There's No Party Like a Saudi Party

Myself, Yazz (left) and Mido (right)

Part of getting to make local friends is having the opportunity to join with them in some of their important celebrations. It has been a real honour to attend two weddings and another big celebration. These events are flavoured and shaped by the cultural norms of the country, which, while very different from my own experiences in the UK, make for some rich and warm times with family and friends. Attending these events was a real treat, and they will be times that I will always remember. It was also a real honour to be accepted into what is often a very closed, social event among a family or community.

One of the most interesting things I find about living in Saudi Arabia, is the gender divide. Now, don't get me wrong, I understand that there are religious and cultural reasons for this, however it is still something that leaves me quite bemused at times, as it is so counter cultural to my experience in the UK.

This gender divide also leads to interesting ways for people to celebrate these important occasions that usually take place with men on one side, and women on the other.

Even at work, after Grade 3, we teach boys and girls separately, with the boys being taught in the women's section until then. Male teachers are not allowed to enter the girls' side, and female teachers on the whole, are not allowed to enter the boys' section.It makes life interesting when we are trying to work collaboratively, and need to offer a pretty similar curriculum to both the boys and the girls. It is even more challenging when the majority of the school management are female, but somehow or other, we manage.

I have managed to make a good number of Saudi friends. Some speak English, but there are some who only speak Arabic, so we work away on Google Translate and the international language of Shisha.

Mido and I at his brother, Akram's wedding

I find it bizarre however, to know a guy really well, but to know that if he got engaged or married, I may not ever meet his wife. I may never meet his mother or sisters, even though I visit their homes. It isn't always the case, but is more the norm than it is exceptional. It isn't even that I think it is wrong. These are the cultural values of the society here, and whatever I or anyone else may think, it is the way it is. Yes, there are the religious police 'Hai'a' who ensure that the strict gender divide is enforced in public. Cafes and restaurants are divided into single (men) and family sections. Even some supermarkets have serving lanes for families and separate ones for single men. The fact remains however, that many women here choose to cover their faces, or to avoid contact with any men who they could 'potentially' marry.

It doesn't mean that mothers do not take an interest in their children's friends, or even make an effort to get to know them in other ways. My friend, Mido's mother will often  send over food when he comes to visit, and will often ask about me. When I had my car accident last year, his whole family were asking for me, even though they had not met me. There is real and genuine compassion shared from these ladies towards me, and they themselves are also touched by the way in which I have become involved in their family celebrations.

Mido with his usual huge smile.

Apparently the reasoning is (and please, my Muslim friends, correct me if I am wrong), that the Q'ran states that men are weak when it comes to sexual matters, therefore the responsibility is placed upon the woman to ensure that they are not tempted into sinful sexual behaviour. This flies right in the face of modern, cultural thinking on the rights and responsibilities of men. I myself think that we are all responsible for the choices we make, regardless of the temptations we face. While a man may be attracted to a woman, he has it within himself to stop himself from acting upon these feelings. It is not a woman's responsibility to be accountable for the behaviour of the men who look at her. At the same point, I do not think that this gives men, or women, free reign to go around dressed in a way that may cause undue offence. We need to be aware and conscious of cultural sensitivities, both here in Saudi, and in western cultures.

'Parties' are generally held in large halls. They are often referred to as wedding halls, but I guess that any large celebration could be held there.


The first two times I attended such events was to go to weddings. My friend, Mido, has a large family  (16 brothers and sisters in total), so it isn't uncommon for him to have a brother or sister getting married, or another nephew or niece being born. It is great, as there is always something to celebrate. He first invited me to the wedding of one of his brothers, and then, a few months later, to one of his sisters.

It has been great getting to know Mido, as I now know many of his family and they consider me a friend also, even though we can rarely communicate in English.

Someone dancing at the wedding

The first time I attended a wedding, I went along alone, just me and Mido, who obviously had other family responsibilities. Guests arrive at around 10pm and the wedding will often go on into the early hours of the morning. The large hall was filled with big, comfy chairs and sofas, with coffee tables. After greeting the groom and some of the other family members, we sat down and were waited on by the usual Filipino waiters who poured us gawa (traditional arabic coffee with cardamom). It is served in tiny cups without handles (about the size of an espresso . If you were to allow them, the waiters would continue to fill your cup again and again. I love gawa, and now enjoy making it myself when friends come round to visit. It is always poured from the jug in the left hand, into the cup in the right hand. To do it the other way around is deemed highly offensive. The gawa is almost always accompanied by dates which come in many forms and ways here. Usually at these occasions they come in an over ripened state, soft and sticky and very sweet. They are a perfect accompaniment for the unsweetened gawa.

When we weren't drinking gawa, we were also offered chai nana (tea with mint). This is sweetened but is also served in small glass cups.

At the first wedding there was little music or entertainment as such, but we did step outside into a large courtyard with many carpeted areas for people to sit and chat. At the far end, a fire was blazing, and there were some traditional musicians who banged away on drums while the men danced around, waving large sticks in what appeared to be quite a tribal fashion. This came as a surprise at first, however for many people in Saudi, it isn't long since their families were living nomadic lifestyles in the desert. It is much easier to picture the same image somewhere in the desert than it was in this fairly modern wedding hall.

Me with a big stick. The man is holding what looks very like a bodhran

Saying that, I think that most of the people present were what is known as 'Hijazi', the name of the less tribal, city dwelling people of Jeddah and Makkah (also known as Jeddawi and Makkawi). These people are often mixed in their ethnic origin, Jeddah being the main port and place of arrival of pilgrims and visitors from around the globe. It isn't uncommon to meet a Hejazi person who looks as white as myself, or perhaps as a Syrian. At the same point, I have met Hejazi Saudis who are undeniably African in origin. As a Scot this isn't anything unusual, as we have many people who are Scottish, who are from many different ethnic backgrounds. What makes this more interesting is that Saudi Arabia does not allow people to become citizens. I'm not sure if this has always been the case in its roughly 100 year history, or whether this is more recent.

These kids looked so cute in their little thobes

Many of the men were fascinated to see this strange, white, freckled face among them, looking very conspicuous in a white shirt and black tie. It wasn't long before Mido had grabbed a hold of one of the sticks and had me running round in circles feeling quite ridiculously conspicuous in front of the other guests. I was also amused to see the very cute little boys running around in their tiny little thobes (traditional Arab dress) with their little headscarves (shemaghs and guthras) which often sat lopsided on their heads as they, like me, hadn't quite mastered the art of keeping them in place simply by posture.

Look, I'm really getting into it :)

Mido spent some time introducing me to various friends, uncles, cousins and brothers, and we stood and chatted, then went back to wait for the meal. When it was ready, it was quite an experience. We were led into another room where there were many, many large plates on the floor. These were filled with kabsa (rice prepared in a local way), with large portions of lamb and goat on them. The meat was incredibly tender and tasty, but I must admit that I still found it challenging to eat it at times because it wasn't prepared in the way we would eat it back home, but rather, it was still very much 'on the bone' in large pieces. The plate that myself and Mido and some of his brothers ate from also contained the head of one of these animals, so as I ate, I had the poor thing staring back at me.

Traditionally, Saudis will eat with their hands, though usually just the right hand. They may use the left to help tear at bread, but otherwise it is just the one. They may pour over a hot sauce, or a watery, tomato based sauce to add flavour to the rice before picking at the meat and mixing it with the rice in the ball of the hand and putting it into the mouth. This can be pretty messy while sitting on the floor so people will usually sit cross legged, or on their hunkers, and the floor is covered with a plastic sheet to catch any mess.

The drink of preference these days is usually Pepsi (Bebsi as the Arabic language has no 'P' sound), but may also be also Sbrite / 7-Ub or other soft drinks. There is usually a large amount of water available also. Of course, there is no alcohol, as in general, Muslims do not drink alcohol, and it is illegal to bring alcohol into the country.

It is also considered polite for the host to pick off some of the meat and place it in front of the guest to eat. This is exactly what Mido did, though he was under strict instructions that I did not want any brain. I still find these things challenging at times. I don't have a huge problem eating with my hands, but I do not like the feeling of grease on my palm. I am also far too used to butchered cuts of meat that give little clue as to the source of the meat I am eating. I am also not used to such huge quantities of rice. The Saudi way of eating however, is very sociable and is a real leveller.

For the next wedding however (Mido's sister's), I made the decision to go dressed in traditional Saudi clothing. This made an incredible difference to be experience. I also went with two other friends.

Myself and Abadi

A few days before the wedding we went to the tailor and I was measured up for the thobe. It was one of the usual times where through a process of circumstances, we were running late and the shop was about to close for prayer time. Thankfully we made it so didn't have an extended wait. I chose the fabric, the buttons, and the shape of the cuffs and collar. I went for a collar that remains slightly open and is curved at the corners. My cuffs matched and I had them designed to take cufflinks. A few days later we returned to find it all ready and prepared. A perfect fit that conveniently disguised my paunch. We then had to go and find a coifia (like a knitted prayer cap) and a ghutra and egal. The ghutra is a large square piece of fabric, usually white or cream in colour and is worn in place of the red and white shemagh that is more recognisable in the west. The egal is the black hoop that sits on top of the head and holds it all in place (in theory). Having the undergarments already, my outfit was complete.

I arrived with Yazz and Nabil. Nabil had chosen to wear shirt and trousers, while Yazz had opted for the thobe with nothing on his head. We arrived and introduced ourselves and waited about to meet someone we would know. Thankfully it wasn't too long before Abadi (Mido's brother in law with whom I have been camping several times) arrived. He helped me to put on the ghutra and egal and organised it into an interesting design on my head. Needless to say, it did not stay like this and needed fixing many times that night. It was all part of the fun however, and I really got into trying to do it myself. Apparently spray starch is one of the key contributors to keeping the shemagh / ghutra in place. There are many different ways of doing it, and I look forward to mastering a few of these over time. The following link gives some handy ideas to start with (http://saudijeans.org/2009/09/07/how-to-wear-a-ghotra/). Preferably I would love to try 'The Cobra'.

Apparently I look like a proper prince
sipping on my gawa

It was amazing how different the evening felt when wearing the traditional outfit. The Filipino waiters were quite bemused by this 'Arab' who spoke with a Scottish accent. One in particular just lingered around and kept me filled with gawa, chai nana, and dates. He would shout out to his friends on occasion also, telling them to come and listen to the Arab who wasn't an Arab.

What it did however, was make me feel much less conspicuous. While wearing a kilt, even in Glasgow, attracts attention, the thobe has no such effect as it is such a part of the local tradition and is worn more so than even a suit for business and leisure. My students have even commented on how their fathers have special ones for wearing at home to relax.

It meant that I felt much less self conscious as I wondered around, as fewer people were watching me. It also meant that when I was introduced to many of the family friends, they were surprised when I did not speak Arabic.

Lots of swords and sticks

The evening consisted of more dancing with sticks, and there was a 'band' playing traditional music and dance performers who would loop and spin in their brightly coloured clothes. Most of the event took place indoors however, so the majority of the guests could sit and enjoy the performance while enjoying their gawa. Again, I was dragged up to join in and took a turn with the stick as I marched around the groom.

After the food was served, most of Mido's friends and brothers went and sat outside. It was still warm but it was nice to sit out in the fresh air. The children ran around and some of the guys also had their young daughters with them.

Traditional musicians

The females were celebrating in another hall, and I am afraid I had no idea what went on there, except that late on, around 0100, Mido and his brothers were sent for. They were allowed to go in and dance with their sister. I am told that at this point, most of the ladies will have to cover up, except for the relatives of the men who join them. I don't know how much this happens these days, and I think that some discretion is left to the individual, or at least the family of the individual.

A whirling dancer

The party went on until around 4 or 5 in the morning, however I eventually left at around 2. I had work the next day and although I had tried to get some extra rest that morning, knew it would be wise to go and get some sleep.

The final such event that I have been to (so far) was a much less expected incident. It was a real honour too, as I don't imagine many non Saudi people will ever be invited to such an event.

Late one Wednesday afternoon I received a text from my friend, Khalid, who I had helped out a while back with a few conversational English classes. We had met a few times with another of his friends 'Meshal'. They were both mutual friends of Faisal, a guy I met fairly soon after I arrived in Saudi. He had put me in touch with them, and we had had some good evenings stumbling over our Arabic and English with a good Shisha. Sadly, Meshal was transferred to Riyadh, and we stopped the classes. It was a surprise, therefore, when months later, I received this invitation out of the blue. It had clearly been translated on Google Translate and took me a while to decipher. Essentially, he was inviting me that evening, to a celebration of his father and some others, at being promoted to Major General in the Saudi Army. While I sat at my desk debating whether I could really abandon another late night planning, I knew that this was an opportunity that would never come again.

I asked Ali to contact him to check what I should wear, and whether I could take another friend as I expected I might have a challenge with communication. This was all good, but I then had to find the location. Jeddah does not have a system of building number, street, district and post code, so when I was given the name of the hall and the general area, I had to try and figure it out for myself. The difficulty was then to choose which spelling (using English letters) I should use for the Arabic name of the hall. In the end, I contacted my friend, Turki, who had moved to Oxford, and Faisal, who was in Australia, using Skype. Eventually, with a few phone and Skype calls with Faisal, we got there.

Myself and Alistair

I had invited Alistair along. Alistair is a fellow Glaswegian who I met, along with his wife, through a mutual friend just before moving to Jeddah. They both came to teach at a different school at around the same time that I did. Alistair has had a very different experience of Saudi from me as he has come with his family. He was keen to come along and see how such an event would unfold.

As we walked up to the door, Khalid turned to face me. He took a second glance as I said his name, and he realised that it was me, once again, in my thobe. I shook his hand and then introduced Alistair. He quickly led us to the front of the hall and introduced me to his father and a group of the other men who had been promoted. They were all so kind and welcoming, and did what they could to communicate with me in English as I spluttered out my few English words. He then took me to find a seat and found some of his friends to introduce us to, thankfully, many of whom, spoke English.

Tucking into some hashi

These people, from my understanding, were mostly Bedouin. This means that they descend from the traditionally nomadic families in Saudi Arabia. These people consider themselves much more 'real Saudis', and are generally the people who have positions in the National Guard, Army, Police Force and Coast Guard, as they are deemed to be more loyal to the monarchy here, which also comes from a Bedouin tribe.

These people were incredibly friendly and happy to chat away. In the background was the rhythmic sound of Arabic poetry being recited. This was the primary form of entertainment as particularly conservative Saudis will not generally listen to music, and dancing is also discouraged. I asked on several occasions if the poetry was Q'ranic, or based on the Q'ran, but I was told that this was not a time for the Q'ran, which honestly surprised me as so much of Saudi life is infused with the Q'ran, and the words of the Prophet. The poetry generally focussed on the theme of promotion and success.

We were sat opposite an Imam, which in Sunni Muslim tradition does  not necessarily mean that he is attached to a mosque, but could be a recognised scholar of Islam also. He would regularly ask questions which his friends would translate, trying to give us information about Islam, and sharing with us the respect that Muslims have for followers of Christ, which they rightly assumed I was. It was interesting conversation as the mention of religion is a tricky one here in Saudi, and I would generally not initiate a conversation with a Saudi person I didn't know, about my Faith. These men were very keen however, to share with me about Islam. Yet they did not push it, and were very quick to say that whatever our belief, we are all people, all brothers and sisters, and that that was the most important thing. I was warmed to hear such an attitude in times when this fact seems so easily forgotten.

The plate was HUGE

Eventually food came, and this time it was in the form or 'hashi' (baby camel), still served with kabsa, but we got to sit at the table. There were also some huge plates resting just off the floor, that had entire baby camels on them, surrounded by acres of rice. There was also a large display of desserts that the guys were very keen for us to try. Two, three, four desserts. They just kept handing them to us, full as we were, and insisting that we tried. The most traditional of these was 'Om Ali' - literally translated as 'Ali's Mother'. This dessert is made with nuts, raisins, and coconut, with cream and puff pastry.

After dinner, many of the men left. It is considered rude to leave before eating, however it was interesting to see how some of the men were getting agitated as the serving of the food had become particularly late. Once you have eaten, you are free to leave, and many of the men did, leaving a few of Khalid's friends and some others remaining.

Posing with the swords: Myslef and Alistair with Khalid and his friend

It was interesting speaking to some of the younger guys. They seem to find the social constraints here quite difficult, and were quite open about talking about some of their 'misdemeanours', more so than I would be, for certain. Those who spoke English had generally left the country to study for a while. While they spoke of being quite open, and of a desire to meet girls and go on dates or have a relationship, I still wonder if, when they do eventually get married, if the will simply continue with, and reinforce they same cultural norms that they grew up with. I suppose this isn't uncommon, even in the UK. Many teenagers will have their rebellious years but later will return to the standards and expectations of their parents as they grow up. The interesting thing is that these men were no longer teenagers, but many of them had not had to deal with the responsibilities of adulthood yet, as it is very uncommon to leave home until you marry. How much of our behaviour as adults is simply dictated by our upbringing and cultural norms, and how much is based upon our own thinking and the freedom to choose for ourselves?

Alistair showing us his moves

We remained chatting for a while as we had been offered the opportunity to get to play with some swords. These had been given to Khalid's father and his friends, as gifts to celebrate his promotion, so the guys wanted to wait until the majority of guests had gone before we took them out. They were pretty impressive gifts. Real swords, with beautiful decoration and engraving on them, and presented in display cases.

It was nice to spend the last 20 minutes of our time with these guys, fooling around and posing like warriors. We had once again managed to make some new friends and it was nice to feel so relaxed around them.

Crossing swords

I have really enjoyed and found these events a real eye opener. I have had a fantastic insight into life and family celebrations here. I have discovered a country that, while it has had incredible opportunity due to the discovery of oil, is ferociously holding onto its roots and traditions. I admire this greatly and know that I also feel that Scotland should have a similar attitude. I can understand to some extent, why some aspects of life are policed here. While I don't agree with it, I do understand that when Saudi does open up and become a freer state, many of these traditions and ways of doing things will be lost forever. Weddings and parties may become the way they are in so many other parts of the world, and that would be a tragedy.