Not The Same Old Company

For all you non-Company-cons (insert the name of the Company minus the ending c and o) out there, I am married to a person known as a Brat.  Mike being a brat means that he grew up here, and you can think of it in the same way as Army Brat, except that he is a Company Brat.  Since he grew up here, he can tell me all about what the Company was like way back in the day, like when there used to be a pork store on camp, and how that soccer field over there didn't used to have any grass, and no, the merry go round never really worked except in the very early 80s.  It also means that everyone here who has been here a long time, or who is also a Brat, knows how to both spell AND pronounce our last name.  Which is nice. 

I've heard stories for years about what this place was like when Mike grew up.  I remember in our VERY early relationship (maybe we had been dating for 3 or 4 days?) how he drew me a really detailed map of his compound in an effort to explain about where he was from.  Back then, it was almost entirely Americans living on the compound, and the compound was meant to be a protected place where Americans could be Americans and not have to follow the Saudi rules.  You couldn't go to the commissary, I have been told, without bumping into someone you knew, and everyone was really close because the compound was small and the Americans stuck together - an oasis of utopian suburbia in the middle of the Arab desert. 

Thirty years later, however, things are not exactly the same as they were back in the day.  This place is filled with Saudis now, and anywhere we go, we are in the minority as Americans.  Rather than being a protected oasis from the rules, the compound walls and gates serve to physically protect us by keeping the terrorists out.  And hardly anyone around here speaks any English (well, speaks enough English to make themselves understood without a major game of charades).  It's different.  Not the same old friendly place.

This past week, I experienced two things that really brought it home that things around here have changed from Mike's childhood.

1) On two different occassions, I saw American women with American children in the commissary, and the women were WEARING ABAYAS.  IN THE COMMISSARY.  The compound is the one place in this country where you are supposed to be protected from this rule.  Yet here they are.  And this was not a just-got-back-from-Khobar-and-ran-in-to-grab-something,-and-I'm-wearing-a-slip-under-this-thing-because-it's-so-hot-so-I-can't-take-off-my-Abaya-in-here trip to the commissary.  No.  Both times, it was a cart-fully-loaded,-brought-the-kids-for-our-weekly-shopping-trip kind of trip.  Granted, the ladies and I were the only westerners in the commissary at the time, which is not unusual, so maybe they feel more comfortable wearing an abaya to fit in.  But honestly!  It's defeats the purpose of the compound if you have to wear your abaya inside these walls.  Hmm.

2)  We made the mistake of going to the Company beach one Friday afternoon.  It was PACKED with Saudi families, and we were definitely the only non-Arabs there.  I had a choice.  I could get out of the car like normal and get harassed, and stared at, and have my picture taken by packs of Saudi women following me around.  Or I could wear my abaya.  I chose the latter.  I hated to do it, but I must admit that I did feel a lot more comfortable and safe in it than without it.  BUT THIS IS THE COMPANY BEACH.  I am allowed to be normal here.  I am supposed to be normal here.  But I'm not.  Holy crud, I just had to wear my abaya on the Company beach!  What the heck?!?!? 

This place is not amenable to westerners anymore.  This whole place, the beach, the compound, the entire setup here, is being, and has been, taken completely over by Saudis.  It's not supposed to be like this - but it is.  It's sad.  I am sorry for the loss of the Old Company.  I am sorry that it is not the happy utopia that Mike remembers. I am sorry that I had this vision of what the Company used to be like, because sometimes I think that if I didn't come with any prior expectations, I would have been a lot less disappointed in the current status of things.  I am sorry that I feel so uncomfortable in my skin all the time, everywhere I go.  I am working on learning to not care.  But it's an uphill battle.  I will keep trying - I guess you can just call me Sisyphus. 


PS - Still slow internet...will keep trying....pictures to come soon!  I've got posts about Sand Roses and a Trip to the Propane Store on deck.