Early Thursday morning my companion and I set out for a drive around the city and its shorelines. During the hourlong drive, we passed several imposing roundabouts connecting some of the major roads past large tracts of land yet to be developed.
Some of these roundabouts were the size of football fields! And invariably, among all of them was a smattering of brave city folk out to smell the breeze, an expression that is a direct adaptation of a local idiom meant to describe the act of getting out into the open. Groups of families usually converge on these developed roundabouts, defying the treacherous road crossings that embrace them, and immediately set about defining their temporary dominion. In the quest for privacy from intruding eyes, some seek the most discreet of spots — occasionally burying themselves deep within the bowels of some of the statues that adorn the area.
While parents stay huddled together over a teapot and plastic sacks encasing homemade goodies, the children are busy chasing one another or smacking away at a soccer ball, invariably sending one over and across the road. It is not unusual to see the more daring and adventurous of these young ones attempt to cross the roads to retrieve an errant ball.
My companion, alarmed at the unsafe crossings of some of these youngsters, immediately set about wondering the motive behind such perilous congregations, being concerned about the safety of the little ones. Coming from a land where roundabouts are a fixture for easing traffic flow rather than a place for families to assemble at, he was puzzled by the motive behind this sort of hazardous behavior.
“Well, my friend...People do need a place to get out and go to,” I replied. “And for lack of other options, they choose the only ones available, and roundabouts are it.”
“But it is so dangerous, especially for the young kids who seem to show no fear or caution when crossing these busy traffic lanes, especially in light of the road warriors,” he responded with genuine alarm.
“We are a hardy lot, mon ami...and besides where else can they go?” I retorted.
“Parks, my man...Parks! Or is that an alien word? Or the sea shore,” replied my companion rather vehemently.
As I mulled over his last statement, I couldn’t help thinking that parks were not just alien words to some city planners but an alien concept as well. In a city of this size, it was disturbing to see the sprawl of so much concrete infrastructure, and nothing of significance allocated to the creation of grassy parks and recreational areas. Areas safe for adults and children alike, and open to the general public. A venue where the masses can go to relieve their daily stresses, and children to release their pent-up adrenaline. Managed with the same care as some of these meticulous roundabouts and situated in different areas of the city, parks would be an attraction for people from all walks of life. And with designated parking area, safe as well too.
“Or how about beaches?” he continued, interrupting my thoughts. “I understand that the city is situated on the Red Sea. Why not develop the coastline with attractions such as in other parts of the world? With such rich marine life, why not an aquarium for educational purposes as well?”
A city blessed with a beautiful shoreline for miles on end, but with less than 5 percent of it accessible to the public, does not allow one strong grounds for an argument. Tactfully, as I drove past walled compounds, I chose not to tell him that we had been driving for the last hour by the north creek and seashore and had yet to catch a glimpse of the Red Sea.
