Saudis "Trust in God But Keep a Rock By Their Side"

By Deborah B. Akers

Last summer, in late July, I was aroused early from my sleep in our home in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia by cries from our Pakistani driver. "Yella, Yella," he said. "Come quickly, there is an emergency. " I dashed to the back garden. There, a fellow Pakistani had just dispatched a cobra snake. Yes, he explained with a proud smile, this was the most venomous cobra known. An ounce of venom spit into a person's eyes would surely result in instant death. It writhed a final spasm, then died inches from the children's swing set.

I was horrified. That snake, I knew, was not common to the Hijaz. Where did it come from? How did it get past our outside walls? Nonsense, reassured my Saudi friends and neighbors, there is no reason to fret. One must trust in God. But, they added with quiet smiles, a wise man keeps a rock by his side.

August 2, our driver came again with news of another emergency. Iraq had invaded Kuwait. Confusion reigned in the local Saudi community. Throughout the summer, Saddam Hussain had been hailed as the next Nasser, a leader who would draw the Arab world together. Now, incredibly, threats began to pour over Radio Baghdad suggesting that the Kingdom could be next. Astonished and surprised, the Saudi press began condemning Hussain's action.

Piercing the Calm of Daily Life

In our home we listened to the short-wave radio throughout the day, switching between the BBC, VOA, and Radio Baghdad. It became our routine, and all of this news was hungrily ingested. Accounts of horror from Kuwait were sandwiched between threats from Baghdad. Throughout the ensuing weeks, entire populaces of Dhahran, Riyadh and Jeddah experienced periods of fear that pierced the calm of daily life.

There was the immediate threat of a missile attack. Saddam made it very clear that missiles now located in Kuwait were aimed at each important center in the Kingdom. For those in Dhahran, on the Gulf, or in Riyadh, the capital, the border was uncomfortably close. For us in Jeddah, along the Red Sea coast, Kuwait seemed farther away. But Saddam dispelled any sense of safety we might have felt. His SCUD missiles, he announced, now had an extended range which made it possible to penetrate the farthest reaches of the Kingdom. From that day forward it was hard to rest well at night, trying to distinguish the roar of an airliner overhead from something that could be much worse.

Deborah Akers in Saudi Arabia

Preparing for chemical attack became necessary. The Saudi government circulated leaflets with instructions concerning the proper procedures for protecting oneself and one's family in case of an attack. The bad news was, if caught outdoors, there was absolutely nothing that could be done.

Indoors, there was a chance. If an attack occurred, we were instructed to turn off the air conditioning, turn on the shower and remain in the bathroom, for approximately four to five hours—all the while breathing through wet towels.

I admired the Saudis' ability to find calm through "trust in God." I, too, trusted in God, but in what must be an American cultural trait, I could not help continuing to fret. Among the expatriates, there was plenty of gallows humor. There were also the frantic midnight calls from America and elsewhere from worried family members. Sobbing grandmothers and concerned friends all advised those among the expatriate community to leave. Were the Saudis underreacting, or was their attitude similar to "let's not worry the women"? Were our friends and family in the US overreacting? There was not much time to ponder the issue.

Next, there were waves of refugees from Kuwait pouring into the Kingdom. Each night the television interviewed both men and women of all nationalities who had fled Kuwait. Every one of them had suffered from the ordeal. With them they brought tales of horror and something else—anger. An anger which was contagious.

The Saudis were shocked at the atrocities reported. At this point it was clear that Saddam was a madman. In a war one expects looting and death. But the personal outrages which were committed, such as the rape of women and the unaccountable deaths of newborns at the hospitals, were not to be expected from the soldiers of a Muslim country. Women and men whom I had known for years broke their traditional Saudi reserve and polite manners. They cursed Saddam for his atrocities. Saddam was beyond mad, he was the embodiment of Satan himself.

Preparations For War

The Saudis psychologically prepared themselves for war. Staple goods were stockpiled. Savvy Saudi women had purchased pounds of rice, tea, canned goods, and kerosene. Safeway supermarket managers in Jeddah said business had never been so good.

Weddings were postponed and vacations canceled. Saudis abroad were undecided whether to return. Our lives went on hold. We hoped it would be possible to resume more normal lives once enough international troops had arrived. Every day we all listened to the radio, awaiting such a word.

On a visit to a friend's house, her father drew us together to listen to Radio Baghdad. For some inexplicable reason there was no commentary, only the chanting of the Quran. This was done, he said knowingly, only when a leader dies or if the Iraqis are beginning to launch an assault. We sat there, hoping for the former and dreading the latter. We were on this type of emotional rollercoaster throughout the month of August.

By October, there were enough troops on hand for both Saudis and expatriates to relax somewhat. I noticed, however, that life had not really returned to normal. Expatriates I knew had calmed their rattled nerves by resuming such habits as smoking. The Saudis, on the other hand, maintained a calm which I greatly admire. Now we hope that a diplomatic solution will be found and Desert Shield, the rock at our side, will not be needed after all.

Deborah B. Akers is an American-born Ph.D. student in anthropology at Ohio State University. Her husband is a Saudi national and her permanent residence is in Jeddah.