When meeting Abdullah Yousuf Al-Ghatham, a 23-year-old Saudi, one wonders whether Chicago’s 442-meter tall Sears Tower fell on his dreams? Al-Ghatham looks sad and depressed.
He was not like this a year ago. He used to read and write. He used to stroll like a gazelle in the lobbies of the Sociology College of King Saud University. The change, however, came after he joined Ahsa General Hospital as a nurse. He has been morbid and burdened ever since.
His basic salary of SR1,600 disappears before it comes. He does not think of getting married, let alone having children. He is always wondering who would marry him?
Abdul Hadi, another Saudi, is not sad because of his small salary but because of the way the hospital’s administration treats him, something he describes as “inhuman.”
Abdul Hadi recently received an SMS message on his mobile phone from the General Insurance Authority informing him that he had been registered in the social insurance system under the number 379967205. The SMS added that his monthly salary is SR2,700 and that he works at Al-Ahsa Medical Services Company.
Why did the hospital’s administration note his salary as SR2,700 when in fact he is only paid SR1,600? He is being eaten up by grief. He is in need of every halala to be able to sustain himself and not die of hunger.
Whenever Abdul Hadi tries to talk to the hospital’s management he receives the same answer: “The door is wide enough for a camel to exit.” Sometimes the word “camel” is substituted by “elephant”.
His colleague, Issa Khalifa Al-Issa, 26, is no less sad, if not more. He is paid SR1,800, is married and has a seven-month-old son. He pays SR400 every month to the Credit Bank against his marriage loan. He spends another SR400 to purchase milk, diapers and other necessities for his baby son. The remaining SR1,000 he spends on food, electricity and water bills, and petrol for the 1991 pickup truck that he uses to travel the 25 kilometers from his home in the village of Al-Tarf to work.
His car’s registration expired more than six months ago and he is unable to renew it, as that will cost him about SR700. To do this he will have to stop repaying his marriage loan for two or three months, something that will embarrass his guarantor. The car also needs repair.
Al-Issa works 12 hours a day, although his official working hours are only eight. For any extra hours he should get overtime pay but he never gets paid. He spends many hours at the hospital and only goes home to sleep. He does not remember sleeping more than four hours since he joined the hospital six months ago. “I have no time to practice my hobby of photography. I have no time to see my son. I spend all my time nursing.”
The deep sadness, the low morale and depression being suffered by all three are of concern to us. How can we trust them with our feeble and sick bodies when they are full of anger, pain and despair? Their anger may slip down to their fingers and cause them to shake.
Minister of Health Hamad Al-Manie says there is a judge who deals with cases relating to medical mistakes. He orders anyone who speaks on the topic to “shut his mouth.” I would like to tell the minister that as long as there are oppressed medical personnel in our hospitals — people such as Al-Ghatham, Abdul Hadi and Al-Issa — we will not keep our mouths shut. We will not keep silent until their problems are resolved because our tongues and fingers are there to express what we feel.
