TARIQ A. AL-MAEENA
In this country it is the norm for most restaurants to establish two separate dining areas, one for families and one for single men. If my memory serves me right, this practice took firm hold in the 1980s. The purpose I suppose was to prevent harassment of women by single men in cafes and restaurants. While visitors to Saudi Arabia are often surprised, local residents have become used to it, albeit with an occasional twist.
Last year, I was part of the twist. It was the day before Haj, and Jeddah was eerily silent. None of the hustle and bustle associated with this busiest of cities. The streets were nearly deserted of traffic, as millions were gathering and on their way to Arafat to perform Haj, while others were enjoying their time off work.
The day started pleasant and cool. And so it seemed a perfect morning to take a drive around the town, unfettered by the traffic and unnerving drivers we are so accustomed to. My wife and I went for a casual drive along the coastline. On the way back, we stopped by a popular coffee shop to enjoy breakfast. There were two entrances, one for families and the other for singles. As we walked into the family section, we were not impressed by the confined space within the tiny premises, nor by the dark and heavy curtains and shades that left us with the claustrophobic feeling that we were boxed in.
Not wanting to spend our time in confinement, we placed our order and asked the waiter to bring our breakfast over to the singles section where we were going to be seated. That area was well-lit and spacious and with large windows opening out onto the street. The view was pleasant and cheery and there was hardly a soul in there from whom one could expect any trouble.
The waiter was somewhat flustered by my request and told me that the area was set aside for singles. “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “Any single man trying anything out of line would have me to deal with. You just go ahead and get our orders ready. Leave the rest to me.”
Noticing his reluctance, I asked him firmly if there was any law in the books preventing us from being seated where we chose. And I was certainly not going to subject myself and my wife to a cramped atmosphere. I could understand preventing singles from invading family sections, but the reverse held no logic. My wife by this time began fidgeting nervously.
I continued: “Listen, it’s OK. I assure you that I will take care of my family. And you don’t have to worry. It is my decision and I don’t believe there will be any trouble. People are not animals, and that includes singles. And if one happens to get out of line, I will quickly put an end to it. Besides there are no patrons in the single section yet, and so we should not expect any trouble."
“But sir, maybe the Vice Police…,” he stammered, as his fellow workers stood by taking it all in.
“What? Are you going to tell me that they will raid this place and arrest all of you just because my family and I are enjoying an early morning breakfast in a cheery atmosphere? If you are concerned about that and I can understand your fears, I’ll assure you that if they happen to come by and make trouble, I will absolve you of all responsibility and deal with them on my own. We are not committing any sins or vices, and have nothing to fear.”
He finally gave in as we moved over to the singles section and seated ourselves. It was indeed a much more pleasant place to enjoy our breakfast. And after we were served, I noticed from the corner of my eye that the waiters were discreetly leaving the premises one by one. They simply did not want to get busted.
Amusing as it was, I wondered. Is it not time to bring down the barriers? We perform our Haj in mixed company, we pray at the Holy Mosques in closeness to each other, we travel on airplanes unsegregated, we work alongside each other in the marketplace, and yet why as civilized people can’t we sit and break bread near each other without the fear of hassle or annoyance?
– The author can be reached at talmaeena@aol.com. Follow him on Twitter @talmaeena
