Dear Friends and Family,

Reemergence, the process of returning to my walled world in Sakaka, is not easy. However, out of necessity comes skill and skill I have indeed acquired. Take this last reemergence as an example:

My plan was to arrive from Larnana International (Cyprus) to Queen Alia International in Amman (Jordan) at 9:50. Visa, Immigration and bag collection by 10:30. Pre-arranged airport pick-up also at 10:30. Arrive at City Mall around 11. Debenhams, coffee pick-up, Carrefour necessities, ATM and meet co-worker all within 90 minutes. Return to my taxi at 12:30. Stuff shopping into next to my travel bag, have the first taxi drive us to the border taxi service office, obtain a second taxi, cross the border and be in Sakaka (Kingdom of Saudi Arabia) before 9 pm.

While not clock-work precise, the airport went according to plan and I rushed into City Mall, with my sturdy, dedicated shopping bags (that yes, traveled empty with me throughout Cyprus) in one hand and my list (prepared with pleasure + leisure before departing Amman for Cyprus) in the other – my plan of action fixed on my brain.

First, I steamed into a department store and selected a sweater in a quarter of the time that it took to find a cashier and complete the purchase.

Next, I sailed into Starbucks and ran smack into my personal version of 50-foot-waves in rough waters. The man shook his head at me.

“What do you mean?” I nearly literally cried. “What does Starbucks sell if it doesn’t sell coffee???”

The man assured me that Starbucks would no longer be selling whole bean coffee anywhere in Jordan. I protested that there were at least 30 bags of coffee the week previous. The man shook his head. I pointed to a line of French Presses on the wall and asked what customers were supposed to use to make coffee in them. The man shook his head. I asked if he could call another Starbucks store and ask if they had whole bean coffee. The man shook his head. I explained that I was being sentenced to 3 months in the middle of nowhere Saudi Arabia without Starbucks coffee. The man smiled.

Suddenly very dejected yet undeterred from my main goal, I walked to the next store and bought a loaf of olive bread from the best French bakery I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting abroad. Then I high-footed it to the two story, of French origins, grocery and home goods store, Carrefour and immediately set out on my pre-scripted version of a shopping spree. Into a double-decked basket, I tossed:

• Brown sugar (which you can buy in Sakaka but it has the consistency of a brick)
• Whole wheat flour (my friend Bob and his excellent Red Mill have made it to Amman – hooray!)
• Polenta
• Chocolate chips (at “our” grocery stores chocolate chips are only found in Betty Crocker cookie mixes)
• Canned Ocean Spray cranberry sauce (a little taste of Thanksgiving in February) (not that anyone in my family ever buys nor eats tinned cranberries – but when living abroad, one’s food standards can be compromised)
• Stove Top Stuffing (which my family does buy – but we won’t admit to)
• 6 cans of artichokes
• Sea salt (just within the last few months has Carrefour started carrying a lovely brand of Fleur de Sel – so vital to good quality veggie dishes)
• Rusks (a cracker substitute; the ones in KSA have too many artificial ingredients for me to buy)
• Mint chocolate (yes, in candy bar form, to eat when the craving sets upon me)
• A full-sized shovel (I’ve not been able to buy even the most basic gardening implements in Sakaka – although the co-worker who kindly carried the shovel for me assured me that he could find me a shovel if I got off my high horse and just asked)
• Fennel
• Leeks
• Irish cheddar
• Parmesan

Leeks waving from the top of one bag, I greeted my co-worker, whose eyebrows shot to his hairline at the sight of my bags; nonetheless, he kindly helped me carry my goods to the taxi. I climbed into the back seat and immediately imparted my very real pain regarding Starbucks to our driver. In an act of beautiful compassion, our driver picked up his phone and arranged for our second taxi to drive by another Starbucks as we departed Amman. But, in an act of unfeeling contrast, neither did the second Starbucks have coffee at their largest store in Amman. The lady shook her head at me and told me to come back in a week. I forcefully resigned myself to my fate while my co-worker bought himself a cookie – and then one for me too (perhaps to shut me up?) (and no, friends and family, we cannot blame him for that!). And then it was Masalama and good-bye to Amman.

Between Amman and the Jordanian/Saudi border, there is not a lot to see. Desert, police posts, desert, lots of desert, a desert “castle” now called Qasr Kharaneh built in the 8^th century, miles of desert, a few military instillations, the border outpost town of Azraq whose restaurants lure customers with freshly skinned goats hanging from meat hooks, and, of course, more desert. While we drove, a little black cloud appeared over my head and must’ve begun to drop over my face because my co-worker found himself in the position of valiantly trying to cheer me up, “Remember what you like about Sakaka.”

“Not much.” I smiled without sentiment.

“Nothing?” he replied incredulously.

I thought about how to explain. “Yes, I have experienced a few generous, truly humbling moments of hospitality and kindness in Saudi; however, on an every day level I feel less human in Saudi.”

“For example, do you remember when we crossed the border into Jordan? What did the guards do? What did they say?”

He couldn’t remember. So I supplied, “They smiled and said, ‘H’Allah. Welcome to Jordan.’ A Jordanian taxi driver taught me the word – while many Jordanians taught me the sentiment – behind the informal word Arabic word for welcome. Everywhere in Jordan we were greeted with, ‘welcome… welcome…’

Contrast this with the first time I crossed the border into Saudi. The taxi driver rolled down the window so the guard could check me against my passport. The Saudi border guard looked at me, quickly looked away from me and, although the conversation was in Arabic, clearly began to berate our driver about my not wearing a niqab [the black face veil for females]. I looked at the guard, stuck my nose in the air and said distinctly, “Mafi Arabi” [I don’t speak Arabic] – by which I meant, ‘I cannot understand you well enough for you to make me wear the niqab’ – although I clearly understood a little bit. The Saudi guard stopped, frowned at the taxi driver, ignored me, and we continued on into Saudi Arabia.

While in Saudi, I am a woman to be systemically marginalized - and a bad woman at that! Although I obey the law and wear an abaya and although I cover my head in deference to the sensibilities of the people that I live amongst, I will not compromise my own principals to the extent of covering my face. In Sakaka, I am less than every man, undeserving of basic sanitation such as flushing toilets, undeserving of adequate supplies even as I do my best to pave their children’s way into the future.

I feel that I live without respect from the people that I have come to Saudi learn about – I came to Saudi to learn about Saudi Arabia and Islam out of respect - that is my reality in returning to Sakaka.”

And - here's a surprise - that was the end of my co-worker's attempt to cheer me! Although, to be strictly honest, the border crossing that soon followed went relatively smoothly. We were stamped out of Jordan, I donned my abaya and covered my head, we were waved into Saudi Arabia without comment, and we drove the four hours to Sakaka. At my request, we briefly paused at our local corner store for fresh milk and then we were dropped off, in front of our gate, at the compound. My co-worker and our compound driver were then kind to the point of helping me carry my bags to Villa 19. I thanked them.

After I closed the front door on our good nights, I leaned my shoulder blades, rear and the base of my skull against our heavy front door, ran my eyes across a can of artichoke hearts gleaming from the top of a bag to our gas stove, and thought,

“Tomorrow morning I am making Eggs in Purgatory” – as cooking has become my way of remaining emerged, and as sane as possible, in Sakaka.

* * * *

Eggs in Purgatory with Artichoke Hearts, Potatoes and Capers
modified from (I suspect): Bon Appetite

I ripped this recipe from a magazine while on an airplane from Seattle to Riyadh only to later discover that I only kept half the recipe. And yet, it sounded too good not to make so I’ve made it a few times – improvising the end - and find it a pretty darn healthy, fabulous breakfast (or lunch or dinner for that matter). It can be served on its own but I especially like it with crusty bread (and the olive bread from Amman was very good), a small side of tart fruit, and, of course, a savory cup of Starbucks coffee!

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 ½ cups chopped onion

2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme, or 2 teaspoons dried thyme

½ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper

¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional: I welcome extra spice)

Course kosher salt

1 can artichoke hearts, medium dice

1 can sliced artichokes, slivered

3 – 4 cloves garlic, minced

1 28 ounce can of diced tomatoes in juice

2 medium potatoes, skinned and diced into slightly smaller than ½ inch cubes

2 tablespoons capers, rough chopped

A little more course salt + freshly ground pepper – to taste

1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

8 large eggs

Heat the olive oil in a heavy, large skillet over medium heat. Add chopped onion, thyme, and crushed red pepper; lightly sprinkle and sauté until the onion is tender and golden brown, about 10 minutes. Add artichokes and minced garlic; stir 1 minute – do not let the garlic burn! Stir in tomatoes with their juice and bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover skillet and simmer for 15 minutes to allow the flavors to blend.

Add the potatoes. Stir. Then add the capers. Stir until the potatoes are covered with liquid. Resume simmering, on medium heat, regularly stirring so that the tomatoes do not burn and cook until the potatoes are tender and edible. Taste the dish. Add salt and pepper as necessary.

For the finish, you have two choices, I choose based on what pans or dishes I have available:

Finish (A)

Pre-heat the oven to 375. After the potatoes are tender, transfer the purgatory to a large baking dish. Sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese – but do save a tablespoon or so to sprinkle on top of the eggs. Using a spoon, make 8 little holes (or fewer if your dish is too small for 8). Crack the eggs into the holes, sprinkle with that little bit of remaining parmesan. Place the eggs in the oven and change the oven setting to broil. Bake until the eggs are just done.

Finish (B)

After the potatoes are tender, remove from the heat and sprinkle with the parmesan cheese – but do save a tablespoon or so to sprinkle on top of the eggs. Using a spoon, make 8 little holes (or fewer if your pan is too small for 8). Crack the eggs into the holes, sprinkle with that little bit of remaining Parmesan. Cover the pan and cook the eggs over medium-low heat until the eggs are just done.

Purgatory is a very warm place – so serve while warm!

* * * *

With lots of love,

Laura

City Mall in Amman: a place that isn't especially exotic

but is lovely to spend a few hours shopping in.

The desert between Amman, Jordan and the Saudi Border crossing. It is, I think, worth seeing once but again, not much to see.

A railroad crossing in Saudi Arabia. I love the painted tires!

Our compound, wreathed in morning fog.

One good reason to be back in Sakaka: to borrow and hug one of our compound cats! (Admittedly, I especially love hugging this one who answers to the name Oliver.)