Lloyds and the Little One

The fifth rainy day in Jeddah brings yet other new experiences. Heavy rains on Tuesday, January 25 followed by more serious rains on Wednesday brought various problems for Jeddah residents. Getting home, flooded homes and water-logged cars were a few of the trials.

After numerous conversations with Head Office, and another government warning about another storm coming, our school was officially closed at about 12:30. Prior to closing, the morning provided many opportunities for interesting adjustments.  Students were shuffled to different classes because of rain coming into their classrooms. Adults pitched in to help wherever they deemed necessary.

The pool of water that remained from our last rain (about 10 days ago) was named by one of our students who aptly called it ‘a lake’.  With the heavy rains yesterday, the lake grew to a small sea. Unfortunately, the indented canvas rested on a metal rod and hallas, the weight of the water punctured a hole in the rooftop. The rain poured right onto our beautiful stage and morning assembly area.

A team of seven women pushed squeegees for about 1 ½ hours. Hundreds of trips back and forth across the floor pushed most of the water out the front entrance doors. Three men then came to support our efforts. One man went up on the middle roof with a hose to siphon the water out of the ‘lake’. The three men stayed on to keep the area reasonable dry and rigged up a ‘rain catcher’ to fill the numerous buckets.

We all enjoyed an International lunch as it was our potluck lunch day. Spring rolls, fried noodles, Crispy Crème donuts, brownies, Caesar salad, humus, empanadas, all made our troubles seem a little lighter! Because traffic was at a snail’s pace, the delivery of lunch was delayed. Our students enjoyed some of these dishes too.

Most students were picked up by 2:30 and staff carpooled (no pun intended), to find rides home. Our regular bus driver (Adroos) was stuck in traffic in a mini van and couldn't get back to the office. Once they found an additional set of keys for the teachers' bus, Ali came to pick up the staff that was still at school. I stayed at school as two students had yet to be picked up.

What do you do with youngsters that can’t play outside and are tired of colouring? Bring out the tricycles! Boy they had fun and I loved watching them have fun. Yussuff even gave me a lift on the two seater! Taffa’s parents were finally able to reach the school just before 5:00. Now Omar the gatekeeper, Yusseff and I were left.

Ali the bus driver came back to pick me up to take me to the compound. Yussuff’s father was still stuck on the bridge and could not go forward or backward. What to do, what to do? In collaboration with Yussuff’s mom, we agreed it was best for him to come home with me. He was thrilled to be going on the big bus! Thankfully he is a very outgoing lad (reminds me of one of our own), and he was very comfortable coming with me. It did help that our relationship had been established prior to yesterday. We have met several times in my office to discuss important matters such as ‘hands to self, listening to my teacher, and sitting nicely at the carpet’.

Our ‘boat’ ride home provided more sights to see. Grocery carts under water, people wading through deep water, cars driving on curbs to lift their cars, cars finding holes in the road and stranded water logged cars.

'driveway' to our house - all sidewalks are down under!

We got home about 6:30 and when we walked in, Glenn knew I was going to be late, however, was very surprised to see I had adopted another little lad (where are the little girls in our lives?). He and Yussuff enjoyed our photos of winters in Campbell River, our puppies, the Beaumont, family photos, the animals at the San Diego zoo among other things. They analyzed the good guys and bad guys on the cartoon channel, learned about the animals on the National Geographic channel, and watched a snowboarding competition. Glenn thought Yussuff should try that sport and Yussuff said, “That is terrifying!” His English language is very advanced for a five year old with English as his second language. Following watching TV, Glenn and Yussuf determined what should be served for breakfast. Finally at about 9:30 Yussuff said, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” He closed his eyes and slept.

What a good boy in the morning. I was trying to be really quiet as I thought he was still sleeping. What a surprise when I saw he had his shoes and socks on and was playing with his papers from his school bag. Eggs, the agreed upon breakfast, were served up.

After breakie, the three of us scouted out if we could get to the gate to meet Yussuff’s mom and dad. Around the maze of puddles and flooded roads, we were able to navigate our way there. Good news for his worried mommy! Off we went back home and waited for them to give us a call when they arrived.

One more trip to the gate and the family was reunited. Unfortunatley, Yussuff’s dad spent the night in his car. He told us he was about 1 km from home and tried to walk. When he saw that folks were up to their chests in water, he returned to his car. One does NOT want to walk in the brown water. It is not just water - sewer too! YUCK! Yussuff's dad arrived home at about 8:30 in the morning.

Another new adventure in Jeddah is recorded. The Lloyds are again empty-nesters but had a fun time and lots of laughs with outgoing lovely Yussuff.

Hospital Hiatus

Once upon a time there was a woman who in her mind, thought she was younger than her actual age. While her mind was willing, her body was not!

She thought the container full of Canadian educational materials was even better than Christmas morning. She saw sand coloured boxes of every size and shape, every weight and dimension; just sitting waiting to be opened to discover the contents. The woman knew this would be a mammoth task and invited her supportive strong husband to help her.

1/2 of the order

Three younger men were also summoned to help sort and move the boxes to the woman’s Kindergarten school. After four solid hours with only a sip of water for all, the woman’s wise husband said, “Hallas, enough, I’m done. Tomorrow we will come and finish the sorting.”

The next day the couple arrived at the scheduled time and began, with less enthusiasm, to complete the task. Like an artist’s palette, they sorting 70 packages of each colour of construction paper. Multiple sets of play trucks, dolls, doll’s cribs and highchairs, complete kitchen play centers, pompoms, many coloured rolls of paper, poster board, jungle, seashore, farm animals, dinosaurs, wiggly eyes, pipe cleaners, puppets, puppet stages, water and sand tables and the list went on for 8 more pages.

Finished they were; in more ways than one! Unfortunately for the couple, it was the holy day and no taxis were in sight. They hiked 2 km in the mid-day sun to hail a cab. They treated themselves to lovely lunch at Chili’s.

The very next morning, the mature lady went off to work. About 15 minutes after arriving, she bent over to pick up a piece of paper and her back went snap! Oh how she wished that piece of paper wasn’t so heavy!

With the excruciating pain increasing, she relented and went to the hospital. After filling out the paperwork and paying the required SR14. she dragged her hunched body over the elevator and rode to the fourth floor where she was to see a physiotherapist. Unfortunately, only optimologists occupied the fourth floor. Down to reception she shuffled. Again she repeated, “Physiotherapist” to the gentleman who had ‘helped’ her. He informed her physiotherapy service was in another building. She asked her helper to carry her bag and off they went on their trek.

In the other building her translator and helper took her to the front reception. After greeting all his mates (shaking hands, hugging, chatting), he pointed to the desk down the corridor. She was told that was physiotherapy. Whew she thought, almost there! Holding her breath and gritting her teeth, the woman hobbled to the next section. While there, the head doctor explained in very good English, that unlike Canada, one had to see a doctor before being given service in his department. Back to the front reception the woman shuffled.

Paying her SR14 again, her helper took her to another section in the hospital. At that reception desk she recognized a few words. Her helper told the ladies at the desk, “Urgent, Canadian, and Doctor.” Once the paper work was done at that desk, her helper showed her the next waiting room.  The dilapidated woman sat on a metal chair and rested her head on the wall. She closed her eyes and that squeezed out the pain tears that were so close to the surface.

Gathering her emotions, her brain started to have a very interesting conversation! Calm and patient ½ was debating with fight and flight ½.

“Get me out of here!”

“Just be patient, you have finally made it to the right section, let’s just wait to see the doctor.”

“The doc could be hours, you’ve heard how you can get grey hair waiting for doctors here. Maybe the doc is doing surgery and we could be here when the sun goes down!”

“OK, let’s just set a time. Can we agree on waiting ½ hour more?”

“I just want to be home in bed, off this hard metal chair, lying on my soft coil spring mattress. That’s the medicine I need!”

The woman did wait for the doctor for the ‘agreed upon time’. Shuffling back to the main reception, she informed them she would need to leave and would not need to have an appointment today. They insisted upon giving her the SR14 back. Dragging her feet she found a pharmacy in another section of the hospital, bought some Advil, called the bus driver and headed home.

Indeed fight or flight was right! Bed rest on the coil spring mattress with lots of Advil allowed her to slide out of bed six hours later.

The boxes sat perfectly still the following day. A true doctor’s visit will have to wait, and the woman will need to act her age!

Naughty Times Two

There’s the bad naughty and the lighter cheeky naught. I witnessed both last night.

Walking home alone from the Souke, came the first naughty. Bad! Given there is little touching in public with the opposite gender (holding hands, hugging), and the firm grip the man had on the woman in the abaya, I knew something was askew. As the plain clothed officer was putting the lady into the van with flashing lights, my heart started beating faster. I know getting arrested here is not a good thing!  I really need to work on a more neutral facial expression because the Pilipino man who was walking by asked me, “You are scared huh?” I asked what happened. He told me two women went running by before Maghrib (4^th prayer time).  He then told me the obvious; “Maybe they do something bad.” While I see armed guards daily, this was my first experience with serious lawful misbehaviour. It was disturbing.

The second naughty happened a few minutes later. Coming onto the compound, the armed guard was jabbering at me. I think they really like Glenn and I partially because we wave, always offer a salutation, and most probably because of the Crispy Crème Donuts we bought for them the other night. Regardless, they smile and practice their broken English repeating the words, “Welcome, welcome!” While the guard was talking Arabic to me, I asked the security man what he was saying. The young security fellow smiled and said, “He wants you to kiss me.” Very naughty! I was laughing inside however; in my most dignified manner I spoke a firm “No” and walked away.

Is there a simple lesson here? Two times naughty doesn’t add up!

Getting Closer

Today I went to get Glenn’s exit/entrance visa so we can travel to Egypt in February. Although we had been to the passport office before, today brought new sights and experiences. Checking my list included;

ü  Glenn’s passport

ü  Glenn’s iqama

ü  photos of Glenn

ü  payment of SR 200

ü  my iquama

ü  patience

ü  more patience

Omar picked me up at 8:00 and off we went with the other 3.5 million people in Jeddah. The traffic was heavier than the 401 in Vancouver at rush hour, with no overflow lane and some traffic lights not working. At one point in the traffic jam, an ambulance was trying to negotiate through the maze of vehicles. The siren was wailing but no one was pulling over; few were even slowing down. I asked Omar if drivers were not required to pull to the right and stop. He responded with, “Crazy drivers, they no stop. Sometimes the person dead, it takes too long.” I couldn’t help but think if that was a driver’s loved one, wouldn’t they want all the drivers to pull over to let the ambulance through?

Omar’s navigation skills were challenged today. Parking was practically non-existent. While circling the perimeter and all the alleys, I did discover that the ‘downtown core’ where the passport building is, seems to be the hub of all business in Jeddah. I saw the labour office and other buildings related to government business. There were masses of people all scurrying with their papers and documents. After searching for about 20 minutes, we followed a man to his car and parked in his vacated spot.

No place to park, no problem. The sidewalk works.

Next came the typewriter service.  A gentleman typed the paper which was to release us on our upcoming holiday. Omar walked me to the office and told me to call him when I was finished. He told me he needed to come and get me.  I didn’t ask questions at that point; thinking maybe women weren’t allowed to be alone in this area.

I entered the same building as I went in the other day and walked up to the wicket. I waited and waited some more. There were probably 50 – 60 women in the center today. One older lady was chatting to me pointing to my papers and although I didn’t understand her, I knew she was trying to be helpful because of her toothless grin.  I finally talk to the officer and she sends me to get a service ticket. Although the wall clock read 00 the whole time I was there, today they did have a numbered system. After I received my number, I went back to the officer. Waiting patiently, I finally get to the window again. Now I am told I need copies. Off I go outside to get copies. Thankfully, I had to get copies the other day so knew where to go. The lady that helped me the other day was most obliging again today.

Back to the wicket I go for a third time. While waiting to get to the front, the friendly older lady was getting her documents processed. She was pointing to my papers and chatting to me again. Another lady understood some English and interpreted for the elderly lady. She wanted to know if my documents were correctly filled out. I thought that was an interesting question to be asking me. A few minutes later, I found out why she was so curious. The officer was methodically doing the old lady’s paper work, undisturbed by the ladies who jump to the front of the line and ask her questions. When it came time for the old lady to sign her paper, she reached into her purse and pulled out a cloth change purse. From the change purse came a stamp that was attached to a key chain. The officer took the stamp, dabbed it in ink and stamped where the lady’s signature went. This kind old woman was worried I might not have filled in my paper work properly, possibly because she was illiterate. So sweet, I believe in her way, she was encouraging me.

Finally it is my turn. Again the officer systematically goes through the paper work and then tells me, “Hallas.” It means finished. I asked her how long it would be. She didn’t understand and I couldn’t understand her answer. I wait again.

After 40 minutes of waiting, I notice the officer who helped me the other day is now on duty. I go to her window and she recognizes me and puts her hand out to say hello. Women are very friendly and a handshake is a respectful way to say hello to someone you don’t know that well. Hugs and cheek kisses on both sides of your face, is a greeting for those that know you better. I tell her what I am waiting for and ask her how long it might be. I get the standard answer, “Maybe about 5 or 10 minutes.” Inside I chuckle as it has already been 40! Sitting back down, I practice more patience. More time lapses and I return to the English speaking officer. I ask her to check for me. Hallas, it has arrived and I am handed Glenn’s visa ‘ticket’ out. Omar comes to get me and off we go.

While I was learning how to get an exit/entrance visa for my ‘sponsored husband’, Omar went to have breakfast. I asked him to pick something up for me too. Below is a picture of a typical breakfast. It is called ‘foul’ and is a warm bean dip. With it comes this pizza sized warm bread. While Omar navigated me back to work, I enjoyed some of the bread and dip.

Four hours later, we are ½ way there. Next, I will wait for my employer to prepare my exit/entrance visa. When it is ready, I will trade my iqama for my passport and God willing, we will be off to Egypt.

Iqama – Priceless!

Today was another unique Arabia adventure for us. Two weeks ago Glenn went to get his medical report done in order to obtain his iqama. Today we actually have his ‘Residency Iqama Card’ in hand! Another successful outing! The process was worthy of sharing a story.

Omar, one of our trusty AGS drivers took us to the hospital to pick up the medical papers. When he returned to the vehicle, Glenn asked him, “Am I alright Omar?” He is so sweet; he giggles and says, “Yes!”  We then called him Doctor Omar. He loved that!

With medical papers, 2 small photos and Glenn’s passport in hand off we went to the ‘Passport Office’. Oh my goodness! As Omar slowed down and we rounded the corner, we saw what resembled an open air market. There were eateries with several customers, men conducting business in portable offices, colourful beach umbrellas and a huge traffic jam. Obviously it was a popular place. We saw many men sitting with typewriters on tables, some under the shade of their umbrella, some with customers, some without. When I inquired if this was the passport place, Omar said, “Yes.” Our eyes bugged out of our heads. When was the last time you saw a typewriter let alone someone conducting business on it?

Finding a parking spot was Omar’s first challenge. After that, we found a gentleman who was not serving a customer. Thankfully Omar was with us as he was our translator. Whew! After the typewriter paper work was done, off we went to get a photocopy of Glenn’s passport. Under the makeshift open-air office, two women were scurrying around filling customer orders.

Driver Omar far left, gentleman who did Glenn's paperwork under the festive umbrella.

Next, Omar tells me to go into the building alone; only women allowed. I must have had confusion, terror, resistance or some other emotion showing on my face.  One of the dear ladies left her photocopy post and ushered me inside the building. She quickly set me up with a passport officer. Thankfully, the passport officer spoke a few words of English.  Another whew! After more paperwork, the officer took my iqama, Glenn’s passport and medical papers and put them into a little white box attached to the wall.  It reminded me of back home where the commercial tellers are behind a secure area. It didn’t appear there was any way to see into the ‘backroom’. My guess is there were men working in there and because they are not allowed to see the women working in the ‘women’s’ section, the white box system ensured segregation.

Next came the waiting along with about 30 other women. I forgot to ask how long the process might be so I took my seat and waited patiently. (One must have heaps of patience to survive here.) At one point I called Omar to ask if they were supposed to give me back Glenn’s passport. Personally, I don’t have my passport so I did not know what the process was. When I started to speak to Omar, several ladies turned to look at me. I expect it was because I was speaking English.  Who is that lady without the head scarf, with blue eyes and speaking a foreign language? It is very interesting to be in the minority.

About 40 minutes later, I thought maybe I should find out how long it might take. As I was waiting at the passport window, I heard “Canadianie”. I thought that might be a good sign given all other women looked to be from other parts of the world. Sure enough, as soon as I asked, the officer smiled and handed me Glenn’s brand new iqama and his passport. Third whew! As I left the office, I was smiling and thinking, where is that red Staples ‘Easy’ button?

 Glenn’s Iqama

ü  Visa from Canada $300.

ü  Visa in Saudi Arabia SR 2000

ü  Translated documents SR 200

ü  Application for Iqama SR 1000

ü  Medical tests in SA SR 250

ü  Typewriter Service SR 10

ü  Photocopy Service SR 3

ü  Tip for Photocopy Woman SR 10

ü  Cappuccino for Omar SR 18

ü  Glenn’s Residency Igama – Priceless!  LOL

As we were leaving the Passport Office area, Omar told me I need to go back to the same place to obtain Glenn’s exit/entry visa prior to going to Egypt in the beginning of February. Apparently there are forms I will need to fill out . . . . . . . . that may be worthy of another story!