My First Encounter
It was seven am; the alarm woke me yawning while I stood up almost losing the balance. Impatiently, I dressed up after an inevitable scorching bathe. My hunger brought me to the kitchen beyond my room where the table has been set with a bunch of meal that might have been prepared for me for dinner. Looking awkward to the mixture of yellowish rice and cuts of chicken, which they call the ‘biryani’ and a side dish of leafy vegetables with slices of onions and lemon adding the drama, caused me to lose my appetite. I rushed to the pantry to prepare a cup of coffee; its aroma had been enough for me to calm the boiling stomach.
I was directed to the main access across the kitchen and traversed immediately passing along the yard where excess construction materials were shelved methodically depending on importance and the others were scattered within the boundary blocking the way to the office. The sun was radiating unselfishly causing a warmer atmosphere than it was last night so I dashed a distant away and in haste to punch my time card. Fronting the reception is Arnel who was busy with phone calls and office works. “Good morning kabayan!” replying him back in the same manner as he inserted his concise greeting. Simultaneously, while wandering in a small office suited for the business, a shouting dispute echoing at the room next to Arnel captured my attention. “Boss is inside! You will meet him afterwards”, he continued after his phone conversation in a simple-carabao english as if he is cautioning a kindergarten what has to be done.
To establish an acquaintance, Arnel being used with the circumstance figured out an incomparably boring place like Abqaiq – the home to one of the most conservative cultures on the planet where the second largest oil and gas plant in the world can be found. His fairly earned sincere testimony was terribly disappointing for enthusiasts. Few minutes later, two irritated men who went out from the room approached me with misery after the reprimand. “Hi, I am Faiz, the project manager” told the one confidently who resembled fresh from sleep. “Gauz will be your driver for the time being” he continued referring to the other Indian in distinctive unwashed clothing with dried grease spots accentuating his get-up.
Faiz courteously appealed for a lecture and summarized the ABCs beneficial to a neophyte like me as he displayed the breakdown of my undertakings. During the argument, a Saudi national feeling smart and gorgeous (but absurd to me) in his ankle-length colorless vestment with sleeves like a clergy, just enough to fit his masculinity, head dressed with red and white checkered piece of rectangular cloth folded to form a triangle stiffened on top by a black snake-like wreath came out from the room and moved in the direction where Faiz and I were seated.
Salah, seriously in a frowned countenance that made me more apprehensive relayed his message through Faiz who can speak both English and Arabic quite fluently. He gave me a copy of my passport stamped with his signature enough to prove that I am employed in his company. Together, he handed me an advance pay while an impulsive call as it was before the dawn break interrupted the informal talk.
After a while, everybody left the office except me and Arnel who was also about to leave. “Join me for lunch sir” is Arnel’s cordial invitation while I remained mesmerizing my ignorance. “You will get used to their music playing five times a day as a cue for their prayers” he added ridiculously while looking at the people rushing towards the mosque across the office.
Though Arnel belittled his apologetic and humble preparation, I guzzled to his offer of left-over fried rice and micro waved ‘chicken adobo’ outnumbered with countless slices of potatoes enough to augment my skipped meals. After which Arnel while sharing his often described as regrettable encounters accompanied me to the nearby ‘baqalla’; the incessant odor emanating from filthy shoppers inside the mini-supermarket (except me) had been so uncomfortable causing us to rush out after purchasing my needful. The undesirable incident brought me to come across a ‘mullah’; a Muslim learned in Islamic law and theology. “How are you kabayan?” he uttered in our language as Arnel dragged me away from him, knowing the smiling Filipino very well and murmured “Get rid of Salem otherwise you will be in trouble”. No further interrogations as I became aware of our pre-departure seminar picturing Muslims like Salem communally known as ‘muttawah’ are police assets. Later then after the hassles, Arnel and I parted ways to engage in our own work obligations.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into a month – still a long wait for the calendar to finish the pages for a two-year contract, I have tried to adjust in all the aspects in an abrupt interval but the strenuous work-home routines always trigger my homesickness. To overcome the incident, it became a part of the stereotype activity to play ‘tong-its’ in my room as our favorite hang-out, with a bottle of ‘sadiqi’ or a preserved mixture of water and yeast fermented to become an alcoholic drink that could possibly invite the sleep. Before the session, we used to fetch ‘sadiqi’ from the neighboring camp hidden in a small bottle of mineral water since liquor or any of its form in Saudi is prohibited. As usual, the ever-disappointed Ras being aggravated by his so-called parasites who often call him for another remittance turned his misfortune to shuffle the cards more often as a result of his bad luck.
One Thursday evening, while we were amused by our stories, drunk but still conscious as we have gone ludicrous laughing at our stupid jokes, somebody knocked at the door expecting it would be Gauz whom I sent for an errand to buy us a grilled chicken for our ‘pulutan’. The door was unlocked and to our surprise Salem is observing the scenario with cards and ‘sadiqi’ in our hands prepared for the toast…
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Abangan ang susunod na Kabanata...
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