Saudi Days

Jeddah presented another culture shock. I had read "The Arab Mind" and the Koran when I got the news of my contract, but any assumptions about being prepared for what I saw when I entered the airport quickly dissipated. I entered the terminal to be greeted by a sea of white thobes (floor-length shirts for the men) on one side, and a lake of black abayas (mandatory ladies' wear) was occupied in group prayer. I froze, not knowing if I should move while this was going on. There was going to be plenty more new experiences in this country.

I worked as a Saudi company software manager, so I was not as restricted as ex-pats who worked for foreign companies. Foreigners were generally sequestered in compounds, segregated from Muslim society. I had a translator, a car, and a lovely two-bedroom apartment.

At work, I had an international staff of Filipinos, Pakistanis, Indians, and a couple of Brits. My job was to keep them busy working on software projects that I had solicited from Saudi companies. We also partnered up with other companies for large projects. I designed a system for Saudi Agricultural Bank from start to finish at a price tag of twenty-six million dollars.

My translator and I went all over the Kingdom. Based in Riyadh, we worked in Jeddah, Taif, Dahran, and a couple of other cities. We would go to meet with some mucky-muck in his office and join those already there. Typically, all meetings were ongoing group meetings. We would take a seat on cushions along the wall and wait to be addressed before saying anything. Sometimes, there were as many as forty people in a large office. A tea boy would make his rounds, refilling any empty glass while the conversation was going on. When recognized, we would state our business and, if appropriate, we would start the process of concluding a commitment. On one occasion, a woman entered the room wearing blue jeans and a casual top and began pouring tea. I asked Faisal, my interpreter, who she was.

"She's one of his wives."
"Why is she not wearing Muslim clothing?"
"Islam is used to control Bedouins, not royalty."

Fully one-third of US ex-pats never finished the honeymoon period of three months in their contract. If I had not had my epiphany, I probably would not have remained in Saudi Arabia. Coming into a country with no movie houses, no bars, five prayer calls a day, and a strict code of conduct was too much for some. I loved it. I took advantage of everything available, just like I had done when I came to Chicago. We had group convoys into the desert on weekends, visited the outdoor bazaars, ate at some great restaurants in some great hotels, and kept ourselves happily occupied. I even joined the Riyadh Golf Club for some desert links experience. This suggests a memorable day.

In 1984 Saudi Arabia, as in most Islamic countries, Thursday and Friday comprised the weekend, Friday being the day the population goes to the mosques. On this particular Friday, I started the morning with golf at the Riyadh Country Club. I joined my foursome at 6:00 A.M. to begin our round. We wanted to finish before 10:00 A.M. because the temperature would pass 100 degrees by that time.

Golfing at Riyadh Golf Club is quite different than golfing in the United States. Number one, there is no grass. The fairways are created by a road grader into a semblance of flatness, and the greens are actually "browns" made with sand soaked with oil to prevent its blowing away. Some of us carried plastic bottle caps to place the ball for elevation from the rocky soil, while others had a piece of Astroturf to prevent club damage. It was amusing watching a drive bouncing down the fairway like a pinball and going past 300 yards. From the fairway(?), shots are aimed at the brown. When the ball hits the oily sand, it gets buried. Footprints from prior players pockmark the surface. Near each brown is a pipe attached to a long handle so that players may smooth a path to the hole and putt.

The seventh hole was a "water hole" where we had to imagine a dust-dry depression containing water. Of course, my drive reached it. When I arrived there and stooped to retrieve my ball, a yellow and red snake appeared from a scruffy bush a few feet from me and looked me in the eye. It was about six feet in length and seemed to contemplate where its next slither would take it. I felt no fear, only respect. I believe in omens and thought about what meaning this could possibly carry. We finished the round, and I returned home. I was to meet a group of ex-pats at Clocktower Square to go shopping and share lunch.

Fridays, the Bedouins come to the city from the desert to attend mosques and sell their crafts in the "Bedouin Suk." We had arranged for a group to go there after the round of golf. I had no time to spare because of the arrangements, so I didn't even have a chance to properly refresh myself. In the summer, it is considered wise to always carry water, no matter what the activity. The air is so dry that there is no feeling of sweat because it evaporates immediately. Too much exposure can cause problems. Although this Friday wasn't the hottest I suffered, it was hot! (Hottest day while there was more than 130 degrees Fahrenheit!)

The Bedouin suk was located near Clocktower Square in downtown Riyadh. The main mosque is there, faced by the Hall of Justice. The clock tower is at the north end of the parking area, the Hall of Justice to the east, and the mosque opposing it on the west. The south end leads to the souk.

After a short time shopping with the group, I felt woozy for lack of hydration. I separated from my group with the intent of finding some refreshment nearby. I proceeded towards Clocktower Square to find a store and get some water.

Entering the parking area I was surprised by the lack of cars. It was prayer time, and it usually would be filled with vehicles. As I started to cross the empty lot, a Saudi soldier ran down the Hall of Justice steps to intercept me. He wore a uniform and carried a grease gun over his shoulder. He said nothing but motioned with his head to have me walk towards the lot's west side. Thinking of the oddity of the situation, I obeyed and skirted the open lot.

As I was proceeding, I noticed two men standing on concrete dividers (like those used to separate road construction from traffic) overlooking the empty lot. I approached them and asked them what was going on. They said that there would be a "topping" after the prayer call. That explained it! A "topping" is British vernacular for someone having his head chopped off.

I had been in Saudi Arabia for over a year and had heard stories from ex-pats about such events, but none of them had ever seen one. All were hearsay of what someone else had told them. As thirsty as I was, I decided to join the two on top of the divider and questioned them about their experiences. One was French and, since I speak French, we talked about his witnessing a topping in Taif a few months prior. He pointed to a brown van across the lot where the prisoner to be executed was being held.

As we spoke, the cacophony of prayer call was blasting from loudspeakers just above us. After a few minutes, the Hall of Justice doors opened. A stream of young Saudis in uniform (probably early teenagers) filed down the stairs and started to make a cordon of bodies framing the empty lot in an approximate square. Shortly after that, an older group of young Saudis with grease guns shouldered formed an inner cordon behind the youngsters. All faced outward from the center to watch the crowd gather and prevent any interference in the execution. As time passed, dozens of onlookers gathered and were kept at bay by the cordons. A Saudia 747 passing overhead on its way to Riyadh airport made me realize how surreal this scenario was.

Suddenly, the loudspeakers ceased their obnoxious noise, and Saudis began exiting the mosque. Many of them gathered near the southwest corner of the lot and waited for the event. Once the mosque emptied, only a minute or so passed before another loudspeaker sounded. This one was in the hands of a policeman in the middle of the square. As he explained to the crowd why the execution was necessary, a man was taken from the brown van and led by four policemen towards the center of the square.

The prisoner was blindfolded from the crown of his head down to his chin. He shuffled with difficulty due to leg irons. His arms were tightly bound at the biceps behind his back. I was hypnotized and frozen solid. As he reached the center of the square, he was made to kneel, and one of the policemen forced his head forward to make his torso parallel to the ground, ripped the collar of his thobe backward to expose his neck, and stepped back.

I hadn't noticed the executioner until this moment. He had been trailing the group to the center to do his duty. He was dressed in ceremonial attire of red and gold and carried a golden sword perpendicular to the ground immediately behind the group. As soon as the policemen made room, he stepped forward, made a practice swipe, and brought the sword down, cleanly severing the head from the body. (The Saudi entourage politely clapped for the executioner's prowess.)

When the weight of the head fell, the body jerked back, and the carotid artery spewed a red fountain of blood into the air. As the body leaned to the left and keeled over, the arc of blood continued to pulsate upward. My knees buckled as I almost fell off the divider.

The pavement around the body was soon covered with a vast pool of blood. Moments later, the headless body and blindfolded head were removed by hospital personnel attending.

Within moments, another man was being led from the van. No! This one was much bigger and bulkier than the first, but the same procedure was occurring. When the executioner brought his sword down this time, there was nothing but a sickening sound of metal meeting bone.

Disgusted, the executioner turned, took one step backward, and returned to the victim (whose head was now touching the ground). He tried once more, only to produce the same sickening sound. He tried one more time with the same result and stepped away. A doctor looked at the bleeding victim as the blood was gushing from the wounds onto the pavement. He pronounced him dead a few minutes later.

My mouth and throat were drier than the desert. I went to get some water.