JEDDAH, 8 April 2006 — Illegal producers of moonshine are living risky but profitable lives. They don’t have a specific profile. They could be young or old, Saudi or foreign. Generally, they consider their haram (forbidden) activity to be a short-term job, believing that if they stay long enough in this business they will eventually be caught.

The daily Al-Nadwa last week published a report of the moonshine business in the Kingdom. Many of the moonshine operations occur in south Jeddah, a magnet area for undocumented migrants who live clandestine lives. Denizens of these neighborhoods are mindful of any strangers that approach, and people connected to the moonshine trade are prone to attack outsiders that enter the wrong area.

One of the producers of “arak” (the Saudi lingo for “booze”) told Al-Nadwa that he sleeps with one eye open, ever mindful of the possibility of the cops busting down his door.

“Arak” producers say that unemployment or under-employment is a main motivating factor for getting into a business where they risk jail time and, following that, deportation if they are non-Saudi. The price of locally distilled moonshine is considerably lower than the name-brand alcoholic products bootlegged into the country mainly for wealthier citizens and foreign residents. As such, “arak” has a relatively low street value, therefore penetrating the lower-income earners with access to an affordable high.

A Saudi “arak” distiller who called himself Abu Salem said that south Jeddah is particularly attractive as a base of operations due to the unregulated residential zoning, which has produced a mish-mash of neighborhoods, zigging streets and zagging alleyways, that accommodate hide-outs and escape routes.

Like any drug dealer, Abu Salem employs younger locals — mainly a mixture of undocumented and legally residing African immigrants — to distribute the alcohol he produces. The employees get a cut of each bottle of hooch that they sell.

Abu Salem boasted to the paper that he makes between SR5,000 and SR7,000 a day, or about SR150,000 a month and that his profits double on weekends and holidays. He says that he considers this a short-term business due to the risks and inconveniences, such as having to change his place of residence every few weeks.

“I carry an elementary school certificate which is useless these days because people with higher education cannot find jobs,” said Sami M., who said he used to be a middleman in the “arak” trade. “I found a job as a security guard but the salary was not enough. I noticed there were people in my neighborhood that were unemployed yet they were rich with cash. I wondered where the money was coming from?”

Then, in a desperate situation seeking work, a “arak” distiller approached Sami and offered him a distribution job.

“It was easy and soon I was making more in a day than a respectful man was making in a month in a government job,” he said. “All I had to do was sit in the street corner and wait for customers to show up. I made the sale and returned to the boss with the cash.”

Sami described the product as bottles in various sizes, and that Saudi teens were the main customers.

“We sold in the street fearlessly,” he said. “The good times continued for a year and a half until I was arrested with large quantity of liquor in my possession. I spent some time in prison and after I got out I promised not to come back to this life again.”

Residents of these liquor-producing barrios said the illegal trade has brought a notorious reputation to their streets. Residents in south Jeddah do not go to the police out of fear of reprisals from members of these organized gangs. When police crackdown on moonshine operations do occur, many south Jeddah residents seem to applaud the efforts by authorities.