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New year dawns as I lay here in my bed trying not to cry from memories of my past.

I watch the array of fireworks from my window. The different patterns of the bright colors and the loud sharp sounds.
I can’t help but glance at the clock and wonder how many others are spending the holiday in tears and pain.

I spent many a year dreading New Year;the song Auld Lang Syne breaking  my heart and thinking of ‘would I ever see my friends or family again?’ However like a moth drawn to a flame, I would be drawn to watching the world celebrations on TV, putting myself though’ the endless pain of my situation.

I thought I’d never see my family and friends again, yet here I lay 11 years later feeling the old pain well up, trying  to ignore the tightness in my chest. A part of me wants to enjoy the festivities, feel the cold air against my skin; feel the gooseb umps, as the fireworks explode but my chest is in kahoots with my brain. Some feelings and experiences are hard to shake no matter how long it’s been.

Finally silence decends on the night sky, the darkness slowly creeps in and my mind quietens down again. It’s over now for another year. Whilst I am no longer alone and I’m blessed with love of family and friends, those years back in Saudi will always leave their mark. Even for a few minutes the pain will rear it’s ugly head, but in true Scouser fashion I suck it up, paint a smile on my face and begin the New Year a fresh- with goals and dreams that may be elusive and out of  my reach at the moment, but I will catch up one day and until then – I wish everyone a Happy New Year!

(Sole Copy write of Tracey Walker not to be reproduced in any form without my permission 1990)

Hopes & Expectations

Through the ten years of my struggle to-escape Saudi Arabia, there was always the hope and expectations of being home again with my family and friends. The thought of freedom being so close, to no longer being scared of what the next day or the next hour would bring. Everyday was like being a coiled spring; waiting to expand at a moments notice, to what ever fate would befall us. The sound of the telephone ringing or a knock on the door, or being stalked if we went outdoors, our lives were never our own.

But oh the hopes and expectations of how once we were free, how our lives would be!

I was English; I could do this! I was a Scouser born and bred; I could do this, but things were not as I expected. I had spent 21 years in Saudi, 21 years that had shaped and moulded me to the woman I now was.

I was home, finally with my two amazing children. We had survived, WE DID IT!

However the difference of the two cultures would cause me to struggle. I’d left the UK as a young blossoming bride – ready to take on the world with my beloved new husband and my beautiful baby son, only to return 21 years heartbroken, battle scarred with the weight of the world on my shoulders; from dealing with the immense daily fears of losing my children – being mentally and physically abused on a regular basis- to surviving through a war, and threat of chemical attack, to my son being Kidnapped, and us both being held at gun point fearing for our lives .

Had that really been my life?

I no longer knew how to function in this new land – I no longer knew the laws or what it entailed to be a grown up and what responsibilities I had. We had no home to go to and no money, but I was blessed my Sister agreed to put us up until we were sorted.

Where on earth do you begin when you have nothing, your a stranger in your own country, but everyone sees you as an English girl ? Why didn’t I know how to open a bank account or rent a home- why didn’t I know how to enroll my child into school ? I was English I should know this.

Everything was so alien it was like being a refugee in your own country. There were no organisations to help you transition into this new life, it was like stumbling in the dark, constantly tripping over boulders.

My first priority was to get a roof over our heads and money to live. I found a beautiful little three bed home in a quaint English village, full of greenery and so peaceful. Thankfully we were entitled to housing and the landlord thought as we were from Saudi we were loaded so agreed to rent us the property, we didn’t feel the need to inform them we were unemployed. Long as I paid rent on time they didn’t need to know. We had very few belongings and slept on the floor for the first few months. We had no transport, no Tv and walked everywhere. Most days were spent borrowing books from the local library. One day we rented a book of traditional English Surnames, as we knew we had to change our identities. To what tho? It had to be something that couldn’t lead back to our original identity. Suddenly there we saw it ‘Walker’ how funny we were so poor and walked everywhere, we decided to adopt the name Walker! It was hard on Faris to lose his fathers connection, however Janaha was still young and wanted to change her name completely and call her self Rosamond, as we all laughed at the absurdity of the situation the family now became The Walker family and with a roof over our heads – slowly things were to start taking shape.

Next step, I had to find work! Surely it would be easy, I had a wealth of experience; from private tuition to some very influential families, running a School for Expat kids, working for The Times of London-and The Washington Post and proof reading for some international charities. However work eluded me, I didn’t have the English Certification, I had amazing references and work experience, but I would have to start from scratch if I wanted to work. I soon began an apprenticeship in Business & Administration, which was funny as all the other trainees were so young and here was I in my forties, attending college with youngsters. Thankfully I settled in well with them all and worked towards my first step of getting a job!

However once that was achieved would I be able to handle the next bolder put in my life? I realised that my hopes and expectations were totally different from what I had hoped. I now had to gear myself up to deal with this next chapter in our journey home.

Thalia Boys & Girls

Thalia Street, Jeddah Saudi Arabia,grew from a few little stores when I arrive in the 90’s. There was a Stationery store where I bought my many supplies of stickers, pens, pads, to write to my numerous pen-pals and friends around the world, such simpler times before the Introduction of Internet in Arabia. I remember the lone music store – Stallions- where women couldn’t enter, and had to purchase through a little window, so they wouldn’t mix with the men inside – This would be considered sinful, all the popular Arab and western music – men and women mixing together- surely would corrupt us to do forbidden haram actions. Men would drive by slowly, tossing pieces of paper with their cell numbers on to the pavements on the hope a girl passing by would pick one up and call them, and spend many a scandalous hour talking to them.

Forward on to the year 2000; Thalia Street became one of the most popular streetS for the youth to show off their cars, a chance flirtation with a girl in the many international designer stores. You would see many super cars cruising down the street with western music or modern Arabian tunes blaring out of their windows. Seeing a Lamborghini, Bentley, Ferrari was not uncommon.

One evening sitting at home, I was bored- I jumped up and shouted to Faris – I want to be a Thalia girl – lets go!!! Faris was use to my sudden mad cap ideas, but he was bewildered for a moment, until I explained I wanted to take our Monster truck down Thalia Street. The truck was a birthday gift for Faris- it was a GMC Sierre and built the same year as Faris was born. It was to be his project truck to restore. We bought it from a Saudi politician who had a collection of cars, and had it imported from the states and the only one of its kind in Jeddah. It needed special permission to be allowed on the roads and its tyres imported from Dubai.

Up we jumped into the truck and off we went on our mini adventure. To see a monster truck was one thing but a western woman uncovered inside another. People would stare and point as first they would hear the mighty roar of the engine then see this Monster truck that even made Faris who was 6ft 5 seem small.

We stopped at the traffic lights, which made me smile; the traffic lights had a countdown timer till the lights changed ( who thought this idea up was crazy- a city full of petrol heads in some of the worlds fastest cars.)

Suddenly a Porsche pulled up next to us, with two Saudi teenage boys in it,they looked at us and revved their engines and laughed, so we revved ours back. Monster trucks have powerful engines but no speed, but these boys didn’t realise that. So began a motor revving competition and me laughing with glee. As the seconds counted down our revs getting longer and louder the lights changed to red and off the Porsche sped, whilst we stat still laughing and shaking our heads.

As we made our way home we approached a police check point- these would spring up On popular road to catch the Shabab ( Saudi youth) up to no good. They would stop random cars and decided to stop ours – as they shouted up for Faris papers and to get out the truck, I peaked my head out of the window to the Policeman’s surprised, he then shouted in Arabic to his Captain- they never expected and uncovered western woman in the car, and knew if I was to climb out a truck that high would attract other mens attention, so they told Faris to go- it had been a funny night and one of our many tales with our monster truck

Balad

I so miss the Sounds of Balad in Jeddah the mix of different languages – the small children laughing and playing – and the coaxing calls from the vendors trying to get you to buy their wares.

Whilst being covered in head to toe, the heat never affected you in the evening, but the smells- ah the smells of incense or spices climbing slowly into your nostrils until they explode with the full force of natural product, that had been sold for hundreds of years with the same affect on those that walked the streets before us.

Ramblings of a Scouser

When I look back on my

Life I’ve done some totally random things – if I was told when I was younger what a mad cap life I would be living I would of laughed – after all I’m just an ordinary girl from Liverpool.

The Internet has changed the landscape for a lot of people you meet, people that you normally wouldn’t meet and that alone can lead to mini adventures.

One such adventure was meeting Paul who use to belong to the Bloods in America – The Bloods are a notorious gang usually known as deadly enemies to the Crips in America- Paul had served time and was trying to turn his life around away from the gangs. He had a love for music and was quite talented making and writing songs. One day he asked me to do a voice over on one of his songs – still cracks me up to this day, to think this English middle aged woman has her voice on a song that is played in the States.

Shame it didn’t make me famous!

Its eye opening to see the different paths people take in life – people can have the same upbringing in same areas, yet their lives take on different paths. I know myself included, if I hadn’t of met Abdul who knows where my life would of led?

I’m still trying to work out what my journey was for – was it so I could help others? That I certainly want to do especially while I see injustices being done to women and children. Change is coming to the Kingdom, and whilst change is good it grinds slowly.

I hope I will achieve my final goal of helping others trapped in the situation I was and I hope one day there won’t be a need for me to anymore

The Good & The Bad…

There were many good times in the Kingdom along side bad times. When I look back I am grateful for my time there. It was my home from home, good friends who took the place of your family, experiences like nowhere else and lastly the opportunity to mix with different races and religions.

2020 has been a strange year especially in light of racism becoming a huge focus in the media and the world, and it has made me reflect on my own personal circumstances in The Kingdom, how my children were blessed to accept everyone regardless of their race or religion. It is something you can’t teach in schools, its something that can only be learnt by living side by side and dialogue; sharing and accepting our differences. I truly feel the only way racism can be overcome, is by white people themselves.

In Jeddah I had a core of friends who were like my sisters; one who was Mary , a white American Catholic girl, then there was Ananya, an Indian Hindu. Then there was Nyala and Ethiopian Catholic (who celebrated Christmas and Easter different from us in the west, so we always had two Christmases and two Easters) Lastly myself; who was back then;British and Muslim.

Now according to history – different religions should clash, but we didn’t. We were sisters from other lands but fate had brought us together in this far away land, so far from our families, yet our humanity is what held us together. We teased each other regarding our differences but we knew we would always have each others backs. It showed me that putting normal people together in a room they will always find common ground, yet it is Governments that seek to keep us divided.

I came across many different people in my time in Saudi but one person would stay in my mind; and that was Thomas.

Thomas was an enigma; why would I say that you may wonder? Thomas was a shall we say well built man in his mid 20’s and American. So? I hear you say, but what made Thomas an enigma, was he came from a family who were an extremely large branch of the Klu Klux Klan! How on earth he ended in Saudi unfortunately is unknown, but needless to say in Saudi he did end up

Thomas worked for an American arms company in Jeddah that was made up

Of at least 80% of African Americans, and we got to know him through the illegal parties that were held and we attended. Now Thomas was always the life and soul

of the parties and overtime his views on black people changed – yes it is possible, and he soon began to date black girls, his views changed and he began to denounce his family views and never to return, until that fateful night when he received a call stating his dad had passed over, and he needed to return to the States as the rightful successor to the Klan. We spent many nights soul searching discussing race and trying to help him with this dilemma .

He was so torn, his views and beliefs had now changed, but he knew if he didn’t go, that his younger brother would be next, and he wanted to get him away from that life. Low and behold a few months later he died of liver failure RIP Thomas.

It taught me the best lesson ever regarding racism.

You see Thomas had been mixing with African Americans, Asians etc – he had open dialogue with them, he lived amongst them and saw that even tho we are all different colours we are all the same.

So please folks I ask you, talk to each other, mix with each other and embrace each other. Theres never a better time. We have to make change happen and make it happen now!

Our children’s future depends on it!

(Sole Copy write of Tracey Walker not to be reproduced in any form without my permission 1990)

Keep Your Friends Close and Enemies Closer

Keep your Friends close and your enemies closer. This saying certainly has a ring of truth to it. When I was the Principal of the school I worked at for expats, it was common practice that you would form friendships with some of the parents; after all we were all expats and in the same boat, we had chosen the Magical Kingdom to be our home from home. Swapping our cold weather for the permanent sunshine.

I struck up a friendship with an Indian lady who was married to a Jordanian man, I had known her for a few years as I had taught both her children, before my promotion to School Principal, and our friendship grew.

Her husband played for a well known underground band; as back then live bands were illegal. Through my son, who also played guitar their paths crossed and a friendship grew between us all.

We lived in a huge villa; as you all know and bands would come to my home and have illegal jamming sessions. They were good times living a secret life of music, drinking moonshine and partying. Soon my friend; who we shall call Aisha, became pregnant with her third child and her husband Khaled had slipped deeper and deeper into the illegal music scene and drug taking. He became violent with her at times even holding a knife to their new born sons neck. He would disappear for days on end leaving her without money to feed her children or pay electric or water bills. I shared what I could to help her out and at times I would get a baby sitter and take her to Starbucks on the beach front – just to unwind. Over time she let slip that she had started speaking again with her first love who was a rich Indian business man and how she hoped to divorce Khaled and start a new life.

She began using me as cover while she met him, without my knowledge and soon the inevitable happened Khaled found out!!
They had recently been evicted from their compound for not paying rent and had moved elsewhere. I had allowed them to store their belongings at my home to help them through this tough time, but little did I know my kindness and friendship would be thrown in my face. One day whilst in my office at school, Khaled burst in calling me a whore, threatening to call my in-laws and the Police on me for encouraging his wife to have an affair. After all I was western, so of loose morals: even tho he had tried to become like us westerners

Daily the threats would come; saying I had stole their belongings. My god is this what you get for trying to help? I had fed his hungry children over the years, paid his bills to try and stop them being evicted, helped store their property, give them extensions on paying their school fees and here he was accusing and threatening ME!

I eventually found Aisha had blamed me for her affair, I guess it saved her another beating.

One day I was shocked to hear that they had contacted my in-laws and told them of my
plan to escape with my children – WHAT!!

This woman, I had tried to help was now putting mine and my children’s lives at risk to save her own neck. Thankfully our plans to escape had changed, and I had been keeping them close to my chest.

What on earth could I do, how could I get out of this with my husbands family?  Was this the end, ten years of planning and surviving the mental abuse? Was I going to lose my children to these people?

Thankfully I had heads up what they had done and my wits about me. The inevitable happened and my brother in law turned up demanding what was I up to and why was I planning to kidnap his niece and nephew? I played it cool and concocted a story up that they actually believed!

Wow I should be an actress!

Needless to say I never trusted anyone else with my plans; to much was at stake, and my children’s freedom would never be taken from them. I would move heaven and earth to ensure they would one day be free!

 

Wham! There it is Again!

Its strange to think Abdul passed over 19 years ago – another life time or so it seems – until suddenly the anniversary arrives – wham! Its here again.

You would think after all these years the pain would of lessened, day by day, year by year life moves on and you slowly rebuild your life again – then Wham it’s here again.

The memories flood back, how you were clinging onto hope after such a painful year of looking after him-  and your small children and you prayed daily that God would spare him, keep him apart of your  and your children’s lives – but no- Wham! He’s gone.

Those memories of the fun years you had together navigating the strange new world together as man and wife- dealing with the threat of war together yet coming through stronger- I guess a lot of couples may not survive such a marriage- two people with opposing cultures, so much against   Them – but we did – then Wham! It’s gone.

It’s true that life goes on after death, it changes you in little ways but you suck it up and be strong for your children. However you feel as the world  is constantly on your shoulders trying to crush you and there is no longer anyone there to help lift the weight baring down on you- the love of your children keeps you strong- knowing you will do what ever it takes to give them the world – then Wham! it hits you again.

Every year you feel you have come  to terms with their passing. Partners  come and go, but you can never really trust that feeling of love again – because the thought of that searing pain when they are taken from you for no reason is to un bearable  then   Wham!  the pain is here again.

Every year you have to accept that no matter how long it’s been, they are embedded in your heart and always will be, no matter how you try, you just have to be prepared take a deep breath and let the pain and memories wash over you one more time. The sweet memories mixed with your tears as you slowly smile for a love that once was .

And as that anniversary approaches again – you will swear no more tears but Wham! There they are again!

RIP Abdul x

Rain or Shine

When people think of Saudi Arabia they think of the heat and sunshine all the time, whilst this is true to a degree, the times we don’t get sun can be devastating, on the buildings around us and life in general.

When Jeddah was built they didn’t have the foresight to build a sewerage system under the city. Back in the 80’s they decided to  invest in the infrastructure and build a modern sewerage network, unfortunately the government official in charge decided the money would be better spent on building himself a villa in San Fransisco and a palace in Jeddah. Over the years the inapt attempts to build the sewerage system has been a disaster which finally accumulated in 2011, heavy rainfall caused major floods that wiped out thousands of homes in Jeddah and killed at least 123 people who were living in illegally settled areas east of the city. The municipality previously attributed the causes of the disaster to rapid population growth in eastern parts of Saudi Arabia’s second-largest city, where nearly one million people have illegally built homes. We however all knew it was due to corruption of the companies that had been paid billions to complete the work, but most of the money was filtered into their own personal bank accounts.

However politics aside when it did rain there would be excitement,to run out and play in it before it stopped – We would search for our winter coats that were usually packed away from our last visit to the UK, excited voices shouting through the house an eventually we may had been granted 10 – 15 minutes rain if we were lucky. The air always smelt beautiful a deep earthy smell as the rain hit the dry ground.

One of the downsides when it rained was it turned  the city into chaos , roads became floods, homes leaked, businesses leaked. The strength of the sun would corrode materials in buildings, hence allowing the rain the pour through.

My own home  for an example was a beautiful large villa – the roof was flat but had the most gorgeous stained glass dome on it; when the sun shone hues of green, blue red and yellow would dance on the walls below in my sitting room, however when it rained it would become something very different. The seal of the  dome would corrode throughout the year, so rain would pour through into the small dining room.

There was always that quick dart of panic and activity as we would remove the furniture quickly – congratulating ourselves that we had managed to do it.

Similar applied to businesses and schools – 15 minutes rain could constitute a whole day off work or school. I would always get excited calls from my staff asking would they be off the next day, how bad would the school be flooded, or parents wanting to know if they would have to stay home with their kids and forgo those few hours of peace.l

The roads would suffer the most, especially if the road conditions were poor due to the  tarmac melting and becoming soft in the heat.

Saudi is known for its array of fine cars -GMC – Chevvies – Lexus 4×4’s all braving the roads and praying they would make it through the newly formed lakes on the roads or the old clapped out car being held together by string.

My favorite memory is me and Faris going out in the monster truck, she was a beast and made for off road driving. We drove down one residential side road which dipped in the middle, suddenly I had a mischievous thought to drive again through the road very fast so we could enjoy the huge spray we created. As we revved the loud engine laughing with excitement like a  pair of kids we sped through the road with a huge spread of water shooting everywhere, I laughed and looked back to see the height of the  spray, only to see a little old Arab man staring at us and shouting at us in Arabic, we had soaked him and his car he had been cleaning.

Its funny in the UK how no one likes the rain but in Saudi no matter the havoc it reeked we always enjoyed it. 

(This is the sole Copyright ©️ of Tracey Walker and not to be reproduced in any form with out permission of Tracey Walker 1990)

Shopping & Religious Police

 

 

Life in Jeddah was really like anywhere else in the world The family unit would consist of mom,dad, children and maids – some also lived with parents; as Arabs are very family orientated.
There was many activities to do outside the home that were always geared towards families only.
However there were no cinemas, concerts etc and women couldn’t attend football matches. The most popular activity would be to visit the shopping malls. These were usually huge malls designed to keep families entertained. Small play areas with funfair rides for younger children – lots of coffee shops, restaurants and designer and International shops. Most malls would have huge family eating areas on the top floor ranging from huge fast food restaurants to smaller cafes. Shops would open early morning around 10am till 1pm then reopen again at 5pm till 11pm at night, as afternoons would always be to hot to venture outside.
Most restaurants would be separated into family sections and single sections, to keep mainly teenage boys away from hassling girls. Back before the internet was introduced – boys would throw pieces of paper at girls passing by; with their phone numbers on , hoping they would be lucky enough for a girl to call the number. There was no other way that boys and girls could meet as it was forbidden for the sexes to mix.
Since Saudi is the home of Islam muslims pray 5 times daily which meant that all the businesses and shops closed,so everyone would go to pray. Some of the larger shops allowed customer to stay in the shops- they would lock the doors though and you couldn’t leave till prayer was over.
The open air Souks would just pull material over their wares as protection as the incidences of theft were very rare.
I remember two incidences that come to mind on a few of my many shopping trips. The first was when myself,Janah and an Expat friend from England decided to go the local souk. My driver would always accompany us; either walking discreetly behind us or if I was alone along side me. This day he walked behind us and let us chat and look at the clothes in the market stalls. All of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I notice my driver grab an iron bar off a clothing rail and go to strike some men with an iron bar. Sheer instinct made me scream what the hell was he doing? where he replied these Pakistani workers were calling myself and friend whores because our heads were uncovered.
My driver was fearlessly protective of me and the children, and he was not going to let anyone speak bad of his Madam.
The souk was pandamodium – angry Indian and Pakistani voices shouting loudly – other men trying to restrain my driver and the workmen. Suddenly a security guard arrived who was Saudi, he demanded what all the shouting and fighting was about. My driver explained the workers didn’t realise he was with us and they were insulting us- the security informed us the police had been called and we’d better escape while we could!
We all ran to the car and sped out the market at such a speed. Once we pulled up at a safe distance we all laughed so much, as the adrenaline was rushing around our bodies!

Another trip was my self and an Indian expat friend were shopping in a local store that Expats loved to shop at called City Plaza. While we were looking at clothes we suddenly heard a booming voice shouting “The laws of the land of Saudi Arabia are women should be covered up!” We carried on shopping until we heard the same again, this time we laughed and said “oh oh someones in trouble” but as we turned around towards the sound of the voice we noticed a tall Saudi man with a long beard, he was dressed in a white thobe that reached above his ankles, he was accompanied by a petite lady who was wearing the niqab. As we looked again he pointed to us and boomed out the same, while people were staring at us!! Thankfully back then restrictions had eased up on women and we only wore our abayas but no head scarf and obviously he had took offence. We looked at each other and just laughed like naughty school girls and walked away. There was nothing he could do to us; were as previously in the past a woman could be arrested for not dressing decently, religious police (mutawa) were a regular sight on Jeddah streets for many years, but thankfully the King has now taken away their powers.

In all my time in Jeddah I only had one close encounter with the
mutawa and that was while Abdul was alive. We had invited my parents and sister and nephews to visit. Back then Saudi was a closed country and we had to gain special permission for them to enter the Kingdom- especially my sister being a single female. One day we all decided to visit the Gold Souk in Balad. Balad is an experience not to be missed, rows and rows of gold shops each one with gold jewellery dripping from the walls – counters of so many designs, I think its a mans worse nightmare when his wife visits there.
As we walked thru the court yard ; myself my
Mom and my sister. I was wearing the traditional hijab, my mom an abaya and my sister in a long flowing skirt with a loose long sleeved shirt, while Abdul and my dad were walking behind us a bit away. Suddenly we were accosted by three Mutawa shouting at us in Arabic striking our legs with canes, the area became quiet except for the fluttering of a pigeon in the back ground and the hoarse shouting of the Mutawa in Arabic.
Suddenly Abdul rushed in shouting at the Mutawa how dare they approach his wife and family. The Mutawa have always thought they were above the law scathingly shouting that it was haram (forbidden) that my mom and sister were dressed so indecently in
Public and how they would go to hell. Abdul wasn’t a small man he was 6ft 2 and of commanding stature, the Mutawa dwarfed against him. Abdul informed them they had no right to accost his family in public and he quoted that Christian women didn’t have to wear the hijab and that they were dressed decently. They couldn’t argue with Abdul as he was a respectful god fearing Saudi. Like the cowards they were they skunked off to find some other women they could harass.

(This is the sole Copyright ©️ of Tracey Walker and not to be reproduced in any form with out permission of Tracey Walker 1990)