Their thobes, the long white shirts that reach to their ankles, swish as they walk, and the ends of their ghutrahs, or headdresses, flutter. Hassan adds, “They will try to get away with anything. “Don’t believe a word they say.” Hassan wags a finger. To my left, Hassan is talking rapidly, emphasizing words by clenching his fingers, pointing, and waving his hands. They warn me that my students, all young men either fresh out of high school or newly enlisted in the customs security forces, are lazy and prone to cheat. My handlers enjoy playing the role of hosts and cluing me in on the challenges I’ll soon face. I’ve never been in the Middle East I arrived only days earlier, and I still feel the jet lag and the uncertainty of being immersed in an entirely new culture. I’ve come to Saudi Arabia with the intention of settling in for a few years, paying off student loans and earning a salary I can live on. I’ve taught ESL in Italy and Spain, and this past year, I worked in the ESL program at Vanderbilt. At thirty-two, I’m not much older than these two and will be among the younger American instructors here. Most Saudi colleagues I’ve met at the technical institute have a degree from an American university. Hassan, energetic and very smart, will start a master’s program in the United States in January Ahmed, soft-spoken, returned from one in June. We’re on a gravel path bordered by bougainvillea, with swaths of delicate petals in red, pink, and purple. The walls of office and classroom buildings around us provide some shade. We’ve left the cafeteria and are crossing the plaza in the center of campus. The two young Saudis whom in fun I call “my handlers” are showing me around the campus of the Mahad Al Idara, or in English, The Institute of Public Administration, here in Riyadh. In Saudi Arabia, favors can buy almost anything-including, sometimes, a passing gradeĪugust.
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