JEDDAH, 30 March 2004 — On my way to dinner last Wednesday I happened on a checkpoint just before the Fayfa roundabout on Tahlia Street. Arriving at the back of a queue of cars, I noticed that the policeman was handing something to the waiting motorists.
I had heard that a few days ago they were handing out flowers so I smiled at the thought of my mother’s pleasure when I passed the flowers on to her. The minutes crawled by as I slowly moved toward the flashing yellow lights.
When my turn finally arrived, I pulled up to the policeman, ready with my license and registration in hand.
As I rolled down my window, I noticed, with some surprise, that the policeman was not particularly interested in my documents. Instead, he handed me a cup of very hot coffee.
Somewhat confused, I simply looked at the policeman for a few moments, quite unsure of what to do. Like me, other motorists had also been caught by surprise by the coffee-bearing policeman with a very big grin on his face. Along with the very hot, over-filled, lidless cup, he gave me a pamphlet with a photograph of a wrecked 4x4 vehicle on one side and Doaa Al-Safr (an Islamic supplication for travelers) on the other.
I confess: I was tickled by experiencing this generous side of the traffic police. However, I now had this very hot cup of coffee and pamphlets in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, and straight ahead was a treacherous Tahlia Street roundabout.
Interesting to think that everyone in the queue now had the challenge of driving away safely balancing a hot, slopping cup somewhere over sensitive skin. And this from a traffic policeman.
I furtively started looking for a trashcan. I really did want this nice cup of coffee that the Nescafe promotional people so dutifully delivered to the populace through the hands of the local traffic police.
But in the interests of safe driving, I tossed out the coffee cup, still marveling at a kind gesture that just a cup lid and some milk and sugar would have made complete.
