by I A Thompson
“You’ll see,” he said, as he got ready to leave. “We’re not so different from you all. In the end, we all want the same. Health and happiness for ourselves and our families. It just manifests itself differently around here.”
42
Regina had to admit, taking an Uber in Riyadh was only slightly different from taking one in DC. Drivers in Saudi Arabia seemed to be significantly less chatty than the ones in the U.S., but other than that, the experience was pretty much the same; convenient, easy and fast. Her driver dropped her off in front of the KSU Female Campus, a sprawling, elliptical compound surrounded by tall walls to shield its female patrons from prying eyes.
Despite being a public university, there was no such thing as simply taking a stroll and taking in the sights and atmosphere as she could have done just about anywhere else in the world. With the strict gender separation in the Kingdom, the general campus, open only to men, was off-limits to her, and even the women’s campus had a whole host of restrictions she’d have to abide by as a visitor. No camera, no smartphone, no recorder of any kind, Samir told her after he got off the phone with one of the Admissions officers.
She made her way to the admissions office to check in and was greeted by a young, short, slightly chubby girl with thick black hair, heavily made-up brown eyes and a smile that lit up the room. “Hi,” the girl greeted as her smile got even wider. “You must be Regina Livingston? I’m Yasmin Ahmeen. I’ll be showing you around and will be happy to answer any questions you may have.” Like Samir, Yasmin’s English sounded slightly British.
“Nice to meet you,” Regina replied while she shook the younger girl’s hand. She felt a little awkward in her abaya and hijab, as all the women in the office were wearing western clothing. “Can I take these off?” she asked, pointing at the two garments.
Yasmin laughed. “Yes, you can. Inside these walls, we don’t have to cover up, just when we leave. We just keep them in our purses to have them handy.”
Regina peeled off the extra layer of clothing over her slacks and tunic and stuffed them in her purse and took the visitor’s badge Yasmin handed her.
“Do you want to take your purse with you or lock it up?” Yasmin asked. “I assume you were told about the rules?” She picked up on Regina’s hesitation and chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Think about it this way; when you were to go to the swimming pool at your local YMCA, you’d lock all your stuff up too and only take your key, right?” She smiled at Regina who nodded. “See, same thing. You’ll be more comfortable anyway without hauling extra weight around. The campus is huge and it’s hot outside. The lighter you can travel, the better. Just grab a credit card in case you’ll get hungry or thirsty. All of our vending machines and eateries are equipped with card readers.”
“Sounds good.” Regina put her things, minus one Visa card, in the locker Yasmin assigned her and followed her guide out to the main foyer.
It was obvious that Yasmin had given this type of tour many times before. As she guided Regina through the services and administrative buildings, she pointed out architectural and functional details, explaining how the ambitious project of creating the state-of-the-art college that now educated 30,000 students at a time took shape, and how it was different from other all-girl schools in the Kingdom.
“See,” Yasmin said as she led Regina into a classroom in the College of Business Administration and pointed to the high-tech setup of the room. “We call these distance learning halls. They allow us to selectively connect to interactive learning sessions, smart classes, integrating both female and male students,” she grinned. “Obviously, we’ll have to wear appropriate cover for the smart classes where we actually interact with male teachers, but this equipment allows us to study with the best teachers available, regardless of whether they are women or men. That’s huge progress over the days when our areas of education were limited by whether a female professor was available or not.”
“This is really impressive.” Regina looked around, slightly jealous of the equipment these girls had available to them. She could think of a few schools at home that would have loved to upgrade so something like this if only their endowments or income would allow for it.
“It’s great and a lot of fun,” Yasmin chirped excitedly. “For some of us, this is our first opportunity to think outside the box of our traditions and learn things our mothers and grandmothers couldn’t even dream of. It’s a quantum leap forward for us and our country.”
“What spurred this massive investment in women’s education?” Regina asked.
“I think it has a lot to do with the changing economy in our country. The more the rest of the world weans itself off fossil fuels, the more we need to look at other income sources than oil. I chose Computer and Information Sciences because the future will rely more and more on computers, and in a virtual world, it doesn’t matter much if a woman’s or a man’s hands are on the keyboard.”
“But girls are still limited in what you all can study, right?” Regina asked, trying to remember the different colleges on campus Yasmin had rattled off earlier.
“Well, there are specialty fields like healthcare or education that are simply more traditionally accepted professions for women here, so there is a bigger job market and therefore they get more focus. After all, who wants to go to school for four or more years and then just sit at home looking at your diploma,” Yasmin replied. “And I have a hunch, things will continue to change and become more open, regardless of what the crusty old Muttawa are saying.” She glanced at Regina. “I hope you forgive my openness.”
“Please.” Regina cocked her head and smiled. “Just keep it coming. How can UNICEF help children across the world, if we don’t hear the truth about what works and what doesn’t.”
“I can help you with the part about what definitely doesn’t work. The stupid guardianship rules for women.” Yasmin’s passion was palpable. “Just imagine my little brother becoming my guardian if something happened to my father. Laughable! The little brat is barely capable of stringing a coherent sentence together, and I say that with all the love I have for him.”
“Maybe we can talk more over lunch?” Regina suggested.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Yasmin agreed. “After we finish with the Humanities department, we’ll cut over to the sports building, then the dorms and finish up with the Science department, which will bring us back to the main foyer and the largest restaurant on campus.”
Regina was pleasantly surprised to find daycare centers in both departments. “I can tell you that this alone is a huge plus for your school. The fact that they thought about the needs of students and faculty members who are mothers goes a long way. In the U.S. we tend to have to fend for ourselves when it comes to child care.”
The dorms also compared favorably to some of the ones she had seen before. They were modern, comfortable and surprisingly roomy. Having studied at a school where the sports program was huge, the sports complex was somewhat underwhelming in size and offerings, but like everything else on campus, it was state-of-the-art and geared towards the needs of its users.
After tasting her first bite of chicken kabsa, recommended by Yasmin, Regina instantaneously decided to make the cafeteria her favorite spot in the entire school. “This is so good,” she mumbled between two forks of food. “I could eat this every day.”
“If you think this is good - and don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad - you should give our homemade food a try,” Yasmin commented. “How adventurous are you?”
“Depends,” Regina shrugged. “I’ve eaten just about everything from rabbit to alligators, but I draw the line when it comes to bugs and other creepy, crawly things.”
“You won’t have to worry about that. Just some spices or food combinations you may have never tried before, but nothing weird. My friends and I are going to get together tomorrow evening; it’s kind of a monthly tradition where we drive out to the desert, everyone brings food, the guys build a bonfire, we listen to music and talk. You
should come.”
“Did you just say ‘the guys’?” Regina wasn’t sure if she had heard right.
“You sound surprised,” Yasmin chuckled. “Did you seriously think we all followed the rules of the Muttawa all the time? Like youths all over the world, we bend the rules from time to time. Or are you telling me you never drank a drop of alcohol until you were 21? Just got to make sure you don’t get caught.”
43
Just after evening prayers the following day, Yasmin picked up Regina at her hotel in a late model candy apple red Range Rover with pink sneakers peeking out from underneath her abaya. Regina had dressed just as casually and packed a light hooded sweater as Yasmin had advised her to do, despite the still sweltering 89 degrees.
“Are you ready for some Saudi-style fun?” she asked as she flung Regina’s bag on top of two grey coolers flanked by two blue and white ones along with enough bags and equipment for a week of camping.
“All of this for a few hours in the desert?” Regina asked.
“Keyword here is desert. You’ll understand when we get there,” Yasmin replied. Her squinted eyes indicated that she was grinning widely behind her niqab. “You can thank me later. Now get in so we can get going.”
Regina obediently got in the car and fastened her seatbelt. Yasmin was every bit as assertive a driver as Samir had been a few days ago; it was clear that she enjoyed driving.
“Where did you learn to drive?” Regina asked. Since the ban on women driving in the Kingdom had been lifted so recently, she was interested in learning how women were getting driver’s education.
“Oh, I learned to drive when I was around ten. My family had a dune buggy we would take with us to go off-roading in the desert. I’ll never forget it; it was red with a yellow top, all banged up from years of my older brothers bumping into stuff. They taught me and then my dad taught me how to drive cars, stick and automatic because he wanted to make sure I could fend for myself should there ever be a need. As soon as they started issuing driver’s licenses to women, I applied and got mine.”
Regina tried to envision a kid version of Yasmin riding around in a dune buggy. As soon as they left the capital behind them and veered off the paved road, it became very clear that Yasmin was more at home in the desert than the city. She stopped the car, wiggled out of her abaya, hijab and niqab, threw them on the back seat, then switched from radio to her iPad and cranked up the volume. Contemporary dance music was now blasting out of the speakers.
“Don’t look so scared!” she scolded Regina, who already saw herself getting carted off to prison by the religious police. “The Muttawa doesn’t come out here. Seriously, they have better things to do than patrol thousands of square miles of sand. Here we are free from conventions and can be ourselves.” She waited until Regina had also taken off her cover garments, put the car in gear again and followed a well-worn trail until they were surrounded by nothing but dunes.
Regina looked back to where they had come from. The only sign of civilization was now the glow of Riyadh’s lights above the dunes. She turned around, taking in the beauty of the desert in the last light of the day.
“How do you know where to drive and where to go?” Regina asked.
“GPS, trail markers, stars and experience, though not necessarily always in that order. It may not look like much to you, but this is our equivalent to your dirt roads.”
Regina felt herself relaxing. The pristine serenity of the landscape surrounding her reminded her of the Gulf Island National Seashore at home and the road from Pensacola Beach to Navarre Beach. Nature’s beauty always helped her put things in perspective and balance out the negative aspects of life she often had to focus on as part of her job.
Yasmin crested what seemed the hundredth dune and this time there was not just sand ahead of them. At the bottom of the dune were roughly thirty trucks and SUVs parked with dozens of tents that had been set up around a bonfire. Torches and lanterns lit the area and they saw men, women and a few children walking around.
“Here we are,” Yasmin said, as she drove down the hill and parked next to a white Toyota truck. Two young men approached the car to help with their cargo, putting the two grey coolers into a cream-colored tent that blended in with the desert background and bringing the blue and white ones to a much more ornate burgundy red tent where tables were already loaded with a variety of food.
A young woman with a small boy in tow ran by them towards the cream-colored tent, smiling at Yasmin and Regina. “Glad you two made it! And not a moment too soon,” she said in English as she dashed by.
Yasmin saw Regina’s puzzled look and started laughing. “You had no idea you were riding in the potty wagon, did you?” She gestured at the party patrons. “While we do like coming out here, none of us want to do our business in the dunes, and since I simply don’t have time to cook for events like these, I always bring drinks and the camping toilets. Works for everyone.”
“You never cease to amaze me.” Regina shook her head and wondered what other surprises the quirky girl had in store for her. After setting up their lounge chairs next to the bonfire amidst ornate rugs, pillows and other seating accommodations, they walked over to the food tent.
Flatbread, hummus, tabbouleh, kabsa, dates, raisins, nuts and a wide variety of other foods were available in abundance.
Even with only putting one small spoon of each dish on her plate, Regina ended up with a heaping plate of food. She was a little concerned she might not be able to eat all of it and inadvertently insult one of the ladies who put together the feast, but each dish tasted so good, she ate every last morsel. Ice cold mint lemonade, sweet hibiscus tea and fruit juices were served as refreshments. Sugar-laden? Sure. But at the moment, Regina couldn’t care less. She’d deal with the scale when she got back to the States. For now, she just wanted to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime treat.
The conversations began to get louder and more animated in direct proportion to plates being emptied. Since she didn’t speak Arabic, she couldn’t tell what the discussions were about, only that they were clearly passionate.
She turned to Yasmin. “What are they talking about?”
“They’re debating whether it’s possible to repair the schism between Sunni and Shia Islam, moderate the political power players and bring peace to the Middle East.” Yasmin pointed to a tall dark-haired man who appeared to facilitate the conversation. “That’s Reza Khan, he teaches social studies at KSU. He is one of the organizers of these get-togethers. They allow us to talk about anything and everything without the constraints of our society’s traditions and rules. I know it may not make much sense to you since you grew up in a country where you are free to say and do as you please, but for us, especially us women who attend, this is a taste of freedom we cherish.”
“Oh, trust me, it makes perfect sense. Believe it or not, there are limits to our freedom as well, they just manifest themselves differently.” Regina raised her chin and pointed it in the direction of Khan. “Can I meet him?”
Yasmin smiled. “Sure, I’ll introduce you as soon as they take a break for desserts and coffee.”
44
Eventually, the chatter settled down as the large group split up into smaller, more intimate conversations. Regina watched Khan mingle with the crowd, exuding grace and ease. His facial expressions easily switching between warm smiles, concerned frowns and intense care, depending on who he interacted with.
Finally, he made his way over to where Yasmin and Regina were sitting. “Yasmin, so good to see you!” he exclaimed extending his arms out as if to invite Yasmin into a hug. Then his focus shifted to Regina. “And who is your friend?” he asked, his eyes studying Regina’s face.
Yasmin jumped up. “This is Regina Livingston, visiting from America where she works for UNICEF. She visited KSU yesterday and based on our conversations, I thought the two of you should meet.”
Khan’s facial expression changed from warm hospitality to slight apprehension as he turned to Yasmin. “C
an I assume your vetting process included more than your gut feeling?”
Yasmin rolled her eyes. “Of course. Samir did a full background check on her and vouched for her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought her.”
Regina got up from her chair and silently thanked the CIA for making sure her alias stood up to scrutiny. That, or Samir himself was CIA. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind before and she made a mental note to check up on that. Would be nice to have a teammate on site. She didn’t have time to ponder the topic further since Khan took a step towards her and stretched out his hand.
“Welcome to our humble camp, Regina. I’m Reza, one of your hosts tonight,” he said with a cautious look still in his eyes.
“Very nice to meet you, Reza,” Regina replied, shaking his hand before she drew a blank. Whether it was his finely chiseled face, his smile, the dark eyes, his aftershave that smelled like musk, amber and moss with a hint of lavender or a combination of everything, she felt herself drawn to the man like a moth to light.
It was a visceral reaction and she needed a moment to pull herself back together. “Yasmin tells me you’re a social science teacher.” Her voice sounded raspy in her ears. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to pick your brain sometime about the dynamics in this part of the world. I’m pretty sure, I have a somewhat skewed picture in my head.”
Reza smiled. “That’s quite likely, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, all I can offer is a different perspective. Then it’s up to you to sort the puzzle pieces and make up your own mind. And no better place and time than here to do that. That’s why we have these outings.” He pointed to the tents and bonfire. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee and have a chat.”
Regina nodded, following his lead. Yasmin stayed behind, arms crossed above her chest, smiling proudly. Watching him put a plate of dates, two small cups and an ornate silver coffee pot on a tray, Regina’s mind raced trying to organize all the questions she wanted to ask the teacher.