Extremes

Yesterday, Saudi Arabia was the hottest place on the planet, literally. We reached 117 degrees.  Today, I proctored an exam in a room that felt like a walk in freezer.  Students fingers and lips were turning blue, so half way through, we had everyone stand up and do jumping jacks just to help them warm up.  Frustratingly, there are windows we could have opened to let in some warm air since we have no control over the air conditioning, but it was haram (not allowed, sinful) to open the windows. You see, the windows looked out over the men's side of the campus, and a man might have been able to look up two stories into the window and see one of the girls without her abaya or head covering.  Not that any of them weren't covered, it was so cold everyone was bundled up tight.  But the possibility alone means it's not possible.  So the girls struggled through three hours of arctic temperatures, as if struggling through a 30 page statistics exam wasn't enough. Finally, at noon, they were released to freedom.  We teachers, however, were left behind for no discernible reason other than someone somewhere up the chain of command decided to stick it to us.

Since all other personnel, cleaners, admin, every other department, and all the students can leave after the exams end at noon, they have been cutting off our air conditioning at noon as well.  Apparently maintenance didn't get the memo that the English teachers need to stick around for another four hours and do nothing.  I don't mind though. For me, it is sweet relief.  Usually, when we get to school, everyone disrobes and takes off the abaya and hijab while we are inside the University.  I, on the other hand, not only leave everything on, but add layers.  I throw on a pair of long underwear under my skirt and a hoodie under my abaya just to stay warm.  I even got in trouble for it one day when I happened to pass the boss in the hall on my way to a computer lab with some students.  She asked me why I still had my abaya and hijab on, and I explained that I was cold.  She told me to bring a sweater.  I explained that I had one on, but was still cold, and since it was a hoodie, and not very professional looking, I was sure she would prefer me to wear the abaya over it.  She told me to buy a nicer sweater, and before I could stop myself I told her I would love to, but since they haven't bothered to pay me yet, I didn't have any money to spend on a sweater.  She did not say anything, but turned around and walked the other way.

No air conditioning means that I can take off my sweater and abaya and actually feel comfortable in the office. Not only that, It's a great self-esteem booster because I've gotten several comments from teachers and co-workers who are seeing me abaya free, many for the first time.   "Oh, I had no idea you had such lovely long brown hair!"  "Wow, is that a new skirt?" (One of the only two I own and wear everyday)  "I've never seen you wear anything but black, that yellow shirt looks great!" "You look like you have lost a ton of weight." (yeah, about 5 pounds of clothing).  But today, for the first time, by 3pm,  it was too hot even for me.  Usually I go outside to warm up.  Today, I went outside to cool down.  I sat in the shade in 117 degree weather because at least there was a slight breeze which made it feel cooler than inside our office.  I'm starting to get used to such extreme swings, not only in temperature, but in every aspect of my life here.

This is a country built around extremes;  the heat of the desert and the artificial cold of  modern buildings,  the insistence on carefully followed rules and precision in official exams and the make it up as you go attitude toward the curriculum the rest of the year, the complete physical isolation of the sexes and the frantic mixing of couples in cyberspace,  the apparent wealth of Saudi oil and the royal family and the women and children going from car to car in traffic begging for money, the careful and elaborately public displays of religion, humility, and piety and the private displays of ostentatious wealth and excessive waste,  the pull of tradition and the push of development and the modern world.   It's a country that seems to be at once comfortable with, and tearing itself apart over,  it's own contradictions.

I believe there is a place in the middle of all these extremes for the country to become the place it imagines itself to be .  There is a chance for change and growth in this country.  But true to form, I think it's going to happen both through slow and gradual efforts, and in a sudden explosion of profound change.