On a trip to the holy city of Makkah recently, I was reminded of one characteristic of the Kingdom that has never ceased to amaze me. A trait that I have been so accustomed to taking for granted having lived out here for so long and yet one that sadly might perpetuate its own inevitable demise.
As the call to prayer was announced in the Grand Mosque, throngs of people from all sides of the city and peripheral areas abandoned what they were doing in order to accept this invitation to devotion. Upon the muezzin’s repeated invocation, the swell of people, eager at the impending prospect of realizing spirituality, grew into an ocean of humanity converging on a single venue.
What astounded me as I joined the tail end of the crowd was that no matter where I turned, there were shops that were left open and unattended everywhere. Some were swathed with a single layer of outstretched tarpaulin, others with thin bedsheets and yet others suspended in the exposed state they were in when they had been trading just a few minutes ago. There were makeshift stalls selling touristy knick-knacks, more sophisticated sheds housing women’s clothes and accessories and some rough hewn concrete structures laden with watches, pens and a plethora of electronic goods.
The contents were as diverse and expensive or inexpensive as you would expect. The common theme shared by all was that they had been deserted within seconds, their owners barely having the time to conceal them completely or adequately in their single-mindedness to submit to the will of God. Indeed, the whole point of covering them up at all seemed not so much as to prevent theft or pilferage, but rather to make the statement that these establishments were temporarily closed for business.
No one apparently gave it a second thought. Not a single soul attempted to pinch a thing. People walked with growing determination toward the Holy Kaaba without so much as an inkling that, should they so desire, they could steal a wide variety of merchandise ranging from a CD player to a prayer mat and would go largely unnoticed.
I marveled at a scene such as this so anachronistic in the context of modern times. During the same week I witnessed the same sort of thing around the precinct of the Prophet’s Mosque in Madinah. The fearlessness of vendors was truly inspirational, their total trust in God paramount in manifesting a behavior that is often perceived as being untenable in today’s world.
I was working with a film crew a year ago and one of the producers asked if there was anywhere he could purchase some jewelry for his wife. “Maybe a small ring or pendant with some stones in it. You know something like that.”
I took him to a market near the Al-Masmak Fort in Riyadh and there we alighted upon a second-hand diamond dealer. The young man was terribly impressed that an American was visiting his shop and showed us a splendid array of spectacular trinkets.
“No problem the price!” he insisted enthusiastically fumbling around in his pockets and producing a grubby looking plastic bag. He tipped out the contents onto the palm of his hand and there before our eyes sparkled a 20-carat diamond.
“You like? You like?” he repeated eagerly.
“No,” replied my companion in shock. “I need something very very small. Cheap cheap.”
As if a brainwave had struck him, the assistant jumped over the counter, having casually left the solitaire on top of it and disappeared with the words, “One minute. One minute.”
“Oh Lord!” declared my colleague. “I can’t believe this. We could just walk off with something that’s worth more money than I could probably make in my entire life and the guy just leaves us standing here?”
“I guess so. Not just that. But look at all those,” I remarked quite unperturbed, pointing at the expensive treasures lining the sides of the shop. It was, after all, no unusual occurrence to venture into any jewelers and behold flimsy glass casing oozing with gems without even the most primitive of padlocks in sight.
“Well,” he concluded still dazed by the sight of the rock flashing enticingly before him, “where I come from, they’d cut off your finger for one-twentieth the size of that!”
However, Saudi Arabia is very different to other parts of the world in this respect. Here, you are still able to walk around bejeweled from head to toe without the subliminal fear of any untoward repercussion. Actually, come to think of it, this used to be the modus operandi throughout the major cities of the Kingdom. In shops there were none of those security gates, metal barriers, or store detectives. There are times in the past when I had carried huge amounts of cash without giving it a second thought and yet, as many other countries have experienced recently, times are changing.
No longer can you keep your car running while you pop into the local supermarket to buy a few bare essentials and return 15 minutes later to it purring in anticipation of your arrival. These days, chances are it will have been joy-ridden across the city by a few undesirable elements looking for a way to escape their boredom.
Increasingly we read reports in the newspapers of all sorts of illicit activities similar to these, invading the erstwhile sanctity of our cities. Some argue that this prevalence of stories is not because of an increase in the level of crime, but rather is a result of the increase in the freedom of the local press who are no longer as constrained in highlighting such social evils.
This is not true. There has been a marked increase in such offenses and instead of burying our heads in the sand and ascribing this to spurious statistics we really need to come to terms with the current situation. The prospect of having to accommodate the consequences of such alarming trends is disturbing to say the least. Safety and security are aspects of life that can never be adequately quantified and possess an intrinsic value that really is quite priceless. In many ways they are the bedrock of the whole concept of personal freedom within a societal framework.
It is imperative to address the causes of such important downward spirals with an honest evaluation. Have the principles we have always held so dear become eroded in the face of avariciousness and materialism? Or is it more basic than even that? We need to analyze where and how we are going wrong, if we wish to maintain the wonderful level of equilibrium that we have managed to perpetuate for so long.
In a society that employs an entire underclass to do its bidding, it is hardly surprising that many of these poor wretched souls succumb to temptations that are far too great for the average conscience to bear. They are afforded little or no respect which invariably culminates in little or no loyalty. Their paltry salaries and miserable prospects create within them a certain basic hopelessness that allows them to turn to a life of crime, infinitely more rewarding and satisfying than many of the tasks they begrudgingly have to endure. What we now have to realize and pre-empt is that with a burgeoning youth population, many of whom are dissatisfied and disillusioned, we may be creating our own homegrown candidates to fill the shoes of these very same delinquents when they leave our soil.
Irrespective of this, life in the Kingdom is really remarkably safe and secure. If we hold fast to the uniquely practical principles of Islam, one of which is where God Almighty admonishes us to tie our camels first, I foresee that we can conquer any untoward challenges that may lie ahead of us. We have our fair share of social problems just like everywhere else. The difference however, is that our firm religious beliefs render us submissive to the law of God, as opposed to enslaved to the law of personal greed.
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—(Lubna Hussain is a Saudi writer. She is based in Riyadh.)
