It was 7:30 a.m. on Sept. 23 and I was on my way to work. Suddenly, from the radio comes Muhammad Abdu’s song “Hold your head high; you are a Saudi” and I could not help but smile. I remembered it was National Day.
Yes, I am Saudi... but what does that mean? I do not know what it means to many, but at that moment, to me it meant that I had to be doubly good to get half the respect I deserve. Do I sound bitter? Well, it might be the experiences of the last year in my life — on a professional level. Being the person I am, always seeking new experiences and striving to expand and soar in my field, I applied for part-time jobs at different private English language teaching institutes and universities.
First, I went to small English-language teaching institutes for women and applied to teach TOFEL or give conversation classes to female students. I was told that I had to be a native speaker of English to get those jobs. The language institutes willing to hire me — because of a dire need to provide tutors before summer classes began — offered me half the salary offered to American or British instructors. I refused out of simple dignity and respect for myself. I understand the need for fluency as vital criteria to teach any language — but nationality? “I speak English with native-like fluency,” I argued, but my arguments fell on deaf ears. After several attempts, I proved my capability to a newly established language institute and was hired as a consultant. Hold your head high; you are a Saudi.
A few months later, I still had an insatiable urge to prove myself, so I went to the two private universities we have here in Riyadh. At the first, I was given a “standby” job as an aide to students who needed extra tutoring; the “real” teaching jobs were being reserved for teachers “imported from Europe”. I logically debated the topic with some people in charge, pointing out that it would be less expensive and more patriotic for the university to hire capable Saudis instead of looking for teachers from abroad, paying for their flights and accommodation plus salaries that were double those earned by Saudis. What was the argument I got? “Who wants to be taught English by someone named Abdullah?” The May bombings happened, however, and the teachers never came. I was later contacted by the university to teach some specialized courses. Hold your head high; you are a Saudi.
At the other private university, the case was really no better. While those in charge were Saudis, most of them seemed to have the same “anti-Saudi” hiring policy. The unwritten rules stated that to get a job there, you had to be a foreigner or had to have obtained a graduate degree from abroad. What does that say about our views about our nationality and our own educational systems? These institutions will graduate students, but what if no one hires them because they studied here instead of abroad? Later, I was told that because the university could not find enough foreign teachers willing to come, I would be given a job.
My direct superiors (whom I have to salute for ferociously defending me and my capabilities) were instructed, however, not to give me any of the language-skill courses given to prep-year students. I had to smile at that: My language skills were not good enough to teach beginners! Hold your head high; you are a Saudi.
The reason I write in detail about the field of language teaching is only because that is where I personally encountered these obstacles; this does not mean they do not exist elsewhere. I am sure that things are similar in other fields. Private hospitals prefer to hire foreign doctors or ones who have degrees from abroad. Just read the ads proclaiming the “arrival of doctor so-and-so from this or that country”, or the ones saying “with a medical degree from such and such country.” Partly this is our own fault. When we, as customers, flock to places where there are foreign language teachers and foreign doctors and foreign technicians, we are inadvertently telling these places not to hire Saudis.
Whether it is to save money by hiring employees who require lower salaries or because employers doubt the capabilities of their own countrymen, these privately-owned companies prefer to hire non-Saudis and by doing so add to the country’s unemployment problem. The government can only do so much in the face of the problem. It started with the Saudization of almost all governmental jobs and even put regulations on private organizations. Unfortunately, when forced to comply with the rules of hiring a certain percentage of Saudis, some of the organizations went as far as hiring Saudis and paying them salaries to stay at home and agree to have their names on the company payroll.
A year after my struggles, I have proven myself: I have more job opportunities than I can handle — but I had to work extremely hard to be acknowledged. Even as I type this, I am wondering if all my hard work will go down the drain after this article is published — will I get fired or harassed by administrators for exposing their unwritten anti-Saudi hiring strategies? Regardless, I hesitate only for a second; the patriot in me refuses to be silent. In order to overcome such problems, we each have a duty and we must start with ourselves. We must not snicker at a slow Saudi cashier or refuse to get into a cab driven by a Saudi, or ask for an American or British language teacher or doctor...etc. In other words, we must be true patriots and stand together, remembering always to hold our heads high, for we are Saudis.
— Arab News Features 10 October 2003
