JEDDAH 1954 -1956
We arrived in Beirut, where our heavy luggage was held in transit. There were many forbidden imports to Saudi Arabia contained in our trunks, dolls and teddies for example, or anything that could be taken for a “graven image.” We were anxious about Christopher, as he was at a very amusing stage: perhaps the Saudis might think he was a caricature? All alcohol was strictly forbidden, which was a pity as we had a large collection of miniature bottles packed in our trunks. We were not permitted to take a bible or any religious artefact.
Jeddah was the main port of Saudi Arabia, situated on the Red Sea. It was the gateway for all pilgrims on their way to Mecca, which was some 80 miles inland. Mecca is a Holy City and it is the hope of every true Muslim that he or she will kiss the black stone at the Kabbah and perform the rite of the Haj (pilgrimage) at least once in their lives. As keepers of the Holy Shrines, the Saudis feel that strict adherence to the Koran is essential.
We left the children with friends and set off to unpack all our forbidden bottles, bibles and bears in the customs shed.
As we would be charged duty on our miniatures if we took them into Beirut, we decided to have a party on the spot. We did not have any mixers for our drinks so there were a few very jolly Lebanese customs men by the time we had finished!
Before we left for Jeddah we had to try to think of ways to smuggle in at least “Favourite Dolly” and one bear, if not the huge “Teddy Ah”. I must say the thought of not having some of their favourite toys was a bit distressing. I searched the shops in sophisticated Beirut for patterns to sew dolls and things, as a last resort. In the end I unpicked the lining of the sleeves in our jackets and pushed a doll in one and a teddy in the other. We practised walking nonchalantly with our jackets carelessly thrown over our shoulders. We did not tell the children, as we were convinced that they would be bound to give the game away. Actually, when we arrived in Jeddah Airport no one took any notice of our luggage. I think they were all so fascinated by our two very blonde children that they forgot to look in our cases. This was more annoying than if they had searched them, as I kept thinking of all the things I might have smuggled in.
John King, who my John was to relieve again, and Dave Morgan, the assistant accountant, met us at the airport. As it was early February the temperature was quite pleasant. The airport was not bustling or noisy - in fact we were nearly the only passengers getting off there, which might have warned us!
We were taken by taxi to our new home in a modern block of flats on the waterfront. There were four rooms, plus a kitchen and bathroom. There was a small veranda off one of the rooms so I decided to make that over to the children. The ceilings were very low so that the wall-mounted air- conditioners could cool the rooms more economically than the high-ceilinged traditional houses in which the local people lived. As in Aleppo, we had no space for the children to run. In fact we were worse off, as there was not even a park nearby.
Unpacking looked as if it would be a major problem, as we had no cupboards of any kind. There were two chests of drawers, a sideboard, a bookcase, one small wardrobe and some shelving in the kitchen. This was our total storage space and we were not to have any more furniture it seemed, as the manager, a bachelor, did not want to waste money on such luxuries! We put our packing cases on the kitchen veranda and made ourselves some shelving out of the lids. Actually we did not require any storage space for some months, as our heavy luggage was to take a very long time to clear customs. We understood that our books were the main problem, as each and every one had to be inspected, and it took many visits to clear it in the end.
The Bank was in a very old building a short distance from the flat, so John could walk to work. Lawrence of Arabia had used it as his headquarters when he had distributed largesse during the 1914-18 war. The walls were thick with high chundle and barasti ceilings similar to those in our house in Isfahan. It was too high to be suitable for air-conditioning, but ceiling fans slowly disturbed the air. If the speed was increased the draught tended to blow papers about and to redistribute the dust. Periodically huge cockroaches would fall from the ceiling on to the desks below. There was no counter in this bank, as the work was done at desks, and the counting of the money, which was all coin at that time, was done by a cashier, who sat on the floor beside large wooden trays that held rows of piles of ten coins. There were, of course, no computers in those days. All records were kept by hand in huge ledgers written mostly by clerks from Aden, in their old-fashioned copperplate writing learned from the British. At that time there were very few Saudi clerks, as their standard of education was insufficient.
The doors to the bank were about twelve feet high and made of solid wood, quite decoratively carved, with huge wooden bars to slide across on the inside to secure them at night and during the Haj or Pilgrim season. At the rear of the building were storerooms and the strong room, where the bags of rial coins were kept, behind some rather rickety bars locked with a padlock and chain. These bags, each containing 1,000 rials, were very heavy, and they periodically caused the floor of the strong room to sink slowly into the cesspit below! When this happened more concrete was poured on to the floor to make it level again. The rial and fil coins were the only currency of Saudi Arabia at that time. I remember being told by the Manager that if I could carry off a bag, I could have it. Sadly, as 1,000 rials was not to be sniffed at, I could not even lift it.
When cash was transferred to the National Bank, a donkey cart was used. This was considered quite safe as the poor little donkey could hardly drag the load along, let alone run off with it.
It was found that the price of silver had risen in Mexico, where the coins were minted. Old coins would be shipped to Mexico, melted down and re-minted into rials at a ten per cent profit. It was then deemed more economical to produce paper money.
One day the Chief Cashier of the National Bank changed the number of the combination lock of their posh strong room door. Then they tried shooting the bolts with the door open. Unfortunately he had made a mistake in setting the combination and could not unlock it. It so happened that John had had some experience with this problem in Bahrain, and was asked if he would try to repair the damage, as the National Bank’s safe was now locked open. He set out to try his luck with the aid of a doctor’s stethoscope. Eventually he disassembled the tumblers of the locks and reset them. He could claim to be chief safe-cracker to King Ibn Saud, as it seemed that no-one else in Jedda had seen a combination safe before.
When, during the Haj, Persian women came into the Bank to change their money, John sent for me to come and help him. I found him surrounded by women dressed in their chadors clamouring for their money. The problem was they were supposed to be identified by their passport photographs and, as they could not write their names, they had to “sign” with a fingerprint. As a male, John was not permitted to touch these women, and they were having difficulty in selecting which finger they wished to put on the inkpad. My job was to decide for them and get the job done more quickly. I had to laugh as John looked at the pictures in the passports of one eye peering out of a chador, then he looked at the woman in question and noted that the eye probably looked the same but the chador was different. I then took a hand and firmly pressed a thumb on to the inkpad and then on to the document. The lady was then given her money and off she went. We sat there and did this all day and it was a great relief when the last chador swished out of the back door.
That year the Turks did not come on the Haj, as the Turkish Government was short of foreign exchange. Rumour had it that the Hajis got on the boat and then were told that they could consider themselves Hajis, as the fact that they had started on the journey to Mecca was just as good as actually getting there, so now they could go home. The following year we were still in Jeddah and the Turks came by the boatload, and were either very old or very noisy and belligerent. It seemed that they were convinced that the money would run out, so they besieged the Bank. John arranged for a chain to be put on the door to prevent it from opening too wide. A few Turks were allowed to get in, then the clerks put their shoulders to the door, kicking back the arms and legs struggling to squeeze in, then pushing home the wooden bar. Those inside were then dealt with as fast as possible and sent out of the back door before they wrecked the place or dropped dead. There was a huge notice on the door, in Turkish, saying there was plenty of money and begging them to be patient. Poor John - that turned out to be a very long day.
At first I would visit John with the children every day, as there were very few places for me to go. Walking in the street was quite nerve-racking as there were very few European women or children in Jeddah, and we were considered oddities to be stared at. In the case of Patricia, her blonde hair and blue eyes inspired people to touch her hair or pinch her cheeks. She would get very angry and would protest loudly, but it was difficult to protect her. The local women wore long black garments covering them from head to toe, with a lace insert across the eyes to enable them to see. I was surprised at the way they appeared to recognise each other, as they all looked the same to me.
As a woman, I was not permitted to go in a taxi on my own, as all women had to be escorted by a male. We had a Yemeni male servant called Saif, who had been trained in Aden so spoke reasonable English, and he would escort me on shopping trips. This was just as well as no shopkeepers spoke English, and such Arabic as I had learned in Aleppo was of little use. I learned that there is no universal Arabic, as each country had its own dialects. The Newspaper Arabic that John had learned was not the spoken Arabic of the people, and a slight nuance could alter the meaning totally. The shops were, at first, of the “hole in the wall” variety, but the choice of goods was much wider than in Isfahan. There were tins from all over the world and cereal packets from America. I remember some packets of Corn Pops with chips of Marshmallow in them. They contained little plastic toys, which were joyfully received by the children. I suspect that they were very old and stale by the time we bought them. Certainly the Corn Flakes tasted very stale and were not improved by the powdered milk we had to use. However, there was one Cold Store where I could buy meat and sometimes-fresh vegetables if I got there on the right day.
We suspected that the meat had arrived in Jeddah on the hoof from a long way away, as it was invariably tough. The best meat was imported from the Lebanon and we bought it by the inch as it was frozen lengths of fillet steak. I used this meat for everything as it was, at least, edible. Pork was, of course, a forbidden commodity, but some manufacturers, or perhaps importers, would get round this, for example by inking out any mention of pork on the label of a tin of baked beans and sausages. I used to ask for black marked tins and feel very smug that we were eating forbidden pork sausages, which somehow tasted all the better. By the time we left, nearly two years later, there were a few glass-fronted shops and several supermarkets had been built.
There were no automatic telephones, as it was feared that men would talk to other men’s women. The telephone system worked by calling the exchange on an archaic machine with a handle, rather like an old coffee grinder, which rang a bell in the exchange. If and when the exchange responded you asked to be connected to the number required. The operator listened to your conversation and if he did not approve of your call or could not understand what was being said, you were disconnected. If one tried to make a call at prayer time, one found the exchange was not manned. We did not have a telephone, as there was little point.
Keeping myself, and the children occupied was a time- consuming business in itself. I spent a lot of time brewing wine and beer, which, of course was forbidden. The children would help me weigh out the rice and raisins and count the grains of yeast, then carefully measure the correct amount of water. I remember trying to make sherry with tinned grape juice, honey and icing sugar, in a pail with some yeast spread on a piece of bread floating on the top. This was not a success, as it tasted much like vinegar when I had finished. I bottled it, but told Saif to pour it down the drain. He misunderstood me and stored it high on a shelf in the kitchen. We discovered it months later and found it to be a passable sherry, or perhaps our palates had, by then, become blunted.
Saif used to “moonlight” by running the local “off licence”. He took us to see his shop once and it was stocked to the roof with a variety of eau de colognes. It seemed the locals would drink these “nice smells” in lieu of real alcohol.
We had not been in Jeddah long before we decided that we really could not do without a car. As we had just returned from leave we were not flush with cash, so John took out a loan and bought a Volkswagen Beetle. This enabled us to get out of town whenever John was not working in the late afternoon, and on Fridays (his day off). Women were not permitted to drive in Saudi Arabia, possibly because there was no knowing where they might go.
After a period of time Saif thought he would like to learn to drive so that he could drive me to various coffee mornings and tea parties. There were no formal driving schools in Saudi Arabia. Men learned to steer, more or less, and then just drove. The rule of the road was supposed to be to keep right, but I think the one that really prevailed was “after me,” especially if one was a sheikh or a member of the Royal Families. We tried to teach Saif the rudiments of safe driving, but unfortunately he did have an accident and was put into jail.
We went to visit him and tried to give him a good character reference. It was very interesting to see the inside of a Saudi prison. We were given the VIP treatment, especially as I was there, because women did not usually appear in such places. We were ushered into the Commandant’s office and given tea and treated very courteously. After a short wait Saif was brought in and we asked if he needed anything. I think there was some question of a fine, which we paid, and Saif said he would work it off. He was soon back at work.
On Fridays most of the European community would drive some thirty miles down the coast to the creek, where there was a good beach, shallow water for the children, and a coral reef that dropped down to a great depth. At midday, when the sun was overhead, really large fish could be seen sluggishly milling about some 200 feet below. Floating on the surface, wearing mask and snorkel, made us feel quite dizzy, as if we were leaning over a precipice: the feeling that if we did not hold on we would fall was very strong.
It was fascinating to watch fish of every colour, darting in and out of the coral. Amazingly they did not appear to be in the least concerned that we were there, as they nibbled their way in and out of the coral trees and gently wafting seaweed. The cuttlefish darted away and squirted ink when disturbed. The children loved to collect hermit crabs and build sandcastles for them, or secrete the poor things in the car ready to take home. On one occasion they succeeded. During the night, the crabs escaped from the bucket and crawled all over the flat, hiding under beds and behind chairs where they died and, in due course, starting to smell.
One of the Dutch Bank bachelors caught a fish and gave it to Patricia, who brought it home. She was caught tucking it up in her bed. When John suggested that perhaps we might cook it for the cat, which Christopher had been given some time before, the idea met with very stiff opposition as “Fishy” was declared the love of Patricia’s life. Eventually we managed to persuade her that really it would prefer to be wrapped in silver paper and live in the fridge, where it remained for many days, being paid regular visits.
There was no shade at the beach, apart from that under the three-foot high cliff where the desert met the beach, so we found a tarpaulin in the souk and took it along with us, tied on the top of the car. When we arrived we laid it out on the ground, above the cliff edge, and then parked the cars so the front wheels anchored it. Next the spare wheels were attached to the guy ropes on poles at the front, as the sand was too soft to hold pegs. This gave us an area of about 250 square ft. of shade. This was much appreciated as the sun was very hot and the sun creams of those days did not really protect us.
On one occasion we were returning from the beach when suddenly a swarm of locusts appeared. They looked like huge grasshoppers, about four or five inches long. We hastily wound up the windows of the car, but not before one or two had got in, much to the horror of the children. They landed on the car and the desert all round us was heaving with them. John wondered if our windscreen wipers would work and move enough of them to enable him to see to move on. We had not required the wipers before, as we had not seen rain for many months. With a mighty effort the wipers managed to clear a space to enable John to catch a glimpse of the track before more locusts landed and they had to clear the space all over again. They were thinning out by the time we reached the road, and we were able to get up some speed and blow the remaining locusts off and then open the windows again. Whew, it was hot with them closed.
There was a period of about four and a half months when the water to the town was cut off completely. This was when King Ibn Saud had built his new Palace in Jeddah, and had ordered a rose garden. Roses need water, so the entire supply for the town was diverted. Our daily supply was brought by donkey cart, carried up the stairs and stored in the bath, using all our saucepans, jugs and any other containers we could find. I filled the toilet cistern and flushed once and then filled it cistern again. There had to be a large jug set aside to clean the bath in preparation for the next day’s supply. We all had to bath in the same water, cleanest first. I managed to get some salt- water soap from the ships so we were able to bathe in the sea, though this necessitated a 30-mile drive down the coast.
Laundry was a problem, especially as Christopher was still in nappies and this was long before the days of disposable ones. Fortunately, as it was so hot, the children and I lived in bathing suits most of the time, so I had only John’s shirts and undies to cope with and such clothes as we wore when in public. One of my main difficulties was getting clothes dry. The climate was so humid I found I had to iron Christopher’s towelling nappies dry and check they did not steam by holding them against the mirror.
Friday was the day convicted thieves had their hands cut off and murderers lost their heads. This was done as a public spectacle in the square outside our flat; the hands and heads would be hung on posts along the roadside, so we had to distract the attention of the children as we drove past on our way home. Usually, I would drop some sweets on the floor of the car and ask them to pick them up.
One Friday we came home from the beach to be greeted by a stream of water running down the stairs. Opening the flat door sent a wave rippling down the hall and into all the rooms. The carpets were afloat, as there was about three inches of water all over the floor. We were in a panic as a new boutique had just opened downstairs and I was convinced that the water was cascading all over the racks of very expensive frocks.
The water had stopped running but it was evident that the water supply had come on while we were out, and a tap in the basin had been left turned on. A face flannel had blocked the plughole, with the result that the water had overflowed on to the bathroom floor. The drain in the floor was at the highest point, so the water had flowed into the flat.
I tried to sweep the water out with a broom, but it made little impression. In the end John and I took a side of a carpet each and scooped the water through the door and down the stairs. Eventually we drove it all out and then tried to peer into the boutique to see what damage there was. We could not see any and were very pleased and relieved to learn the next day no harm had been done whatsoever.
We hung the carpets over the veranda, where they dripped on people walking below. I think we probably had the cleanest floors in Jeddah, and spent the most humid night. We regretted the waste of water as we could have put it to good use had we been at home.
To help entertain the children and keep them cool, we had built a sand pit and paddling pool on the small veranda off their room. One morning they were playing out there and I was ironing when Patricia called for me to go and see what Christopher had done. I said I would come when I had finished Daddy’s shirt. I put the ironing board away and went to admire, as I thought, Christopher’s sand castle. Imagine my horror when I saw Patricia leaning over the balcony holding onto her brother’s feet while he hung upside down over the path below. I think I nearly died when I remembered I had insisted on finishing the ironing. We put up fly screens to keep the children in and the flies out after that.
On another occasion I put the children to play for a while on our flat roof. There was a three-foot wall round it and nothing to climb on, so I thought they were quite safe. I was busy in the house when an Arab woman came to the door and kept pointing upstairs. I did not understand what she wanted but thought I should go up and see. As I walked out onto the roof, there was my son and heir walking along the wall on the far side of the patio, with the wobbly gait of a 16-month baby.
I was petrified. How I managed to walk calmly across the 15 yards to get to him I’ll never know. I remember I whistled a tune and took huge strides. When I got to him I opened my arms wide, conscious of the danger of knocking him off the wall, or causing him to overbalance and fall the 40 ft. to the ground. When I grabbed him my legs gave way and, much to his amazement, I burst into tears.
Not long afterwards, the town’s electricity supply gave up trying to cope with the influx of air conditioners and went off during the day. In the evenings, we put the children into the back of the car and drove round with the windows open, keeping cool until about 11 pm when the electricity came on and we could switch on the air conditioners. In retrospect, I was kept so busy trying to cope with problems of ordinary living that I suppose I didn’t have time to miss the luxuries of life.
The staff of the British Embassy were a great source of help and entertainment. They had a motor launch, and we were lucky enough often to be invited out on it for picnics. Usually we went out to Baatchy Island, a real desert island in the Red Sea. There were some wonderful shells to be found, some of which were really large. The north side was covered in round flat nacre or mother-of-pearl shells, often used to make expensive lampshades. The water was so cool and clear it was a treat to swim in it and the children enjoyed playing with the bachelors, who were so good with them.
Once a week the Embassy showed British films on their roof. The whole English-speaking community was invited and sat in rows with their legs in pillow cases and with arms, legs and necks smothered in Vick vapour rub to ward off the mosquitoes. Usually the films were old and scratched and kept breaking down, but they were greatly enjoyed by everyone.
One evening we were invited to dinner with the British Ambassador and left Saif baby-sitting. Half way through the soup a message came that Patricia was screaming and would one of us go home quickly. John got home to find Patricia very upset as she had managed to pull the head off her doll and the rubber chip stuffing was pouring out. In fact she was “bleeding” to death. John managed to get most of the stuffing back into the doll and Patricia settled down. He returned to the dinner table just in time for coffee.