On Tuesday evening I took a Saudi Arabian Airlines flight from Dammam to Dubai. I had some business to attend to on Wednesday morning there, and then I thought I’d have a quick look at the town as Dubai’s Shopping Festival is in full swing.
Arriving at Dubai International Airport is always a pleasant experience but on Tuesday night the reception was superb. As I neared the immigration area a smiling Emirati woman approached me and offered me a bouquet of flowers. She asked me to have a seat on a sofa and then took my Saudi passport for processing. Five minutes later she was back. She returned my passport and escorted me to the exit of the immigration area. “Have a wonderful time in Dubai,” she called out, as she waved goodbye.
I immediately collected my luggage from the baggage carousel and 5 minutes later I was out the airport’s doors, looking for the hotel’s driver.
Last year Dubai’s one month shopping festival drew 2.55 million visitors and its total incremental sales crossed 4.5 billion dhirham. Each year all the arrangements for DSF are fine-tuned so that visitors to the city feel “Welcome, most welcome.” Dubai knows that happy visitors stay longer, come more often and spend more.
I have always enjoyed visits to Dubai but since Sept. 11, the city has become a special haven for me as a Saudi and Muslim woman. The Emiratis, both men and women, who work in immigration, customs and security at the Dubai International Airport do their jobs in a professional manner. I know that I will not be discriminated against in passport processing, customs clearance or security checks because of my nationality or my veil.
Unfortunately, this is not the case elsewhere. Now, in many countries, as I walk toward airport immigration counters, fear and anxiety take hold. I become nauseous. Some of my friends have been hauled off for hours of questioning. Will that happen to me? Many immigration officials look upon me with suspicion just because of my veil. They ask me question after question, investigating my reasons for coming to their countries. To get on a plane to come back home to Saudi Arabia is nightmare.
Airport security in nations, both East and West, singles me out for invasive searches of my hand baggage. The physical searches have become ludicrous. In January, clearing the final security check for a flight out of Hyderabad, India, a female security inspector pulled my brassiere away from my body and groped my chest, squeezing and poking.
I was completely helpless and I knew that if I objected in any way, she would probably get even worse. So I just stood there grinning like an idiot throughout her entire pitiful performance.
In Dubai Airport I know that I am safe from abuse. I have noticed too that the Dubai Airport officials treat every passenger with respect and dignity. So Wednesday night when it was time for me to return to Saudi Arabia, I was not worried in the least. My check-in at Dubai International went smoothly. Saudi Arabian Airlines flight SV557 took off on time and when we landed in Dammam an hour later, I was pleasantly focused on getting home. I could never have imagined the humiliation I was about to experience in my own country at the hands of my brother Saudis.
As a first class passenger I was off the plane and at King Fahd International Airport’s immigration area in minutes. I stood at the back of the line marked “Saudi and GCC Nationals.” I became aware that there were some other families at the front of that queue, holding Syrian passports. It came to my mind that maybe the immigration officials had moved the Syrian women there to spare them from having to stand in a line of pushing bachelors. With passport in hand I waited for about ten minutes. Then an immigration official approached the line marked for Saudi families. “Are you off the Dubai flight?” he barked at us. “Don’t stand in this line. Get over there in those last two lines,” he ordered. Meekly, people began moving to the back of the long lines of non-nationals. I did not move. I ignored him and continued to stand in the queue clearly indicated for Saudis.
After five more minutes he came back.
“Aren’t you off the Dubai flight?” he snarled.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I told you to go stand in the last line over there,” he snapped back at me.
“No, I won’t,” I replied. “I am a Saudi woman and this is my line.”
“Move over there,” he demanded.
The situation was getting very ugly and everyone was staring. Finally, in a confused and shocked daze I went and stood at the back of a long line of non-nationals. I saw that there were some other Saudis mixed in the line. They were the families who had been ordered to move earlier. I felt like I was going to vomit.
In all airports the world over there are separate, usually shorter, quicker lines for returning citizens. In those same airports I must stand in long lines and wait patiently to be treated badly because of my nationality and religion. On Wednesday night I couldn’t seem to make any sense of what was going on. Had I disembarked in the wrong city? I just couldn’t believe the horrible “Welcome” that I, a female Saudi passenger arriving first class on the national carrier, was receiving in my own country.
I was the very last person left in the Immigration hall when my turn came to clear. I refused to allow my passport to be stamped. Loudly, angrily, I held onto my passport and demanded to see the senior duty officer. The obnoxious Immigration official stared at me in amazement. “What do you want with the officer?” he asked in a rude manner. Furious, I raised my voice louder and repeated my demand. Given no choice, he indicated that I should follow him.
We went upstairs. The senior officer could see that I was upset. He asked the junior officer for an explanation. The man told him that he had ordered all the Dubai passengers into lines and he had directed Saudi families into lines with foreigners. He claimed that segregating the passengers by incoming flights, not nationality, made it easier to manage the computer system. He said that the immigration staff was busy with too many incoming flights. He added that he did not understand why I was angry at being forced to stand at the back of the line of non-nationals — other Saudis given the same treatment had not complained.
I exploded. I blasted both the ignorant, pompous junior officer and his superior. I told them that just because Saudis are used to being mistreated by the very officials who are supposed to serve them does not mean that this behavior is acceptable. Both officers looked at me and in meek little voices said they were sorry. But sorry cannot undo a humiliation.
Currently in Dammam there is an ongoing dispute between various airlines and the civil aviation authorities. The Saudi authorities want more planes to use King Fahd International Airport instead of Bahrain’s International Airport. The problem is that airline passengers don’t want to use KFIA because every aspect of service in the airport is deficient. The passengers are indicating their preference with their feet and their wallets as they support those airlines operating out of Bahrain. The Bahrain Airport staff are polite and process all passengers efficiently. The queues move quickly at Immigration. Customs clearance is hassle-free.
On Wednesday night my flight arrived in Dammam at 8 p.m. I did not get home to my family until 11 p.m. If I had chosen to take a flight from Dubai to Bahrain and then come across the causeway to Al Khobar, I am certain that my air ticket would have cost less and I would have gotten home faster — with my dignity intact.
