Hi guys, 

I must apologize for not posting Chapter 8 as promised. I really thought I could finish quickly, but because of relocating I will only be able to do it after the 23 June. My mind is scattered in a million different places right now, so bare with me. The Teacher Diaries will continue-the change of perspective might even improve my writing, who knows. 

Also watch out for details of an e-published book-its near completion. 

Joe

The Teacher Diaries-Chapter 7-First Impressions

Chapter 7

First Impressions

You know the scene in movies where the heroes walk next to each other in slow motion, wind blowing through their hair and profound music playing in the background-much like the astronauts proceeding toward the shuttle in the movie Armegeddon; kind of spelt out our entrance into the school on our first morning. Except their was no music, no wind-it was hot as hell-like 44 degrees Celsius, and of course we were only teachers. So, ya if you really think about it, it wasn’t really like that. It would have been good though-being celebrities again.

In spite of the above, everyone welcomed us with such exuberant happiness. ‘Welcome, Welcome!’ were the cries of the staff members as they caught a glimpse of ‘The Team’. ‘Asalamu’alaikum,’ peace be upon you, some of them going out of their way to shake our hands. We were a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way, like the bride that’s never allowed to stop smiling for the day.

Although everybody was warm and friendly, the only thing that captivated me was the way the school looked. If anything, the school really wanted to test the theory of first impressions. The first thing I noticed on entering was the huge free standing Swiss clock, named ‘Ebel’, which welcomed us with open arms. Next was the luscious greenery, looking like it needed a designer label attached to it. The perfectly painted walls in ice, gave me the feeling that its purpose was to cool down the immediate surrounding. And don’t get me started on the football pitch. The impressive turf was not the conventional type. It was more like an indoor pitch, but outside, made of a type of soft cement instead of grass, and it was covered by arching banisters curling around the top, creating a roof-like structure-standing guard against the sun. It gave me the feeling of the massive half-human, half-animal bodyguards to the pharoahs. Maybe I’m just exaggerating, but one thing is certain the school was beyond profligacy. It had only struck me then, we were part of  an upmarket institution that pervaded extravagence. This I came to discover even more, after meeting its clientele.

The school, which if you roughly translate its Arabic name, means ‘Gateway to Interlectual Development,' was shaped like a huge star and was probably visible from space. This in itself as a design concept was a far cry from the norm back in 1980 when it was built. It was definitely ahead of its time considering what Jeddah looked like back then. It was also the first exclusive playground for the elite minority. Even though the school is that old, it still, even today, has that contemporary asthetic appeal. The vision behind its design was simply brilliant.

The director-general of the school, I called him AK, held a meeting with us in the conference room. His second in charge, who Nizam aptly named Dr. Nose, gave us another speech as an extension of what Sean had already given us the night before. After listening to them about the status of the school and the importance of the student body, we proceded on a short tour. It was all about orientation that day. The estate was divided into two schools, the elementary and high school, all of which had various departments, equiped with all the resources one could only dream about back home. I will go into the details of these departments later as I encounter them. One thing I really want to say is that the school has its own restaurant. They serve breakfast and lunch, and of course teachers get a 50% discount. Anyone who knows about me and food, will know this definitely puts a smile on my face. I can just see how some readers are already laughing at this statement. 

We were then allocated to our different departments. I was placed in the elementary section, grades 1, 2 & 3. I didn’t mind at all, the content was easy and I could probably adapt to six year olds quickly-I mean how hard could it be? They’re only babies, aren’t they? Was I in for a surprise!

Patrick Dogan was a very meticulous yet fair person. He was fair, slender and had a slight feminine demeanor about him. He had typical Irish features minus the femine part. If anything he’ll probably kill me for even thinking this about him. He was my immediate manager-the one who was going to show me everything there’s to know about ‘The School.’  He was excellent at his job with at least ten years experience in this particular section at this particular place.

Administration called a meeting in the library at 1pm that Thursday. It was actually a fully fledged library, not just a room filled with a few shelves and books. Teachers from both schools, were present. I didn’t know the number exactly, but it looked like we were a total staff complement of about 80. Rows of chairs were packed neatly next to each other resembling a scene from a 1980s home cinema, where movies were played on a 16mm projector. AK started the normal Thursday progression with prayers and stories of the Prophet, giving us the the feeling that it was actually the mandatory Friday sermon. Next, Dr. Nose welcomed us to the rest of the school, letting them know briefly about our purpose there.

Then something strange happened that made ‘The Team’ look at each other with extreme skeptism. Our thoughts to each other was as clear as daylight, ‘What the hell!’ Teachers were complaining and venting about unpaid salaries. Apparently teachers never got paid vacation money from the year before, and what was even more scary was that some teachers didn’t even get paid two months prior to that. It seemed that the local teachers were worse off than the rest of the faculty. How could this be? This was the playground for the rich and famous, wasn’t it? Is this what they thought of teachers? Little did we know that the school was in extreme financial trouble, but I’ll get to that much later.

After the meeting, the driver was instructed to take us to a local photographic studio. We needed twenty passport photos for all the forms and protocols needed to make us leagal residents.

After the long and tedious process of each of us having to pose and look our best for the camera, we went to a local supermarket. I, of course needed industrial strength detergents as I had one hell of job waiting for me back home.


Chapter 8


....to be continued....

Hi Guys,

Just to inform you Chapter 7 & 8 will be posted within the next week or two. I didn't forget, just hectically busy. Stay tuned........

Joe

The Teacher Diaries-Chapter 6-The Compound

Chapter 6

Main Swimming Pool at the Rec.

The Compound

May 2008

Sitting at the pool with Nizam, relaxing and watching my daughter enjoying herself in the water, was pretty cool for a Wednesday afternoon. It's about 5.30 and this of course marks the start of our weekend.
"The time really flew the last five years right? It feels like the other day, we were sitting here on our first night in the compound." Nizam obviously brought this up because at this point everyone knew I had resigned. "Yah, can't believe it myself," I had to concur. "Do you remember that night?"
He wanted to take me down memory lane, because it's obviously what we all like to do, isn't it? Reminiscing is what fuels us, keeping the torch burning so to speak, for whatever we've done in the past.
"Like it was last night," I said with a half smile, almost as if I was the only one there.

24 September 2003

Apartments at Rania

I remember the drive from the airport was a long and tedious one. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically and longed for 4 simple things-a cup of decent coffee, a cigarette-make it two, a hot shower and a bed. I could deal with the world tomorrow. One of our Irish managers, Sean, met us at the airport with the school driver. As we were driving, he was going on endlessly about the ethos of the school and how fortunate we were to receive compound accommodation. My head like in the plane, was once again just leaning against the glass of the window. I closed my eyes for a while, but the bumpy roads caused me to jerk awake every time. "Any of you guys need cash?" Sean asked. While some of us were liquid, one or two had no money. Most of us resigned more than a month before we actually travelled, so money was bit of an issue. All of us out of principal agreed to take a loan from Sean. He gave us each a crisp 200 riyal note. So at least we were off to a good start. A 200 riyal might as well have been a 1000 riyal if you look at the purchasing power it had back then.

As we pulled into the long driveway of Rania Compound, we came across a few soldiers with automatic firearms. This was the first checkpoint. They were dressed to kill. With prying eyes and inquisitive minds they wanted to know exactly who we were. Although our arrival was pre-arranged with management of the compound, the soldiers still found the need to overstate their authority. I must admit it was very intimidating. It was a usual occurrence for compounds to hire the army to protect its citizens from any outside forces and in the absence of war, these soldiers took their jobs very seriously. They mostly interrogated Sean, and he was of course less than impressed.
Our school, rented about 7 villas and 8 apartments in this compound, at an average of 50k a pop. So one would expect that the kind of revenue generated for Rania. we would be treated like VIPs. Needless to say Sean was completely livid at the treatment he was getting, as he was a resident as well. After numerous explanations to justify our presence, we moved on to the second check point. These security guards worked for a private company contracted to the compound. After about five minutes or so, sorting out the villa or apartment numbers, we were finally cleared.

As we were slowly cruising the short streets of the compound, I noticed a lively, almost energetic atmosphere-kids playing outside, teenagers parading or modeling looking for attention, and men and women walking and exercising. It felt almost normal, eerie even, especially coming from the airport.
It felt like we were guests artists in an episode of  The Twilight Zone. During my previous stay in KSA, I was invited to a compound barbecue once, but never lived the experience first hand. The rest of the guys were very pleasantly surprised as well.

We stopped at the first villa. Sean called out, "101-that's you Joe." I got out of the bus and starred at a square shaped prefabbed little house, with a porch, a carport, and a front door with a big brass number plate. The place looked like it was transported by a massive truck and just placed on this spot. Anyway, the location was good as it was close to the front entrance, making for easy comings and goings. As I entered, I noticed an open plan lounge-dining room to my left and a kitchen on my right. Straight down the passage I faced the main bathroom, with bedrooms flanked on either side. Just before the bedrooms, I found another little bathroom, which was equipped with an automatic washing machine. The place was fully furnished, including a dishwasher, and satellite television. For a dry-walled prefabbed building, it was amazingly finished. Plumbing and electricity was contemporary enough to fit into any home. I just wasn't used to seeing walls made of wood or cardboard-couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Anyway after taking it all in, I went to the kitchen to find something to drink and found a little goody pack on the kitchen counter. It was filled with everything from tea, coffee and bread, to biscuits, juice and cereal. Sean seemed to have gone out of his way to make sure that we were settled in and sorted with the essentials. It was nice of him to have done that. After the 200, I didn't expect anything else.

I immediately boiled the water, and made me a strong cup of Nescafe. Just leaving my bags in the passage, I flopped down onto the sofa, a brightly colored floral one, but it was comfortable all the same. I lit a cigarette and just sat there, with my thoughts keeping me company. As I dragged one puff after the other, I noticed something peculiar. There were cigarette markings everywhere. It looked as if someone, didn't like using ashtrays. Cigarettes were put out on the coffee table, the side tables, and even the dining room table. I could understand the multiple layers of dust everywhere, but the place was extremely filthy.
The kitchen was a mess with calcified or 'fossilized' stains. I guess I was too tired to notice it before. The bathrooms were dressed in the same stains. The state of the main bedroom was unfathomable and the worst of all the rooms. The previous tenant didn't only hate ashtrays, it seems he hated bathrooms and toilets as well. I think he must've misunderstood the meaning of the word en-suite. I wished someone had just told him that it didn't mean doing your business right there where you slept. There were no bad odors though. He must've moved out long ago. Nevertheless it was just plain disgusting.
The other bedroom had other strange items lying in the middle of the room. There was this chandelier or lamp that belonged in a pub or pool club. There were also all kinds of signage, like "Merry Christmas," "Party Time," and of course "Club 101". The last sign put the pieces in place for me. The guy that lived here before, used his place as some kind of club and who knows what else.
Like I said I'll deal with the world tomorrow. So I just sat there, making it my permanent place for the night. The phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was so loud and looked like it belonged in "That 70s Show". I didn't realize that people were still using these kind of handsets.
"Hello." "Joe?" "Yeah?" "What you're doing? Join us at the pool man." "Ok-Give me fifteen minutes, let me jump into the shower" "Oraait-alright, see you later." I of course didn't know where the pool was, but it wasn't a problem to find. Nizam just wanted to take in everything at once. He was excited about our new surroundings and wanted everyone to experience it with him.

The Second Pool at Rania

Main Tennis Court at the Rec. Center

Restaurant at the Rec. Center

It was Wednesday night and the pool area or commonly known as the recreational center (rec. center), was bustling with activity. Passing a tennis and basketball court, I walked through the center building before exiting into the pool facility. Loud teenagers were playing table tennis and shooting pool, creating the perfect holiday atmosphere. I found the guys sitting on patio chairs, beside the pool, savoring the aesthetics. "Guys, it looks like we made the right decision to sign this contract. It's looking good." Sam was of course more than happy with the first impression. "This is the life! I could get use to this," added Faiq. None of us expected our housing facilities to be this good. It was the total opposite to what my housing was like in 1995, so I was naturally happy. The guys then went on about each others' places, comparing items, furniture, structure and so on. Although tomorrow was officially a holiday, we had to go in and meet our employers. The school bus was going to pick us up at 10 the next morning. I was the first one to leave as my eyes were starting to deceive me. I had to get some rest. "Hello sofa." I flopped myself down again, this time out for the count.


Chapter 7

First Impressions

....to be continued

Some Beautiful Roundabouts and Monuments in Jeddah

The Teacher Diaries-Chapter 5-The Unexpected

Chapter 5

The Unexpected

The flight on route to our final destination, was very different to say the least. It was more like one star quality, on board a two and half hour journey from hell. I couldn’t believe it was the same airline. The majority of people on this passenger manifest seemed to have come from an abyss in a strange place where normality just didn’t apply. FAA rules? What’s that? I mean really-mobile phones were not switched off, the allocation of seat numbers meant nothing, people were constantly standing and walking around even though the seat belt sign was turned on, and the stench! Oh my word! Where did it come from? If anything I really wished the pleasant fragrance on board this Airbus, would knock me the hell out. I really wanted to painlessly arrive at my new home. Instead it gave me a migraine and a nauseous feeling in my stomach. I leaned my head against the window, wishing it miraculously opened and I could breathe again, getting nature’s enormous vacuum cleaner to suck me out of this plane. Please don’t get me wrong-I have nothing against certain foreign cultures and ethnicities, but someone seriously needs to educate them about the wonders of soap and water.

It seems that the most modern mode of transport that this particular group of people was ever exposed to, was probably the donkey or maybe even the camel. I came to  learn later that the transition from the camel to the car happened so fast that the drivers in this city of angels, make Nascar drivers look like they driving Miss Daisy.

Probably the Safest Means of Transportation

Anyway back to the flight, not that I want to relive that memory. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, we landed at King Abdulaziz International Airport, or should I say third class train station in down town Mumbai. No disrespect intended, but isn’t this the richest country in the Middle East? Why didn’t I see the same development as in Dubai, or why wasn’t it better than the Emirates? Some of these simple yet complex questions I’m still trying to answer.

While the aircraft was still taxiing along the runway, which seemed to have been a lifetime, I had the feeling that the pilot was probably going to drop off each individual passenger at home. If all the rules were already broken, why stop now, he might as well have done just that. After a 25 minute drive on the airport, the doors open to a sweltering furnace. What’s this! Where’s the cool, tunnel looking contraption that links up to the airport? Oh no, wait…I forgot that was in Dubai. Here we were escorted to the terminal building by a bus, and not an Airbus, but an actual bus. Swaying to and fro, on yet another means of transportation, somehow made me lose that celebrity status. It was all gone now and I was just simply stuck in my new reality. Eventually ten minutes later we were at the terminal building, standing in a queue at passport control. Ten minutes in a bus? Where did we go? Stop for gas?

Anyway, as I was standing in the staggering line, I asked myself one question-I came from Africa right? Just checking because I thought WE needed some innovation back home. The queue was moving at a snail’s pace and couldn’t help but get the feeling of inertia. 
“Is this line moving, or is it just my imagination that we’ve been standing still for the last 20 minutes?” complained Ryan, standing behind me. My morbid silence answered his question. I could sense that it was rhetorical anyway, because we all knew that the only thing moving was the papers stuck to air conditioner vents above us. The cool breeze was very welcoming though. I passed the time by trying to find similar smiling and contented faces I saw in Dubai. I couldn’t see any. Not one smiling face. Not even from some of the passengers I recognized earlier from the boarding lounge. Personalities have changed and everyone looked worried and stressed. 

This wasn’t a vacation hot spot, was it. This was a place that prides itself upon on a strong international labor force. So those guys in the plane with the unbearable cologne, were all part of that equation-things started to come together now. I had to refocus. My goals, both short and long term, had to be realized and it had to be the only thing that concerned me. I then decided to be the first person on this airport to actually smile. “Hello, good evening. How you doing?” I greeted with unnecessary enthusiasm. The very serious, intimidating green uniformed official, who eventually decided to look up long enough just to corroborate that the photo in my passport is actually telling the truth, didn’t even show his teeth, never mind speak to me. That didn’t bother me in the least. As I walked through to baggage collection, I saw what seemed like vultures around a corpse. When I wiped out my eyes properly, it was only four porters hovering around one specific passenger, trying to command his bags. The porter service on the airport was of course not regulated at the time, and porters could set you back more that just an arm and leg. The way they marked their territory in the calm before a battle, one would think their salaries solely depended on tips from passengers. So fighting over passengers was a common normality. “I take bags, mafee mushkilla, no problem?” pleaded the funny looking boy.“No, thank you. I’ll get the bags myself.” He didn’t get that-or at least he didn’t want to get that. He followed me with his trolley, like a bag lady and her shopping cart. I just ignored him and he eventually lost interest.


After collecting my bags, I proceeded to security check, with a slight sign of worry. My last experience left a very bitter taste in my mouth. My bags were tossed out onto the floor with total contempt and I had to collect everything myself. It took me more than two hours to get out of the airport. This time around however, I was pleasantly surprised-a complete contrast. The guys here were all productive and extremely efficient. As I placed my luggage through the X-ray machine, I glanced back to check if the officials at passport control had perhaps changed their ways. I remember thinking...wow-the same airport, the same people but completely different standards. I guess this is what I needed to get used to.


At this point however, I should state that since then the service levels have dramatically changed and improved at King Abdulaziz International Airport. 


Chapter 6 - The Compound


....to be continued

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Once again thank you for all the words of encouragement and motivation. Watch out for Chapter 5 and 6 coming soon!!!!

The picture probably indicates best what most of us feel while driving in Jeddah.