MAKKAH, 24 September 2006 — With the world having become a global village, Saudi Arabia has seen a slow erosion of traditional Arab and religious values that have been promptly replaced by Western lifestyles.
A visit to an old people’s home in Makkah reveals the plight of the aged, who at the hour of their need have been forced by their children to live the rest of their days in a pitiful way.
For many elderly people, an old people’s home is a death sentence handed to them by their children. Suffering from horrid illnesses, for many the thought of being abandoned by their families, and the prospect of being forgotten by society is a devastating experience.
Arab News decided to visit an old people’s home in Makkah to listen to the stories of the old and the doctors that have dedicated their lives to their care.
“The people you see around you are my real family. My children abandoned me and left me alone, they (the staff) look after me,” said Mastoor Awaied in a gruff voice, while pointing a wrinkled finger at the doctors in the room. Awaied has been in the old people’s home for nine years. When we entered his room, the doctor accompanying me showed Awaied the greatest of courtesy giving him a warm handshake and even kissing his hand in respect.
I asked Awaied about his health. “I’m not well but I feel better, especially since these doctors show me kindness. I try remaining in high spirits because I have my family around me,” he said, alluding to the doctors in the hospital.
“He’s got a brilliant character. He’s very friendly and jokes with the other old people to ease their pain in being here,” said the doctor accompanying me, who preferred to remain anonymous. Awaied’s story is a typical one, similar to that of many old Saudi people in old people’s homes across the Kingdom.
Perhaps the most heartbreaking story is that of Salem Edah who is 70 years old. As we approached his room, I could hear the blabbering of a sobbing man who sometimes said something in a language that I could not understand. As we shuffled down the corridor coming closer to the room the voice grew louder, the man was calling out names and my heart began to beat faster and faster.
The doctor quietly explained that Edah was senile, and that he suffered from diabetes and weak eyesight. When we entered the room, the man became happy and began smiling like a small child at having a visitor.
Edah welcomed us and asked us to sit on his bed next to him and talk to him. I joked with him and asked whether he was still interested in marrying. He laughed and said, “In the old days I could but now all I want is to see my children and family. I feel lonely.”
I asked him about the names he was calling. “They are the names of people in my family and my sons. I miss them,” he said. Edah then began speaking about the “good old days” and about his family and children.
When it was time to leave, Edah begged us to stay with him longer. I told him that I had to go and that I had another appointment. As soon as we stepped out of the door, he began crying again and calling out the same names. “His family has never come to see him since the day he was admitted, it’s a sad story,” said the doctor accompanying me.
Apart from Edah and Awadieh there are many elderly men at the old people’s home who have been admitted because they have no one to look after them. One thing that is common among all is the fact that their spirits are low as they face a bleak end to the last of their lives.
Bakheet Al-Mahni, 92 years old, was the first person Arab News met at the home. Al-Mahni was admitted at the home three years ago and is senile according to doctors. His hearing is poor and he suffers from blood pressure. Unmarried, Al-Mahni has no children and therefore no one to look after him.
As we entered the room, Al-Mahni was sitting on his bed with a sad look on his face. I tried talking to him and asked him about his health. He remained silent. After a while he opened up.
“I feel like crying but I cannot cry anymore. The pain I have been through I cannot describe,” he said. He then looked down in silence and drifted off in thoughts and began to blabber. I tried understanding what he was saying but it was undecipherable.
“He blames his family. He has some nephews and he blames them for not coming to see him. No one has visited him since he was admitted,” said the doctor. I felt exasperated at the old man’s situation and then understood why he could not cry anymore.
The last person I met was Marzook Al-Jizani, who is 85 years old and was admitted at the home seven years ago. “Marzook is blind and suffers from high blood pressure. He wasn’t married and has no children. His family admitted him to the social house because he was a financial burden on them,” said the doctor.
Nevertheless, I was taken aback by Al-Jizani’s resilience in the face of hardships. He was grateful for everything. “I am waiting to die alone and I am happy that I’m not a burden on anyone but nevertheless I feel depressed that no one visits me,” he said.
The doctors and social workers working in the old people’s home are truly doing a wonderful job in looking after the old, a job which is supposed to be the responsibility of the relatives of the old people inside.
Many of the old people visited would explain how well they have been treated and that their own “ungrateful” children would not have been able to take such good care of them. Staff at the care home helps the old people shower, feeding them and even cleaning them when they use the toilet. But more importantly they provide them with a kind of care that makes them feel wanted and shows them that they are unforgotten.
Elderly care homes are rather rare in Saudi Arabia, but with people’s values changing they are growing in number. I left the old people’s home and the old men inside with a new outlook in life, and a sense of realization about the true value for the elderly.
