Tag Archives: Americans in Saudi Arabia

Political Righteousness

When I lived in Saudi Arabia in the 1990’s and early 2000’s, some American citizens living and working in that country enjoyed raising their children there. Drugs and crime were much less than in the States. Of course, religious gatherings of Christians and any religion other than Islam were forbidden and had to be carried out discretely.

X-rated movies weren’t allowed, but neither were films like depictions of the Narnia tales or The Lion King or Charlotte’s Web.

Pornography might be punished by flogging, but one who dared criticize the country’s rulers risked the same punishment.

Richer citizens could escape the publicly strict moral code by paying smugglers to bring in whatever they wanted—liquor, x-rated movies, even maids to abuse. The religious/political alliance that ruled the country often led to outward piety, pleasing the religious, but encouraging corruption among the elites.

In this country, the recent marriage between the Trump presidency and the anti-abortion cause illustrates the danger of a religion hitching its wagon to a particular political movement for the sake of one cause. In this case, it risks supporting a political establishment that might commit killing small or unborn children in other ways.

The political powers might suggest, for example, beginning a war against Iran with the potential to kill thousands, including pregnant mothers and small children.

Or decreasing funds for healthcare for American children.

Or supporting a war in Yemen leading to starvation and disease that kills still other children.

A close alliance with any political power risks being coopted by that power for its own selfish goals.

Hey, Hon: the Advantages of a Southern Accent

My Southern accent often calmed emotion-wracked Americans asking for assistance at U.S. embassies and consulates overseas where I worked. Americans living in one of Saudi Arabia’s oil hubs in Dhahran, many from Texas and Oklahoma, seemed especially to appreciate the accent.

Callers knew right off that they were speaking to an American, perhaps reminded of folksy icons like Gomer Pyle or Sheriff Andy from Mayberry.

The problems of Americans living overseas often landed on our doorstep. Americans became ill, were arrested, or lost passports. We performed notary duties, visited prisons and hospitals, and explained why we couldn’t issue a particular visa to an unqualified foreign relative or friend. I have counseled Americans in all sorts of conditions, from abused wives to those busted for alcohol in strict Muslim majority countries.

Through it all—the calls to stateside relatives, the emergencies at one a.m., the terrorist attacks—my colleagues and I strove to remain calm and unflappable. No matter how I may have felt inwardly, my Southern accent was a definite aid.