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