Leaving South Africa (Final destination) No.5

So, here I am in Al Khobar. The next morning, bright and early at 6:30 am, I'm outside eagerly awaiting the driver. Two hours pass, and I'm still standing under the sun. I try calling his number, but there's no answer. I then reach out to the school; they assure me they'll pick me up shortly. Another two hours elapse, and I'm still outside in the sun. I call the school again, and they inform me that they can't locate the driver who dropped me off, and they have no idea where I am. Well, neither did I. I approach the motel's receptionist and ask for assistance in explaining our location. After 15 minutes of back-and-forth discussions, the school labels the driver as incompetent and promises to pick me up the next day, hopefully...

The following day, the same narrative unfolds at 6:30 am. By 8 am, I call the school again, and they're still unable to find the driver. They suggest I wait in the hotel until further notice. By this point, anxiety overwhelms me. I don't know my whereabouts, and the school is equally clueless. I was so stressed out that I didn't think clearly; in hindsight, I could have sought help from others in the area, but we all have moments where we could have done better.

In the evening around 6 pm, hunger forces me to explore for food, and I venture out into the unknown. As I walk down the street, a blue Ford Focus pulls up, and the driver looks at me, asking, "Is jy Vannie kaap?" (Are you from Cape Town?). It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard; I nearly jumped through the window to hug this guy.

This is how I met my dear friend Talieb. He had also heard about this lost teacher and literally drove around town looking for me. We still reminisce today about that day and the miracle of him finding me in the middle of the city. Talieb then took me to his home, where I met his family and enjoyed a wonderful supper. I will forever be grateful to him and his family.

He then arranged for me to stay in a hotel near his home, and the next day, I began teaching at my new school. Some people are truly heaven-sent, as I don't know if I would have survived this ordeal without Talieb's assistance.

You often hear about the importance of networking, but it's not until your life and sanity depend on people that you truly understand the significance of these connections. The beauty of traveling lies in meeting incredible people and having the strangest and best experiences.

My story is not unique, but neither is it the norm (in fact, it's one of the worst landing stories I've heard). I have changed companies three times since then, and each experience has been fantastic. So, don't let this crazy story deter you from taking the plunge into expat life. I promise that if you decide to try out expat life, you will never regret it, and it will change you in ways you could never have imagined in a million years.

Leaving South Africa (Dammam is not Al Khobar) No.4

 

Finally arrived in Dammam/Al Khobar.

The train journey from Riyadh to Dammam spanned four hours, and I must admit it was quite pleasant. The train was well-maintained, and the seats were comfortable, but I digress. As anticipated, upon reaching Dammam, there was no one there to welcome me. It's crucial to understand that acquiring a mobile SIM card at that time was a complex process. So, here I was at the train station without a phone in a place I had only learned about the day before. This marked my third day of travel, and amidst all the confusion and excitement, I had scarcely eaten and was not in the best state of mind.

Summoning the courage, or perhaps driven by sheer desperation, I approached a local individual, utilizing my limited Arabic skills, and essentially begged to use his phone to contact the school. Fortunately, Saudis are generally generous and helpful, and this individual was no exception. I called the school in Dammam, and after a series of confusion and excuses, they assured me that someone was en route.

Two hours later, a school bus pulled up at the train station. In hindsight, it turned out to be helpful because the school's name was prominently displayed on the bus, making it easily identifiable. The driver, communicating in broken English, reassured me and conveyed that everything would be fine as we were only 10 minutes away from the hotel, emphasizing that the school in Al Khobar was quite nice.

"Stop the bus!!!" was my immediate response upon realizing that I was supposed to go to Dammam, and I had no idea what Al Khobar was. The driver calmly explained that Dammam is Al Khobar, maalesh (a phrase used to mean "relax, don't worry"). This, of course, only heightened my worry, but in my state of being lost, I figured I might as well get lost a bit more.

We proceeded to drive for the next four hours (supposed to be a 10-minute journey) from hotel to hotel. Apparently, there was some event that weekend, resulting in all the hotels being fully booked. After some time, he managed to find one, checked me in, and assured me he would return the next morning to take me to the school. Finally, I was in Dammam/Al Khobar, and I hoped things would settle down. Or so I thought.

FYI, DAMMAM IS NOT AL KHOBAR.

To be continued...

Leaving South Africa (Snakes on the plane) No.3

Arriving in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia marked the beginning of a series of unfortunate events.

Touching down at Riyadh International Airport around 3 am on a Monday morning, a mix of nervousness and excitement enveloped me. Upon exiting the customs area, my search for the company driver proved fruitless. Despite inquiries, the language barrier hindered my progress. Fortunately, after navigating the airport on my own, I serendipitously encountered Riyaad, a fellow South African and teacher, who happened to be seeking me out. This encounter marked the initiation of my education as an expatriate.

Riyaad, having heard through the grapevine about the arrival of a new teacher, had proactively come to the airport to assist. It became clear that leaving new staff stranded at the airport was a common practice at this company, and Riyaad often played the role of rescuer for the bewildered newcomers. He arranged accommodation for the night, a responsibility that the company was supposed to fulfill, and assured me he would accompany me to the school the following day.

I must emphasize that I had no prior knowledge of Saudi Arabia, and when informed by the school that I'd be stationed in Riyadh, I had diligently researched the city.

The next day, bright and early, we headed to my new school. Meeting various people (all a blur), we eventually arrived at the administration office to initiate the paperwork. The person in charge accepted my documents and instructed me to relax while they processed everything. They brought me tea, and finally, a sense of ease settled in. However, after a few minutes, the individual halted the process, looked at me with irritation, and questioned why I was in Riyadh instead of Dammam. This revelation sent me into a state of panic, as I was unfamiliar with Dammam. Calmly, I explained that the company had booked my flights to Riyadh, and that was the extent of my knowledge. After several hours, they informed me of the mix-up, sent me back to the hotel, and disclosed that I would be flying to Dammam that evening as originally intended.

Back at the hotel, as I awaited transportation to the airport, a few hours before the flight, I received a call from the airline notifying me that my flight had been canceled due to the presence of a snake on the plane. Coincidentally, this incident occurred around the same time as the famous movie scene featuring Samuel L. Jackson and snakes on a plane. The school reassured me, urging me to relax, and promised to resolve the situation the next day.

The following morning, the driver arrived at my hotel, instructing me to bring all my belongings. However, instead of driving me to the airport, he directed me to a train station, assuring me that someone would meet me upon arrival in Dammam. And so, my journey to Dammam unfolded.

To be continued in the next post.

Leaving South Africa No.2

The commencement of our journey into the desert marked a pivotal moment for us.

Back in the early 2000s, we were a young family of five. The year 2005 brought the news of our fourth child on the way, prompting a realization that sustaining a family of this size would necessitate significant adjustments. Being a teacher, my options were somewhat limited, and the prospect of going abroad began to dominate our considerations.

After an extensive period of interviews and applications, 2008 saw the culmination of my efforts with a promising job offer. Filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension, we made the daring decision to embark on this new chapter. The journey to Riyadh, KSA, was a nerve-wracking experience, with a whirlwind of emotions accompanying me.

I can vividly recall that day, etched in my memory as if it occurred just yesterday. Leaving my wife and kids for the first time was undeniably one of the most challenging moments of my life. The realization that I was headed to an uncertain destination for an unknown duration filled me with a range of emotions—nervousness, excitement, and a profound sense of fear.

As I made my way to Cape Town International Airport, tears flowed freely, and the internal struggle was palpable. Upon reaching customs, the internal turmoil intensified, and I had to muster the strength to resist the urge to look back. The decision to walk away was accompanied by a nauseating sensation, a pain that lingers even as I pen down this reflection. Yet, despite the difficulties, I harbor no regrets. In hindsight, taking that flight to Riyadh stands out as one of the most rewarding decisions I've ever made.

Introduction

 

Introduction

My name is Mughammed (pronounced Mohammed) Kaashief Kafaar and I was born and bred in the beautiful city of Cape Town, South Africa. I am married to my beautiful wife Farieda and also the proud father of 5 beautiful children. I am also a Muslim and a teacher. This blog is about me, my family, and how we ended up spending the last 15 years in Saudi Arabia. This is the true story of our lives and I hope our experiences and adventures will help someone reading this navigate their own.