Well, it wouldn’t have really been a vacation, anyway, just the opportunity to travel. However, the Shura Council [or Shoura Council] is looking into “an alarming problem which surfaced lately, of maids traveling in the company of families.”
This is, no doubt, directly related to the Colorado case of Homaidan Al-Turki who has recently been given a sentence of 27 years to life in prison for sexually assaulting an Indonesian housekeeper and keeping her as a virtual slave. The Saudi Gazette published an article on Friday, September 22, 2003, “Families Traveling with Maids,” which “Particularly [it] concerns those sponsoring families who travel to Western countries and the United States, in particular either on holiday or for educational purposes.” Abdullah Abulsamh writes:
“In those countries, regulations are totally different from those observed in ours. Therefore, it never occurred to a number of sponsors who were planning travel that detaining a maid’s passport is an offense which may lead to imprisonment.
Western countries consider this practice as an infringement upon a worker’s rights and freedom, etc.
A number of friends whose maids have decided to run away (or rather to cease working) have told me that the maids went to the police who then forced sponsors to hand them back their passports, regardless of the issues of sponsorship and liability.
Recently, the matter has become more serious in the United States, as a sponsor detaining a maid’s passport can be tried and imprisoned. The US Consulate is now rejecting applications for visas for maids, unless employment contracts are made in the American style, which means the number of working hours, livings conditions, etc. all indicated beforehand.
It is honestly shameful and sorrowful to watch Saudi families with several maids tagging behind watching the children while their mothers are sitting in cafes. Most of the time, maids remain standing on the sidewalk, at a distance, or sit on the edge of a chair, or run after the noisy, little “devils” who never settle in one place.
Maids can also be seen in the hotels’ hallways with the children while mothers are asleep after staying up at the malls the previous night.
It is the duty of the press to join the Shoura Council in calling for a ban on the travel of maids with families, whether for vacationing or scholastic purposes.
The alternative would be to contact employment agencies to provide local workers or baby sitters who are paid by the hour. This denigration of the Kingdom’s reputation must end.”
If there is a law that specifies “detaining a maid’s passport” could lead to imprisonment, I was unable to find it in a search of the United States government website for international visitors. “Detaining a maid” might, however, be construed as “false imprisonment” if confiscating [“detaining”] one’s passport were interpreted as confinement without legal authority; this is punishable by imprisonment.
Workers in “Western countries,” and specifically, the United States, are afforded a barrage of rights not necessarily bestowed upon employees in other countries, i.e., a minimum wage, maximum working hours, etc. I am not a legal authority but I’d venture to guess “detaining” a passport or person is not allowable and would be considered “an infringement” upon an employee/worker.
A U.S. citizen in Saudi Arabia is subject to that country's laws and regulations. Whether there is any kind of reciprocal relationship in regard to laws and regulations between one country and another is dictated by the host-country. Thus, perhaps it would behoove foreigners traveling with domestic help to ascertain – before journeying – what laws are applicable to specific issues of “sponsorship and liability” should a “maid” decide “to run away (or rather to cease working)” in the host country. That the US Consulate is rejecting applications for visas to be given to maids or other domestic help unless “employment contracts are made in the American style” protects all parties involved, eliminating any guess work as to what is or isn’t allowed.
Although Mr. Abulsamh’s observations may tinge a few raw nerves in his home Country, they will be viewed much more genially by the United States and other Western countries who undoubtedly will agree that it is indeed “shameful and sorrowful to watch Saudi families with several maids tagging behind...”
Sunday, September 24, 2006
When I Grow Up
… I want to be a Public Relations Ambassador! Hardly the same as wanting to become a teacher or a nurse, but equally as important in today’s society.
Khaled Almaeena’s brilliant article of last Sunday is by-far one of the most appropriate and timely opinions that I have read in quite sometime. Mr. Almaeena and a friend of his, Ali Al-Shiddy, a writer, discussed establishing an association they would call “Friends of Expatriates,” and they both agree “that such an association would benefit all involved . . . that the need for such an association has never been greater than it is today.”
The commentary, which is too good to NOT read in full, states, in part:
Khaled Almaeena’s brilliant article of last Sunday is by-far one of the most appropriate and timely opinions that I have read in quite sometime. Mr. Almaeena and a friend of his, Ali Al-Shiddy, a writer, discussed establishing an association they would call “Friends of Expatriates,” and they both agree “that such an association would benefit all involved . . . that the need for such an association has never been greater than it is today.”
The commentary, which is too good to NOT read in full, states, in part:
“The fact is that we have millions of expatriates living among us. The sad truth is that we hardly know them and they hardly know us . . . Yes, they have come here to make a living and, in most cases, to do jobs that Saudis are either unable or unwilling to do. But let us not forget that we have asked them to come here; indeed, they could not have come to the Kingdom without our help and sponsorship.
. . . Expatriates have played a vital and pivotal role in the development of our country. Our country would not be where it is today without their talents, dedication and skills. We owe them our gratitude . . . Probably the first wave of expatriates who came to what is modern-day Saudi Arabia were the Americans who came with Aramco in the 1930s. They bore the heat, the lack of comfort and facilities and scoured our deserts for oil. They found it of course in quantities even they did not dream of, and with the oil was built the foundations of the Kingdom today and the life that we enjoy.
In the 1950s came professional people, many from Pakistan and India. Doctors, engineers and technicians . . . In our first economic boom and later on came workers from the Philippines, South Korea, India, Pakistan and many Arab countries . . . All were asked to come here in order to do something specific. Not to be forgotten are the thousands who have come here as simple workers; without them and their sweat, the plans and visions of engineers and builders would never have become a reality . . .
There is no doubt that many expatriates did very well in the Kingdom; most of them worked hard and deserved their success. Of course, there were troublemakers as well; however . . . Many of their educated people have set up welfare centers, help centers, medical aid centers . . . to help the needy and unfortunate in their own community. I look very closely at their attitude toward their less fortunate brethren and I see one which we should ourselves emulate.
The overwhelming number of expatriates here conduct themselves with dignity and take pride in what they do – despite their many problems. Unpaid salaries, bad treatment by employers, abuse and injustice. Very few of them have recourse to our legal system and this is a situation which urgently needs to be addressed.
Whether we like it or not, many expatriates will be here for a long time . . . we should try to make them happy and comfortable which in turn will make them work more productively. Let us not look down our noses at them for they can be a very strong and vocal political and social force when they return to their countries. They have lived her and they know what life here is like. They can be ambassadors for us . . .
Oh. My. Gosh. How powerful Khaled Almaeena’s statements are! I am ready now, today, to put my name on the sign-up roster. We can hold the first gathering of this association at my house and I’ll bake brownies! When the “Friends of Expatriates” group becomes a reality, it would be a privilege to participate. And an honor, at some point in the future, to return home to the United States as a Public Relations Ambassador for Saudi Arabia!!!We should not deceive ourselves . . . while we spend millions of dollars to improve our image, we could save a lot of money by creating a congenial and pleasant atmosphere here. Much could be done along these lines by interacting with existing expatriate communities, focusing on history, culture, music and other traditions. I believe one of the best ways to do this would be through an association such as Ali Al-Shiddi and I discussed. We ought to take great care to use the expatriates in our midst as our fist line of information defense. It has not been done before but its time is certainly now.
May-December Romances
Just how or when did this phrase, “May-December Romance” come to mean an older man in a relationship with a [much] younger woman or vice versa?A 90 year old man shows up for a physical. He tells the doctor he is about to marry a 20 year old girl. "Really?" said the doctor. "You're healthy enough, I suppose, but take my advice. If you want a happy marriage, you should take in a boarder. Do you know what I mean?" The old man says, "Okay, Doc. I'll think about it." Six months later, the doctor sees the old man on the street. He asks him how his new marriage is working out. "Great, Doc! In fact, my wife is pregnant." The doctor nods knowingly and says, "So you took my advice and took in a boarder?" The old man winked and said, "Yep. And she's pregnant too!"
An age difference of a few years, maybe even ten years, wouldn’t seem to be such a big deal. But 62 years?
This is not a phenomenon specific to Saudi Arabia. It happens in the United States as well: Rupert Murdoch and Wendy Deng got married when he was 68 and she was 32, and perhaps more famously known are Vickie Lynn Hogan and J. Howard Marshall who married in 1994 when she was 26 and he was 89!
Monday, September 11, 2006
Happy Birthday Yvette Nicole Moreno!
Yvette Nicole Moreno would be thirty years old on October 4th, this year – for most of us, one of those “milestone birthdays,” not taken lightly. Yvette was incredibly close to her family – her Mom, Ivy, and her brother, Roland. If Ivy and Roland could have pulled it off, maybe they would have had a surprise birthday party for her. Or quite possibly, Yvette, as busy as she was, would have planned her own celebration in honor of turning “3 0.”
Ms. Moreno grew up in the Bronx, attending Catholic schools until her senior year, where she graduated at the top of her class from Adlai Stevenson High School. Yvette then enrolled at Hunter College, where she made the Dean’s List, majoring in sociology and psychology.
Life was moving along at a fairly quick pace for this beautiful twenty-four year old woman. Yvette had just purchased her first car, and had just enrolled at Lehman College to continue working toward an advanced degree in psychology and sociology, with the hope of someday becoming a guidance worker or a school social worker. Yvette was a full-time student, and was working full-time as well, but still always found time for her family and her many, many friends. This young “go getter,” enjoyed going out dancing with friends when she could, or just going out to lunch with her Mom and going shopping.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, Yvette, like so many other Americans, had gotten up and gone about her day – heading off to her place of employment, at the brokerage firm of Carr Futures. Ms. Moreno had been working at Carr Futures for almost two years – as a temporary employee for the first year or so – before being hired as a permanent staff member that January.
It was after leaving Carr Futures, in Tower One, that Yvette called her brother Roland to tell him that she was okay, and for him to tell their mother that she should not try to go to work. Yvette’s Mom, Ivy, believes that Yvette saved her life that fateful day.
Tragically, although believing Yvette was safe and on her way home, this was the last time Yvette ever spoke with her brother. It was several weeks later – just several days after what would have been Yvette’s twenty-fifth birthday – when her remains were discovered and it is believed that most likely she was hit with falling debris from one of the collapsing buildings.
“She was beautiful. Inside and out.” And, “She was always happy,” says Yvette’s Mom, Ivy. This is how she and Yvette’s brother, Roland, will always remember this beautiful young lady. Seeing photographs of her daughter displayed on a large collage at her wake, from when she was a baby to the more recent pictures, Yvette’s Mom said, “She wore a big, beautiful smile in every single one of them.” More than 750 people attended Yvette’s funeral, from all over the United States – all who were fortunate enough to be touched in some way by the tremendous spirit of a beautiful soul who departed from this world much, much, much too soon.
Today, I will look at this photograph of Yvette Nicole Moreno, and I will smile. One can’t help but to do so – smile that is – when just a mere photograph of Yvette’s infectious smile lights up a room!
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Can You Say Reciprocate?
Wonder just how many of these 15,000 students will be going to Harvard? No doubt that most of these students will all pay “out-of-state” tuition rates, thus putting substantial cash into the coffers of many colleges and universities. This is all well and good.
The issue I, personally, have with this is that there is no reciprocation on the part of Saudi Arabia to allow United States students to come to schools here to study. Okay. So maybe there isn’t a demand for this – that students from the U.S. want to come to The Sandbox for higher education – and I can assure you that you will not find a list of Saudi’s top ten “party schools” if that criteria determines how U.S. students contemplate which institute of higher education they are going to attend – but certainly, it would seem, that in order for the United States to be willing to accept that many students, that there should be some sort of mutual exchange.
The issue I, personally, have with this is that there is no reciprocation on the part of Saudi Arabia to allow United States students to come to schools here to study. Okay. So maybe there isn’t a demand for this – that students from the U.S. want to come to The Sandbox for higher education – and I can assure you that you will not find a list of Saudi’s top ten “party schools” if that criteria determines how U.S. students contemplate which institute of higher education they are going to attend – but certainly, it would seem, that in order for the United States to be willing to accept that many students, that there should be some sort of mutual exchange.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Plenty? I Don’t Think So
An article in Arab News says, “Employers who don’t abuse or maltreat their domestic help do exist, and there are plenty of them out there.” If there are plenty, we certainly are not made aware of them – employers who treat their domestic help as wonderfully as this one!
Reem Bajnaid was six years old when Lucena Benigno Agsao arrived from the Philippines. Twenty-seven years later, Ms. Agsao has returned to her home. Although she had no plans to retire at this time, illness has “cut short her plans,” as she has been diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer.
Members of Reem Bajnaid’s family personally assured Ms. Agsao that they would shoulder “all of her expenses” if she wished to remain in The Kingdom to be treated at a hospital in Jeddah. Ms. Agsao, instead, has returned to the Philippines to see treatment so that she will be near family and friends.
An official who was monitoring the case, said:
A nurse accompanied Ms. Agsao on the Saudia Airlines flight home in a business class seat, paid for by her sponsor’s family.
The bar has now been set. And it is much, much higher than it was in the past. Reem Bajnaid’s family is truly a shining example of outstanding employers!
Reem Bajnaid was six years old when Lucena Benigno Agsao arrived from the Philippines. Twenty-seven years later, Ms. Agsao has returned to her home. Although she had no plans to retire at this time, illness has “cut short her plans,” as she has been diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer.
Members of Reem Bajnaid’s family personally assured Ms. Agsao that they would shoulder “all of her expenses” if she wished to remain in The Kingdom to be treated at a hospital in Jeddah. Ms. Agsao, instead, has returned to the Philippines to see treatment so that she will be near family and friends.
An official who was monitoring the case, said:
"We very much appreciate and commend the efforts of [the maid’s sponsor] family for providing all the medical requirements of their maid. The sponsors’ overwhelming concern for the wellbeing of their helper is more of a gesture of love. It is a love like that for a mother, a mother who has always been there for them these past 27 years."
A nurse accompanied Ms. Agsao on the Saudia Airlines flight home in a business class seat, paid for by her sponsor’s family.
The bar has now been set. And it is much, much higher than it was in the past. Reem Bajnaid’s family is truly a shining example of outstanding employers!
Speaking of Dish Towels…
I had to do the “big” grocery shopping thing. I’ve been gone for much of the past three months, and DH has been gone most of the past four months. DH is coming home and he will be looking to be fed… When DH isn’t here, I don’t and won’t cook for myself. Cooking is not something that I enjoy. It makes a mess – that has to be cleaned up [there is no more houseboy to do it!], and it takes up valuable time – when I could be at the computer, instead. I am quite content with just coffee for breakfast, perhaps something to snack on later in the day – so long as it involves zero preparation – and a bowl of cereal or soup for dinner. DH is satisfied with nothing less than two real meals a day. At this point, having been gone, we are out of everything. The cupboards really are bare! As well, it is time to restock the freezer with food for the “Kids.” [Yes, I will admit that I will cook for the “Kids” but not for myself. DH would say that I will cook for them before I cook for him, but that really isn’t true…]
Living on a compound that is a little city within a city does have advantages – one of which is that so many services are offered to us without leaving our gates – giving Westerner’s here, and “locals,” as well, much more freedom than we have outside the confines of our gilded cage. Thankfully, I can drive myself to our grocery store, something taken for granted the world over, which is, but for certain “restricted areas,” haram,* here in The Sandbox. However, I am still expected to “get dressed” just to go to the grocery store [see post of June 18, 2006, "Attitude in Shorts"], so I procrastinate and put off going until it is absolutely necessary.
After putting jeans on [it is way too hot AND humid for jeans!], and going to the bank, I headed into the grocery store, list in hand, and proceeded to fill my “trolley” [we call it a “cart” in the States]. Going early – first thing in the morning – the store is usually fairly quiet – but NOT this morning. Today, the entire store was cursed with a gang of children wrecking havoc as they raced up and down the aisles in carts, knocking things off of shelves, literally running into the few of us that were shopping and ramming our trolleys with theirs. This is NOT the first time this has happened – that a gang of unruly children is terrorizing shoppers and store employees. At one point I was able to block their “fun” as they were racing – yes – three wide – their trolleys down the dairy aisle – I had my mine parked so that the entire “lane” was blocked – and nothing would have given me greater satisfaction than personally scolding the little monsters if they would have run into me. [I remember a time in 1995 when I spanked a neighbor’s child when she was climbing on my car and wouldn’t get off when told to do so no less than three times! Hee hee hee.]
At one point, as an acquaintance and I were exchanging greetings, and the kids charged past us, I asked, not quietly, either, one of the store clerk’s, “Who do these obnoxious children belong to?” The poor clerk just shrugged his shoulders. There is nothing the clerks or store managers can do about such menaces. [Many of the clerks and most of the managers are not “locals” and with good reason they are fearful of repercussions, knowing that confronting the parent or parents would likely threaten the livelihood they so depend on to support their families in other countries.]
For the time that I remained in the store, there was not one adult that appeared to be associated with caring for this particular group of children – and there were seven or eight of them , probably between the ages of eight and twelve, certainly old enough to know that their behavior was not appropriate. Not that having a parent or parents in their presence would have made any difference – as I stated, I’ve seen this behavior in the store more than once – and I’ve seen the parents – just carry on – totally oblivious to their children’s behavior! Disciplining one’s children, or requiring them to behave, more often than not, would seemingly be a foreign concept, here.
Even as I was checking out – I’d been in the store for probably forty or forty-five minutes – these kids continued “playing” as if, because it’s too hot to play outside [and it is], they’d decided that the store would be the perfect place to go instead. It is time for a new rule to be instituted – a sign that clearly states – in English AND in Arabic – that NO unaccompanied children under twelve are permitted. Barring that, the store managers and clerks should be given the green light to confront these unruly brats to be able to tell them to stop their shenanigans without worry or risk to their job security.
Not all of our store’s employees have been imported from other countries. The drive for Saudization, although unlikely to ever eliminate all of the outside, imported, work force, is making strides to provide employment for “locals” and in some professions residents must fill certain positions. Over the course of the past year, many of the former cashiers, men from other countries, have been terminated; a small handful remained to work the night and weekend shifts, and a few were allowed to continue as baggers or shelf stockers. Thus, when and where it is feasible [i.e., during the normal, customary, work days and hours, or 7:00A.M. to 4:00P.M., Saturday through Wednesday] cashier positions are now staffed by "locals," men and women. Admirably, this country, like any other, wants to provide for the welfare of its nationals to the best of its ability. And it is certainly understandable with an astronomical unemployment rate that the Kingdom will endeavor to restructure its work force [see August 27, 2006, "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes"].
However, I find it a little more than slightly ironic that a person could or would be given a position as a cashier – involving money – when they are not able to calculate simple addition sums WITH the aide of an electronic, computerized cash register! It wasn’t enough that for the containers of pre-packaged [uniform price – each 5.50 SAR] chicken [there were twenty] the clerk chose to ring up each package individually even though I clearly said I had twenty of these, and did so again with the containers of pre-packaged [uniform price – each 6.25 SAR] beef [there were twenty]; ditto for the four rolls of paper towels [each 7.95 SAR]. I know that it is possible to put in the number of an item – the quantity – and then scan it for the price – so that each package does not have to be individually scanned – the former cashiers saved themselves time and effort in this manner. The possibility exists that perhaps the cashier just didn’t believe me when I said I had twenty packages of chicken and twenty packages of beef, and to insure that I wasn’t getting any freebies felt it necessary to scan each and every one of the items individually. Even then, a quick and simple count would have verified this. As for the paper towels, a mere glance would have confirmed there were, in fact, four rolls of an identical brand. Apart from the time involved for the cashier to pick up and scan each of the individual, identical items, a great deal more effort was required as well.
The “icing on the cake” was when the cashier finally pressed whatever key it is that gives the sum of money that is due for the purchases, that being 1092.77 SAR. Here the amount to the left of the decimal is a “Riyal,” what would be the “Dollar” in the States, and the amount to the right of the decimal is a “Halala” – in the States it is “cents.” Halalas are almost not worth having in small amounts – it is change – they just aren’t worth much [375 Halalas equals 100 cents, or $1.00]. Grocery bills are often rounded up or rounded down, eliminating the small amounts of currency altogether. In this particular instance, my grocery bill was rounded down to 1092.75 and I handed the cashier 1200.00 – two 500 SAR bills and one 200 SAR bill and she “froze.” I kid you not, she was unable to add the sum of the three bills that I handed her to be able to enter that number so that the cash register could immediately calculate the amount of change she needed to give back to me. After all, it’s not like I was counting on her to actually determine the amount of change I had coming back – that’s WHAT the cash register is for, isn’t it?!?
It was almost comical watching her transfer each of the three bills from one hand to the next, eyes downward, concentrating on the paper money in her hands so intently. She was counting – I could see her lips moving – I assume she was counting – but after the two five hundred bills – or 1000 Riyals – she was NOT ABLE to determine what to do with the 200 Riyal bill. Apparently, this was just one too many zeros for her to handle, even with my telling her that it was 1200 and saying it out “one – two – zero – zero.” [She must have thought that once again I was trying to get over on her in some way – because, after all – when I said I had twenty packages of chicken, I really had twenty packages of chicken.] Probably it wasn’t much longer than a minute before she realized that she would have to call the manager to come and help her, but it certainly seemed like longer than that to me. The cashier acted quite surprised when the manager told her to press the keys “one – two – zero – zero.” I’m convinced that either this poor woman was either never taught to count past 999 or she was not taught how to “carry” sums in addition problems.
Convinced, but not surprised… Try giving a clerk at any convenience store in the States payment over and above what the total is. Say your total is $4.68. Hand the clerk a five dollar bill, a dime, a nickel and three pennies. He or she will look at you like you’ve got two heads – and tell you that your total is only $4.68. That’s right I gave you $5.18 for a purchase that totals $4.68. [Perhaps you’ve missed YOUR calling and you should have been a rocket scientist!] The reason I’m giving you the eighteen cents is so that you will give me two quarters back – fifty cents – instead of thirty-two cents – I don’t want that extra nickel and those two worthless pennies – I’m trying to get rid of all the worthless pennies I’m carrying in my wallet by giving you $5.18. At this point you have totally, thoroughly confused the clerk and you’ll probably end up with extra money. You have a choice – you could be so honest that you can’t even keep the extra quarter he or she might give you because you’ve confused them so. Or you can keep it. I say keep it. Unfortunately he or she will probably have to make up the difference at the end of the shift if their “cash drawer” doesn’t balance properly. But then, anyone this obtuse probably shouldn’t be working in a job that requires handling money to begin with.
*haram: Arabic word meaning "not allowed"
Living on a compound that is a little city within a city does have advantages – one of which is that so many services are offered to us without leaving our gates – giving Westerner’s here, and “locals,” as well, much more freedom than we have outside the confines of our gilded cage. Thankfully, I can drive myself to our grocery store, something taken for granted the world over, which is, but for certain “restricted areas,” haram,* here in The Sandbox. However, I am still expected to “get dressed” just to go to the grocery store [see post of June 18, 2006, "Attitude in Shorts"], so I procrastinate and put off going until it is absolutely necessary.
After putting jeans on [it is way too hot AND humid for jeans!], and going to the bank, I headed into the grocery store, list in hand, and proceeded to fill my “trolley” [we call it a “cart” in the States]. Going early – first thing in the morning – the store is usually fairly quiet – but NOT this morning. Today, the entire store was cursed with a gang of children wrecking havoc as they raced up and down the aisles in carts, knocking things off of shelves, literally running into the few of us that were shopping and ramming our trolleys with theirs. This is NOT the first time this has happened – that a gang of unruly children is terrorizing shoppers and store employees. At one point I was able to block their “fun” as they were racing – yes – three wide – their trolleys down the dairy aisle – I had my mine parked so that the entire “lane” was blocked – and nothing would have given me greater satisfaction than personally scolding the little monsters if they would have run into me. [I remember a time in 1995 when I spanked a neighbor’s child when she was climbing on my car and wouldn’t get off when told to do so no less than three times! Hee hee hee.]
At one point, as an acquaintance and I were exchanging greetings, and the kids charged past us, I asked, not quietly, either, one of the store clerk’s, “Who do these obnoxious children belong to?” The poor clerk just shrugged his shoulders. There is nothing the clerks or store managers can do about such menaces. [Many of the clerks and most of the managers are not “locals” and with good reason they are fearful of repercussions, knowing that confronting the parent or parents would likely threaten the livelihood they so depend on to support their families in other countries.]
For the time that I remained in the store, there was not one adult that appeared to be associated with caring for this particular group of children – and there were seven or eight of them , probably between the ages of eight and twelve, certainly old enough to know that their behavior was not appropriate. Not that having a parent or parents in their presence would have made any difference – as I stated, I’ve seen this behavior in the store more than once – and I’ve seen the parents – just carry on – totally oblivious to their children’s behavior! Disciplining one’s children, or requiring them to behave, more often than not, would seemingly be a foreign concept, here.
Even as I was checking out – I’d been in the store for probably forty or forty-five minutes – these kids continued “playing” as if, because it’s too hot to play outside [and it is], they’d decided that the store would be the perfect place to go instead. It is time for a new rule to be instituted – a sign that clearly states – in English AND in Arabic – that NO unaccompanied children under twelve are permitted. Barring that, the store managers and clerks should be given the green light to confront these unruly brats to be able to tell them to stop their shenanigans without worry or risk to their job security.
Not all of our store’s employees have been imported from other countries. The drive for Saudization, although unlikely to ever eliminate all of the outside, imported, work force, is making strides to provide employment for “locals” and in some professions residents must fill certain positions. Over the course of the past year, many of the former cashiers, men from other countries, have been terminated; a small handful remained to work the night and weekend shifts, and a few were allowed to continue as baggers or shelf stockers. Thus, when and where it is feasible [i.e., during the normal, customary, work days and hours, or 7:00A.M. to 4:00P.M., Saturday through Wednesday] cashier positions are now staffed by "locals," men and women. Admirably, this country, like any other, wants to provide for the welfare of its nationals to the best of its ability. And it is certainly understandable with an astronomical unemployment rate that the Kingdom will endeavor to restructure its work force [see August 27, 2006, "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes"].
However, I find it a little more than slightly ironic that a person could or would be given a position as a cashier – involving money – when they are not able to calculate simple addition sums WITH the aide of an electronic, computerized cash register! It wasn’t enough that for the containers of pre-packaged [uniform price – each 5.50 SAR] chicken [there were twenty] the clerk chose to ring up each package individually even though I clearly said I had twenty of these, and did so again with the containers of pre-packaged [uniform price – each 6.25 SAR] beef [there were twenty]; ditto for the four rolls of paper towels [each 7.95 SAR]. I know that it is possible to put in the number of an item – the quantity – and then scan it for the price – so that each package does not have to be individually scanned – the former cashiers saved themselves time and effort in this manner. The possibility exists that perhaps the cashier just didn’t believe me when I said I had twenty packages of chicken and twenty packages of beef, and to insure that I wasn’t getting any freebies felt it necessary to scan each and every one of the items individually. Even then, a quick and simple count would have verified this. As for the paper towels, a mere glance would have confirmed there were, in fact, four rolls of an identical brand. Apart from the time involved for the cashier to pick up and scan each of the individual, identical items, a great deal more effort was required as well.
The “icing on the cake” was when the cashier finally pressed whatever key it is that gives the sum of money that is due for the purchases, that being 1092.77 SAR. Here the amount to the left of the decimal is a “Riyal,” what would be the “Dollar” in the States, and the amount to the right of the decimal is a “Halala” – in the States it is “cents.” Halalas are almost not worth having in small amounts – it is change – they just aren’t worth much [375 Halalas equals 100 cents, or $1.00]. Grocery bills are often rounded up or rounded down, eliminating the small amounts of currency altogether. In this particular instance, my grocery bill was rounded down to 1092.75 and I handed the cashier 1200.00 – two 500 SAR bills and one 200 SAR bill and she “froze.” I kid you not, she was unable to add the sum of the three bills that I handed her to be able to enter that number so that the cash register could immediately calculate the amount of change she needed to give back to me. After all, it’s not like I was counting on her to actually determine the amount of change I had coming back – that’s WHAT the cash register is for, isn’t it?!?
It was almost comical watching her transfer each of the three bills from one hand to the next, eyes downward, concentrating on the paper money in her hands so intently. She was counting – I could see her lips moving – I assume she was counting – but after the two five hundred bills – or 1000 Riyals – she was NOT ABLE to determine what to do with the 200 Riyal bill. Apparently, this was just one too many zeros for her to handle, even with my telling her that it was 1200 and saying it out “one – two – zero – zero.” [She must have thought that once again I was trying to get over on her in some way – because, after all – when I said I had twenty packages of chicken, I really had twenty packages of chicken.] Probably it wasn’t much longer than a minute before she realized that she would have to call the manager to come and help her, but it certainly seemed like longer than that to me. The cashier acted quite surprised when the manager told her to press the keys “one – two – zero – zero.” I’m convinced that either this poor woman was either never taught to count past 999 or she was not taught how to “carry” sums in addition problems.
Convinced, but not surprised… Try giving a clerk at any convenience store in the States payment over and above what the total is. Say your total is $4.68. Hand the clerk a five dollar bill, a dime, a nickel and three pennies. He or she will look at you like you’ve got two heads – and tell you that your total is only $4.68. That’s right I gave you $5.18 for a purchase that totals $4.68. [Perhaps you’ve missed YOUR calling and you should have been a rocket scientist!] The reason I’m giving you the eighteen cents is so that you will give me two quarters back – fifty cents – instead of thirty-two cents – I don’t want that extra nickel and those two worthless pennies – I’m trying to get rid of all the worthless pennies I’m carrying in my wallet by giving you $5.18. At this point you have totally, thoroughly confused the clerk and you’ll probably end up with extra money. You have a choice – you could be so honest that you can’t even keep the extra quarter he or she might give you because you’ve confused them so. Or you can keep it. I say keep it. Unfortunately he or she will probably have to make up the difference at the end of the shift if their “cash drawer” doesn’t balance properly. But then, anyone this obtuse probably shouldn’t be working in a job that requires handling money to begin with.
*haram: Arabic word meaning "not allowed"
Wet Dish Towels
I mean, what else could you call this? Reminds me of one of those tired “blonde jokes,” where a blonde is shaking her head from side to side banging her shoulder pads answering some moronic question with an “I don’t know.”
Reading Haya Al-Manie’s article, “Women Without Qualifications,” one has to wonder if the young girls she refers to didn’t have blinders on. [Umm, it’d be more apt to be a veil.] Ms. Al-Manie writes:
But, then, there are young women like this all over the world, aren’t there? Perhaps, because the culture here tends to protect and shelter women to degrees above and beyond what a Westerner would view as the “norm,” this just appears to be more noticeable.
Reading Haya Al-Manie’s article, “Women Without Qualifications,” one has to wonder if the young girls she refers to didn’t have blinders on. [Umm, it’d be more apt to be a veil.] Ms. Al-Manie writes:
“In an interview with a group of young women prior to their admission at a college, the participants were asked about the problems of their present time. Surprisingly, most of the girls confirmed that there really aren’t many problems that women face.”
“Unfortunately, the young girls didn’t know what qualifications they possess or what makes them feel proud of themselves. The picture is complete with them not knowing what their flaws or shortcomings are either. I don’t really want to believe that these young women have no sense of scent, taste, or flavor. But I wonder how these girls were able to reach this level of absence and nonexistence in relation to everything…”
But, then, there are young women like this all over the world, aren’t there? Perhaps, because the culture here tends to protect and shelter women to degrees above and beyond what a Westerner would view as the “norm,” this just appears to be more noticeable.
Blaming L. Brent Bozell, III
I have decided to blame L. Brent Bozell, III, for all but ruining my life; it is HIS fault I never get all the things I need to do, done [Today's Agenda]! My “to do” list just gets longer and longer and longer every day…
To further assimilate into a part of the culture which is so prevalent in The Sandbox, I have decided that from hereon in, I will take absolutely no responsibility for any of my actions, and that I am going to assign blame to someone else or to something else for absolutely everything. [What’s the saying… Something like, “When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em… Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I will become a real “local” in this sense – in this sense, only, mind you.]
When we moved here, for the very first time in my life – well, since I was fourteen – I didn’t have a job and I didn’t have to have a job! Life was going to be oh so wonderful without having to get up and get ready to jump on a hamster wheel five or six or seven days a week. And it is. I am truly thankful that I am not employed. This allows me the opportunity to spend time doing all of the things that I enjoy and never had time to do before my life here – spend leisurely hours with the Kids and my husband – read, sew, do cross-stitch, organize all those photos that have never made it to albums, lay in the sun, join various women’s groups, socialize and entertain friends – dinner parties and the like – take Arabic classes – travel, etc., etc., etc. Or, it used to.
At some point, I added “surfing the Web” to the above activities and that is when
Mr. Bozell came into my life. In the course of surfing one day, I found a news site that I really liked. One day led to the next and the next, and all of the sudden CNSNews.com was my first double-click of the day. L. Brent Bozell, III, is the founder of CNSNews.com and that is precisely why he is getting the blame – because this is where – his site – I discovered a blog – something that until then I knew existed but had no clue what it really was.
I can remember that first blog just like it was yesterday – Michelle Malkin. One double-click was all it took – I was addicted. But one wasn’t enough. Oh, noooo… It was all downhill from there. Although, in all honesty, “downhill” isn’t accurate. My addiction to these blogs more resembles that of an avalanche which is torpedoing down a mountain at breakneck speed and continues to spiral recklessly and wantonly out of control. With a current list of more than a hundred or so, right now, all calling to me for a double-click, it’s a wonder that I can post on my own blog once in a while, and do all of the other things I want to do.
And, that is why, Mr. Bozell, it is YOUR fault that I no longer have time to do all of the things I need to do, that I want to do and really, really should do!
To further assimilate into a part of the culture which is so prevalent in The Sandbox, I have decided that from hereon in, I will take absolutely no responsibility for any of my actions, and that I am going to assign blame to someone else or to something else for absolutely everything. [What’s the saying… Something like, “When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em… Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I will become a real “local” in this sense – in this sense, only, mind you.]
When we moved here, for the very first time in my life – well, since I was fourteen – I didn’t have a job and I didn’t have to have a job! Life was going to be oh so wonderful without having to get up and get ready to jump on a hamster wheel five or six or seven days a week. And it is. I am truly thankful that I am not employed. This allows me the opportunity to spend time doing all of the things that I enjoy and never had time to do before my life here – spend leisurely hours with the Kids and my husband – read, sew, do cross-stitch, organize all those photos that have never made it to albums, lay in the sun, join various women’s groups, socialize and entertain friends – dinner parties and the like – take Arabic classes – travel, etc., etc., etc. Or, it used to.
At some point, I added “surfing the Web” to the above activities and that is when
Mr. Bozell came into my life. In the course of surfing one day, I found a news site that I really liked. One day led to the next and the next, and all of the sudden CNSNews.com was my first double-click of the day. L. Brent Bozell, III, is the founder of CNSNews.com and that is precisely why he is getting the blame – because this is where – his site – I discovered a blog – something that until then I knew existed but had no clue what it really was.
I can remember that first blog just like it was yesterday – Michelle Malkin. One double-click was all it took – I was addicted. But one wasn’t enough. Oh, noooo… It was all downhill from there. Although, in all honesty, “downhill” isn’t accurate. My addiction to these blogs more resembles that of an avalanche which is torpedoing down a mountain at breakneck speed and continues to spiral recklessly and wantonly out of control. With a current list of more than a hundred or so, right now, all calling to me for a double-click, it’s a wonder that I can post on my own blog once in a while, and do all of the other things I want to do.
And, that is why, Mr. Bozell, it is YOUR fault that I no longer have time to do all of the things I need to do, that I want to do and really, really should do!
Friday, September 01, 2006
EU Calls for Driving Ban on Saudi Men
Oh. My. Gosh. This is GREAT! Read it. Read it again!
I had coffee yesterday with a very dear friend here, a “local” woman [read: Saudi] and she was telling me that she got an e-mail at work that said that a few Members of the European Parliament had were sponsoring a campaign to BAN SAUDI MEN FROM DRIVING IN ALL EUROPEAN UNION COUNTRIES! She said she would share the e-mail with me but it was in Arabic, although she did print it out and gave it to her [American] husband and told him to get one of his [Saudi] co-workers to read it to him.
[Hey, I took that one Arabic reading/writing course – I’m almost an expert, now! And since the article is relatively short, I’m pretty sure that I would be able to translate it. Of course it would require every waking moment for the next three or four weeks…]
On a whim, I did a quick little Google search and found the article – it’s been posted over and over and over so HOW is it that I’ve NEVER seen it?!? I’ve seen it now, and I’m ALL for this [you might have “clicked” above, but I just can’t resist] gem of Roger Helmer’s:
I had coffee yesterday with a very dear friend here, a “local” woman [read: Saudi] and she was telling me that she got an e-mail at work that said that a few Members of the European Parliament had were sponsoring a campaign to BAN SAUDI MEN FROM DRIVING IN ALL EUROPEAN UNION COUNTRIES! She said she would share the e-mail with me but it was in Arabic, although she did print it out and gave it to her [American] husband and told him to get one of his [Saudi] co-workers to read it to him.
[Hey, I took that one Arabic reading/writing course – I’m almost an expert, now! And since the article is relatively short, I’m pretty sure that I would be able to translate it. Of course it would require every waking moment for the next three or four weeks…]
On a whim, I did a quick little Google search and found the article – it’s been posted over and over and over so HOW is it that I’ve NEVER seen it?!? I’ve seen it now, and I’m ALL for this [you might have “clicked” above, but I just can’t resist] gem of Roger Helmer’s:
What’s that old saying? Something like… “What goes around comes around.” Yeah, that’s it.In a remarkable move today, four MEPs, including East Midlands MEP Roger Helmer and Anna Zaborska, Chairman of the European Parliament's influential Women's Committee, have launched a campaign to ban Saudi Arabian men from driving in all EU countries.
They have done so to highlight the continuing ban on Saudi women driving in their own country, which the MEPs claim is a blatant example of discrimination, an attack on women's rights, and totally at odds with civilised [sic] values. They argue that a move to ban male Saudi nationals from driving in the EU would help the Saudi authorities to understand the very strong condemnation evoked in Europe by the Saudi ban on women drivers.
The MEPs have sponsored a "Written Declaration" in the European parliament in Brussels, a motion which is available for all MEPs to sign, and which becomes a formal resolution of the parliament if at least half of all MEPs (316) sign up to it.
The sponsors of the Declaration are Anna Zaborska (Christian Democrat, Slovakia), Roger Helmer (Conservative, East Midlands); Ashley Mote (Independent, South East); and Jim Allister (Democratic Unionist, Northern Ireland).
Speaking at the launch of the declaration, Mr. Helmer said "The nationals of authoritarian countries assume that they can come to the West and enjoy our freedoms, while maintaining discrimination and denying basic human rights at home. This initiative should help to convince them that freedom is a two-way street and that their own people are also entitled to basic human rights".
Juggling Wives
This is a problem MY Dear Husband will never have. He thinks one wife is plenty. There are times – probably more often than not – when he thinks one wife is too much.
. . . guessing most husbands won’t have to deal with learning how to “juggle wives.” Well, that is, unless you’re Warren Jeffs or a member of the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints.
Twins, Say "Goodbye" to Mommy and Daddy
This is too bad, really. Sad. And, unfair.
Kesiya and Albert are 19-month-old twins whose parents are sitting in jail waiting to go to trial for committing murder. The Nepalese maid, allegedly, tried to run away from the twins’ parents, Roy Joseph and Biji Thomas, and now she is dead. Apparently, the couple was “detained after the police found the mobile phone” which belonged to the maid.
The twins “who were separated from their lactating mother for more than a month” have left The Sandbox [Riyadh] to join their grandparents in Kerala, India. In the meantime, Mommy and Daddy are languishing in separate lock-ups, and have not even had the benefit of “receiving any counselor access” [talking to a lawyer!].
The Embassy of India is doing everything they can as it is “bound by its duties to represent its nationals when they are in legal disputes in Saudi Arabia.”
“Muraleedharan, general convener Federation of Kerala Associates in Saudi Arabia [Fokasa] has met with Indian Ambassador M.O.H. Farook” and they have “submitted a memorandum.” The memorandum, signed by Muraleedharan, says, in part:
One thing is for certain. It will be sometime before the parents are reunited with Kesiya and Albert and that is too bad. Sad. And, unfair.
Kesiya and Albert are 19-month-old twins whose parents are sitting in jail waiting to go to trial for committing murder. The Nepalese maid, allegedly, tried to run away from the twins’ parents, Roy Joseph and Biji Thomas, and now she is dead. Apparently, the couple was “detained after the police found the mobile phone” which belonged to the maid.
The twins “who were separated from their lactating mother for more than a month” have left The Sandbox [Riyadh] to join their grandparents in Kerala, India. In the meantime, Mommy and Daddy are languishing in separate lock-ups, and have not even had the benefit of “receiving any counselor access” [talking to a lawyer!].
The Embassy of India is doing everything they can as it is “bound by its duties to represent its nationals when they are in legal disputes in Saudi Arabia.”
“Muraleedharan, general convener Federation of Kerala Associates in Saudi Arabia [Fokasa] has met with Indian Ambassador M.O.H. Farook” and they have “submitted a memorandum.” The memorandum, signed by Muraleedharan, says, in part:
“Since the Kingdom is a country which recognizes and respects the rights of individuals the detained couple should be considered as innocent until proven guilty.”I recall seeing the original article in the Arab News, but only just glanced at it so I am short on details, i.e., the maid’s death – was a body found? And, do officials know the cause of death? Now, inquiring minds want to know how it is that the “Indian couple was detained after the police found the mobile phone.” Did the police have a search warrant and find the phone in the “Indian” couple’s home? Did the couple get stopped in a vehicle? Was the phone found on the maid [and she was found, where?] with the “camera” on? What evidence is there that the “Indian couple” are to blame for the death of the maid? I’ll try to follow the details.
One thing is for certain. It will be sometime before the parents are reunited with Kesiya and Albert and that is too bad. Sad. And, unfair.
2,729 Captagon Tablets
Are you sure it was 2,729 tablets and not 2,728 or 2,730? Someone should probably do a recount.
I did not know what "Captagon" was for the first year that I was here. There were numerous “drug busts” reported in the The Saudi Gazette and Arab News and if the drug was not "Qat" then it was Captagon. Of course, I didn’t know what Qat was, either. No one I asked, here, in my circle of friends and acquaintances knew what captagon was – it is a type of amphetamine.
One of these articles had a photo of what looked like a coffee table with all of the captagon pills neatly counted out and put in little piles of ten each. I will try to find it. It is worth posting.
Drug dealing is a very serious offense in The Sandbox. I honestly do not know if drugs are categorized here, like they are in the States – marijuana being a drug that is not classified as a narcotic like cocaine would be – thus charges and penalties differ – but I do know that there is a sign at the Causeway where you cross over from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia that very clearly states, “Drug dealers will be executed.” That might not be the exact wording. Suffice it to say, however, that the sign leave little for interpretation or guess work.
How is it, then, that this drug dealer “who had been convicted several times for the same offense” was again returned to prison??? Apparently he had “served a seven-year sentence without learning his lesson, and again reverted to his previous behavior.”
As above-stated, my impression from the sign on the Causeway, is that drug dealers are executed. It will be interesting to learn if this man learns his lesson this time around…
I did not know what "Captagon" was for the first year that I was here. There were numerous “drug busts” reported in the The Saudi Gazette and Arab News and if the drug was not "Qat" then it was Captagon. Of course, I didn’t know what Qat was, either. No one I asked, here, in my circle of friends and acquaintances knew what captagon was – it is a type of amphetamine.
One of these articles had a photo of what looked like a coffee table with all of the captagon pills neatly counted out and put in little piles of ten each. I will try to find it. It is worth posting.
Drug dealing is a very serious offense in The Sandbox. I honestly do not know if drugs are categorized here, like they are in the States – marijuana being a drug that is not classified as a narcotic like cocaine would be – thus charges and penalties differ – but I do know that there is a sign at the Causeway where you cross over from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia that very clearly states, “Drug dealers will be executed.” That might not be the exact wording. Suffice it to say, however, that the sign leave little for interpretation or guess work.
How is it, then, that this drug dealer “who had been convicted several times for the same offense” was again returned to prison??? Apparently he had “served a seven-year sentence without learning his lesson, and again reverted to his previous behavior.”
As above-stated, my impression from the sign on the Causeway, is that drug dealers are executed. It will be interesting to learn if this man learns his lesson this time around…
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Are you a Briefs or Boxers Type of Guy?
Or, maybe, you’re a “sirwal” type of guy… Yes. Oh well. Never mind, then.
Who knew that in The Sandbox a man CAN BE FIRED for not wearing the proper undergarment?!?
Many [and that is way, too many, thank you] of the thobes that men wear here are quite transparent – you CAN see right through them. I, personally, have not seen one single man in a thobe who did not have his sirwals on. The only comparison I can come up with to describe a pair of sirwals is pajama bottoms. Full-length pajama bottoms. I found a pair on-line: sirwals. [They are a real deal at $8.95 a pair!]
Brings to mind that little ditty that children sing:
Who knew that in The Sandbox a man CAN BE FIRED for not wearing the proper undergarment?!?
Many [and that is way, too many, thank you] of the thobes that men wear here are quite transparent – you CAN see right through them. I, personally, have not seen one single man in a thobe who did not have his sirwals on. The only comparison I can come up with to describe a pair of sirwals is pajama bottoms. Full-length pajama bottoms. I found a pair on-line: sirwals. [They are a real deal at $8.95 a pair!]
Brings to mind that little ditty that children sing:
I see London, I see France…
I see Mohammed’s underpants.
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Okay, so "Saudis Prefer to Have Comfortable Jobs" has absolutely nothing to do with gentlemen prefer blondes... The titles are both rather catchy, and rhymey, don’t you think? And yeah, so, okay, “rhymey” isn’t really a word that you’ll find in a dictionary, but it happened to go quite nicely with “catchy” at the moment.
Nope, don’t think the article will come as some earth shattering revelation – it’s been a known fact for sometime on this side of the world. It certainly is not nearly as earth shattering as the fact that Pluto is no longer considered one of the nine planets. This is a bit disturbing. We all have our little way of remembering the nine – make that eight – planets. “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Use Nine Pickles” has now become “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nyquil.”
The fact that “locals” prefer “cushy” jobs was addressed earlier by one of my all time very favorite bloggers, The Religious Policeman, on April 21, 2006. You may have to search his archives to find the article, but it IS well worth reading. Sadly, Alhamedi is no longer blogging, but it is because of him I realized I needed to start my blog, that would shed some light on issues, here, in The Sandbox.
. . . Alhamedi, I hope once in a while you’re stopping by to visit, and you smile, knowing that you were the inspiration for my site!
Nope, don’t think the article will come as some earth shattering revelation – it’s been a known fact for sometime on this side of the world. It certainly is not nearly as earth shattering as the fact that Pluto is no longer considered one of the nine planets. This is a bit disturbing. We all have our little way of remembering the nine – make that eight – planets. “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Use Nine Pickles” has now become “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nyquil.”
The fact that “locals” prefer “cushy” jobs was addressed earlier by one of my all time very favorite bloggers, The Religious Policeman, on April 21, 2006. You may have to search his archives to find the article, but it IS well worth reading. Sadly, Alhamedi is no longer blogging, but it is because of him I realized I needed to start my blog, that would shed some light on issues, here, in The Sandbox.
. . . Alhamedi, I hope once in a while you’re stopping by to visit, and you smile, knowing that you were the inspiration for my site!
Old and Unpaid
Some things just don’t change. Not here, anyway. I read Ladislao Reyes story and just wanted to cry – with him – for him. For 18 year Mr. Reyes has been a truck driver for Al-Shark Transport [hey, what’s in a name?]. Some five months ago he filed a complaint with the Labor Department to get back wages, his end-of-service benefits, his vacation tickets, iqama and medical expenses. Since filing his claim, not only has Mr. Reyes NOT received his salary [oh, yeah, big surprise, here!], but he has been forced to vacate his home and is now living on hand-outs from friends and fellow Filipinos. Apparently a good hearted Saudi national has taken pity on him and has now given him a place to stay – it has no amenities [i.e., electricity] – but something is better than nothing.
Mr. Reyes worked for a meager salary and has achieved his goal of putting all five of his children through college, which explains why he has worked so long past the [mandatory, which is sixty, or so I thought] retirement age.
The trucking company claims that they owe Mr. Reyes nothing and that they have documentation to prove this. Interestingly, enough, however, they did offer a settlement to Mr. Reyes during earlier negotiations, first of 10,000 Riyals and then 20,000 Riyals, provided the claim with the Labor Department would be withdrawn. Mr. Reyes has refused the settlement – from a company that supposedly owes his nothing but was willing to give him something.
The story says that there was a hearing last Saturday [August 19th], but that “for the second time” the employer did not show up. Another hearing was scheduled for yesterday [August 26th]. It is all too common that these cases before the Labor Courts drag on and on and on. Apparently the employer is not “required” to appear, and when the employer – or the employer’s representative – doesn’t appear the case just gets rescheduled.
It could be years before this case gets resolved. Let’s hope not, for Mr. Reyes sake. Quite a contrast, I’d say, to this case, which was filed on May 7, 2006, was “looked at” on May 11, 2006, and almost immediately resolved. Surely it would be preposterous to think nationality plays any part in how the Labor Department determines and issues verdicts in their cases. Oh. My. Gosh. I didn’t just type that, here, did I?!?
Mr. Reyes worked for a meager salary and has achieved his goal of putting all five of his children through college, which explains why he has worked so long past the [mandatory, which is sixty, or so I thought] retirement age.
The trucking company claims that they owe Mr. Reyes nothing and that they have documentation to prove this. Interestingly, enough, however, they did offer a settlement to Mr. Reyes during earlier negotiations, first of 10,000 Riyals and then 20,000 Riyals, provided the claim with the Labor Department would be withdrawn. Mr. Reyes has refused the settlement – from a company that supposedly owes his nothing but was willing to give him something.
The story says that there was a hearing last Saturday [August 19th], but that “for the second time” the employer did not show up. Another hearing was scheduled for yesterday [August 26th]. It is all too common that these cases before the Labor Courts drag on and on and on. Apparently the employer is not “required” to appear, and when the employer – or the employer’s representative – doesn’t appear the case just gets rescheduled.
It could be years before this case gets resolved. Let’s hope not, for Mr. Reyes sake. Quite a contrast, I’d say, to this case, which was filed on May 7, 2006, was “looked at” on May 11, 2006, and almost immediately resolved. Surely it would be preposterous to think nationality plays any part in how the Labor Department determines and issues verdicts in their cases. Oh. My. Gosh. I didn’t just type that, here, did I?!?
Locking up The Kids!
I know this has been posted at a few other sites on the Web already, but not nearly as pertinent to someone writing in the States as it is to someone writing in The Sandbox!!!
Banning the sale of dogs and cats in Saudi Arabia is only going to make it MORE dangerous than it already is for four-legged Kids. I worry every day about The Baby getting loose and not making it home – because someone out there, a local, thinks that a “black dog is evil.” I don’t know what truth there is to that – whether black dogs are really considered “evil” here, or not, but I am just not willing to chance it. I worry every day that The Boy might get loose and that some “local” will think that because he is so big he would be perfect for a dog-fighting ring. The Boy doesn’t have a fighting bone in his entire body and just the mere thought... I cringe!!! It’s much more prevalent here than you would think. Yes, the sport of Dog Fighting. This is a sport?!? It. Is. Criminal. That’s what it is! No, I will just NOT think about that, today.
Amazing that one of the reasons that the sale of dogs and cats will be banned is because the powers that be here believe they “can be vectors” of diseases which “can dangerously affect newborn babies, the elderly or persons with immune system deficiencies.” Huh? I did a Google search to find out more about what diseases dogs [did not search cats, just dogs] carry that could harm newborn babies. There is very, very little out there, and in fact, but for allergies – oh, and rabies – one canine psychologist, Kathleen Martin, has this to say:
Regardless that fact upon fact upon fact will confirm that having four-legged canine kids is NOT dangerous, I, for one, will be keeping an extra close eye on The Boy and The Baby from now on – it would not be too far fetched to think that their leashes will be wrapped around my waist while we sleep. Nope, I will not be letting The Boy or The Baby out of my sight, here, ever again. [Not that I ever did to begin with, mind you, but...]
Banning the sale of dogs and cats in Saudi Arabia is only going to make it MORE dangerous than it already is for four-legged Kids. I worry every day about The Baby getting loose and not making it home – because someone out there, a local, thinks that a “black dog is evil.” I don’t know what truth there is to that – whether black dogs are really considered “evil” here, or not, but I am just not willing to chance it. I worry every day that The Boy might get loose and that some “local” will think that because he is so big he would be perfect for a dog-fighting ring. The Boy doesn’t have a fighting bone in his entire body and just the mere thought... I cringe!!! It’s much more prevalent here than you would think. Yes, the sport of Dog Fighting. This is a sport?!? It. Is. Criminal. That’s what it is! No, I will just NOT think about that, today.
Amazing that one of the reasons that the sale of dogs and cats will be banned is because the powers that be here believe they “can be vectors” of diseases which “can dangerously affect newborn babies, the elderly or persons with immune system deficiencies.” Huh? I did a Google search to find out more about what diseases dogs [did not search cats, just dogs] carry that could harm newborn babies. There is very, very little out there, and in fact, but for allergies – oh, and rabies – one canine psychologist, Kathleen Martin, has this to say:
“… health risks are minimal. It should be fine as long as the dog has had its immunizations. We can’t catch doggy diseases anyway. The only thing we can get is worms – so make sure the dog is regularly wormed.”Wikipedia had a short entry on the subject of “elderly and dogs.” I was hoping to find something that suggested that older people who had dogs lived longer, healther lives – I know that this is true – I just can’t find a link to back me up, here. Ahh, here’s one, and here’s another. There are many, many more. I just wasn’t typing the proper words into my earlier search.
Regardless that fact upon fact upon fact will confirm that having four-legged canine kids is NOT dangerous, I, for one, will be keeping an extra close eye on The Boy and The Baby from now on – it would not be too far fetched to think that their leashes will be wrapped around my waist while we sleep. Nope, I will not be letting The Boy or The Baby out of my sight, here, ever again. [Not that I ever did to begin with, mind you, but...]
Today’s Agenda
Not exciting, really. But I do have a list of things to do. It’s a “healthy” list!
1) Post on 2,996 project.
2) Put other posts that have been written – but are not up – on Stilettos.
3) Go to library – find book on “Blogging for Dummies.” Need to learn how to post side-bars, favorites, etc.
4) Find out where shipment is – it was supposed to be here between 7A and 10A this morning. It is past 11, now…
5) Unpack and get laundry started.
6) Go to post office to make sure there is no mail.
7) Go to Commissary; the Kids are out of “breakfast” dog food and there is no more coffee!
8) Make appointment for manicure and pedicure.
9) Cancel trip to London.
10) Start diet.
I can knock off number 1 on the list.
[For your information, I tried and tried and tried… to get photos to publish on the “Boxers or Briefs” article. They would not take. No matter how small I made them – they would not “upload.” All the more reason to get that “Blogging for Dummies book at the library, today!]
1) Post on 2,996 project.
2) Put other posts that have been written – but are not up – on Stilettos.
3) Go to library – find book on “Blogging for Dummies.” Need to learn how to post side-bars, favorites, etc.
4) Find out where shipment is – it was supposed to be here between 7A and 10A this morning. It is past 11, now…
5) Unpack and get laundry started.
6) Go to post office to make sure there is no mail.
7) Go to Commissary; the Kids are out of “breakfast” dog food and there is no more coffee!
8) Make appointment for manicure and pedicure.
9) Cancel trip to London.
10) Start diet.
I can knock off number 1 on the list.
[For your information, I tried and tried and tried… to get photos to publish on the “Boxers or Briefs” article. They would not take. No matter how small I made them – they would not “upload.” All the more reason to get that “Blogging for Dummies book at the library, today!]
The 2,996 Project
Huge kudos to blogger, D.C. Roe, who has taken on an epic endeavor – slated for unveiling on September 11, 2006. On that date, it is anticipated that 2,996 different blogs will each pay tribute to a single victim – there were 2,996 individuals – who perished in the horrifying disaster that took place almost five years ago, on September 11, 2001.
I will be posting one and celebrating the life of Yvette Nicole Moreno, a much too young [she was only twenty-five!] woman who was working as a receptionist on that fateful day… Yvette had made it out of the North Tower building, was running away, and killed by falling debris. Tragic.
The website is here. As of last night there were still 125 or so names to be assigned to bloggers.
Truly it would be wonderful to be just a bit more computer literate than I am! The library is a MUST today – to get a book along the lines of “Blogging for Dummies.” I need to learn how to post side-bars on my blog [every other blogger participating in the 2,996 project has a “link” on the side to click to show a photo of who they are writing a tribute to and how to get to the link to sign up to write a tribute – mine – nope – no clue how to do this – not a f’ing clue!], post photos in the middle of an article, and learn how to do a bunch of other “stuff” to make this blog a better blog…
I will be posting one and celebrating the life of Yvette Nicole Moreno, a much too young [she was only twenty-five!] woman who was working as a receptionist on that fateful day… Yvette had made it out of the North Tower building, was running away, and killed by falling debris. Tragic.
The website is here. As of last night there were still 125 or so names to be assigned to bloggers.
Truly it would be wonderful to be just a bit more computer literate than I am! The library is a MUST today – to get a book along the lines of “Blogging for Dummies.” I need to learn how to post side-bars on my blog [every other blogger participating in the 2,996 project has a “link” on the side to click to show a photo of who they are writing a tribute to and how to get to the link to sign up to write a tribute – mine – nope – no clue how to do this – not a f’ing clue!], post photos in the middle of an article, and learn how to do a bunch of other “stuff” to make this blog a better blog…
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Off Again...
I am very appreciative of the interest so many have shown in my blog… It’s been just over two very, very, very full weeks since I returned to The Sandbox. [Why? Why? Why? Did I fire my HouseBOY?!?] I have several items ready to post, but had to fight with “Blogger” over the weekend [our weekend is Thursday and Friday] and it would NOT let me “upload” pictures no matter what I did. Needless to say, those posts have to wait until I return.
Yes, I am off again. I am leaving in two hours to go to Vienna, Austria, for a week. I will be back in The Sandbox again next Saturday. It has been 110 degrees here – and incredibly humid – which is very odd for this time of year, for so long… It is only 72 degrees in Vienna. I have packed sweaters and my mittens! [Oh, and my umbrella – it is supposed to rain in Vienna for the next four days – sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Cold, wet…] Regardless, am planning on sight-seeing and being a “real” tourist rain or shine.
Look for new posts a week from Sunday. I’ll be back again, and posting on a daily basis.
In Shallah…*
Yes, I am off again. I am leaving in two hours to go to Vienna, Austria, for a week. I will be back in The Sandbox again next Saturday. It has been 110 degrees here – and incredibly humid – which is very odd for this time of year, for so long… It is only 72 degrees in Vienna. I have packed sweaters and my mittens! [Oh, and my umbrella – it is supposed to rain in Vienna for the next four days – sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Cold, wet…] Regardless, am planning on sight-seeing and being a “real” tourist rain or shine.
Look for new posts a week from Sunday. I’ll be back again, and posting on a daily basis.
In Shallah…*
*Means "God willing" in Arabic.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Abused Maid Paid $8,042.89
We have a winner!
“Rosie who survived seven months of torture at the hands of her sponsor and his wife” is going to be paid 30,000 Saudi Riyals [$8,042.89] in compensation. Rosie tells her story to The Saudi Gazette, and states that her “employers had subjected me to the harsh beating when I asked for my salary. The beating became a ritual and escalated when I asked the help of the mother of my woman employer.”
A [poor, or she would not have come here] young woman from the Philippines, Rosie came to Saudi this past February to work as a maid for 750 Saudi Riyals a month, or whopping $201.07 U.S. Dollars! This measly amount went unpaid, a saga all to familiar here in The Kingdom, for some six months. On August 8th Rosie received what was her last and “the worst” beating and the next day she “managed to escape and made it to the King Fahd Hospital” where her compatriots called the Philippine embassy to report her condition.
Philippine embassy welfare officer Danilo P. Flores said, “Her condition was heartbreaking. She had contusions on her head and had developed hematoma all over her body.” Flores reported the incident to Captain Fahd Saad Al-Dossari of the Udulliyah Police who investigated the case, summoned Rosie’s sponsor and “locked him up.” It is reported that Rosie’s sponsor “confessed to his crime before police and agreed to settle the case by paying Rosie seven months of unpaid salaries and other damages.”
It is in this regard that we have a winner… In the almost four years that I have been here in The Sandbox, not ONCE have I read that a sponsor has admitted to the crime of abusing domestic help. Not. Once. It goes without saying that NO ONE should have to suffer abuse at the hands of their employer, and it should go without saying that no one should go unpaid for any length of time, and certainly not for seven months.
“The embassy had initially asked for SR50,000.” “Rosie’s sponsor settled at the police station and agreed to pay SR30,000 after negotiations . . . That settlement includes SR18,000 representing 24 months worth of salaries, SR800 for the destruction of Rosie’s personal belongings, SR1,200 for air tickets back to the Philippines, and SR10,000 in blood money for the beatings.”
Broken down, the sums Rosie received for being abused by her sponsor, are:
SR50,000 – the initial amount requested – is $13,404.82 U.S. Dollars;
SR30,000 – the amount the sponsor agreed to pay – is $8,042.89 U.S. Dollars;
SR18,000 – representing two FULL years of salary – is $4,825.73 U.S. Dollars;
SR800 – for personal belongings – is $214.47 U.S. Dollars;
SR1200 – for airfare – is 321.71 U.S. Dollars; and
SR10,000 – payment of blood money – is $2,680.96 U.S. Dollars.
Colonel Al-Harbi states, “We would like to emphasize that such treatment – such abuse – will not and is not tolerated in our society. This is a warning to all employers to respect the rights of their workers.” This rhetoric has been the subject of diatribe for so long that there was never a resultant action came as no surprise. It is enlightening, to say the least, that we have come upon an official who truly means what he says. Let’s hope that someone, somewhere, seriously considers promoting Chief of Al-Ahsa Police, Colonel Ibrahim Muhammad Al-Harbi, to the head of whatever government agency oversees labor abuses and disputes!
“Rosie who survived seven months of torture at the hands of her sponsor and his wife” is going to be paid 30,000 Saudi Riyals [$8,042.89] in compensation. Rosie tells her story to The Saudi Gazette, and states that her “employers had subjected me to the harsh beating when I asked for my salary. The beating became a ritual and escalated when I asked the help of the mother of my woman employer.”
A [poor, or she would not have come here] young woman from the Philippines, Rosie came to Saudi this past February to work as a maid for 750 Saudi Riyals a month, or whopping $201.07 U.S. Dollars! This measly amount went unpaid, a saga all to familiar here in The Kingdom, for some six months. On August 8th Rosie received what was her last and “the worst” beating and the next day she “managed to escape and made it to the King Fahd Hospital” where her compatriots called the Philippine embassy to report her condition.
Philippine embassy welfare officer Danilo P. Flores said, “Her condition was heartbreaking. She had contusions on her head and had developed hematoma all over her body.” Flores reported the incident to Captain Fahd Saad Al-Dossari of the Udulliyah Police who investigated the case, summoned Rosie’s sponsor and “locked him up.” It is reported that Rosie’s sponsor “confessed to his crime before police and agreed to settle the case by paying Rosie seven months of unpaid salaries and other damages.”
It is in this regard that we have a winner… In the almost four years that I have been here in The Sandbox, not ONCE have I read that a sponsor has admitted to the crime of abusing domestic help. Not. Once. It goes without saying that NO ONE should have to suffer abuse at the hands of their employer, and it should go without saying that no one should go unpaid for any length of time, and certainly not for seven months.
“The embassy had initially asked for SR50,000.” “Rosie’s sponsor settled at the police station and agreed to pay SR30,000 after negotiations . . . That settlement includes SR18,000 representing 24 months worth of salaries, SR800 for the destruction of Rosie’s personal belongings, SR1,200 for air tickets back to the Philippines, and SR10,000 in blood money for the beatings.”
Broken down, the sums Rosie received for being abused by her sponsor, are:
SR50,000 – the initial amount requested – is $13,404.82 U.S. Dollars;
SR30,000 – the amount the sponsor agreed to pay – is $8,042.89 U.S. Dollars;
SR18,000 – representing two FULL years of salary – is $4,825.73 U.S. Dollars;
SR800 – for personal belongings – is $214.47 U.S. Dollars;
SR1200 – for airfare – is 321.71 U.S. Dollars; and
SR10,000 – payment of blood money – is $2,680.96 U.S. Dollars.
Colonel Al-Harbi states, “We would like to emphasize that such treatment – such abuse – will not and is not tolerated in our society. This is a warning to all employers to respect the rights of their workers.” This rhetoric has been the subject of diatribe for so long that there was never a resultant action came as no surprise. It is enlightening, to say the least, that we have come upon an official who truly means what he says. Let’s hope that someone, somewhere, seriously considers promoting Chief of Al-Ahsa Police, Colonel Ibrahim Muhammad Al-Harbi, to the head of whatever government agency oversees labor abuses and disputes!
Women's Shelters
Monday’s Arab News puts “the spotlight once again on the increasing number of incidents involving abused women.” Perhaps it is true that the number of such incidents is increasing, but I am more inclined to think that the abuse has always existed and is only now coming out of the proverbial closet. Kudos and thanks go to Rania Al-Baz, a former announcer at a Saudi television station, who suffered a brutal attack at the hands of her husband – an attack and beating so horrendous Miss Al-Baz was unrecognizable. Raina Al-Baz’s story was followed by Arab News, in a heretofore unprecedented public milieu, from the beginning to the end.
Purportedly over the weekend a woman escaped from a Riyadh hospital and made her way to a shelter in Jeddah. According to the article, had she not made it to the shelter she was afraid the police would return her to her abusive family, which is not an uncommon dilemma for abused women. The article says, “Even after they have escaped, the usual “option” presented to them [abused women] is to return to their abusers.” [If this is the “usual” option, it really rather negates the point of escaping.]
“Thinking that their ordeal will be over once they are in the shelter, these women are subjected to further insults and neglect.” [This is ONE of the options? Not the “usual” option, outlined above.] “Their problems are not solved and they are more often pressured to return to the place they escaped from,” a social worker pointed out. [The “usual” option, above.]
“The shelter should be able to provide women with psychological treatment, social support and empowerment programs…” The supervising charitable organization consulted an expert who suggested help in this regard but the government entity chose instead to implement “its own plans that are bureaucratic, unsympathetic and not supportive of women.” Due to the “unyielding and inflexible procedures, many women who came to the shelter were eventually returned to the very places where they had been abused.” Amazingly, a case is cited where a “woman who had been sexually assaulted by her brother and then escaped . . . was then returned to the care of her brother for lack of evidence.”
According to the director of the women’s department at the Ministry of Social Affairs, Nora Al-Asheikh, “if there are no obvious signs of physical or psychological abuse, the woman is returned to her family because some of these women are falsely accusing their family of abuse to escape strict rules.” Fortunately, despite the many shortcomings these shelters have, “If there is evidence of abuse, the woman is cared for.”
Purportedly over the weekend a woman escaped from a Riyadh hospital and made her way to a shelter in Jeddah. According to the article, had she not made it to the shelter she was afraid the police would return her to her abusive family, which is not an uncommon dilemma for abused women. The article says, “Even after they have escaped, the usual “option” presented to them [abused women] is to return to their abusers.” [If this is the “usual” option, it really rather negates the point of escaping.]
“Thinking that their ordeal will be over once they are in the shelter, these women are subjected to further insults and neglect.” [This is ONE of the options? Not the “usual” option, outlined above.] “Their problems are not solved and they are more often pressured to return to the place they escaped from,” a social worker pointed out. [The “usual” option, above.]
“The shelter should be able to provide women with psychological treatment, social support and empowerment programs…” The supervising charitable organization consulted an expert who suggested help in this regard but the government entity chose instead to implement “its own plans that are bureaucratic, unsympathetic and not supportive of women.” Due to the “unyielding and inflexible procedures, many women who came to the shelter were eventually returned to the very places where they had been abused.” Amazingly, a case is cited where a “woman who had been sexually assaulted by her brother and then escaped . . . was then returned to the care of her brother for lack of evidence.”
According to the director of the women’s department at the Ministry of Social Affairs, Nora Al-Asheikh, “if there are no obvious signs of physical or psychological abuse, the woman is returned to her family because some of these women are falsely accusing their family of abuse to escape strict rules.” Fortunately, despite the many shortcomings these shelters have, “If there is evidence of abuse, the woman is cared for.”
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Home: Heat, Humidity, Flooding, Rat Turds
Oh, yeah… It’s soooo good to be home!
Savannah was nice. Savannah is actually very nice. It is a beautiful old city with plenty to do and I thoroughly enjoyed myself every day of the seven I was there. My husband was there for some company business three weeks prior to my joining him, and continued working the entire time I was there. So I amused myself and found plenty to do. Even the one afternoon it rained I sat in the hotel bar met lots of nice people, including an employee named Elena from Russia who I have decided would make a wonderful wife for my son if it should happen to not work out with the young lady he is currently involved with [who he loved dearly until I told him that I actually liked her!]. I shopped; I explored the old tree and moss lined streets with the beautiful stately homes [mansions!]. I ate – way too much – but all the good things I’ve missed while here in The Sandbox – the very first night – baby back ribs! They were absolutely fabulous. And I drank. There are probably a few bottles of Sterling Cabernet left in Savannah in some of the more remote stores and restaurants, but when we left there was none left in the immediate “downtown” vicinity. Savannah’s weather was absolutely perfect [but for the one rainy afternoon – and it didn’t even start to rain until I put my bathing suit on to head to the pool – but of course…], in the upper-80’s, low-90’s every day, some humidity, but not unbearable.
After my husband was done with company business we headed to Buffalo where my parents are. They are actually outside of Buffalo, in the very western part of the state in a teeny, tiny little town which is only on the map during the summer, right on Lake Chautauqua. It is a summer “resort” area and come Labor Day, the sidewalks are all rolled up and put away until the following Memorial Day. How my parents have lived there year-round for so many years amazes me. Upstate New York in the winter – which lasts for a full seven months – is utterly dreadful. Cold, gray, dreary. Depressing. It snows every single day. It is called “lake effect” snow. Call it whatever you want; it still needs shoveled – plowed – and it’s still cold. Very cold! So, we had a perfect five days there and took advantage of the beautiful summer weather. I laid on the dock and worked on my tan and my husband worked on the golf course chasing a little white ball around [no, I don’t play – I tried – it takes “hand-eye” coordination and I have zero]. We visited with other family members; played catch-up with an aunt and a cousin I’ve not seen in almost twenty years. We spent a glorious day at Niagra Falls on the Canadian side, and really, this should be included in one of the Seven Wonders of the World and it isn’t.
From Buffalo we headed to Maryland where one of my sister’s and her family live. It was here that for the first time in sixteen years – yes, sixteen years – that my ENTIRE family – all nineteen of us – got together for a family picture. There have been many, many family gatherings in the past sixteen years, but someone has always been missing for some reason or another. I hope my parents aren’t too disappointed with us all – there are four of us – children – and along with our respective spouses we only produced nine grandchildren for them – and if my brother’s wife wouldn’t have had twins then there would be only eight. My Dad’s sister has twice that many, and his brother has twice that many plus some more. We aren’t a very big family…
After a few days in Maryland we finally headed to what we call “home,” even though we don’t have a home there anymore – Wake Forest, North Carolina. The almost two weeks we spent there flew by. Zoom. Whoosh. Vacation was over and it was time to pack up and head back to The Sandbox. However, while “home,” did attend to some of the straggling “loose ends” that never seem to end – dealing with the bank – we’ve been in Saudi for almost four years now, and even though we have filled out the appropriate documentation, sent letters and e-mails and made repeated, lengthy and costly telephone calls some of our “bank” mail goes to Sudan! – and it was during our last week in Savannah when we found out that one of our credit cards was cancelled because apparently some “bank data” was jeopardized so the bank sent new credit cards to everyone involved and our credit card was sent to Sudan and then returned – but we were actually paying for dinner one evening when we discovered the original card that we had in our possession had been cancelled – that makes for an interesting situation – and thankfully we have more than one credit card. We had to take care of our mail forwarding [mail goes to a “agent” who then forwards everything to us on a monthly basis], get the boat registered, and of course, as always while we are in the States get a shipment ready to send here. Hopefully sometime next week this shipment will be here – and this particular shipment consists of 484 pounds and will cost almost a Thousand Dollars. Four hundred pounds of this shipment is dry dog food. It’s just part of the cost of living in the Middle East. You pay what you have to pay.
It is a long trip home. A very long trip. On the day we left Raleigh, North Carolina, we checked into the airport at about one o’clock for a three o’clock flight to Detroit. We sat in Detroit for almost two hours. From Detroit we went to Amsterdam where we only had about an hour and a half before getting on the plane to Bahrain – but not before going to Abu Dhabi – which added some two and a half hours to our flying time – not because Abu Dhabi is so far – it’s only a fifty minute flight from Bahrain – but once in Abu Dhabi they had to service the plane and pick-up additional passengers. It was almost eleven o’clock when we finally, finally dragged our sorry selves through the front door – after a total travel time of twenty-seven hours.
We arrived to a very, very quite house. The “Kids” were at the kennel. This was the first time we’ve ever come home to such quiet, as in the past The Boy has been here with the House Assistant – the addition of The Baby only happened this past spring while I was in the States for most of February and all of March – so she has never stayed with him. I have no more House Assistant. I fired him on July 1st, six days before I left. He just wasn’t doing his job. Oh, sure, I could have “talked” to him again; we’ve had many conversations in the past where I’ve said “these are your responsibilities and this is what I expect.” And, for several weeks, things will go along just fine, and then we have to have “the talk” again. I’m done. No more talking. It’s detailed… On Wednesday, June 28th, I said “today is floor day,” and he actually gave ME a hard time about it. Wait a minute, here… This is my house. This is what I want done. You are my employee. And, you’re going to argue with me about washing the kitchen den hallway bathroom floor? Umm, no. It was an on-going issue – what needed to be done and what actually got done. My House Assistant’s schedule was that he worked for us seventeen hours a week – in the mornings – and this house should have been immaculate – and it just isn’t – wasn’t. I spent that Thursday and Friday just seething about the whole situation and decided that I just wasn’t going to have “it.” I started making a list of all the times we’ve “talked” and all things we “talked” about. It is three pages long. When the “cons” outweigh the “pros” by two and a half pages, it’s time to make a change. Well, firing the House Assistant, right before I left, probably wasn’t the most optimal way to handle this, and I had to put the Kids in Canine Camp for almost an entire month, but I knew that with the in the kennel – here on our compound – that I wouldn’t have to worry about how much time the House Assistant was spending with them, whether they were getting fed on time, and whether or not they were safe.
Maybe I’ll go into detail on the House Assistant issue at a later time. I am still very, very angry over this whole issue. The bottom line is, however, that I hired someone – he’s been with us almost three years – treated him much better than a lot of household help here gets treated, paid him more than I should have, and I was taken advantage of, over and over and over. I will not have household help again for a while. I just don’t want to go through this again.
So, after just a few hours of sleep, I woke up before the sun, anxious to get to the kennel – which doesn’t open until seven o’clock – to collect my Kids. As I am about to leave the house – it’s 6:45 in the morning – I see this puddle of what looks like “yellow” water on the den floor, along the wall. I am questioning what it is I spilled – it’s not coffee and it’s not from one of the Kids [they aren’t here!] – and was it there last night? Hmmph. Okay, wipe it up with a couple of paper towels, run upstairs to grab my wallet and “put my lips on,” and when I get back downstairs, there is more yellow water. What is going on? Oh, my, the neighbors must be having some plumbing problems. I head out the door and ring the neighbor’s doorbell. No answer. Ring again. Oh well, no answer. Whatever. I jump in the truck [it’s a Land Rover – I call it a truck] to go to the kennel to get the Kids. They are THRILLED to see me – and I am THRILLED to see them! It was a very touching reunion. We get in the truck and come home. We walk in the door and the den and kitchen floors are soaked! Water is just running into my house from next door. I start throwing some old towels down to cover the floor. Uh-oh. The carpet in the dining room is wet, too! It is “squishing” when you walk over it. Great. Just great. I don’t have that many old towels and I really don’t want to use nice towels to clean up something I’m not even quite sure what it is. As I head out the door to go back to the neighbor’s – the Kids are racing through the house – racing through the water – and someone is going to get hurt! – the House Assistant from next door is running toward me – his arms waving wildly and telling me a pipe broke and he doesn’t know who to call. [There is no less than four inches of water on the floor of the townhouse next to ours – the Oriental carpets have got to be ruined – as well as some of the furniture! They have two little “yip-yip” dogs next door and the poor little things are swimming in the water. I make the call to “202” and tell them it is an emergency and they have to come right away. They do. They send plumbers, a truck that sucks water out of your house, a team of men to “squeegee” the house next door and rip up the little carpet they have there – it is mostly tile. Several hours later the same team heads to our house to do the same thing. It is just one big mess.
In the meantime, as I am trying to unpack and get semi-situated back at home, with the Kids, I notice some black pellet looking “droppings.” I think I must have a rat. Great. I’ve seen one rat here – thankfully it was not alive at the time – and it was not pretty. And, now I’ve got one? Oh no, this is NOT good. I call “202” again and they send “pest control.” They little man gets here and says, “Oh, Madam, you have a rat.” Yeah, like I said on the phone when I called. And, gee, thanks for confirming this for me. “We must send someone with a trap.” Yeah, like I said on the phone when I called. So, a little while later another man gets here and he takes one look at the little black pellet looking things and says, “it is a gecko.” Are you sure? Because the man that was just here said I have a rat. “Oh, no, Madam, it is a gecko.” And, to prove this he starts squishing the little black pellet looking things with his finger – on the floor! Eeeuww! “See, Madam, they are soft and contain bugs. It is a gecko. Rat droppings are very hard and you cannot squish them.” Yeah, well, okay then. Now what? “He will leave, Madam, he will not like the cold air [huh?] and wants to be outside.” Sure he does… Not to worry, The Boy will find him if he’s here, because he is after all, the World’s Best Lizard Chaser! The Boy won’t catch the lizard, but I’ll know when he finds the lizard because of the ruckus it will cause. The little black pellet looking things have been cleaned up and there have been no more, so if there was a gecko in this house he’s either hiding somewhere and making a mess elsewhere or he has decided he doesn’t like it here and he has left or I guess, he could be under the stove or one of the refrigerators and dead at this point. There’s no awful smell coming from under any of my appliances so I’m hoping that he has left, gone back outside to the almost unbearable heat and humidity we’re experiencing.
It’s soooo good to be home!
Savannah was nice. Savannah is actually very nice. It is a beautiful old city with plenty to do and I thoroughly enjoyed myself every day of the seven I was there. My husband was there for some company business three weeks prior to my joining him, and continued working the entire time I was there. So I amused myself and found plenty to do. Even the one afternoon it rained I sat in the hotel bar met lots of nice people, including an employee named Elena from Russia who I have decided would make a wonderful wife for my son if it should happen to not work out with the young lady he is currently involved with [who he loved dearly until I told him that I actually liked her!]. I shopped; I explored the old tree and moss lined streets with the beautiful stately homes [mansions!]. I ate – way too much – but all the good things I’ve missed while here in The Sandbox – the very first night – baby back ribs! They were absolutely fabulous. And I drank. There are probably a few bottles of Sterling Cabernet left in Savannah in some of the more remote stores and restaurants, but when we left there was none left in the immediate “downtown” vicinity. Savannah’s weather was absolutely perfect [but for the one rainy afternoon – and it didn’t even start to rain until I put my bathing suit on to head to the pool – but of course…], in the upper-80’s, low-90’s every day, some humidity, but not unbearable.
After my husband was done with company business we headed to Buffalo where my parents are. They are actually outside of Buffalo, in the very western part of the state in a teeny, tiny little town which is only on the map during the summer, right on Lake Chautauqua. It is a summer “resort” area and come Labor Day, the sidewalks are all rolled up and put away until the following Memorial Day. How my parents have lived there year-round for so many years amazes me. Upstate New York in the winter – which lasts for a full seven months – is utterly dreadful. Cold, gray, dreary. Depressing. It snows every single day. It is called “lake effect” snow. Call it whatever you want; it still needs shoveled – plowed – and it’s still cold. Very cold! So, we had a perfect five days there and took advantage of the beautiful summer weather. I laid on the dock and worked on my tan and my husband worked on the golf course chasing a little white ball around [no, I don’t play – I tried – it takes “hand-eye” coordination and I have zero]. We visited with other family members; played catch-up with an aunt and a cousin I’ve not seen in almost twenty years. We spent a glorious day at Niagra Falls on the Canadian side, and really, this should be included in one of the Seven Wonders of the World and it isn’t.
From Buffalo we headed to Maryland where one of my sister’s and her family live. It was here that for the first time in sixteen years – yes, sixteen years – that my ENTIRE family – all nineteen of us – got together for a family picture. There have been many, many family gatherings in the past sixteen years, but someone has always been missing for some reason or another. I hope my parents aren’t too disappointed with us all – there are four of us – children – and along with our respective spouses we only produced nine grandchildren for them – and if my brother’s wife wouldn’t have had twins then there would be only eight. My Dad’s sister has twice that many, and his brother has twice that many plus some more. We aren’t a very big family…
After a few days in Maryland we finally headed to what we call “home,” even though we don’t have a home there anymore – Wake Forest, North Carolina. The almost two weeks we spent there flew by. Zoom. Whoosh. Vacation was over and it was time to pack up and head back to The Sandbox. However, while “home,” did attend to some of the straggling “loose ends” that never seem to end – dealing with the bank – we’ve been in Saudi for almost four years now, and even though we have filled out the appropriate documentation, sent letters and e-mails and made repeated, lengthy and costly telephone calls some of our “bank” mail goes to Sudan! – and it was during our last week in Savannah when we found out that one of our credit cards was cancelled because apparently some “bank data” was jeopardized so the bank sent new credit cards to everyone involved and our credit card was sent to Sudan and then returned – but we were actually paying for dinner one evening when we discovered the original card that we had in our possession had been cancelled – that makes for an interesting situation – and thankfully we have more than one credit card. We had to take care of our mail forwarding [mail goes to a “agent” who then forwards everything to us on a monthly basis], get the boat registered, and of course, as always while we are in the States get a shipment ready to send here. Hopefully sometime next week this shipment will be here – and this particular shipment consists of 484 pounds and will cost almost a Thousand Dollars. Four hundred pounds of this shipment is dry dog food. It’s just part of the cost of living in the Middle East. You pay what you have to pay.
It is a long trip home. A very long trip. On the day we left Raleigh, North Carolina, we checked into the airport at about one o’clock for a three o’clock flight to Detroit. We sat in Detroit for almost two hours. From Detroit we went to Amsterdam where we only had about an hour and a half before getting on the plane to Bahrain – but not before going to Abu Dhabi – which added some two and a half hours to our flying time – not because Abu Dhabi is so far – it’s only a fifty minute flight from Bahrain – but once in Abu Dhabi they had to service the plane and pick-up additional passengers. It was almost eleven o’clock when we finally, finally dragged our sorry selves through the front door – after a total travel time of twenty-seven hours.
We arrived to a very, very quite house. The “Kids” were at the kennel. This was the first time we’ve ever come home to such quiet, as in the past The Boy has been here with the House Assistant – the addition of The Baby only happened this past spring while I was in the States for most of February and all of March – so she has never stayed with him. I have no more House Assistant. I fired him on July 1st, six days before I left. He just wasn’t doing his job. Oh, sure, I could have “talked” to him again; we’ve had many conversations in the past where I’ve said “these are your responsibilities and this is what I expect.” And, for several weeks, things will go along just fine, and then we have to have “the talk” again. I’m done. No more talking. It’s detailed… On Wednesday, June 28th, I said “today is floor day,” and he actually gave ME a hard time about it. Wait a minute, here… This is my house. This is what I want done. You are my employee. And, you’re going to argue with me about washing the kitchen den hallway bathroom floor? Umm, no. It was an on-going issue – what needed to be done and what actually got done. My House Assistant’s schedule was that he worked for us seventeen hours a week – in the mornings – and this house should have been immaculate – and it just isn’t – wasn’t. I spent that Thursday and Friday just seething about the whole situation and decided that I just wasn’t going to have “it.” I started making a list of all the times we’ve “talked” and all things we “talked” about. It is three pages long. When the “cons” outweigh the “pros” by two and a half pages, it’s time to make a change. Well, firing the House Assistant, right before I left, probably wasn’t the most optimal way to handle this, and I had to put the Kids in Canine Camp for almost an entire month, but I knew that with the in the kennel – here on our compound – that I wouldn’t have to worry about how much time the House Assistant was spending with them, whether they were getting fed on time, and whether or not they were safe.
Maybe I’ll go into detail on the House Assistant issue at a later time. I am still very, very angry over this whole issue. The bottom line is, however, that I hired someone – he’s been with us almost three years – treated him much better than a lot of household help here gets treated, paid him more than I should have, and I was taken advantage of, over and over and over. I will not have household help again for a while. I just don’t want to go through this again.
So, after just a few hours of sleep, I woke up before the sun, anxious to get to the kennel – which doesn’t open until seven o’clock – to collect my Kids. As I am about to leave the house – it’s 6:45 in the morning – I see this puddle of what looks like “yellow” water on the den floor, along the wall. I am questioning what it is I spilled – it’s not coffee and it’s not from one of the Kids [they aren’t here!] – and was it there last night? Hmmph. Okay, wipe it up with a couple of paper towels, run upstairs to grab my wallet and “put my lips on,” and when I get back downstairs, there is more yellow water. What is going on? Oh, my, the neighbors must be having some plumbing problems. I head out the door and ring the neighbor’s doorbell. No answer. Ring again. Oh well, no answer. Whatever. I jump in the truck [it’s a Land Rover – I call it a truck] to go to the kennel to get the Kids. They are THRILLED to see me – and I am THRILLED to see them! It was a very touching reunion. We get in the truck and come home. We walk in the door and the den and kitchen floors are soaked! Water is just running into my house from next door. I start throwing some old towels down to cover the floor. Uh-oh. The carpet in the dining room is wet, too! It is “squishing” when you walk over it. Great. Just great. I don’t have that many old towels and I really don’t want to use nice towels to clean up something I’m not even quite sure what it is. As I head out the door to go back to the neighbor’s – the Kids are racing through the house – racing through the water – and someone is going to get hurt! – the House Assistant from next door is running toward me – his arms waving wildly and telling me a pipe broke and he doesn’t know who to call. [There is no less than four inches of water on the floor of the townhouse next to ours – the Oriental carpets have got to be ruined – as well as some of the furniture! They have two little “yip-yip” dogs next door and the poor little things are swimming in the water. I make the call to “202” and tell them it is an emergency and they have to come right away. They do. They send plumbers, a truck that sucks water out of your house, a team of men to “squeegee” the house next door and rip up the little carpet they have there – it is mostly tile. Several hours later the same team heads to our house to do the same thing. It is just one big mess.
In the meantime, as I am trying to unpack and get semi-situated back at home, with the Kids, I notice some black pellet looking “droppings.” I think I must have a rat. Great. I’ve seen one rat here – thankfully it was not alive at the time – and it was not pretty. And, now I’ve got one? Oh no, this is NOT good. I call “202” again and they send “pest control.” They little man gets here and says, “Oh, Madam, you have a rat.” Yeah, like I said on the phone when I called. And, gee, thanks for confirming this for me. “We must send someone with a trap.” Yeah, like I said on the phone when I called. So, a little while later another man gets here and he takes one look at the little black pellet looking things and says, “it is a gecko.” Are you sure? Because the man that was just here said I have a rat. “Oh, no, Madam, it is a gecko.” And, to prove this he starts squishing the little black pellet looking things with his finger – on the floor! Eeeuww! “See, Madam, they are soft and contain bugs. It is a gecko. Rat droppings are very hard and you cannot squish them.” Yeah, well, okay then. Now what? “He will leave, Madam, he will not like the cold air [huh?] and wants to be outside.” Sure he does… Not to worry, The Boy will find him if he’s here, because he is after all, the World’s Best Lizard Chaser! The Boy won’t catch the lizard, but I’ll know when he finds the lizard because of the ruckus it will cause. The little black pellet looking things have been cleaned up and there have been no more, so if there was a gecko in this house he’s either hiding somewhere and making a mess elsewhere or he has decided he doesn’t like it here and he has left or I guess, he could be under the stove or one of the refrigerators and dead at this point. There’s no awful smell coming from under any of my appliances so I’m hoping that he has left, gone back outside to the almost unbearable heat and humidity we’re experiencing.
It’s soooo good to be home!
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Drunk Camel Herding
On a slightly lighter note – however, in keeping with tonight’s “alcoholic” theme, I found this amusing – in more ways than one – as well as a bit dismal.
Anyone who knows this “area” of the Middle East knows that you can’t just “cross into the Eastern Province from Bahrain.” Go ahead. Grab that Atlas that’s been sitting there on the bottom shelf of the bookcase collecting dust. I’ll wait…
See? Bahrain is an island. And, as is typical for most islands, it is surrounded by water. There is The Causeway. It is probably a good five miles – maybe more – long. I can’t drive from one side to the other – I can drive after getting to the Bahrain side – but I cannot drive from my house to that point – so I’ve never checked the mileage. [Actually, the driving here is, for the most part, so bad, that I take a book if it is daylight and read. It is just too scary to watch the road and other drivers!] Either way, it’s a pretty good hike from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia via The Causeway.
Perhaps the camels swim? I know very little about camels, so if someone would like to set me straight on this, by all means, have at it. Be my guest.
And, I’ve not even given much consideration to the fact that this little old alcoholic Camel Herder has to go through customs – twice – Bahrain to leave, and then Saudi Arabia, to enter, after swimming how far? If you are walking, with your camels, do you still have to pay the crossing fee? How much is it per camel?
The dismal aspect of this is that at 80 years old this man for whatever reason isn’t able to retire and hang out in his tent – in the desert – with his camels and firewater. You’re 80 and you’ve worked all your life – herding camels – it’s time to kick back. You deserve it. And, you’ve taken “personal responsibility” for your actions. You’ve freely admitted that you are a “serious alcoholic” and your “greatest joy [is] to herd camels in the desert while drunk.” What you DON’T deserve six months in jail and 300 lashes! Is there a possibility that perhaps YOU are too short for jail?
I'm raising my glass to the little Old Alcoholic Herder with the Swimming Camels. Cheers!
Anyone who knows this “area” of the Middle East knows that you can’t just “cross into the Eastern Province from Bahrain.” Go ahead. Grab that Atlas that’s been sitting there on the bottom shelf of the bookcase collecting dust. I’ll wait…
See? Bahrain is an island. And, as is typical for most islands, it is surrounded by water. There is The Causeway. It is probably a good five miles – maybe more – long. I can’t drive from one side to the other – I can drive after getting to the Bahrain side – but I cannot drive from my house to that point – so I’ve never checked the mileage. [Actually, the driving here is, for the most part, so bad, that I take a book if it is daylight and read. It is just too scary to watch the road and other drivers!] Either way, it’s a pretty good hike from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia via The Causeway.
Perhaps the camels swim? I know very little about camels, so if someone would like to set me straight on this, by all means, have at it. Be my guest.
And, I’ve not even given much consideration to the fact that this little old alcoholic Camel Herder has to go through customs – twice – Bahrain to leave, and then Saudi Arabia, to enter, after swimming how far? If you are walking, with your camels, do you still have to pay the crossing fee? How much is it per camel?
The dismal aspect of this is that at 80 years old this man for whatever reason isn’t able to retire and hang out in his tent – in the desert – with his camels and firewater. You’re 80 and you’ve worked all your life – herding camels – it’s time to kick back. You deserve it. And, you’ve taken “personal responsibility” for your actions. You’ve freely admitted that you are a “serious alcoholic” and your “greatest joy [is] to herd camels in the desert while drunk.” What you DON’T deserve six months in jail and 300 lashes! Is there a possibility that perhaps YOU are too short for jail?
I'm raising my glass to the little Old Alcoholic Herder with the Swimming Camels. Cheers!
John Couey Number Twoey on Drugs
Child rapists ARE everywhere! The Sandbox is no exception – it has its share of sick, twisted and perverted child monsters.
John Couey’s case has been in recent headlines as his confession was made without the benefit of counsel – a “right” he asserted “no less than eight times in 46 seconds,” per FOXNews.com. This previously convicted sex offender admitted to detectives that he had kidnapped, raped and by means of burying her alive “killed” nine-year old, Jessica Lunsford. Couey – through the poor sap with a legal degree that drew the short straw – his Court appointed attorney – ultimately paid for with “our” tax dollars – will most certainly put the blame of whatever lame and sorry excuse of an explanation that he can muster for committing this crime to his drug addiction [crack cocaine].
Today, here in The Sandbox, Arab News reports that a “drunkard” father was caught in the act of raping his ten-year old daughter and arrested! The child’s uncle, her father’s brother, was included in the action – a ménage a trios – but “escaped when they [the police] raided the home.”
The little girl’s mother called the police on Saturday saying:
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, just a minute Mommy!!!
YOU KNEW THAT YOUR DAUGHTER WAS BEING REPEATEDLY RAPED BY YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW FOR THE PAST THREE DAYS AND YOU WAITED TO CALL THE POLICE?!?
Similarly, in Couey’s case THREE OTHER PEOPLE may have known that Jessica was actually in the same run down piece of shit trailer that passed for a house – and not only did NO ONE call the police while Couey was doing the nasty with a nine-year old – but these THREE OTHER PEOPLE told the police they hadn’t seen or heard anything and didn’t know where Couey was [this all took place approximately 150 feet from Jessica’s house].
Am I the ONLY one who sees something wrong with this picture? I know there are other mother’s out there – who, like me – wouldn’t give a second thought to leaping in front of an oncoming freight train – or jumping in front of a loaded gun as the trigger was being pulled – or whatever – to protect their child! [Yes, I had a son, not a daughter, but the sentiment remains the same. There are plenty of sicko’s out there that rape little boys... Yeah… Today, they’re called school teachers…]
Thankfully [maybe?], in the case, here, at least the little girl hasn’t been buried alive – she’s not dead. She may wish she was at some point later on down the road, but for now, she’s in a hospital and it is reported to be “critically ill.” Yeah, I’d say…
We may never learn what punishment, if any, gets meted out to this “drunkard” Dad and his baby balling brother. Right now, we’re not even privy to their names – which if suppressed to protect the identity of the child is understandable, commendable even. More likely however, the reason these incestuous perpetrators have not been identified by name has to do with the fact that they are “locals.” Regardless, the fact that they may be alcoholics or addicts probably won’t be quite as swaying in their defense in The Sandbox as it would in the States. It is, however, interesting to note that Sociologist Adel Munawwar tells us this:
And, what of the mother who didn’t report that her child was being raped? She needs to have her head examined and then she needs to be called to the mat. Same with the three other people that purportedly knew Couey had Jessica. What is it? I just don’t get it. How could ANYONE know that a child was being harmed in this way, shape or form and NOT do anything???
It. Is. Just. Sick. All of it. The men [and women, too] who commit the crimes; and those that enable them to do so.
There is only hope that the criminal justice system here [yeah, whatever they want to call it] has a hierarchy like the States: Baby raping is considered the lowest of the low; they prosecute their own on the “inside” if you get there – say – if you’re NOT TO SHORT FOR PRISON! And, if when you saw or heard this story when it was “news” you didn’t just shake your head…There shouldn’t be second chances for ANYONE that rapes a child. The gavel comes down, a guilty verdict is returned, and off you go. Straight to whatever jail or prison will take you. And there you remain. You do not pass Go, you do not collect $200.00 and you cannot use a “get out of jail free” card. You do not get put in special “lock-up” where you are not included in the general population. And, while you’re there, until you can pay for your own castration no cable T.V., no canteen privileges, nothing! [Damn, I just wish I was in charge…]
John Couey’s case has been in recent headlines as his confession was made without the benefit of counsel – a “right” he asserted “no less than eight times in 46 seconds,” per FOXNews.com. This previously convicted sex offender admitted to detectives that he had kidnapped, raped and by means of burying her alive “killed” nine-year old, Jessica Lunsford. Couey – through the poor sap with a legal degree that drew the short straw – his Court appointed attorney – ultimately paid for with “our” tax dollars – will most certainly put the blame of whatever lame and sorry excuse of an explanation that he can muster for committing this crime to his drug addiction [crack cocaine].
Today, here in The Sandbox, Arab News reports that a “drunkard” father was caught in the act of raping his ten-year old daughter and arrested! The child’s uncle, her father’s brother, was included in the action – a ménage a trios – but “escaped when they [the police] raided the home.”
The little girl’s mother called the police on Saturday saying:
“that her husband and brother-in-law were attacking her daughter in a locked room in the apartment. [And] that the girl had been repeatedly raped for the past three days and had been subjected to severe beating and biting.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, just a minute Mommy!!!
YOU KNEW THAT YOUR DAUGHTER WAS BEING REPEATEDLY RAPED BY YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW FOR THE PAST THREE DAYS AND YOU WAITED TO CALL THE POLICE?!?
Similarly, in Couey’s case THREE OTHER PEOPLE may have known that Jessica was actually in the same run down piece of shit trailer that passed for a house – and not only did NO ONE call the police while Couey was doing the nasty with a nine-year old – but these THREE OTHER PEOPLE told the police they hadn’t seen or heard anything and didn’t know where Couey was [this all took place approximately 150 feet from Jessica’s house].
Am I the ONLY one who sees something wrong with this picture? I know there are other mother’s out there – who, like me – wouldn’t give a second thought to leaping in front of an oncoming freight train – or jumping in front of a loaded gun as the trigger was being pulled – or whatever – to protect their child! [Yes, I had a son, not a daughter, but the sentiment remains the same. There are plenty of sicko’s out there that rape little boys... Yeah… Today, they’re called school teachers…]
Thankfully [maybe?], in the case, here, at least the little girl hasn’t been buried alive – she’s not dead. She may wish she was at some point later on down the road, but for now, she’s in a hospital and it is reported to be “critically ill.” Yeah, I’d say…
We may never learn what punishment, if any, gets meted out to this “drunkard” Dad and his baby balling brother. Right now, we’re not even privy to their names – which if suppressed to protect the identity of the child is understandable, commendable even. More likely however, the reason these incestuous perpetrators have not been identified by name has to do with the fact that they are “locals.” Regardless, the fact that they may be alcoholics or addicts probably won’t be quite as swaying in their defense in The Sandbox as it would in the States. It is, however, interesting to note that Sociologist Adel Munawwar tells us this:
“Drugs and intoxicants are the root causes of several types of brutal crimes. Drunkards and drug addicts never seem to be aware of the depth and gravity of the crimes they commit.”Um-hmm. That may be very true. But that shouldn’t negate PERSONAL responsibility. Ever!
And, what of the mother who didn’t report that her child was being raped? She needs to have her head examined and then she needs to be called to the mat. Same with the three other people that purportedly knew Couey had Jessica. What is it? I just don’t get it. How could ANYONE know that a child was being harmed in this way, shape or form and NOT do anything???
It. Is. Just. Sick. All of it. The men [and women, too] who commit the crimes; and those that enable them to do so.
There is only hope that the criminal justice system here [yeah, whatever they want to call it] has a hierarchy like the States: Baby raping is considered the lowest of the low; they prosecute their own on the “inside” if you get there – say – if you’re NOT TO SHORT FOR PRISON! And, if when you saw or heard this story when it was “news” you didn’t just shake your head…There shouldn’t be second chances for ANYONE that rapes a child. The gavel comes down, a guilty verdict is returned, and off you go. Straight to whatever jail or prison will take you. And there you remain. You do not pass Go, you do not collect $200.00 and you cannot use a “get out of jail free” card. You do not get put in special “lock-up” where you are not included in the general population. And, while you’re there, until you can pay for your own castration no cable T.V., no canteen privileges, nothing! [Damn, I just wish I was in charge…]
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Internet Blamed for Drug Abuse
Okay, the Internet is not really being blamed for drug abuse, but instead for the “increase” in drug abuse. Dr. Muhammad Ali Koman says here that:
This, in and of itself, amazes me. I can’t track wine baskets that I’ve sent as gifts to relatives in the States as the sites are “blocked.” But I could, if I so desired, learned new ways of smuggling and distributing narcotics? What would one even search for to find the newest ways to smuggle and distribute narcotics? I need to start thinking more like a criminal and I’ll be able to figure this all out…
If you don’t know, it was only within the last year or two that camera phones became legal here, in The Sandbox. Until then, they could and would be confiscated and immediately destroyed. That evil technology – those evil camera phones – and now – the evil internet! Who knew technology would one day be blamed for just about everything!?!
Dr. Koman further states:
Yeah, okay, you can go ahead and thank “awareness and social unity,” but I am more inclined to believe it is thanks to this Country’s “deterrent program” where the mere possession of drugs presents the possibility AND probability that one will have an opportunity of getting to be close and personal with Abdullah Sa’id Al-Bishi [Heads Will Roll, June 23, 2006].
“[T]he Internet played an important role in the circulation of drugs and that many criminals used the worldwide web to learn ways of smuggling and distributing narcotics.”
This, in and of itself, amazes me. I can’t track wine baskets that I’ve sent as gifts to relatives in the States as the sites are “blocked.” But I could, if I so desired, learned new ways of smuggling and distributing narcotics? What would one even search for to find the newest ways to smuggle and distribute narcotics? I need to start thinking more like a criminal and I’ll be able to figure this all out…
“The Internet is like any other technology; its misuse can lead to creating new types of crime. The Internet has been responsible for many ills within society,” he said.
If you don’t know, it was only within the last year or two that camera phones became legal here, in The Sandbox. Until then, they could and would be confiscated and immediately destroyed. That evil technology – those evil camera phones – and now – the evil internet! Who knew technology would one day be blamed for just about everything!?!
Dr. Koman further states:
“[T]here are no clear statistics about drugs in Saudi Arabia but compared to other countries drug abuse is very low in the country, thanks to Islamic awareness and social unity.”
Yeah, okay, you can go ahead and thank “awareness and social unity,” but I am more inclined to believe it is thanks to this Country’s “deterrent program” where the mere possession of drugs presents the possibility AND probability that one will have an opportunity of getting to be close and personal with Abdullah Sa’id Al-Bishi [Heads Will Roll, June 23, 2006].
Women’s Phones to be Tapped
Something is missing from this article. It just screams discrimination! Can you even imagine this happening in the United States [putting aside any other phone tapping programs, I mean for JUST women to be singled out]? The ACLU would have the complaint drafted and would be in the initial filing stages if this were to happen in the United States. But, this isn’t, and I’m doubtful that anyone will ever stand up and say, “But what about tapping the men’s phones, too?” And quite frankly, just tapping the phones will not stop “phone abuse,” if that is truly the problem.
I can attest to being one of those in the States who abused a cell phone. Like many, when I first got my cell phone, it was going to be “for emergency purposes.” Then “emergency” morphed into, “Honey, I’m stopping at the store on the way home. Do we need milk?” And from there, it was all downhill, being in the car or at the store or wherever was just another opportunity to make or take a phone call – and I considered it to be a timesaver – in that I could have double the amount of “just to chat” conversations with family and friends.
Here, in The Sandbox, cell phone use is epidemic. I do NOT recall the last time I saw someone WITHOUT a cell phone. A majority of the imported laborers and workers have them, many of the maids have them, all of the young “local” boys and girls have them, as do most of the “local” adults. And, I do not mean that these people all just “have” cell phones; they use them, they are permanently attached to many ears! [Me? Well, I can honestly say that my cell phone here, at this point, is for “emergency purposes.”]
Thus, that the Ministry has decided to “introduce radical measures to stop women employees and teachers from using telephones at work” will likely do nothing to curb what may indeed be a problem, in that there is nothing that will stop these women from using their cell phones. And, from what I’ve seen in the variety of work places I’ve had the pleasure of visiting, the men are as bad, if not worse, than the women when it comes to being on the phone. Interesting, then, why it is, when women are the minority workers, here in The Sandbox, that the men are not being targeted if the intended result is increased attentiveness and productivity.
I can attest to being one of those in the States who abused a cell phone. Like many, when I first got my cell phone, it was going to be “for emergency purposes.” Then “emergency” morphed into, “Honey, I’m stopping at the store on the way home. Do we need milk?” And from there, it was all downhill, being in the car or at the store or wherever was just another opportunity to make or take a phone call – and I considered it to be a timesaver – in that I could have double the amount of “just to chat” conversations with family and friends.
Here, in The Sandbox, cell phone use is epidemic. I do NOT recall the last time I saw someone WITHOUT a cell phone. A majority of the imported laborers and workers have them, many of the maids have them, all of the young “local” boys and girls have them, as do most of the “local” adults. And, I do not mean that these people all just “have” cell phones; they use them, they are permanently attached to many ears! [Me? Well, I can honestly say that my cell phone here, at this point, is for “emergency purposes.”]
Thus, that the Ministry has decided to “introduce radical measures to stop women employees and teachers from using telephones at work” will likely do nothing to curb what may indeed be a problem, in that there is nothing that will stop these women from using their cell phones. And, from what I’ve seen in the variety of work places I’ve had the pleasure of visiting, the men are as bad, if not worse, than the women when it comes to being on the phone. Interesting, then, why it is, when women are the minority workers, here in The Sandbox, that the men are not being targeted if the intended result is increased attentiveness and productivity.
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