THERE are about eight million expatriates from all over the world living in Saudi Arabia. They come from the farthest reaches of China to the remotest vastness of America. You can meet them in all walks of life. They're everywhere. They've entered our homes, and even our bedrooms and kitchens. They know the most intimate details of our lives and our families. They know things about us that even we Saudis aren't aware of. No Saudi can possibly get through any given day without somehow encountering several of them. No one can get anything done without their help. They have become a part of every facet of the very fabric of Saudi daily life. And yet, despite all that, it seems that a non-Saudi's relationship with a Saudi ends as soon as the mission or work he has been brought in to do is over – in the restaurant, the workshop or even in the street. Saudis consider them in the same way they consider the machines they use. As soon as the work is done and the mission is over, no personal or social relationship whatsoever follows. Saudis don't mingle with them, not in public ceremonies and not even in funerals. Take a stroll down Riyadh's Tahlia street and you can almost touch the proverbial wall that separates each group from the other. You'll see self-segregated groups of each and every nationality: Young Saudis, Syrians, Filipinos, Europeans etc… I've never seen a single group of Saudis with a non-Saudi hanging out with them. Interest in soccer, the youth's passion everywhere, seems to be confined to young Saudi males. You hardly see any non-Saudis at a crowded venue like King Fahd Stadium. All of the fans of Saudi clubs are Saudis and Saudis only. When I asked a number of non-Saudis about Saudi soccer, I found that they didn't even have an idea about the standings in major matches. Frankly, none of them could even tell me the name of a Saudi artist or even a Saudi government minister, let alone that of a writer, intellectual or opinion leader. Most of them don't have any idea about the Kingdom's social structures, segments of society or its regions. And that's despite the fact that many expatriates have been living here with us for decades. Arab communities, for instance, for as long as they live with us, almost never come to use the words we use in our own dialects – not a single one. Actually, Saudis themselves, when they talk to Arab expatriates, tend to use their dialect instead. They speak Egyptian with Egyptians and Lebanese with the Lebanese. Whenever they talk to non-Arabs, instead of insisting on speaking Arabic, they use the most basic of English. When that doesn't help, they use a form of Arabic language that's even moe pidgin than the one the foreigner himself uses. Unfortunately, that estrangement is inevitably rubbed off on the media. I sifted through Saudi newspapers lately to search for news about non-Saudis, and I came to a sad realization: Expatriates are depicted only negatively. The vast majority of the news that involve expatriates are about crimes some individuals commit. The papers don't pay attention to them unless they do something bad. There are absolutely no interactive material in the media that focuses solely on them and their lives in the Kingdom. Read a Saudi newspaper and you'll hardly find anything that even hints at the fact that there are more than eight million foreigners living here. How did such estrangement come about? I can't answer that, but this question is certainly food for thought. If you wish to discuss it, please visit my blog at www.albakeet.com. - Al-Jazirah __
