The Rudolph rebellion (or adversity in advent)

 For the last three years, I have spent the majority of the Advent season in Saudi Arabia. Despite the respect for other faiths encouraged within the Qur’an, the Saudi religious leaders believe they know better and maintain an uncompromising ban on all things which might precipitate Christmassy thoughts. As a result, the western shops which normally utilize standard global livery must take special care to expunge all items red, green or gold!

 

Two years ago, in their infinite wisdom, the Mutawah (Saudi religious police) decided to harass those emerging from Starbucks with red, snowflake emblazoned cups. Thereafter, plain white cups were standard issue for the entire months of December and January and Saudi minds remained uncorrupted by thoughts of Bethlehem (God forbid), mangers and Virgin births. Following worrying press articles that year describing the exact nature of sanctions meted out to subversively festive souls, I hid my advent calendar in the safe and undertook twenty four days of sinful activity under cover. 

 One evening, suffering from a paucity of Christmas merriment, my colleague and I donned our (obligatory) abayas and journeyed to the Red Sea Mall (see To buy an abaya – October 2013) in a quest for things Yuletide which had ‘slipped beneath the religious radar’. Imagine our joy when in a ‘home decorating’ store we found for sale a large bowl, rim bedecked with the portraits of our friends Donner, Blitzen, Prancer, Dancer, Vixen, Cupid, Comet and rosy nosed Rudolph. Indeed racy little Blitzen appeared to be imbibing from something resembling the stirrup cup!

 We bought the bowl which was cripplingly expensive, having been shipped a very long way indeed to Saudi! We installed it in our office for all callers to admire and we lived to tell the tale! Moreover, a point was made: those who would censor others’ beliefs must be very thorough in their research if they are to achieve their dubious aims! 

 

 Best wishes to all who intend to celebrate Christ’s birth this year whether in your opinion he is the son of God, a prophet or neither!

Lagos: the new Dubai or simply dubious?

Among the honours conveyed upon countries, Dutch courage, French cuisine, German precision, Nigerian fraud is among the least endearing. The airport in Nigeria’s financial capital Lagos, where immigration is sub-divided into twenty needless interventions, interspersed by hours of queues, does little to re-endear the visitor. Numerous opportunities to accelerate one's passage with bribes only serves to reinforce Nigeria's swindling reputation. 

The drive between the mainland and Victoria Island however, provides a glimpse of Lagos’ potential; mangroves, shallow azure sea, wooden fishing boats, busy locals and a new marina. In the evening from the hotel, looking across the water towards the yachts and mansions of the few, I was reminded of the Florida Keys (the local beer may have played some part in this!) 

Dubai today

Lagos today

Forty years ago Dubai comprised a few scruffy buildings, a lot of sand, some sea and far too much heat. Mineral wealth and visionary leadership transformed Dubai into the desirable megalith it is today. Nigeria has the mineral wealth, more striking and diverse natural beauty and is arguably already further forward than the Dubai of forty years ago. Will Nigeria’s leadership grasp this opportunity, as the Emiratis did, or remain hamstrung by their dubious honour?

The big issue of ihram instability

Among the five big rules which govern the lives of Muslims is the requirement to visit Mecca once in a lifetime. There are get-out clauses for the poor (just as well in view of the visa prices) or infirm but generally a visit is to be bagged in the quest for paradise. Pilgrims follow strict rules including the requirement for men to wear ihram, a white rectangle wrapped (no stitching, no knotting) around the male person without the fettering of undergarments.

Despite clear demonstrations on u-tube showing tried and tested wrapping and fixing techniques, the majority of British pilgrims take a cavalier attitude to ihram stability. As a result, having run the gauntlet of the aircraft steps at Heathrow, all is in disarray by the time they reach seat 48B. If like me your employer requires you to regularly make the trip from Heathrow to Jeddah (the nearest airport to Mecca), I recommend facing forward, head motionless. Remember, eyes are nether-height when seated on an aircraft!

 

I once made an exception when a group of sporty, olive skinned students from Bradford joined me on the flight; only good manners to acknowledge and assist fellow countrymen on their holy endeavors!

The spiritualism of the sweet chestnut

Wait until they are brown and fallen from the tree

The transition from Superbrand to a twelve month 

Choose the fat, dark ones

sabbatical is underway. To kick start my stress-free, altruistic, spiritual*, organic existence, this afternoon’s task was to embrace the sweet chestnut. Our region of the Charente (see September 2013 – Back to 2002 and now full circle) is famous for sweet chestnuts which grow absolutely everywhere, I have learned (today) due to the granite adjoining the ‘cold lands’ of the neighboring Limousin region. Groups of cane-wielding locals can be seen foraging and filling their baskets daily in the autumn so I set out to follow them and despite lack of cane (whose purpose I was unable to deduce), I soon had a bagful. 

Ready for some cooking

Regarding the challenge of peeling the little blighters, I need not have feared; the preferred local method (reluctantly shared with a foreigner like me) is to cut a cross in the shell, plunge in cold water, bring to the boil for three minutes then remove. To my immense surprise, the peel came off each chestnut in one piece and a bowl of  energy rich, gluten free, low calorie, mineral abundant goodies sat atop the counter in minutes.

The healthy cookery possibilities are endless from chestnut and chocolate cake, through chestnut with venison or pork to soup, and all this abundance for no cost at all just outside the back door. I see Delia Smith recommends buying them vacuum packed; tish pish to Delia I say, not spiritual at all!

* in the context of the opposite of materialistic

Singing in Saigon

In these days of corporate social responsibility, Superbrand has upped its game philanthropy-wise. Every year, an international team of ‘high performing’ executives are selected to fly somewhere remote and help the needy at Superbrand’s expense. A couple of years ago, high performers were clearly in short supply and I set off for Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC).

Along with five new friends from India, Canada, China and the US (they blagged two slots, presumably to account for some past differences with HCMC), I was to ‘solve local problems’. My allocated problem was traffic; a problem indeed in HCMC where mopeds outnumber cars about 50 to 1, public transportation is shambolic, fatal accidents are frequent and the rules of the road of no interest to anyone. 

The town hall - even more ornate inside

We trawled Superbrand’s (impressive) reservoir of resources, we worked with the army, university, police and civil servants, all of whom claimed to be our most important ally  in solving the problem (which was probably a large part of the problem).  After several weeks, data had been analysed, predictive models run, reports written and everyone understood what needed to be done. We presented our recommendations to the Deputy President (DP) and his entourage in the sumptuous surroundings of the HCMC town hall. Delighted with the outcome, the DP suggested an evening out for the six executives and his entourage to celebrate. 

I got you babe

The venue was selected, a private room hired and song-sheets were distributed. The Vietnamese take their Karaoke seriously! Eventually and under duress, I warbled my way through Roberta Flack’s ‘Killing me Softly’, without doing too much damage to Superbrand’s stock price, but drew the line at playing Cher to the DP’s Sonny, beating a retreat to the Ladies. I need not have worried as on my return the DP, complete with Cher-like wig and gazing longingly into his (male) secretary’s eyes, had just got to the bit about ‘I got you to hold me tight’.*

In the twang of a G-string

Red Sea Mall - Door 1 (of many)

While working in Jeddah around Christmas time in 2011 my knicker-elastic broke (metaphorically). Undaunted I donned my abaya (see ‘To Buy and Abaya’ October 2013) and hotfoot to the Red Sea Mall, a splendid monolith to commercialism and always crowded on account of the paucity of alternative entertainments in Jeddah.

Saudi ladies in niqab

I had seldom sought the ladies’ lingerie provisions on previous visits and mine eyes were to be opened! I located several establishments, all tucked on the lower ground floor and positioned firmly towards the Anne Summers rather than Marks and Spencer end of the market. Ladies in full niqab were rummaging enthusiastically through the fare while their menfolk waited eagerly outside. At that time, women were not permitted to work in shops in Saudi hence the icing on the cake was the posse of simpering gentlemen assistants earnestly avoiding eye contact as transactions were finalised.

The HAIA

Shortly after, a royal decree was passed (sadly nothing to do with my traumatic foray), the male assistants fired in the twang of a G-string and Saudi women were ‘permitted’ to work in ladies’ underwear shops. Male assistants were progressively banned from all retail establishments catering for feminine needs in the subsequent months. The transition created great consternation concerning possible contravention of sharia law and was the subject of much discussion in following weeks.

All was kept under the close and watchful eye of the HAIA which is The Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice in Saudi Arabia. As you would expect, the eminent oversight of the elderly Saudi gentlemen constituting the HAIA gave immense comfort to an English lady working abroad and in fear of further problems with her liberty-bodice!

Reading for the Autumnal evenings

On a recent trip to Johannesburg, I met a lady who belongs to a local book club which promotes African fiction by local writers. She lent me one of the book club's books on the VERY strict understanding that I return same poste haste when next in Johannesburg (before the other book club members notice it is missing)!

Jenny Hobbs - the author from Durban

The Miracle of Crocodile Flats by Jenny Hobbs

The thread of the story is a gently humorous account of a young girl's vision of a "brown Madonna" on her way home from school in a run down, tense African township. The real story though is in Jenny Hobbs' evocation of African township living and the maturing of a (surprisingly) diverse community triggered by an unusual event.

The intricate spiders web of relationships and sheer number of characters at first feels daunting; we're still doing inroductions on page 75! On reflection though, communities are the extension of a crowd, a blend of transient and longstanding attachments, conflicts, meetings, shared experiences and conversations. The abundance of characters enabled the writer to transport me, the distant and unfamiliar reader, into the midst of the chaos, smells, cacophony  and emotions of the township. It is not necessary to remember precisely the provenance of everyone in the book (we don't always in real life after all) but just to go with the sense and feeling of the crowd.

For the chilly Autumnal evenings, this is definitely worth reading. I will hurry back to JoBurg soon to return my illicit borrowed treasure (and see what else in my friend's library looks interesting while I am there)!

Zayed's special place

Sheikh Zayed, a former king of Abu Dhabi is remembered as an impressive leader and visionary. One of his life's ambitions was to build the world's most impressive mosque to proliferate international understanding of the Islamic faith. The manfestation of his ambition is The Grand Mosque, built over twelve years but which Sheikh Zayed sadly did not survive to enjoy. Visitors participate in daily tours and the local Emirati guides personify the tolerance and openness to other religions extolled within the Qur’an*. 

 

I had expected something masculine, minimalist and majorly staid; and could not have been more wrong. Outside the shimmering, white marble bejeweled with inlaid flowers, infinite arches, reflective pools and sweeping gold transfix. Inside the rich, deep carpet seemingly infinite beneath lace-like carvings. The magnificent chandeliers tinkle and dance, their pendula coursing the spectrum from semi-precious stone to boiled sweet (and adorned with yet more gold). The whole imbues a unrivaled blend of serenity and joyfulness.

 

On my favorite visit, our lady guide encouraged us to ‘ask anything we liked about the mosque, the religion and the culture’. Befrocked in their abayas (compulsory for women tourists and handed to all who qualify at the gate), a lively group of  ladies asked why men and women [had to] pray separately. Without flinch, our guide explained the drawbacks of assuming the Islamic physical stance for prayer (knees, nose and forehead on the floor; hence posterior inevitably raised) with a group of gentlemen in the row behind. She also took time to point out that it was easier to concentrate on prayer without risking the distraction of ‘an absolutely gorgeous guy’ (her words) nearby.

Whatever your tradition, whether God is a dear, longstanding friend or a tedium strictly reserved for others, Zayed’s creation is one of the most spiritually uplifting places to ponder these mysteries or indeed any others on your mind!

*I have only read translations, analyses and commentaries rather than the full Arabic version

Smallprint in the sunshine

Seldom does a week go by with out somebody from one of Superbrand's highly-taxed geographies calling to inquire about vacancies in Dubai. Some conversations are very short. Potential colleagues under duress whose wives crave a spousal tax free salary are easy to root-out early! 

A part of Dubai not so frequently seen - The Lagoons

Dubai is certainly attractive, the exponential growth in tourism is testament. The megalithic malls (just right for offloading all that tax-free spousal income), permanent sunshine, fast cars on credit (there goes some more tax-free spousal income), jolly ex-pat brunches and help in the home (not many can afford that in the US or Europe) are the icing on the cake. 

The chance to live and work in a culture very different to our own is a great opportunity, even outweighing the spousal delight! The locals in Dubai (Emiratis) have a very different approach to work, life and the relationship between the two. The skills learned working in this environment are enriching. An Emirati believes in conducting negotiations and making decisions when the climate and mood are right rather than force-fitting into a pre-determined time frame (very difficult within the rigid structures of the Superbrand). Furthermore to guarantee that something will happen at a particular time is tantamount to blasphemy! Insha'Allah means 'God willing' and the word will pepper your business conversations, being particularly extra-peppery when any form of commitment is required. 'I will deliver your equipment on 12th September ...... insha'Allah' - you get the drift!

Dubai as it is more frequently seen - Emiratis at the Burj Khalifa - big is beautiful in Dubai!

For those who take the time to read their employment contract, there are some interesting clauses too. You are allowed (yes allowed) to leave your job if your boss assults you (rather than staying for a second going-over presumably), you are allowed more than two days off sick but ONLY if an Emirati doctor has certified that you are properly ill (only Emiratis being able to spot a melingerer with a hangover presumably).

When you finally do tear yourself away from all that Dubai offers, you will recieve a gratuity from your employer (a nice surprise if you didn't read your contract) whether you were fired or you resigned. Most expats stay around for two years or so. At present minimum wage in the UK, the average gratuity would pay for continuation of your home help for a week back home to assist with unpacking the crates!

To buy an Abaya

One of my early overseas postings with Superbrand was to Saudi Arabia. Saudi is a country with very particular customs and culture. Despite the fact that Superbrand had never before had one of their women executives working in Saudi, noone questioned the wisdom of sending me to run a large, complicated engagement there. Much of my preparation for the adventure ahead was undertaken solo via the internet (a sign of Superbrand's lack of experience in said matter).




One of my early internet discoveries was the abaya. An abaya is a floor-length, long sleeved, loose-fitting garment which conceals the female person from others' view. Many Islamic ladies choose to wear abayas and indeed they can be seen frequently in Western countries. In Saudi however,  it is against the law for women to emerge from their own home without one (or from their hotel room in my case).
 



I took a trip to London's Edgeware Road to procure the requisite costume, packed it in my hand luggage and left for Saudi. To ensure compliance from the off, I donned my abaya in the aircraft toilet before landing.

Needless to say, it did not take long for me to gather a veritable collection of abayas. There are some very decorative ones on the market. Many of the wonderful Saudi ladies I met were keen to point out that attitudes have relaxed in recent years allowing more creativity with the abaya (and to introduce me to their dressmakers)!!