42 nationalities at this hospital. We learned that about two dozen personnel came from Great Britain, Australia, Canada and the United States. He had also been accepted for a part-time professorial teaching appointment at a Saudi university in Riyadh.

Being a world traveler with an international background and educated in England, this challenging position was an opportunity Manny couldn't turn down. The uniqueness and environment suggested an adventurous appeal.

He was very beguiling, convinced that the two of us were in an ideal place in our lives to explore a new dimension. Our four children had left our nest and started their own lives, a couple away at university. This would be an ideal time for selling our now outgrown family home, he pointed out. Besides, he lured me with being deserving of a new, simpler lifestyle: little housework, few meal preparations, access to all female facilities, traveling and experiencing a new culture, notwithstanding never having to fill up a car tank or ever having to drive anywhere, even if I wanted to. All women in Saudi Arabia are prohibited from ever operating a vehicle.

"But, a whole year!" I exclaimed again, not forgetting about the having-a-driver part and the fact that I may never have this luxury if it isn't grasped with this opportunity, but, rather, thinking about living on the opposite side of the earth for a duration of four seasons. What cinched it was that we would be granted a return trip to the United States after six months—a holiday—with paid traveling expenses. If it was so bad, I thought, I could remain home at that time and not return for the next six months. At least that secretive notion would give me an escape to mull over.

I immediately called on my Saudi friend, Aisha, to tell her the news, as she was in the States at the time. After informing her that we would be living in Riyadh, I was disappointed in her remark about it being too bad it had to be Riyadh. "Why not Jeddah?" she emphatically asked. She explained to me that Riyadh is located in the interior of Saudi Arabia in the desert, with the ever present Bedouin influence. And, although it has dry heat, it could easily reach 130 degrees during the summer. Besides, it was the most restricted Islam city. Jeddah, on the other hand, was located on the Red Sea with a beautiful coastline known as the Corniche. This city had lots of action and fewer restraints in that it was Saudi Arabia's major western port and commercial center. She reassured me, though, that Manny and I would definitely be invited to visit her at the time she had returned to Jeddah.

Aisha stressed the importance of taking a wardrobe with any loose-fitting combination so long as my neck (clavicle), wrists and ankles were not exposed. "What about my midriff?" I needled her. She brought to my attention that there are no cinema theatres in Saudi Arabia but there are masses of out-of-this-world shopping centers and outdoor souks (markets). Shopping is the main recreation, besides eating out. "That wouldn't be too hard to bear," I conveyed to her as I caught a gleam coming from her scintillating dark eyes.

So it was with great intrigue that I imagined my new life as a non-driver sitting in the back seat after my arrival in Saudi Arabia. There were brief moments when I tried to conjure my new tranquil life in a façade of privilege. My previous dedicated life, that of a super mom's role revolving around time—killing time, fighting for time, stalling for time, watching time, wasting time while waiting for time, hurrying up to wait, pleading for time, and my father's advise to make time count—would come to a halt. I was ready to take on a new launch; a back-seat passenger would work for me. Time would be in my hands for a change.

Furthermore, the irony of a reversal of the chauffeur's role that I have played for the past two decades while transporting my four children to every imaginable function, along with the blathering dialogue of the gibberish toddler to the even more gibberish jargon of teenagers, would be a welcomed break—a dream come true. Aisha had informed me that drivers and female passengers are not permitted to engage in conversation in Saudi Arabia. That, I could certainly handle! An entire year of silence in a car would almost certainly guarantee that I would have a chance to hear myself think once again.

* * *

A guest is, in fact, what Manny and I would be referred to since there aren't any tourists permitted in the Kingdom, with the exception of Hajj pilgrims who visit once a year from all parts of the world. We would have special permission. Our status would be that of expatriate which is defined as a non-Saudi citizen who comes on a work-status visa, or as a dependent. A huge percentage of the Kingdom's work force is made up of expatriates—imported laborers—from impoverished nations, such as India, Pakistan, Ethiopia and Indonesia. Many foreign workers are non-Muslims: India (a number of Hindus), Thailand and Nepal (a number of Buddhists) and India, Pakistan, Philippines (many Christians). The main areas in which Westerners work in Saudi Arabia are the oil industry, defense and health care where they all earn top salaries without paying taxes.

Over a period of years the number of expatriates has decreased due to what is referred to as the policy of Saudization, which allows priority to any Saudi who is qualified to fill a position held by an expatriate, thereby replacing the reliance on foreign workers. Some jobs require skills that Saudis do not have although they are earnest in education and learning them. On a curious note, slavery was abolished in the Kingdom in 1962.

* * *

And so, I prepared myself for an experience of a lifetime as I got my house in order, my passport and extensive medical reports ready in time, my address book updated and my baggage packed. I had no preparedness or expectation of how my year would pass, although I was convinced it would be a jarring contrast. I would most certainly have to write a journal, I reminded myself. And I did—I hand-wrote a daily journal of my first month in Riyadh, starting from the moment of my departure.

MONDAY (Oct. 30/95): 6 p.m. PST

Left Sea-Tac airport on British Airways (my favorite airlines) en route to Riyadh after so many months of preparation. Manny had left a week earlier. Saying good-bye was really very difficult. I was one of 425 passengers on a 9 ½-hour flight to Heathrow (England) with a layover for a connecting flight to Riyadh. The Club World card that I was given was a perk that I hadn't expected; my status was that of Manny's wife—I guess he insisted on the best for me. The all-inclusive cost of my paid-for one-way business class flight was $3,052. It hardly seemed real to be flying half-way across the world from my family and former existence.

Almost immediately after our departure we ordered from a menu. From a selection of three entrees, I chose marinated seafood in chili dressing for the appetizer and chicken Salishon stuffed with avocado and chanterelle mushrooms in white Zinfandel sauce with warm rolls and butter. Dessert was English apple pie with custard, and a selection of cheese served with crackers, plus fresh fruit. Decaffeinated coffee accompanied a delectable chocolate truffle to end it off.

In my section we had our own TVs (about 12"x9") which folded up from a pocket in the arm rest. I watched the last two-thirds of "Crimson Tide" (which I had seen before) and then for the remainder of the flight treated myself to listening exclusively to the British classical music channel. Soon I was soothed into a sleep—exhaustion had triumphed—until breakfast was served. I ordered an omelet, toast—the English way, crisp and cold—with marmalade and fresh fruit.

We arrived at Heathrow at 11:30 a.m. (3:30 a.m. PST). There was a 2 ½-hour layover. Might as well visit the Club World—canapés, juices, pastries, espresso—and get my fill before my next meal. What if I don't like the food in Saudi Arabia?

There were only 150 passengers on the last flight—very few women—and, unlike the previous flight, this flight would drop off mostly male passengers at Riyadh's airport. I had a window seat and an unoccupied seat to my other side. I wondered if it was planned that way in that I was a woman on my own and might not know the protocol of socializing between me and the opposite sex.

Food again! I ordered a lunch of lobster and smoked salmon salad with chives and pesto mayonnaise for appetizer, and marinated grilled spicy Caribbean jerk chicken which had a very interesting and pleasant taste of spices that I couldn't quite identify. Along with it came a mixed salad, and on the side grilled pineapple, papaya and lime/cranberry apricot salsa—very flavorsome and unusual. Dessert was dark chocolate, orange crepes and both English and Continental cheese served with fresh fruit and Scottish oatcakes. Tea and a rich truffle was the perfect finale. I had already been warned that I would be required to cover my entire body with an abaya (a special black robe) as soon as I arrived. By this point a satiated tummy was sending out unhappy signals somewhere along my waistline; am beginning to believe the camouflage of an abaya would not be such a bad idea.

Why is it, when traveling, that the subject of food sparks up the palate to an obnoxious level with the mere thought of eating playing such a dominant role? If you ponder this question with some seriousness there is an easy answer to it. The traveling aspect is taken care of by a pilot; the miles to a destiny are ticked off by the plane's instrument panel; the essential food and drinks are served straight to your waiting tray. There is nothing to be in control of except your taste buds.

This 6½-hour segment of my journey seemed the longest to me. Listened to the British classical music channel and took cat naps on my comfortable reclining seat. The flight entailed a good deal of night flying. We flew over the spectacular Alps just before evening, and then it was dark until the plane landed at Riyadh—11:20 p.m. Saudi time—nearly 19 hours since I had left Sea-Tac airport.

I no sooner walked off the plane and into the airport when I was struck with the realization that this was definitely a foreign land. The inside of the newly opened, huge, lavish airport with its babbling waterfalls and lush plant life was the most beautiful you could ever imagine. It had a dome-shaped interior. When I later caught sight of the exterior, I thought it resembled a colossal, silver outer spaceship.

As I was standing in line to show my visa, my first really unexpected encounter was BEING STARED AT by males—Saudis, porters and all genres of male foreign faces, peering through a glass wall, and at this time of night to welcome who, exactly? There are few places in the world where you will be made to feel so foreign and uncomfortable. I soon learned that I stuck out because I was not covered by an abaya, head scarf and veil—the body covering meaning hijab. But, I reminded myself, I was following Aisha's instructions by wearing my up-to-the-neck blouse with long sleeves to my wrists and a long skirt that nearly dragged to the floor.

After I was received through the visa section, which took about 15 minutes, a Saudi male with a scowl on his face and a distinctive accent asked in English who I was. He was wearing a floor length white thobe (which looks like a dress shirt with collar and front buttons only it is floor length and loose with no slit up the sides) and red and white checkered head scarf (goutra) that covered his entire head. A black braided halo-like gizmo (which I later learned was called an egal) sat on top of his goutra. It looked as though its purpose was to keep the goutra in place. Since I was an unaccompanied female with no husband or male 13 years or older, I was required to wait in a designated area for females only to let the accompanied females precede me to pass through immigration. Without once looking at me he directed me with his pointer finger to this area.

I immediately and soberly realized that I would have to undergo an incredible transformation in order to endure the next 12 months. I sat on a hard bench in the female's area: a small, windowless, secluded room with the door shut. Just outside of it were exorbitant surroundings with exquisitely covered seating. After waiting a seemingly long time with five other females, I was escorted to enter the baggage claim area, claim my luggage and then head for Customs where I was to open all my cases to be thoroughly searched.

I had been instructed, in advance, that there were certain prohibited articles not allowed in the Kingdom: (1) alcoholic beverages or items obviously containing beer or wine-making kits, or even liquor chocolates, (2) weapons or ammunition of any sort, (3) sexually suggestive magazines, photos, films, videotapes, (4) narcotics, including any and all addictives, amphetamines or marijuana, (5) religious items such as illustrated Bibles, crosses, or Christmas tree ornaments, (6) statuary representations of the human figure. Furthermore, I totally understood that anyone found possessing any of these items would be punished—even in some cases, severely—anywhere from fines, deportation, detention or even death, as it clearly stated on my Exit and Re-Entry visa "WARNING – DEATH for drug trafficker." I had to sign this card; I signed my life over to the Kingdom.

Finally, I was allowed out through the automatic doors and right through the careened-off staring males until I was met by a face that I instantly recognized—my husband's—although I took a second look as he was dressed in a long white thobe and goutra. He couldn't display any affection, he mumbled something to the effect under his breath, and certainly couldn't kiss me. Kissing, in particular, is prohibited. But he did momentarily squeeze my hand. Aisha had revealed to me that showing affection or embracing in public is considered immodest and, therefore, is forbidden.

"What's this? A present?" I asked.

"Marhaba—welcome to Saudi Arabia," he answered back with a half-grin. Unwrapped, there was a black abaya and scarf to cover my hair (on loan from the hospital) which I was aware I would have to don immediately before we even departed the airport. But where is my veil, I wanted to know? It was my wish to go in full style.

Our driver was waiting for us near the airport door exit. I was introduced to Nassar, who was from Yemen, probably about 30 years of age and quite fluent in English. For the protection and safety of women, airport limos (taxis) cannot pick up unaccompanied women in Riyadh. I later heard the story of a recent Western woman who was hospitalized after being victimized by a male posing as a driver.

It was a 25-minute drive to our villa compound. As I got out of the car, I was pleasantly hit with a soothing breeze of balmy weather. In the dark of the night my eyes were fixed on an exhibition of the brightest of stars. It was nearly 1 a.m. I didn't know if I was more tired or more excited. After a good sleep in a comfortable bed and after awakening, I would start a new life.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from INFIDEL BEHIND THE PARADOXICAL VEIL by Jeanette M. English Copyright © 2011 by Jeanette M. English. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Dedication....................vii
Acknowledgments....................ix
Introduction....................xi
Prologue....................1
Chapter 1 Marhaba To Saudi Arabia (1995)....................21
Chapter 2 In The Kingdom – The First Month....................29
Chapter 3 No Talking in the Back Seat....................81
Chapter 4 An Unveiled Probe into a 1,400-Year Old Religion....................92
Chapter 5 Honor and the Family....................110
Chapter 6 Transparent Obscurity....................122
Chapter 7 Marriage, Polygamy, Divorce....................133
Chapter 8 The Mutawa Fiddle-Faddle....................146
Chapter 9 Ramadan—An Interruption of Interruptions....................164
Chapter 10 A Six-Month Climb—Now a Coast Downhill....................179
Chapter 11 Swimming in the Red Sea....................191
Chapter 12 The Last Flush of Roses....................211
Chapter 13 Bargaining with the 21st Century....................221
Chapter 14 Face to Face with the Veil....................243
Epilogue....................252
A Brief Overview of Saudi Arabia....................255
Glossary....................265