Zamzam

I drank some Zamzam water. It comes from the well next to the ka’bah. My Arab teacher brought me some. (She went to Hajj.) Suppose to have healing powers. Depends on your own faith I believe, but I loved her gesture and though it was so awesome. Holy water. Wow!

“When Abraham migrated with his wife Hagar and son Ishmael to a valley without plants or water, known today as Makkah, he left them there with only one bag containing dates and an old water-skin filled with water. When the water ran out and Hagar became worried about her son, she climbed up the rocky hillock of As-Safaa to see if she could see anyone. As she didn’t see anyone, she went down the hillock and quickly made her way to the hillock of Al-Marwah which she also climbed up to see if there was anyone in sight. She ran between these two hillocks seven times. (They still to that to this day at Hajj) When she stood on Al-Marwah for the last time, she heard a voice and then she saw an angel standing on the site of Zamzam digging the earth with his heel until water flowed from that place.”

… The best water on the face of the earth is the water of Zamzam …

          … The water of Zamzam serves the purpose for which it is drunk …

Taken from A Concise Children’s Encyclopedia of Islam. “Concise” and “Children’s” is about as much as I can handle and understand. There’s a lot I still don’t understand. I sometimes find it just so outrageous and archaic. Not to mention the extremism and abuse towards women. What I do understand, however, is that Islam, in its intent, is not evil. I have been exposed to its good side, and have come to understand, there is a good side too.

Tony

“You are a character yourself, and I will remember you.” – Tony, on his last night in Saudi. The one who got kicked out of the kingdom. The lad from Dublin. When he said Dublin, the travel agency heard Durban and said: “You don’t mind flying via Joburg?” Imagine flying to Dublin via Joburg!

Tony was not the most popular guy around. He even got mé annoyed at one point. I referred to him as a liability. He forgets where he’s going. Forgets what he wanted to say or why he was saying something. Gets lost – all the time. I once had to sub for him whilst he quickly popped over to the hospital. He wandered out the wrong gate without his gate pass and couldn’t get back in. The 10 minutes turned into an hour.

Another time we were standing in the shop during our lunch break. He was meant to be on duty during the second half of it. At the cashier he kept being Mr Nice Guy and letting people push in. I shouted to him from the back, “Tony, these people write from the wrong side, they also queue from the wrong side!” He told me to see the humour in it. “Tony, I’m not going to think it’s bloody funny if I’m the one you’re meant to relieve!”

But Tony was a character. He certainly was that. For medical reasons, cause of his epilepsy, they didn’t want him to stay. He’s over his anger now. He is resigned to his fate. Saji, William and me gave him a farewell. We entertained each other and laughed and joked and had such a great evening together. He will remember it with fondness. We will too.

He will be leaving at 5 o’clock tomorrow morning.

What I Miss

A friend got me started on this. Look and see how many on my list do you take for granted. You may swop the venues, food, brands and look-alikes with your own favourites.

50 Things I miss about Home

(Actually it’s 51)

Rusks with my coffee

Choices

My own transport

Wearing jeans to school

Extra-mural activities

Cricket at Supersport Park

Watching Rugby at the Dros

Smirnoff Spin on a hot day

Dry white wine, filled with ice

Friendly people

Female cashiers (they don’t exist here, not at all!)

People walking their dogs (no dogs here either)

Dogs barking

Dogs (and I’m not even a dog person)

My beautiful, lovable, adorable cat – she was special

The lovely, lively, outrageous Grade Sevens (it’s the naughty ones I miss the most)

Green lawns (I am going to lie down and kiss the grass)

Huge trees

Red sand

Waves (a sea that is alive)

Woollies food!!!

Pork

TV’s Morning Live and Vuyo (saying hello in all our languages)

Pedestrian crossings

Shopping malls – open all (reasonable) hours

Running water

Hot water from the hot water tap and cold water from the coldwater tap (is that so difficult?)

Plumbing that can deal with loo-paper

Lateral thinking (although it’s not freely available anywhere)

Women’s faces (veils are de-humanising and they can argue this point till hell freezes over!)

Sleeveless tops

African rhythms

Die vlaktes van die Bo-Karoo  (a precious landscape)

Pizza – Romans, Debonairs, anything

Seafood that looks as if it’s been in the sea

The smell of lamb chops on an open fire

The Blue Bulls (when they’re on a winning streak)

Victor Mattfield and other look-alikes

Fastfood outlets (where the food is good and women don’t have separate entrances)

Long walks on sandy beaches

Over the counter medication – sinutabs and disprins (has Panado ever helped anyone?)

The Milky Way and the Southern Cross

Seashells (and sea-urchins) – rock pools!

Newspapers (front page, back page and everything in between)

Sunday lunches with family (friends count as family)

Sundays on a Sunday (this Friday thing doesn’t work for me)

“Hole in the Wall” (good company and a glass of red)

Recycling

Book Club

People I love

Humour (other than my own)

Thanksgiving

Thursday 25 November 2010

"Look at these jagged rocks. Over time as people walk over it and the sea smashes against it, it becomes smooth. Life’s like that. You can endure hardship. Your life will also smooth out."

- Japanese suicide preventor

50 Reasons to be thankful:

(in no particular order but as they come to mind)

Life goes on.

My parents are still alive.

I haven’t had to bury a child.

I’m in good health.

I lack no food.

I sleep warm.

I’m safe.

I have a job.

I love my job.

I have a loving family.

I have great nieces and nephews.

I have a daughter. We remain connected.

I also have a son. His mother shared him with me.

My husband has not committed suicide.

He has not set our (my) house alight.

He has also not killed me.

I can still travel.

I still have contact with so many wonderful kids whom I’ve taught.

I have great friends.

I belonged to the best book club ever. (Trust I still do.)

I’m not an alcoholic.

I have TV – news channels and Oprah, bless her soul.

I have internet!

I’m discovering and meeting good people.

I can read. And I do.

I have compassion.

I experience kindness.

I’ve lost 6 kg without exercising!

I still find reasons to laugh.

Jonas Desai – discovering new musicians.

I have a garden.

I have a yellow hibiscus tree, and a pink one and red.

I have roses – white and pink (and more to come).

I have a bougainvillea that survived the gardener.

I have a room that faces East.

I still dream.

I still have hope for the future.

I love life.

I haven’t lost faith.

I can joke about adversity (sometimes).

I have two shocking pink cushions.

And a blue vase.

I don’t have to cook.

I can swear in Afrikaans without being offensive.

I don’t have to hide behind a veil.

Guy Manoukian – jazz fusion – another great musician.

I was born in Africa.

I survived history.

I’m still welcome in my own country.

I am able to meet my debts.

A Garden Revealed...

I am so content with being alone right now. I sit in my “room with a view” and type. I am only visited by cats who leisurely stroll around the courtyard. Earlier on I shared my food with them. I had tuna salad. They had the oil and half the tuna flakes. We look at each other through the glass door. Sometimes I can see the surprise in their eyes when they suddenly notice me.

I have a thing about standing on the highest mountain, dipping my feet in the sea, having a room that faces East… and the Year of the Tiger has not disappointed me. I stood on the highest mountain in Saudi, I dipped my feet in the Red Sea, and I am sitting here, writing this, in a room that faces East!

A secret garden revealed…

My bedroom faces East. In the mornings when I open my curtains, the sun reaches across the room and touches the furthest wall. On my days off, I like to sit on the floor, legs outstretched, leaning against the bed. 

Not a landscaped view to feast my eyes upon - I look at my little courtyard with its begging-to-be-replaced furniture. On my right is the bougainvillea – violet purple. It was massive when I moved in. Before I could enjoy it and before I could stop him, the gardener had gotten to it and had trimmed it down to a neat shrub. For fucks sake: Don’t they know I love overgrown bougainvilleas that have Mediterranean written all over it! Now I stare at it, willing it to grow back to its original, unkept size. I also water it and shower it with adoration.

In the furthest corner to the right, I have planted eight red geraniums. I know they are red because they were cuttings I collected when my neighbour’s bush got trimmed to smithereens. Indian gardeners, it seems, LOVE trimming. They also know how to open taps and how to transplant. They transplant rosebushes, palm trees, and anything that looks good as is. No need for nurseries then. The neighbourhood’s shrubs and bushes do the rounds as the owners come and go.

Then I have a narrow stretch about 1 x 3m that has a cactus, two grapevines, two geraniums, two rose bushes, a daisy bush, a marigold and some groundcover. To add to this mixture, there’s a wild jasmine rambling over the wooden fence. I did not like the cactus, but it was too huge to remove. Then one day, it surprised me with a flower, and all was forgiven. The cactus may stay. One of the rose bushes has white roses. Another one in the front is a gorgeous pink. One by one they reveal their splendour to me.

I have an odd collection of pots and plant anything that would grow, in it. Geraniums give the best returns on investment. 

Against the wall I planted rosemary. I planted several cuttings in the optimistic belief and hope that at least one will take. I also discovered that soup strainers have more than one use. (Hello, Nicola!)

I do not get to see the sunrise. By the time it becomes visible, it has already lifted from the horizon. Beyond my retaining wall, is the 5m perimeter wall. I don’t know what’s on the outside, and “they” don’t know what’s on the inside. Fair enough. My garden can remain my secret, my joy, my comfort.

The Red Sea

Destination: The Red Sea. Back to Abha, and from there, downhill all the way to the sea. The road is in good condition. Three lanes. One going down and two coming up. It is the middle lane that concerns me. No one gives a damn. They all consider it to be the fast lane, irrespective of whether you’re going up or down! They overtake around blind corners. They drive like crazy. They believe that everything is the will of Allah. If they die (and whomever else gets taken out with them), it is the will of Allah. If they stay alive, it means they got away with it and they’ll do it again. Sheer madness. I had my seatbelt on in the back and just about prayed all the way down. On our return, my prayer became even more fervent because we were now in the outside lane (left-hand drive, right side of the road) All the seatbelts in the world won’t help you when you get bumped over the edge! Hectic, hectic, hectic.

As you should know by now, we started at close to 3000m and the long and winding road with all its hairpin bends went on for about 50 kms. It was a relief to reach the lowlands. The mountains are barren rock and when it rains, the water rushes down it forming valleys and taking down everything in its way. All the different gulleys flow together and the dry river bed suddenly becomes a fast-flowing river. The valleys are also know as wadis and each wadi has its own clan.

 I had a notebook with me and tried to keep track of all the wadis. I’m sure not even Google Earth is going to help us with this: Wadi Karadah, Wadi Tha Masrab, Wadi Bakhman, Watadah, Rahab, Al Butyra, Al Hayad, Zalam, Dank, Al Esha Al Sufti, Lanek, Al Madr Al Ala … am I doing okay so far?  And this is just along one stretch of one road. There are many more.

We finally reached the coast without me noticing it. Drove for about 100kms with me looking at a barren landscape interspersed with palm trees (not the tropical kind). Eventually I realised that the sea was on my left. It didn’t smell like the sea. Hell, it hardly looked like the sea. No waves either. No sandy beaches. No seagulls. No life?

We past through many little villages, but not the quaint kind. Check stops and speed-bumps throughout. Not a pleasant Sunday afternoon drive then. I kept thinking we were going to reach some place special until I finally realised: This is as good as it’s going to get. We stopped off somewhere. God knows where. At least it was the Red Sea. At last! I dipped my feet in. The waters did not part. Surprise!!! No bathing suits. No nothing. Stood there like an idiot in my black abayah.

Had a picnic of sorts. Ignored all the pollution. Litter scattered all over the place. It was a relief to leave. 

 I know a sea that is better. A place I call home. Where waves come crashing down. Where the wind smells of salt and the seagulls call out your name. But I was there. Saw the Red Sea and left.

 We stopped at a market along the road. There were more men from the Tuhama tribe. They looked less friendly and wore their daggers more visibly. I did not dare take photo’s, at least not of them. 

I did try my luck at another roadside stall. They were not tribesman but peasant-looking. I joked around but quickly hopped back in the car before they could offer any camels in exchange for me. You never know what can happen next and the men in our group were either too small or too old to pose any threat or offer their protection. Next time I would like to take some Front Row player along with me. Preferably one that looks aggressive. (Don’t they all!)

            I was glad to see Abha again. Sweet home. Almost. And the day was done.

The Highest Mountain

We’re off to see the Wild West show,

The elephant and the kangaroo oohooo

Never mind the weather

We’re off to something better

We’re off to see the Wild West show

It’s astounding

Time is flying

Madness

Takes control

Getting out of the city. Out of the compound. Out of the villa. Out of my room! Enough to set the mind in motion: Oh happy day…

Out of Khamis, through Abha. The beautiful Abha, so close and yet so far. Don’t they need teachers there? Abha is the main town of the Asir Province. It has the best climate – delightfully cool. It is situated high in the Sarawat mountains that climb towards Yemen. It is a gracious town. 

                        Small villages with terraced farms cluster on the hill tops. 

                          Watchtowers that dot the horizon tell of a troubled past. 

The most distinctive of the local tribes are the Tuhama. They are of short wiry build with gaunt, striking faces and long curly hair, oiled with butter. They wear an izar (skirt) and carry short swords. They normally won’t allow photographs unless they have been touched by Western civilization and if they believe it is going to help sell their produce.

 

To the east of Abha we travel down an insignificant dirt road. The remains of an ancient Turkish fort (Ottoman Empire) are where we stop. 

We look across the valley to a modern road far below. It winds along the mountain and stretches to eternity. Upon closer inspection, a camel track is noticeable above the new road. Caravans use to pass along it carrying incense and spices from the East to Egypt and the Roman Empire – referred to in history as the Frankinsence Route. (I resolve to read more about it.) 

A young local appears from nowhere and perches himself on the very edge. He pretends not to notice us although he is very aware of our presence. He tilts his head slightly and I can see his profile. I pretend not to notice him either, but find myself staring in fascination. This is not a tourist destination and we are the only people around. He just sits there, claiming his territory.

 

We continue the drive around the outskirts of Abha till we reach the highest peak – Al Souda. It is hard to imagine that we are still in Saudi. At 3000m it is the highest point in the Kingdom. We can see the mist rolling in from the coast. 

 

 It is also known as Green Mountain. Not the green you’d find in Europe, but green in comparison to the surrounding dessert. At the top there is a cable car that passes along part of the mountain and across Abha. I think I will have to save this for another day.