JEDDAH, 26 May 2005 — These are the forgotten neighborhoods of Jeddah — the neglected and the hidden. This is where criminals, drug dealers and prostitutes live and make a living. A few turns from the main streets feeding into these neighborhoods, and you enter a world that is out of place and time from glamorous and modern Jeddah.
Unpaved, dusty narrow roads; old crumbling, hazardous buildings; and the sullen, haggard faces of people of different lands identify this part of southern Jeddah.
For the past few weeks security forces have been raiding neighborhoods, such as Karantina, Ghulail and Hindawiya, rounding up illegal immigrants and outlaws and closing down their illegal activities. That is one aspect of these neighborhoods, but what about the poor legal residents, the unemployed, the sick and the hungry?
With high illiteracy rates among them and few prospects for employment, not to mention the usually nonexistent law enforcement and cramped living quarters, it is not surprising that frustrated residents and desperate illegal immigrants would turn to crime, drugs and prostitution.
Having inadequate health facilities, schools and infrastructure only add to the general sense of hopelessness of the residents and officials who are aware of the problem but have not been doing much to tackle its roots. Among efforts to create jobs by the Jeddah Chamber of Commerce & Industry and other private institutions in cooperation with government agencies, a private company initiative is starting to make a difference.
Abdul Latif Jameel Programs for Social Services include the ALJ Fund for Training and Vocational Development, which offers young unemployed Saudis training programs in fields where there is high demand and qualifies them for the jobs available.
Another program is the ALJ Fund for Small Projects, which offers loans to establish small businesses, but a more interesting program and one suitable for women is the ALJ-Grameen Program for Productive Families.
At its headquarters on Television Street in Hindawiya, the Abdul Latif Jameel Community Services Center began reaching out to women of these communities a year ago to explain the purpose of the program and how it works.
“We trained six coordinators who live in these neighborhoods to approach women in their homes and explain the program to them, and now three of these trainees are directors of our three branches, including this one and others at Kilo 14 and in Bawadi. This is an achievement in itself for these young intelligent hardworking women,” said Saadia Al-Wasi, assistant manager for training.
The program offers a seven-month SR1,000 loan for a Saudi woman or a woman with a valid iqama to start a home-based business. After seven months they are expected to repay the loan interest-free and receive another loan of SR1,000 or SR1,500 if she wishes and so forth every seven months with a maximum total loan of SR5,000.
The business can be anything from buying different merchandise in bulk or at a discount and selling them house-to-house or sewing outfits for adults and children or making handcrafts and selling them at a store, called Be-Aydina (with our hands), that the center opened for them at a nearby shopping center where they pay nominal rent of SR20 for a day, SR100 for a week or SR300 for a month. “The first month in June we gave 40 women SR40,000. Now, 1,284 women have received loans; 106 of them went on to receive SR1,500, and repayment has been 100 percent,” said Al-Wasi.
Most of these women are illiterate or with minimum education, and some are married, but many are single, divorced or widowed.
“We don’t ask for a sponsor or guarantor, but each group of five is the guarantee so that if one of them fails to repay the full amount the others cover for her. Each group chooses a president to be their contact with the branch coordinator and chooses a treasurer who collects the monthly installments from them, deposits it in a bank account and gives us a copy of the bank statement,” Al-Wasi said.
The branch coordinators follow up with each member, visit her in her home and check the receipts for the merchandise purchased to make sure the loan is spent for its purpose. “In the beginning, they were fearful and reluctant. They could not believe that someone would be coming to their homes and offering them this opportunity. It gave them confidence and hope,” said Al-Wasi.
During a small ceremony at the center, the women who succeeded in repaying their first SR1,000 were recognized and given their next loan of SR1,500. “I got married eight years ago, and I used to work in a school cafeteria for SR700 a month, but when I had kids I stayed home,” said Samira Mahroos, a 28-year-old mother of three.
“My husband works as a security guard at the university. They came to my home in Al-Qurayat district, and I liked the idea because I can work at my own time, and it gave me confidence. With the money I bought merchandise like frankincense, accessories, gum, henna and other things that people might ask me for, and I sell it house-to-house. After seven months I managed to repay the loan and make a profit of SR300,” she told Arab News.
Stopping at Be-Aydina store, the women proudly displayed their products. Evening gowns, baskets full of goodies, tablecloths, accessories, frankincense and home decorations are only some of the things that they either have made themselves or bought from somewhere else.
Going on a short tour in Hindawiya, Ghulail, Karantina and Petromin and visiting some of the homes of these women with two branch coordinators was an eye-opener on their living conditions. The van we rode barely could squeeze through the dusty alleys. Trash and junk littered the roads creating a driving and health hazard.
Up the dark, broken stairs and knocking on the doors of some of the women who participated in the loan program, they did not open for us; they were either out, even though they knew we were coming, or were afraid.
One woman finally opened the door, and as she opened it the stench of urine filled the air. To our left was a two-meter by two-meter bedroom where her 20-year-old bedridden daughter, Ghalia (which means precious), was lying on a worn-out mattress. Her medical report says she was born with cerebral palsy and renal failure, but because of a lack of rehabilitation and movement she developed muscle atrophy and open sores and infections.
The mother, Suailha Asiri, says that she carries her daughter to King Abdul Aziz Hospital nearby for her regular checkups and medications, but she refuses to put her in the public Rehabilitation Center. Families with disabled children receive SR7,000 a year in government support.
Among the difficult choices poor families make is not to keep their disabled children at the inpatient Rehabilitation Center because if they do the government cuts off the financial support. The husband, Ahmad Hasib, has been unemployed for a year even though he used to work for the military. It is unclear whether he was discharged or he quit.
While she began her small business of selling various merchandise, he hangs around the apartment and goes out with his friends. They have a 16-year-old son who was also born with some sort of a stoma, and the surgery he had did not go well, so he continues to suffer from medical problems that keep him away from school.
The family lives in this small two-bedroom, a hallway, kitchen and bathroom apartment rented for SR700 a month.
They have a disconnected phone line. Two small air-conditioners roar in the bedrooms. They had electricity and water at that time and a satellite dish with a receiver hooked to an old 12-inch television set. The apartment was filthy, dingy and has a few broken pieces of furniture. Without the wife’s ambition and the micro loans, they would have less; if the husband finds a job they will have more.
And as the young professionals drive down the wide city streets in new cars and give such neighborhoods a wide berth, the neon signs and streetlights twinkle through the night in a modern vibrant Jeddah — beyond the neighborhoods left in the past — and the dark.
