EXPATS USUALLY speak of cultural shock in road terms. Street driving here, unlike most places in the world, is what draws together the line of commonality between them.
Sure, there are other differences. But it is their adventure on our roads that tends to dominate most of their social chit chat when meeting another expat for the first time. In this context, I submit this contribution from one such expat as this week’s column:
“A man without a car in a big city like Riyadh is like a Bedouin without his camel out in the desert. That reality dawned upon me within a few days of my arrival in the city.
“The only previous experience I had on the road was of riding a bicycle; which is not counted among the slowest modes of transport in my country. In any case, I hated to part with my hard earned ten riyals every time I boarded a limousine irrespective of the distance I traveled.
“Another choice was the goods carrier (pick up) driven by local men. They charged much less, but every time I completed the journey, I felt lucky not to have broken my ribs while sitting sandwiched between two burly men.
“That left me with the choice of the coaster buses. But the problem was, these buses don’t necessarily ply on your desired routes, and the leg space is so small you’d be walking with a limp when you get out them. Add to it the din and noise of these vehicles, and your whole bodily system is in a state of shock.
“When friends and family suggested that I should get a driving license, I kept putting the matter off day after day. I was too afraid of the traffic on the roads and I made no secret of it either. It was easier to put up with the looks of disdain questioning my machismo, than to risk the idea of adventurism on the roads.
“A few close relatives tried their hand at teaching me how to drive but they gave up in disgust thinking that I was an irredeemably slow learner. It could have helped a lot had they appreciated the fact that I was not so low on IQ but there certainly was something wrong with my EQ.
“To begin with, the problem was one of logistics but now it got entangled with dignity and self esteem. I was soon to be married and shuddered to think what my bride to be would think of my not so secret fear. It complicated matters more when my boss walked away showing his teeth in appreciation of my staying late in the office and drove away in his brand new Mercedes, that too, just fifteen minutes before Iftar in Ramadan. There was no point in hiding my head in the sand like the ostrich. I had no choice but to face the road.
“I enrolled myself in the local driving school. While testing me for assigning a level the Egyptian trainer was merciless. He wasted no time in pronouncing the judgment: Thirty days of rigorous training, and if we counted the Thursdays and Fridays, a full 45 days.
“Mercy, I thought. 45 days were enough to train a fighter pilot on an F-5! But then, I consoled myself with the thought that in order to drive on the streets of Riyadh you most likely need the training of a fighter pilot!
“The saving grace of all this was that I was in an amiable and colorful company. My group consisted of a Palestinian psychiatrist, a middle-aged Pakistani, and two young chaps almost my age, one a Sudanese and another a Filipino.
“Within a few days, the group dynamics had worked itself out and we became a close-knit group. It had a therapeutic effect without the psychiatrist having to hold any group therapy sessions. I was happy I had realized the importance of driving fairly early in life.
“The trainer was an experienced Egyptian who commanded the respect of his colleagues as well as the trainees. Only when we made mistakes would he come down heavily with his loud and caustic remarks.
“After 45 days of practicing driving, the D- day finally arrived. The anxiety was no less than that of a Medical School student appearing for the board examination. The traffic official was a genial fellow. He ordered me to complete the drill. I was flawless. But he was not completely satisfied! He ordered me to drive outside the testing ground. But by now, I was too confident to make any mistakes. And, much to the disbelief of my fellow group members, I was awarded the driving license. I had passed where 59 others had failed!
“Now I could drive. But not without dread. Every time, I ventured out in my car, I offered all the supplications from the Sunnah lest it might be my last journey. I remained on the side-streets as long as it was possible. I made it a point to listen only to the recitations from the Holy Qur’an when driving or to the views of religious scholars on various matters. Music was a distraction. Every time a car appeared in the rearview mirror, my heart missed several beats. At times cars seemed to whiz out from nowhere, criss-crossing my path recklessly.
“Within a few weeks, however, fear was slowly replaced by confidence, and confidence in turn turned into arrogance. Caution gave way to disdain for traffic rules. Soon it was as if the road was meant only for racing, as if there was a trophy for winning. As if it were the stage to flaunt your bravado and win a medal. As if the pedestrians would stop and applaud in approval at your pyrotechniques.
“As I rummaged through my thoughts and feelings, and the way I coped with my fear of the road, I realized there are many others who are afraid of the road as much as I had been. They ply on it because they have no other choice and unlike me they have not conquered their fears.
“I realized that as drivers, we could do a great service to humanity if we drove with confidence but followed the basic rules of traffic. In our mad rush not to be late to the office and to reach the comfort of our homes as quickly as possible, we bend and break quite a few traffic rules and regulations. The traffic police can monitor only so much.
“But most of the time it should be our own conscience that must discipline us on the roads. It is highly likely that most accidents are caused not by those who fear the roads, but by those who are fearless: A hypothesis worth investigating.”
This edited piece is the account of one man’s venture into the mad business of commandeering a vehicle on our streets. Will this madness come to a stop anytime soon?
Thank you ZB for your enlightening experience, and may the roads bode well, and shall you safely reach your destination!
