The High Ground Of Jubail

Ahmed was a wonderful student of English.

He was a Saudi, but I doubt there is a teacher

of English whose love of teaching wouldn’t

have been kicked into a higher energy orbit

just by sitting next to him.  I saw him at

his home on the navy base in Jubail.  Jubail 

meansa small mountain, but it all looked like

flat desert to me.  Still, Jubail was an

ancient landmark, I think mentioned

in the Koran, that sailors use to navigate

by in the Arabian sea.

I was supposed to teach him and his older

brother, but the older brother got radicalized

by the modern Arab world and soon left.

One afternoon a Filipino house boy came in

and handed me something that looked like

a mini TV and a small instruction pamphlet

in English.  “My father,” [a Commodore] “wants

you to teach me.” Ahmed said.

It was the first GPS I ever saw.  I began reading

and I kept saying.  “Wow.” 

“What?  What?” Ahmed kept saying.

Finally, I said. “We’ve got to go outside.

We have to acquire three satellites.” I said.

Outside we peered at the small screen until one

dot appeared and then another.  We pointed

at the blue sky:  There!  There!  We screamed

while the Filipino understanding nothing stayed

ten paces back to insure the American teacher

did not harm his charge.

We ran up the empty beach and back:  A Khawaja

in shirt and tie followed a small boy in a white thobe. 

We did big crazy eights and double backs

while the Filipino house boy – a man in himself

in this forties – became more confused.  And every

time we stopped we peered at the small screen

and there was a thermometer’s red line showing

where we had been. 

Ahmed must be in his thirties by now.  I wonder

what he’s doing?  For me this single afternoon

on an empty beach in the Eastern Province of

Saudi Arabia was the high point of fifteen years

I spent in the country.  Swear to God.

FG           11/22/2015

Khawaja is the Arabic name for foreigner.  Thobe is the long white dress worn by Saudi men.