If being a maid is an 'honorable' profession, why do men get so upset if Saudi women work as one?

There was plenty outrage going around these past few weeks among Saudis over news reports that Saudi women were working as housemaids in Qatar.

The gist of this outrage goes something like this: Being a maid is an “honorable” profession, but it’s a “great shame” for Saudi women to work at this honorable profession. Sometimes I wonder whether we as a nation will ever get over ourselves.

The outrage followed a report by a Saudi Arabic-language newspaper in January that 30 Saudi women were employed as housemaids in Qatar. Over a six-week period news reached scandalous proportions where any Saudi with access to a computer registered alarm and disgust that Saudi housemaids were earning $400 a month, just slightly above the prevailing wage of Indonesian housemaids.

A great many Saudis employ housemaids, so they went to great lengths to point out that maid work is honorable. There’s no reason to go out of our way to insult the people we employ. But apparently what is honorable for an Indonesian or Filipina is not honorable for a Saudi.

By voicing outrage and complaining of the great shame of Saudi women working as maids, Saudis undercut their own argument that maid work is honorable. In fact, the last thing these hypocrites are thinking is that maid work is honorable. If cleaning houses was a good profession, then it should be suitable for Saudi daughters and wives.

Much to the relief of the Saudi press, the news report was apparently inaccurate. Qatar does not permit Gulf women to be employed as housemaids and all maids must have a sponsor. Of course, this doesn’t eliminate the possibility that Saudi women are working illegally as maids in Qatar.

Unfortunately, after the story broke a good many Saudis displayed their true colors about how they view some professions and about the people they employ. I’ll be the first to admit that my family would be horrified if a female family member took a job as a housemaid. There would be plenty of shouting, shared misery and recriminations about how a poor girl was led down this wanton path.

Oh, but how soon we forget our past. It wasn’t uncommon in my mother’s generation to have Saudi housemaids. As a girl, I recall an aunt who managed a busy household, the farmland surrounding her home, and had employed Saudi housemaids. That all seems pretty honorable to me.

Saudis were a practical lot a generation ago. Work had to be done to support the family. The honor was in the labor and the food that was put on the table was a result of that labor. Your neighbors judged you, sure, but they judged you as a provider not whether you swept floors and did laundry.

Somehow the practicalities of daily living of my generation have been replaced by an exaggerated sense pride. It’s no longer enough that you put in a day’s hard work to provide for your family, but what kind of work you are doing.

Today’s reality is that Saudi Arabia is churning out a record number of female university graduates. More than half of all university graduates are women, yet less than 12 percent of Saudi jobs go to women. More and more Saudi women are looking for jobs abroad. While the Ministry of Labor has made efforts to expand the job market for women, employers continue to resist change. As a society we continue to limit job opportunities for women, yet we express outrage when a woman seeks work we consider taboo.

We also are forgetting that not all Saudi women are university or even high school graduates. There is a significant class of Saudis working near or at the poverty level who need their daughters and wives to work to feed their families. To deny these women the opportunity work aboard as housemaids is cruel.

If a poll was taken of Saudi families of what kind of employees that would want in their homes, the universal answer would be Muslim employees. Most Saudis respect their non-Muslim workers’ right to practice their religion. But Saudis also want an employee who understands their religion, customs and traditions. And whether it’s
rational or not, they want to be relieved of their underlying fears that that their employees are teaching their children religious values not consistent with Islam. Once Saudis got over their initial prejudices, the idea of a Saudi housemaid could be appealing.

I sense a shift in the attitudes of young Saudis today. The definition of what is acceptable and what is not is changing, especially among young women. If it doesn’t bother a young Saudi woman to do laundry for a family in Qatar, or for that matter in Saudi Arabia, why should it bother anybody else?

A creative way to keep Saudi women from driving

It never ceases to amaze me the goofiness of some people who feel they must find a creative way to deal with the "Saudi women's driving problem."

Instead of a coherent approach to the issue of Saudi women driving, like, say, give them a driver's license and set them loose on the roads (they can't drive any worse than men), do-gooders like the Dubai-based Saudi Center for Studies and Media have come up with an alternative to establish women-only buses. The center, you see, has made the shocking discovery that 35 percent of a Saudi woman's income goes to pay for taxis or private drivers.

Really, now? It's taken an organization 30-odd years to realize that Saudi women fritter away a third of their annual income on strangers to drive them around Saudi Arabia.

The center's proposal, which apparently is now before Saudi Arabia's Shoura Council for consideration, seeks to develop a 600-bus system within five years that is capable of carrying about 2.5 million women. It also will create jobs for 3,000 male drivers. It's a proposal that is likely attractive to conservatives who will do anything to prevent Saudi women from driving a car. The bus system will be called "Hafilati" or "My Bus."

I call it "Idhlali" or "My Humiliation." Here's why:

— Hafilati, or Idhlali, will delay for years the hopes of Saudi women to drive their own cars. There will be no incentive for Saudi society to permit women to drive if a women-only bus system is in place.

— Men will still be driving around women. Jamal Banoun, director of the center, states the obvious: "The primary aim of this is to provide protection for women against moral problems and sexual harassment that they sometimes face from taxi drivers." Does Mr. Banoun honestly think sexual harassment by drivers will end because women are going to switch from a taxi to a bus?

— What woman in her right mind is going to stand at a bus stop in 45-centigrade heat with her kids and wait for a bus that may or may not show up on time?

— Idhlali further encourages the employment of expatriates when the focus should be placed on employing Saudi men and women.

As much as I love Jeddah and the place of my birth, Madinah, neither city is the model of public transportation infrastructure. And this is the reason why a public transit system for women will fail. If Idhlali is to be based on the current public transit model, then Saudi families should prepare to lose a female family member or two to death or serious injury.

We are, frankly, a nation of unenforceable traffic laws. At least by driving a car, a woman can employ defensive driving skills and assume some responsibility for her own safety.

Today's bus drivers operate their buses like kids driving bumper cars at an amusement park. Like every other driver on the road, they don't bother themselves with posted speed limits or lane-changing etiquette. Posted bus stops are inconsistent from neighborhood to neighborhood. The buses are death traps. They are poorly maintained and I imagine that the records on tire and brake safety are not accurate. The current buses are filthy and rattle so much the fillings in your teeth will fall out. If there is rhyme or reason to our current public transit system, I have not seen it.

Yet we are to expect that Idhlali, which presumably will be based on our current bus system, will not have these problems. I don't think Saudi women are going to have to bother with these troublesome questions. I suspect this recommendation will go nowhere like so many other wonderful proposals to better integrate Saudi Arabia's National Treasures into society. Anybody want to revisit the proposal to employ women in lingerie shops? And even if Idhlali manages to get implemented I wonder just how many Saudi women are going to subject themselves to the inconvenience of bus travel after years of being chauffeured in a car.

The real issue of this half-baked plan, though, is that it diverts our attention away from the core question of just when will women be permitted to drive in Saudi Arabia.

Some female professionals have endorsed Idhlali as a step forward. It's not a step forward. It's a diversion designed to reduce the pressure on Saudi society to permit women to drive. I'm all for public transit. I'm all for women-only buses. But give women the right to drive first, and then implement a women-only bus system. Saudis can demonstrate real sincerity by granting women the basic, fundamental right to choose her own mode of transportation.

This Band-Aid approach to solving the expense issue of transportation and sexual harassment by male drivers weakens the voice of Saudi women advocating for their right to drive. If Saudi women settle for a seat on the bus they will never get behind the wheel of a car.

Terrorist puppetmasters play on Western fears

Gone largely unnoticed a couple of weeks ago was a statement issued by Saudi Arabia’s Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdul Aziz bin Abdullah Al-Asheikh, chairman of the Council of Senior Islamic Scholars, who condemned terrorism in all forms and the bloodshed of innocent people.

Al-Asheikh’s statements were released just as a workshop was getting underway in Riyadh. The workshop was sponsored the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime in the Middle East and North Africa and Saudi Arabia’s Commission for Investigation and Public Prosecution. A number of terrorism experts participated.

“Terrorism is criminal and spills the blood of innocents. It attacks security, spreads terror among people and creates problems for society,” Al-Asheikh said in a statement to the Saudi Press Agency. “Such acts are forbidden by Islamic law. It is necessary to fight the attempts of some to attach terrorism to Islam and Muslims with the goal of distorting the religion and assailing its leadership role in
the world.”

Al-Asheikh’s comments come at a time when Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula is beginning to stir again, this time in Yemen, after it got a thrashing from Saudi security forces in 2004 and Al-Shabaab seems to have a stranglehold on Somalia.

So there is no better time for the antiterrorism to focus on developing international cooperation and a better equipped judicial system to deal with this lethal breed of criminal.

It’s curious, though, just how little attention Al-Asheikh’s remarks received outside Saudi Arabia, and for that matter the minimal publicity the workshop generated. The Saudi government deserves some blame for its need for secrecy and refusal to open the sessions to more Western media scrutiny. That said, however, I think that Al-Asheikh’s opinions on terrorism and his citations from the Qur’an
to emphasize the non-Islamic behavior of murderers hiding behind Islam have been ignored by Western observers. Al-Asheikh’s comments just don’t fit into the Western perception of what is important in the fight against terrorism.

From what I gather that important fight appears to be waged against the image of Islam. You know, the hijab because it oppresses women and is a symbol of an out-of-control patriarchal society; creeping Sharia because nobody understands it or takes the time to learn; and minarets because they are the symbol of the Islamification of Europe rather than simply some nice examples of architecture that look strikingly
similar to Renaissance Russian architecture.

The images of Islam are far easier to deal with than those nagging questions of why terrorism is waged in the first place. No one wants to understand the making of a terrorist and how to intervene, they just want him dead. If a Labour or Conservative MP in the UK seeks to pass legislation banning school teachers from wearing the hijab, they think they have struck a blow against the ideology of a terrorist. But
not the guy wearing the bomb belt.

Frankly, terrorists have done a magnificent job of manipulating Western politicians into doing what terrorists do best: Driving a wedge between the West and Islam. Western leaders are more than happy to play the game. Every time some ninny tries to set off a bomb, news reports trace the perpetrator’s radicalism to his student days in the United Kingdom, but not how and why he was radicalized. The pattern seems to be that once the brouhaha over a failed bombing subsides, Westerners turn their rage to some American Muslim congressman and ask the poor guy whether he’s a fifth columnist for Al-Qaeda. Or maybe some bank manager in Smallville will decide it’s too dangerous to allow a hijabi to cash her McDonald’s paycheck at the teller’s window.

Somewhere in the mountains of Pakistan, laughter is echoing through the passes.

No one should minimize the threat of terrorism. The massacre at Fort Hood, Texas, is a sober reminder of the true dangers Muslims and non-Muslims face. Yet American and European lawmakers appear to have little inclination to see beyond their own noses. They haven’t kept their eye on the ball and fall prey to Al-Qaeda’s shell game.

Terrorists want the West preoccupied with the superficial issues of the hijab and Islamic architecture. But instead of rising to the bait of terrorists, perhaps U.S. state and federal lawmakers should leave their hermetically sealed districts and participate in antiterrorism workshops in the Middle East and meet people like Al- Asheikh who speak for Muslims worldwide.

Perhaps then the nonsense of minarets and hijabs can be put to rest.

Saudi Cultural Attaché appears to be turning over a new leaf

Any young Saudi studying abroad for the first time will tell you about the stress they are under to adjust to a new country, finding a place to live, and to navigate the confusing world of a new university.

Acclimating to a university in the United States or the United Kingdom is even more difficult. It’s an alien culture for most of us and we confront this world with trepidation.

That’s why when I arrived in Newcastle, United Kingdom, in 2007 to begin my postgraduate studies I was not looking forward to working with the Saudi office of the Cultural Attaché. The reputation of the Cultural Attaché in England was legendary among Saudi students for its complete lack of empathy for our struggles and the seeming inability to conduct any business that didn’t require undignified begging, pleading and racking sobs to get someone to return a phone call.

Towards the end of my first year at the university, I took a deep breath, picked up the phone and called the Cultural Attaché office to make arrangements to get a plane ticket to visit my sick mother in Madinah and to get details about the Saudi Excellency Performance Awards. Walahee! My 1-year-old niece, Alia, is more responsive and willing to answer my questions. She’s even more articulate over the
phone.

My supervisor, a Saudi woman, didn’t even feign interest in my questions. She told me she couldn’t help with the airline ticket and told me to call the ticketing department. She didn’t know a thing about the Excellency Awards and told me to check the website. She didn’t even bother giving me the website address. I was a nuisance to her. She confirmed the office’s reputation in a phone call that took less than three minutes.

I sent faxes to the Cultural Attaché office make arrangements for my flight to Madinah. No response. I called on the telephone. No answer. I paid for the tickets out of my own pocket for my brother and myself.

But what a difference a semester makes. The following semester I got an unexpected call from my new supervisor, Hany Ahmed, who introduced himself. He was friendly and polite but professional. He asked for my student details because he had none. He gave me his contact telephone number and e-mail address that I thought was only given by his office to the Saudi secret forces and to selected leaders of foreign
countries. I felt so special I thought it might be a prank call.

The next time I asked for plane ticket, I got one in less than two days. I then got an unsolicited phone call from Mr. Ahmed congratulating me on my performance review from my academic supervisor. He was encouraging and told me I was entitled to a
one-month allowance award for my performance.

At a workshop and conference in Surrey last year I finally met and the Saudi Cultural Attaché Dr. Ghazi Al-Makki and Saudi Ambassador Prince Mohammed Bin Nawaf bin Abdul Aziz. These men continually expressed their commitment to Saudi students studying in the UK.

I can’t speak for other Saudi students in the United Kingdom, but in less than a year the Cultural Attaché office transformed itself from a secret American-style black operations site to an agency designed for the purpose of student support.

My new supervisor is obviously dedicated to the job, but the Ministry of Higher Education’s new system also fits perfectly with dealing with students’ needs. What is even more surprising is that as a student I am permitted to evaluate my supervisor’s work representing the Cultural Attaché. This is an unprecedented experience for me with the Saudi government. The new system and the performance evaluation policy demands accountability. If this system is applied throughout the Saudi government, performance will improve.

We’ve already seen signs of a new order in Saudi government following the Jeddah floods. Those responsible for the city’s failed infrastructure that led to so many deaths are now being held accountable. While some people may see the connection between the improved performance of the office of the Cultural Attaché and the
demands for accountability in Jeddah’s government, the reality is that it appears the Saudi government is recognizing that deadwood in its ranks do nothing but obstruct the people it’s supposed to serve.

There's a need for the Hai'a as long as its role is defined

The Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice is going through another transformation. This time the duties of members of the Hai’a are more defined and detainees and members of the public who have contact with them are to be told whether a commission staffer is acting in his official capacity or exercising personal judgment.

This is a good step forward, but let’s not forget that the commission has been down similar roads before with not much to show for it. Just a few years ago there was an announcement that the Hai’a would take a more measured and gentle tone with the public that emphasized instruction and less on force. The results have been limited.

A more vocal public and perhaps impatience over continuing mistakes have prompted the Shoura Council this week to define the commissions’ duties in a written document. In essence, a Hai’a staff member now has a written job description. People who have contact with a commission member now will have a clearer picture of how and why the staffer is conducting commission business. In the past few years, there have been increasing reports of Hai’a members pursuing their own agenda. Now, that will be a thing of the past.

The Hai’a is needed in Saudi society. As Muslims we should welcome and give our thanks for their aid, sacrifices in performing an unenviable job, and for their instructions in matters of behavior and our religious obligations. To strip the commission of its duties, and render them nothing more than an agency in name only is
counterproductive.

The Hai’a, however, has a serious image problem. Saudis and expatriates loathe having contact with them. Saudi women, in particular, fear them. Somewhere in the past decade or so the commission has lost its way, and few people were willing to help them find the right path until there was a series of deaths that were all
too preventable.

Commission members in my view can be heroic. I recall an acquaintance that was having her hair done at a beauty parlor when she got into a conversation with an employee who asked whether she was married. The woman replied no, and the employee said she knew of a man looking for a wife. The employee asked if she could give the woman’s telephone number to the man. My acquaintance consented. Not much later the man called and they had several enjoyable conversations.

Later, the beauty parlor employee contacted the woman and asked whether the man called her. When woman said yes, the employee identified herself as a marriage broker and demanded a SR 3,000 fee.

My acquaintance refused since the employee never identified herself as a marriage broker. The employee began a campaign of harassment. And to add insult, several men began calling her. These men said the so-called marriage broker gave them her telephone number.

Frightened and feeling cornered by being harassed by the beauty parlor employee and strange men calling at all times during the day and night, my acquaintance had the broker paid off. The harassment, however, continued and finally the woman went to the Hai’a for help.

Within a day the phone calls stopped and the phony marriage broker was never heard from again. Nobody could have resolved this problem better than the Hai’a. As far as I am concerned this is the true role of the commission: to protect young woman from predators.

With modern technology at our disposal, it’s truer than ever before that the Hai’a has a vital role to play in Saudi society. Saudi and expat women are often duped into supplying their photographs to men who appear to be honest but are anything but honorable. These women are often the victims of blackmail. E-mail and Facebook accounts are hacked. Women’s reputations and the reputations of their families are
tarnished. I have heard many stories of the Hai’a stepping in to quickly and quietly solve such problems. These pious men excel in this sort thing.

Jeddah Chamber of Commerce and Industry (JCCI) Chairman Saleh Kamil probably said it best when he complained that too much emphasis is placed on the mingling of men and women, which is not haram. Only a man and woman alone together in a secluded place is haram. Rather, Kamil said that bribery, which is rarely mentioned in Saudi society, is far more harmful mingling. The same goes for protecting women.

A shift in priorities by the Hai’a will reestablish trust and confidence in the agency.

Specific job descriptions for commission members are a good start. The right of a detainee to understand the distinction between a commission member’s official duties and when he is exercising his own personal judgment is a good start. The recent announcement that a human rights unit will be established in the commission is a good start. But these new policies are only as good as the people who enforce them.

Without accountability and the proper checks and balances to ensure consistent enforcement of our religious duties, there is little hope that Saudi and expatriate women will ever feel comfortable going to the Hai’a for help when they need it most. The Hai’a is indeed here to help, but trust must be established first.

A Saudi media zone will only work if restrictions are loosened

For all of the talk about Saudi Arabia’s strong desire to play a larger international role and to bring in foreign investment, our country seriously lags behind our Gulf neighbors in developing a sophisticated advertising and news media industry.

That’s why recent talk of establishing a media zone in the King Abdullah Economic City and perhaps elsewhere in the Kingdom sounds so promising. Media zones, or Media cities, are something intrinsic in the Middle East, although London has its Fleet Street, and New York once had Park Row and more or less Madison Avenue where all the news and advertising giants were clustered.

Dubai’s media zone is probably the best example of news, public relations and advertising companies assembled in a single cluster in the Middle East. There, daily newspapers, business and trade magazine, and fledgling public relations companies rub shoulders with news bureaus for CNN, Fox, the Associated Press, Agence France Presse and Reuters among others to deliver Middle East news. It’s also the primary news venue for foreign journalists to report on domestic issues in Iran and other regions where access is difficult.

While the idea of a media zone in Saudi Arabia sounds promising and is a logical step in the country’s campaign to become more progressive, the question must be asked whether Saudi Arabia is ready to take this big step. If this is an effort to put lipstick on a donkey and call it a thing of beauty, then maybe we should wait for the media industry to mature some more.

And that is perhaps the key issue here. The Saudi media are incredibly immature. Public relations, for example, is a foreign concept. I’ve run into many Arab and Western businessmen and women who refuse to do business with Saudi public relations companies due to unprofessional behavior. Often the simple task of showing up for a meeting sees to be too much for some Saudi PR people. And I have yet to find a single government news source that hasn’t complained about the lack of professionalism among Saudi journalists. Providing office space in a state-of-the-art commercial building in a tree-lined neighborhood isn’t going to make the local media any more professional.

Yet the advertising industry outside Saudi Arabia has gained considerable ground over the past decade to capture the Saudi consumer market. Saudis are the most powerful consumer in the region and broadcasters like Rotana and MBC target the Saudi consumer with an extensive advertising campaign. The problem is that most of the content for commercials and print advertising are produced in Dubai, Cairo and Amman, Jordan. There are no Saudi actors or models used. Filming, editing and packaging content are performed outside the Kingdom.

To make a media zone work, government restrictions on filming outdoors and in studio production facilities must be loosened. Tolerance needs to be practiced in allowing Saudi actors and models to work in their own country. I find it irksome that I must watch Egyptian actors pretend to be Saudi and try to sell me dish soap for my Saudi household.

It boils down to economic growth. A fully functional media zone with production facilities provides jobs for technicians, editors and production supervisors. It will jump start Saudi’s stagnant and neglected artist community. It will create jobs for Saudis in support services. It’s all good that Saudis are pushing for more students to pursue professions in science and technology, but it’s equally important for Saudis to find media jobs not limited to newspapers.

If Saudi Arabia wants to project an image of a leader in business investment and science then it must invest in a broadcast media within its own borders that conforms to our religious and cultural obligations but remain relatively free. We must deliver that message ourselves. We are not fooling anybody by mostly using non-Saudis in front and behind the camera to sell Saudi Arabia as an business opportunity, whether it’s dish soap or a construction project.

When we talk about pan-Arab satellite broadcast television stations, we should not be thinking of a Cairo-based operation but Jeddah- or Riyadh-based facilities. We have a young educated population that wants to work. Commercial broadcasting, film production, advertising, public relations and broadcast journalism are fields ripe for the picking.

The Abu Dhabi Media Company, which owns the leading United Arab Emirates daily newspaper The National, is planning to be on the ground floor of the proposed media zone. The company announced plans to open offices in Saudi Arabia in 2011.

The Abu Dhabi Media Company’s sole reason for its presence in Saudi Arabia is to target the Saudi consumer with heavy advertising. That’s good for the Abu Dhabi Media Company. The UAE company will make loads of money and create more jobs presumably for Emiratis and expatriates. But it begs the question whether any of The National’s counterparts in Saudi Arabia media, aside from Rotana, have similar plans to cash in and to create jobs for Saudis.

Lashing of Saudi student only part of the problem

Things are getting a little out of hand in Jubail. Apparently a public girls school is at the center of an international uproar over the lashing and prison sentence of a young woman found guilty of assaulting the school's headmistress.

Originally it was reported in the media that the young woman was a 13-year-old girl sentenced to 90 lashes for bringing a mobile phone to school. But, no, that wasn't true. Then it was reported the girl assaulted the headmistress for taking away the phone. Well, that's only part of the story. Now it turns out the girl is not a girl, but 20 years old and she cracked a drinking glass over the headmistress' head while the woman's mother stood by and watched.

Frankly, I'd like to turn this adult student over my knee and give her a good spanking for acting like the misbehaving toddler she is. But lashings in this case are counterproductive, unnecessarily humiliating and have no place in modern society. This student understood the rules of her school, knew the consequences, and decided to ignore them anyway. She deserves to be punished, but lashings are way over the top.

Yet the young woman's temper tantrum and the authorities' overreaction point to larger issues: Saudi society's treatment of adult women, Saudi media's haphazard and lazy reporting, the lack of institutional transparency, the sense of entitlement among some Saudi families and lack of parental control.

We can't point to the 20-year-old student as the epitome of model behavior, but it's ridiculous that Saudi women are treated like little children. All women, including parents and guests, are not permitted to have mobile phones on school grounds. It's fine to ban mobile phones use by students, but it's simply an abuse of power when applied to anyone else. If my mother came to my high school campus with a mobile in her purse, it's nobody's business but her own. And if she sat in the administration building's lobby and chatted on the phone with my sister, then it's her business. Just who has the right to stop her? It's not the Ministry of Interior, but a school for girls.

Saudi girls' schools can be unreasonably strict in some regions. Most schools have strict dress codes that require heavy dark colored clothing without adornment that is impractical for hot weather. I remember that girls at my school were required to wear black shoes and white socks. Makeup and perfumes were banned. There were no mirrors in the restrooms and compacts from girls purses were often seized by school authorities. While proper decorum in an academic environment is conducive to good leaning, there's a fine line between oppression and discipline. Perhaps if Saudi institutions like this school in Jubail stopped treating women as kids they will stop acting like kids.

The Saudi media and authorities, in their own inept way, helped bring international condemnation from human rights groups on Saudi Arabia. The Arabic-language press not only got the woman's age wrong but also muddled the facts over whether the flogging sentence was for having a mobile phone on campus or for assaulting the headmistress. Amnesty International made matters worse by announcing the girl was 13 years old.

Inevitably, Saudis start complaining about sloppy reporting by the Arabic-language press. The complaints are justified, but a lion's share of the blame also goes to the school and the judicial system for not providing the necessary information to paint a complete picture.

Lack of transparency usually leads to erroneous reporting. The international community will only remember that a young girl was flogged for bringing a mobile phone to school. Nobody cares that it was an adult who attacked another woman with a deadly weapon.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this incident is that the attack appears not to have occurred in the heat of the moment, but rather after some time had passed and cooler heads should have prevailed. After the headmistress confiscated the phone, the student went home and returned to school with her mother. It was during the meeting between the three women that young woman picked up a drinking glass and struck the headmistress with it.

No doubt the mother was shocked at her daughter's behavior, but one has to wonder where the daughter learned that violence solves such small problems as the confiscation of a mobile phone. It's a dangerous thing to break a glass over someone's head. This student possesses an undeserved sense of entitlement that the rules don't apply to her and she is not subject to the same consequences as her colleagues if she breaks those rules.

The headmistress, though, could have stopped this runaway locomotive of a public relations disaster. She could have nipped the controversy in the bud by taking the high road and forgiving the student, which is a Saudi custom that would have spared the woman a lashing. But the headmistress had her own temper tantrum by refusing to take the high road only exacerbates the controversy.

There's plenty of blame to go around here. It certainly doesn't end with a spoiled brat's confrontation with school authority.

Saudi Arabia takes step backward in treating AIDS patients

Saudis always have struggled with the issue of AIDS with debates over treatment and our penchant to treat victims like criminals. The first Saudi AIDS case appeared in 1984 and for many years we simply locked up people in prison hospital wards.

Times have changed and we have become more humane, although belatedly compared to the rest of the world. Yet the stigma of AIDS remains in our society and the most important rule that victims follow is to keep the disease a secret from friends, acquaintances and even family.

Jeddah’s King Saud Hospital and its little-known volunteer clinic perhaps have done more than any other Saudi medical facility to provide medical services, counseling and privacy to AIDS sufferers.

Now, it’s scheduled to be shut down and its AIDS patients distributed all over the Kingdom for treatment. It appears that just when Saudi Arabia achieves parity in treating AIDS sufferers with the rest of the world, as it has with its organ transplant policies and with its specialization in separating conjoined twins, it takes a step backward.

The closure of AIDS services at King Saud threatens the privacy and consistent treatment of patients. It also increases the likelihood of spreading the disease because the trust built by King Saud doctors, nurses and support staff must be rebuilt with strangers at another medical facility. This is not an easy task.

According to Saudi media reports, the Health Affairs Administration, which is
affiliated with the Ministry of Health, announced earlier this month that King Saud employees and patients will be “distributed” to other hospitals to prepare for the closure of the AIDS clinic.

The clinic will be transferred to another location and change its focus as a center for medical checkups for non-Saudis with the financial means to pay for services.
Earning revenue from paying customers, I mean patients, comes at the expense of patients with AIDS, Hepatitis C, pneumonia and other infectious diseases.

Saudi health officials say that 51 percent of all AIDS patients in the Kingdom live in Jeddah and are treated at King Saud. Now these patients must go to other hospitals, if not other regions, no doubt a great hardship, to be treated by medical personnel that are likely not AIDS specialists.

The transfer of patients also begs the question of what will other medical centers do with them. Will these patients be grouped with non-AIDS patients or be treated in a specialty ward? Will their privacy be protected?

The beauty of the clinic at King Saud Hospital and what made it a success was that its chief concern second to treatment was privacy protection. Patients who believed they may have AIDS were questioned by clinic personnel, assigned a number (no names are involved in the process), tested and given the test results two days later.

The hospital also provided financial aid referrals and connected patients with charity organizations. They counseled patients on the religious implications of the illness to ease their fears. They helped patients solve tricky employment and family problems associated with finances and the virus itself. If a patient with no financial means asked a hospital employee for taxi fare, it was given without strings attached.

The emotional bond among hospital employees was strong. A trust existed between the patient and employee. Unlike many Western AIDS patients who don’t hide their illness, Saudis insist on it because it means being judged by one’s family and friends. The trust between patient and hospital employee meant their secret was safe.

One AIDS patient said recently of King Saud Hospital: “When we go there we feel like we are treated like human beings. I know people will listen to me. But I don’t tell anyone else.”

That secret is now at risk as these patients are shuttled to different facilities. Ensuring proper treatment and taking precautions to prevent AIDS from spreading is now at risk.

The Saudi government reported that in 2008 the number of AIDS patients in Saudi Arabia was 13,926 with 3,538 Saudis. An estimated 505 were Saudi females and 769 non-Saudi women. About 80 percent got the virus through sexual activity, 15 percent through blood transfusions and 5 percent unknown. Most AIDS victims are between the ages of 15 and 49, which is a disaster in a young country like ours.

These numbers are conservative at best. It’s likely the number of AIDS cases in Saudi Arabia is far higher than the official figure.

We can’t afford to be casual about what we do with these patients.

Saudi women damaged hopes for a voice in the business community

Saudi businesswomen in the Eastern Province this week won a hollow victory when two women, Hana Al-Zuhair and Samira Al-Suwaigh, were appointed by Commerce Minister Abdullah Zainal Alireza to the Asharqia Chamber board.

The appointments are lauded as an historic victory and a step forward for Saudi women trying to gain a foothold as players in the Saudi business community. Alireza is to be commended for making two of his eight appointments women. Yet the appointments ring false. Neither Al-Zuhair nor Al-Suwaigh had run for election. The three women who did run – Suad Al-Zaydi, Fawzia Al-Karri and Dina Al-Fari – captured less than 100 votes between them.

Al-Zuhair and Al-Suwaigh have excellent business credentials to qualify for the chamber. It seems odd, though, that the three female contestants, who lost but did garner at least some backing from the business community, couldn’t muster the support of Alireza for an appointment.

Eastern Province businessmen and women share the blame for this failure to allow females a voice. The women candidates were tainted from the beginning when three Eastern Province men lodged a complaint with the Asharqia Chamber that the women should not run for election. The men claimed it was against Shariah. Although their complaint was denied, it served to validate the beliefs among many male voters that women did not belong on the chamber board.

A greater travesty, however, is the behavior of eligible female voters. One comes to expect male chamber members to vote for their male colleagues and business acquaintances. Social networking, word-of-mouth and telephone campaigning by businessmen bring votes to male candidates and freezes women out of the process. But only 60 of the nearly 900 eligible women voted in the election. The remaining 800-plus women were either too lazy or lacked the interest to bother going to the polls.

Certainly there is a percentage of businesswomen who took their voting cues from their husbands and fathers, but I suspect the majority of female non-voters simply did not care enough to see their sisters elected.

This means an uphill battle for the female appointees. Al-Zuhair and Al-Suwaigh are only two of an 18-member board. And they are two board members without a mandate from the business community. They are in a position where nobody has to listen to them.

The Eastern Province election follows a more dismal showing in the October board elections for the Jeddah Chamber of Commerce and Industry (JCCI). Lama Suleiman was the only woman to win a seat on the board with 557 votes. Ousted by voters was Nashwa Taher, who made history a few years ago when she won a chamber board seat along with Suleiman.

This year’s Jeddah chamber contest had seven women candidates. No men voted for them and the entire lot received no more than a handful of votes among the more than 6,400 cast. An estimated 160 women voted in the Jeddah election.

As Saudi women continue to pursue greater education opportunities and insist that Saudi society find a place for them in the workplace, their voice should become greater and their contributions should become more significant.

Yet sometimes their all-consuming desire for that great job with those wonderful financial rewards, which obviously means independence for many, is undermined by the complete lack of perspective.

The women who have already achieved that financial independence by owning their own businesses are – whether they like it or not – role models for these young girls fresh out of college and looking for career.

These role models failed them when they decided to ignore the Asharqia election and failed to return Nashwa Taher to the Jeddah chamber board. By not waging a battle to bring more women to the chamber boards, they failed the girls who are following in their footsteps.

It’s great to have a postgraduate degree and a well-paying job, but young Saudi women will always be on the outside looking in when it comes to expanding their businesses and seeking domestic and foreign investors. Male business owners have a monopoly on that kind of networking. Their businesses will grow as Saudi Arabia becomes more of an international player in the global economy.

Eligible female voters in the chamber elections let slip through their fingers an important opportunity to slightly tip the scales of power. From the business deals conducted in the Jeddah Hilton lobby to the chamber board meetings, there will only be one voice making policy for the business community. And it won’t be a woman’s voice.