Читать книгу Behind Palace Walls - Cay Garcia - Страница 6

I START researching the Magic Kingdom – anything I can get my hands on. I even hire Lawrence of Arabia – the movie and the documentary – from my local library to try to get the gist of what to expect in this fascinating country.

Riyadh is shrouded in mystery as no tourists are allowed in this holy city. There’s no such thing as a tourist visa. “Infidels” (non-believers) are not allowed in unless they have a sponsor in the form of an employer. Expats can get special permits for their spouses. Although I find the restrictions alarming, I am deeply intrigued.

Expats are drawn here in spite of the austere lifestyle by the tax free salaries that are way above what can be earned at home, wherever home may be. Millions of expats from all over the world work in Saudi Arabia and embassy stats are that men outnumber women 50 to one.

It is an adventure one cannot buy.

After I accept the offer, a German butler already in the employ of the princess phones me on her behalf. She fires questions at me in a gruff, abrasive voice. I fend them off with simple answers.

“Do you drink?” she asks.

“I live in one of the most enchanting wine regions in the world and grew up with wine, so yes, I do enjoy a glass of wine.”

I assure her that I could live without it for a while, though. In time, it would become apparent that she likes a tipple herself. After an hour, the arrogant cross-examination, verging on verbal assault, abates. I’m exhausted.

Unbeknownst to me, I’d been on speaker phone.

The princess and I speak regularly on the phone. She has a slight American accent yet has never set foot in America. For the most part, she sounds utterly charming. There is no indication that she is bipolar.

Parts of my contract reflect the harsh regulations of the country. It states that I am not permitted any intimate relations during my time there.

During one of our many telephonic conversations, I ask Princess Arabella exactly what that clause means. She is quick to tell me that I may not become romantically involved while in her employ. One of her previous PAs met and married someone there and, for whatever reason, it did not work for the princess. I assure her it is the last thing on my mind.

Saudi Arabia is still under Sharia law, and Riyadh, the most conservative of the Saudi cities, doesn’t much favour self-expression. The feared religious police, the mutawa, who are also known as the Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, lurk where you least expect them so it’s wise to remain modest at all times.

The mutawa patrol streets and malls, and administer punishment to anyone accused of breaking the strict religious laws that subjugate women in particular – and nowhere as zealously as in Riyadh.

If the mutawa catch you having a conversation with a man who is not your husband or a relative, you will land in jail for prostitution.

If a man is linked with a Muslim woman who is not a family connection, rape charges are not uncommon and are punishable by death. Implications for the woman involved are severe. She is first taken to hospital to check whether her virginity is intact, then to jail. Should her virginity be in question, her male relatives decide on a punishment not always befitting the crime. By the hand of her father, brother or any other male relative, the woman can be stoned to death – an honour killing.

Proof of marital status as well as any move you make during your contract – opening a bank account, buying a computer, registering a cell phone, incurring any traffic fines – comes in the form of an iqama, a credit card sized ID card. Smile for your iqama photo; you want a pleasant, harmless looking image smiling back at the authorities. When your contract ends, your iqama is thoroughly checked for any wrongdoing and monies owed. Your employer will not grant you an exit visa – without which you cannot leave – unless your iqama is clear. That visa is much coveted by workers tired of abuse and yearning for home.

Saudi Arabia applies the death penalty for a wide range of crimes including adultery, armed robbery, rejection of Islam, drug smuggling, kidnapping, rape, witchcraft and sorcery.

Previously, executions took place only on a Friday, the holy day, in public at what has become known as “Chop Chop Square” or Justice Square. People travel from far and wide to witness this. However, nowadays they happen any morning of the week.

I’d hear later from a fellow South African and her American boyfriend that they’d seen this for themselves. As a local man accused of drug trafficking was beheaded, they happened to pass the square. Locals brayed for justice as they fought for a better view. My friend was highly traumatised for weeks.

Saudi authorities make it clear to expats that if arrested, they are under no obligation to let their respective embassies know about the arrest, they are not entitled to a defence and they do not owe the alleged perpetrator a reason for the arrest. They may be convicted solely on the basis of “confessions” obtained under torture or other ill-treatment. By his own admission, Saudi’s star executioner beheads over 2 500 people per year.

So don’t rattle ribs in Saudi.