Welcome to Ebaya.com

I hear that women in Saudi Arabia are planning a boycott—or perhaps it should be “mancott”—of stores that continue to employ only male lingerie salespersons. The two-week mancott is scheduled to start February 13, though I don’t see why it shouldn’t last a month to give it some teeth.

The irony of the situation, for the benefit of those outside the KSA, is that unrelated men and women are not only not allowed to socialize but women must cover head-to-foot whenever an unrelated male is present. As my friend Susie of Arabia points out in her daily photo blog from Jeddah, a law was passed in the kingdom a couple years ago allowing women to sell lingerie to other women. Yet most stores still employ only male salesmen, even for ladies’ intimates.

(photo courtesy of Susie of Arabia, used with permission)

This got us to thinking: If women start taking over the women’s clothing departments, where will the male crossdressers go for their couture needs?

Fortunately, the information superhighway once again comes to the rescue in the form of my new online shopping experience for male crossdressers:

Ebaya.com

Yes, this is the place for guys to manage all their abaya needs and other unmentionables.

No more sending the little woman out for a size XXL-long black abaya… “and hold the embroidery please.” No more superduper-sized lacy drawers hanging out on the balcony clothesline.

Now you can shop for what you need by yourself or with your buds in the comfort of your own majlis.

With the days of being able to just stroll into a store with the assurance that you’ll have a sympathetic male sales clerk to deal with about to become herstory, men can shop with the assurance that no cooties will have come in contact with your little black dress.

And for the ladies who like to crossdress, watch for the grand opening of a new online store just for you…

(Except as noted, all photos and logo or logo parody treatments are the author's)

What a difference a voiceless alveolar plosive makes

I was walking home with a couple buddies after our late Sunday classes. It was 9:45pm and we were just passing the petrol station and the laundry when a young man in a wrinkled thobe (robe) but no shemagh (linen head dress) stepped up alongside us, shook hands enthusiastically and started into a friendly, well…over-friendly conversational jabber in basic beginner English.

One of the guys I was with is usually pretty chatty with strangers, or else the interloper, in his mid-20s, knew him from the laundry, so I just listened in for a moment as we walked. The conversation seemed to consist mostly of one word, “smile” or “smiling,” repeated over and over, back and forth between the two guys. After a couple minutes of this nauseating exchange I could hear my buddy indicating to the guy, without breaking stride, that we needed to be on our way and kept saying “so long” and “have a nice night.”

The guy wouldn’t stop bugging us though so I stepped in with my new Arabic word of the day, which I had just learned from the students. I was warned that it was rather harsh and should only be used when you really need to get rid of someone. It’s considered quite rude, the equivalent of “Get the H out of here you annoying person.”

After a few minutes of watching the intruding guy dog our heels I figured this would be a good time to try it out.

So I turned to the shadow guy and said what might be phonetically rendered as [dose].

I had been practicing during the day with students so I thought I had it down pretty fair.

The guy still wouldn’t leave us, even after we sped up and waved our hands goodbye. I was busy calling to him “dose dose dose!”

The next day I reported my attempts to students who laughed and quickly informed me that the Arabic word I really wanted had more of a ‘t’ sound and no vowel. It should have been (again, more or less phonetically): [tose] with barely a hint of the ‘o’; more like a hissed [ts].

I learned that what I actually said to the shadowy figure was what you might say to a driver moving too slowly when you want him to step on the gas—in effect, “go faster.”

Linguistically, it’s only just the difference between a voiceless “t” and a voiced “d” really.

Culturally, it’s the difference between a shadowy sidekick and an unencumbered walk down Al Farazdaq Street.

[Note: At the risk of getting all word-wonky on you, the linguistic terms "voiced" and "unvoiced" simply mean the vocal cords are vibrating or not, respectively -- touch your throat to feel the difference. "Alveolar" means that the tip of the tongue is touching or near the inner ridge of the gums of the upper front teeth. And "plosive" just means that a burst of air is expelled. You can feel it by holding a piece of paper in front of your mouth.]

A Paucity of Post Its

Is it just my imagination or are Post It notes something of a rarity here?

Fact is, trying to find a yellow sticky anywhere around my place of business is like trying to find a dumpster without a crew of cats.

It's hard to believe an office can function without a half-dozen sizes of Post Its but for some reason the Saudis just don't use them much. You can find them in a stationery store, but they're not stocked in my employer's supply cabinet. Those who want them usually load up at the Jarir Bookstore.

What they do have is pencils. The Saudis are crazy about pencils and each of our offices is equipped with a snazzy electric pencil sharpener. Furthermore, each newcomer finds a few pencils as part of his deskset.

For a while I thought it was just the students -- who are almost exclusively pencil users. But even the administrators keep a pencil handy at their desks. You'd be hard-pressed to find a student with a pen, by the way. Or a laptop.


They do all have mobile phones though, which, I suspect in a couple years will put laptops out of business among younger people.

My latest purchase, for myself, is a white board--also not considered a necessity, in this part of the kingdom anyway.


I'd write some more about office supplies but I've got to get busy cutting up my large Post Its into little squares.

Breaking News: Riyadh Woman Caught Driving

Who says you don't get hot news scoops from The Veeds of Arabia blog?

VOA News
Dec. 23, 2009, Riyadh, KSA — A woman was stopped for driving a car here yesterday, according to a reliable eyewitness who viewed the incident outside the Ministry of the Interior on King Fahd Road.

According to our exclusive source the incident occurred on December 22. The woman, estimated to be approximately 35 and wearing Western-style clothing without an abaya, was apprehended while driving a green car.

The witness, a Saudi veterinarian driving behind, speculated that the woman is most likely a newcomer, possibly working at either the nearby King Faisal Specialized Hospital or a neighboring dental clinic. The Intercontinental Hotel is also nearby. It is believed that the woman was cautioned and let go without further punishment.

-30-

A trip to the mini-mart

The great thing about the mini-marts -- or what I call a mini-mart; they fancy themselves "Super Markets" -- in the ethnic Malaz district of central Riyadh is that they're situated about every block or so. Locally known as a bakkala, the mini mart is essentially just a step up from a souq (which you may spell as you please).

Now, don't be looking for no fancy cheeses, chunky chicken & vegetable soup, fresh strawberries or gourmet coffee.

But if you're in need of milk, OJ, a cold Barbican apple beverage, ice cream, electrical outlet adaptor, crackers, one of three kinds of cereal or household cleaning products, this is the place to go.

Don't need a full dozen eggs? Just pick 'em out yourself and load up an egg tray with what you need.

No need to bother with your ATM card either. These are strictly cash and carry Mom & Pop operations. Well, Pop anyway.

And while the clerk is ringing up your purchase, don't be surprised if another customer simply comes up, places his stuff on what passes for a counter and forks over some riyals. Line queueing is not a highly practiced custom in the kingdom.

(I would like to take this moment to thank the proprietor of this shop for kindly allowing me to take pictures inside and out.)

The first thing you notice, of course, is the cramped quarters with one-person-at-a-time aisles -- and sometimes apparently no-person-at-a-time -- and goods stacked up to the ceiling.

But here, let me shut up for a minute while you browse...

One of the fun things about shopping at the mini-mart is when you come to the end of an aisle and see that there's barely room to make the turn.

Yes, that is a right turn you see below.

Unlike an American convenience store, the mini-marts here are relatively inexpensive. But, like a Circle K or 7-11, they're easy-in/easy-out.

I'm not quite sure how the clerk keeps track of what the various customers have brought, since the counter is clogged with every imaginable gimcrack and gewgaw, rendering it literally invisible.

So picture our genial host below with, say, three customers all piling their goods up on the several-layers-deep counter area and trying to make change for them all.

This is aided a bit by the fact that there are, practically speaking, no coins to deal with in Saudi Arabia. It's all paper money in 1, 5, 10, 50 and 100 riyal denominations*. (One riyal = about US $0.27) If by some inadvertent stroke of chance you happen to get a product priced in a fraction of a riyal, the clerk is likely to simply hand you a pack of gum as your change. But this is a rare occurrence in any store since products are invariably priced in whole denominations. And since there is no sales tax, what you see on the price tag is what you pay.

I refused the gum one day and the owner reluctantly dug into his cash drawer and proffered a couple quarter-riyal coins ("halalahs"**). I really just wanted to see if there even is such a thing.

Not all mini-marts offer exactly the same goods. At some you can get light bulbs, others offer mobile phone re-charging cards (mobile phone service is generally pre-paid on an as-needed basis) and still others have household knicknacks.

And, like every other store in the kingdom, they're closed for prayer times so it's a good idea to check your mobile phone prayer time scheduler before you head out for a milk run.

--------------

*Technically there are also 20-riyal notes, but I've never seen one.

Update: I have since come into possesion of a few. Unfortunately, they leave my pocket almost as soon as they enter.

** One halalah is a hundredth of a riyal. Gas...er "petrol" runs about 60 halalahs/liter (including full-service pumping), which I reckon works out to about 60 cents/gal -- but then, I've never been known for my math.

Originally published 12/24/09; updated 1/22/10 with various notes.

Don’t try this at home

I’m not saying this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

On the other hand, it’s certainly not up there with remembering the principal products of Brazil in 4th grade or deciding not to see if my dad’s Lincoln Continental could do 120 mph on a Pennsylvania country road.

Picture the scene.

I’m walking down a side street from my apartment in an ethnic neighborhood in central Riyadh heading to a small laundry run by a Bangladeshi. It’s about 4pm on a Wednesday afternoon. I’m holding three sizeable bags of laundry ranging from bedsheets to shirts, so picture the bags pretty full and formless.

About a block and half away I see an SUV fishtailing out of a parking spot, or maybe another side street, and heading in my direction.

Now, I’m not sure I can explain why the next thing happened. Let’s just say that having been here approximately two months now, I’m feeling like I have certain rights to walk safely down the street like any other resident. Let’s also say I was in a cranky mood and hadn’t had my afternoon nap.

What I do is I step out in the middle of the street and start waving my laundry bags in the air…at the approaching SUV driver.

In truth, unlike certain governments who don’t like to see major industries fail, I cannot say I had a bail out plan. All I know is that I’m waving these three white plastic bags and yelling down the street some kind of gibberish like “Hey, what are you doing driving like that, you madman!” I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a question so I’m not going to bother putting the correct punctuation there.

I see the black SUV coming toward me, but he’s stopped fishtailing and the next thing I know is…he’s come to a stop, about three-quarters of a block away.In my mind’s eye of memory, I believe I saw the vehicle as though it were out of some Ferdinand the Bull episode, with the SUV sort of paused, snorting, preparing to disembowel me and leave bedclothes and button-down shirts scattered amongst the stray cats and poorly parked cars.

I am now replaying that memory as a reality check to see if what happened next really happened. I’m pretty sure of it.

What happened was that the driver executed a neat right-hand turn, slowing down as he did so, smiled and…flashed me the Hawaiian “hang loose” gesture.

I could see that it was a 20-something Saudi in Western-style dress—that’s how close I was.

I flashed him a hang-loose in return and off he went.

I guess the laundry is mightier than the sword.
...

Wipers up!

As I meander up the various side streets of Riyadh each day from the Fortress of Solitude where I live to the Institute where I teach, I’ve been noticing an awful lot of cars with their windshield wipers up, or rather, one wiper blade up.

Then suddenly, it came to me.

In a place like Riyadh, which is essentially a city of 5+ million people in the middle of a bunch of sand, car washing is second only to feet washing (OK...and making U-turns).

Consequently, there’s a sort of cottage industry of entrepreneurial car washers. A bunch of them hang out behind the Obeid Specialty Hospital but you can find them all through the neighborhoods.

I guess this won’t be much of a breaking news story to locals, but apparently the car washers lift the wiper blade up to signal to the owner that the car has been tended to.


Wiper up, car clean.
...