“That Which Was, That Which Is and That Which Will Be”

By George Thompson

Diplomats and seasoned travelers are well aware of the saying, "Speak more than one language; lead more than one life." We Arabists also used to say, "Lebanese Arabic is like Brooklynese English, say one word and everybody knows where you come from."

Both expressions aptly described this retired U.S. foreign service officer, and probably many of my fellow graduates of the U.S. Foreign Service Institute's Arabic language program, formerly based in Beirut. When beginning conversations or negotiations with Arabs from other countries during my nearly quarter-century of service in the Arab world, my Lebanese-accented opening words virtually always earned a smile. And the quickest, but also the warmest, smiles usually came from Saudis.

Let me say at the outset that my expertise in Saudi Arabia most assuredly is not on a par with that of many others who preceded and followed me in living and learning in that fascinating country. It certainly cannot be ranked with the erudition of such giants as Charles M. Doughty, H. St. John Philby, T. E. Lawrence and the host of others who fell in love with the country and its people, now busily transforming that sea of sand into a modern nation.

You can learn much more about the country, especially its history, from the writings of those early scholar-adventurers and the works of modern scholars confident enough to follow in their footsteps. But, as a former "generalist Arabist" who lived in five Arab countries and made working visits to most of the others, I think my "up-close-and-personal" and "off-the-beaten-track" encounters have given me some special insights into all of these countries—especially Saudi Arabia.

Those meetings helped me to understand the two quotes at the beginning of this article, and also helped me reach two conclusions: My favorite city: Beirut. My favorite Arabs: The Saudis. Why? First, some personal background to show how and why the choices were made:

* Four years in Beirut, two studying Arabic at FSI and another two in charge of a regional program to translate American books into Arabic. There I founded the Mediterranean Underwater Research and Exploration Diving Team (MUREX). Together with many local divers, we explored the entire Lebanese littoral, raising many artifacts—presumably still reposing in the Lebanese National Museum.

* Nearly four years in Amman, Jordan, where as an amateur radio operator (JY9US), I often spoke informally with King Hussein (JY1) and, while gliding with Jordanians, gave the then-young monarch his first ride in a sailplane.

* Four years as U.S. Embassy public affairs officer in Jeddah, where the Saudi foreign ministry and all foreign embassies were situated. There I racked my brains (successfully as it turned out) to find some way to break our programs out of the confines of the foreign community in Jeddah and reach the government officials in Riyadh, the Saudi political capital.

* Almost two years in Khartoum, Sudan, where—working closely with the Minister of Education and Culture—we built what was then the most modern multimedia educational/cultural center in the entire Middle East. That tour also included dealing with the acting Sudanese president in one terrible week during which Palestinian terrorists captured and killed the incoming American ambassador and the outgoing U.S. chargé d'affaires, and a Belgian diplomat seized with them. (For the record, the Sudanese did everything right from our point of view, making no move that would affect the safely of our diplomats without first consulting with the embassy.)

* Still later, my wife and I sailed our 41-foot cruising ketch (AMAL-II) up through the Red Sea and the Suez Canal to Tunis where I spent 18 months as editor of the U.S. government's Arabic-language magazine, Al-Majal, which required developing contacts with influential Arab writers throughout the Middle East.

After retirement, my family and I also spent more years in the Mediterranean aboard AMAL-II, including a year in Israel—which did nothing to diminish my fond memories of the Arab world and the people we met there. Of them all, none stand so tall as the Saudis—some of the most sincerely honest, warm and welcoming human beings we have ever met.

It was in their strangely beautiful country that the three writer-explorers mentioned above discovered the people we were to learn about and admire decades later: Former desert dwellers who lived simply with nature as they found it, put family and tribe first, welcomed eloquently and dealt politely with well-meaning foreign visitors, and whose words and handshakes were as good as gold.

Some of the most memorable evenings of my Middle Eastern years were spent in the dunes surrounding Jeddah. They were beautiful, star-filled nights when we sat cross-legged around the traditional black pot of hot, sweet tea, kept simmering for hours over a fire fueled, as often as not, with dried camel dung.

Our hosts were almost always a dozen or so intelligent, highly educated Saudi officials seeking solace in the past from what had become—thanks to the discovery of oil—a stress-filled present.

I never felt closer to those pioneer "Arabists" mentioned earlier in this piece than during those delightful evenings when we talked for hours in that marvelously mellifluous language about—in their words—"that which was, that which is, and that which will be."

It was during one of those evenings, as we discussed the question of how best to influence the direction of "that which will be," that the idea of opening an American English-teaching institute in Riyadh was born. It was to be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

Working closely with Sheikh Abdul Wahab Abdul Wasia, then deputy minister of education, we toiled for months to found the first foreign cultural/educational teaching center ever permitted in Riyadh, which was adjacent to the ancestral home of the Saudi ruling family as well as being in the capital of the country.

Catering to a student body that included many Saudis destined for influential government positions, the completed center was directed by a member of my staff, a U.S. foreign service officer who was the first foreign diplomat ever permitted residence in Riyadh.

As for surmounting past and present cultural obstacles, that was the least of my worries. I had more trouble dealing with Washington's bureaucracy than I did with Sheikh Abdul Wahab. His word was his bond.

Many years later, while I was serving in Washington as a U.S. Information Agency science adviser, I received a phone call from a State Department officer that quickly brought back memories of those wonderful years in the Middle East.

"George," he said, "we've invited Saudi Minister of Education Sheikh Abdul Wahab Abdul Wasia to tour the U.S. as our guest. But he says he won't come unless he can have dinner with you and your family at your home."

He came and within minutes the intervening years had melted away. Just as on so many evenings before, we found ourselves excitedly discussing "that which will be" in the relationship between two proud countries, whose friendship now has stood and, I am confident, will continue to stand, the multiple tests of turbulent times.

George Thompson is a nationally syndicated columnist and television talk show host.