SUSRIS Editor’s Note:
A year ago we had a conversation with Kathy Cuddihy about her experiences as a self-described “once reluctant expat” and her book “Anywhere But Saudi Arabia.”
In it she described what it was like to have a 24-year-long front row
seat to a country in transition and to be a part of the rapidly
developing city of Riyadh she first discovered in 1976. Cuddihy’s memoir
documented her experiences and how her attitude transformed from
initial reluctance and resistance to accept a transfer to Saudi Arabia,
to a deep love and respect for its customs and people.
Cuddihy
told SUSRIS that Saudi Arabia was a “blank slate” when she arrived.
“Back then there were no stereotypes,” she said, adding, “It was as if
you were talking about Mars. No one knew anything about it.” Nowadays
Westerners have the opportunity to know much more about Saudi Arabia —
hopefully in some measure through SUSRIS.com. One of the issues that
captures their attention is the longstanding challenge for Saudi women
to drive in the Kingdom. Little attention, however, is given to the
question of non-Saudi women driving. Reliable numbers are not available
on how many of the 5.5 million expats in Saudi Arabia are women, but
whatever the number may be they are not legally on the Kingdom’s
highways. Unlike most of their Saudi sisters the expat women may have
arrived in the Kingdom after a lifetime of driving themselves when they
needed to. Today we share the perspective of Kathy Cuddihy on women
driving in Saudi Arabia and some of the frustrations that come with
being an expat woman not behind the wheel in the Kingdom.
Cuddihy’s book, “Anywhere But Saudi Arabia: Experiences of a Once Reluctant Expat
,” is now available in bookstores in the United States as well as Amazon.com.
,” is now available in bookstores in the United States as well as Amazon.com.
Driven Women Kathy Cuddihy
As a young girl, I thought the epitome
of luxury would be to have my own chauffeur-driven car. When my husband
Sean was transferred to Saudi Arabia, this ambition was realised. Not
quite in the elegant style I imagined, but I did have a driver.
A woman committing to living in Saudi
also commits to retiring her car keys. Although I resented giving up
what I considered to be a basic freedom, the situation wasn’t quite as
bad as I had anticipated. Because there was no public transportation,
Sean’s company provided shopping buses and a couple of personal drivers
to be shared among the wives. Eventually I had my own driver. This made
life easier but it didn’t reduce the counterbalance of frustrations that
came with being driven:
- I didn’t have to worry about finding a parking space: my driver dropped me at the front door of wherever I was going. Instead, I worried about whether or not he’d remember to pick me up at the appointed time—or at all.
- I could send my driver on errands all over the city. Useful… except when he brought back the wrong items, forgot to do things or went to the wrong place.
- I didn’t have to cope with Riyadh traffic and the crazies who sped past on the inside emergency lane. I was too busy coping with my driver, reminding him to stop at stop signs, use his signal before turning, not to sit on the tail of the car in front and any one of a dozen other backseat recommendations.
It’s not illegal for women to drive in
Saudi Arabia but it is illegal for them to drive without a Saudi
license. And licenses aren’t issued to women. The embargo is purely
cultural. A combination of deeply embedded tradition and a powerful
religious establishment ensures that progress in the desert kingdom
happens slowly.
The
numerous anti-driving arguments put forward by conservatives who fear
change have no foundation in common sense. This was most famously
demonstrated by the cleric Sheikh Saleh Al Lohaidan who warned women
that “physiological science” shows that driving “automatically affects
the ovaries and pushes up the pelvis … and that is why children born to
most women who continuously drive suffer from clinical disorders of
varying degrees”.
Not far behind him on the silly scale,
Sheik Mohammed al-Nujaimi, claimed that women driving was a “great
danger”. He expressed the usual concerns: increased opportunity for
adultery, broken marriages and more accidents. His addendum that
allowing women to drive would result in “the spending of excessive
amounts on beauty products” left everyone scratching their heads.
In November 1990, immediately before the
start of the Gulf War, 47 women, accompanied by their husbands or male
relatives, drove in convoy through the streets of Riyadh. The peaceful
protest had dire consequences. The mutawwa whipped up widespread
opposition resulting in the women being vilified and sometimes jailed,
losing or being suspended from their jobs and having their passports
taken away. As Madiha Al Ajroush, one of the participants, said, “Our
sin was to deviate from the collective norm. For that we are
persecuted.” The crack in the door to liberalisation had been slammed
shut in no uncertain terms.
It took nearly 20 years, until June
2011, before the next driving crusade was organised. This one rode on
the momentum of the Arab Spring; women from all over the kingdom joined
the movement. This time there was comparatively little backlash from the
general public.
In October 2013 the Ministry of Interior
warned activists not to proceed with their planned drivathon but there
were indications that the government might be wavering in its stance:
token police checks were set up in downtown areas—where the women
weren’t driving. The aftermath has been primarily that of growing
support for lifting the ban.
***
***
***
The explosion of social media means that
dissatisfactions once voiced privately now are shouted from cyberspace
to the world. A youthful population that refuses to be disenfranchised
fuels campaigns for more freedoms. In this country of over 12 million
women, females are becoming more defiant, less pliable.
Saudi men need to look in their rearview
mirrors: women drivers are speeding up the highway of change. It won’t
be long before they catch up.
Kathy Cuddihy is author of “Anywhere But Saudi Arabia: Experiences of a Once Reluctant Expat.”
About the Book: When
Bechtel offered Sean Cuddihy a transfer to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia in
1976, his wife Kathy agreed to go along on one condition: that it was
only for two years, not a minute longer. This reluctant commitment
turned into a 24-year love affair with Saudi Arabia and its people.
Kathy’s humorous anecdotes of her adventures and misadventures trace the
journey of a country in transition. Never has a nation made so much
progress in so short a time. As a trusted journalist and businesswoman,
Kathy witnessed, recorded and participated in this spectacular
development. From palaces to prisons and mud houses to private jets,
Kathy’s perspective is unique and her experiences remarkable. Told with
the wit and stylishness for which the author is well known, Anywhere But
Saudi Arabia! is a treasure for all who know and love the Kingdom, and
an eye-opener for those with no comprehension of what life was, and is,
like for a non-conventional non-Muslim woman in a conservative Muslim
population. At times hilarious, at times shocking, but always honest and
entertaining, Kathy’s story is infused with deep affection for her
adopted country. Source: Amazon.com Also by Kathy Cuddihy:- Anywhere But Saudi Arabia: Experiences of a Once Reluctant Expat
- A-Z of Places and Things Saudi
- Saudi Customs and Etiquette
- Familiarity Breeds Content
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