Reality check: I am NOT invincible.

It feels weird writing on this blog in my living room when only a few days ago I was enjoying a two week long booze filled escapade in London (which I am very much paying for now). Back to the grind I guess! Having spent a bit of time in London doing the things that I do best, I’ve been smacked with a massive reality check. The first is that despite all of my efforts to convince myself so, I am not invincible. I am not above the law, I can quite easily be in danger, I can be hurt and I’m not an exception. That was VERY tough for me to realise. The second is that no matter how much I might get used to the normal ways of England, I’ve just got to change my attitude like a light switch whenever I come back here. Or I might die. Literally.

Yesterday I thought it was a grand idea to get a cab home at 5am. It was sort of like an uber service, which you would think to be legit. Sigh. I guess any car you call at 5am here is going to be on the dark side of legitimate. Anyway, the driver wasn’t the one who I called. Any normal person would probably get out of the car upon realising this, but no not me. You see, I was yet to have my realisation that I am not invincible. Anyway, the driver, a young and rather sleezy looking Saudi man was making painful conversation with me; I think he was trying to be charming, I don’t know. I ignored his ridiculous attempts at flattery or flirtation. So anyway, I gave him a wrong turn by mistake, and when I corrected him, these words actually happened:

Driver: *laughs* “oh, you don’t know the way to your house?”

Me: “I do”

Driver: “Well I know the way to my house, how’s that?”

Me: *dying inside* “No, my house would be fine, thanks”

Driver: “Do you smoke hashish?”

Me: “No.”

Driver: “Do you drink alcohol?”

Me: “No.”

Driver: “I have hashish and alcohol at my house, all of my friends are there, I’ll take you”

Me: *crying and dying inside* “Oh, no thanks. Just take me home please”

Driver: “No.”

Me: *heart palpitations*

Driver: “How are you looking like that and just going home?”

Me: “I don’t speak Arabic”

Driver: “But you’re speaking Arabic now, what do you mean?”

Me: “What’s wrong with you?”

Driver: “You. You’re killing me”

Yeah. Yeah. That’s what was up. Anyway, this guy actually started driving in a different direction to a place where I can only assume was going to end badly for me. “I have hashish and alcohol come to my house all my boys are there”?! He might as well have said: “A bunch of my sexually oppressed horny friends who haven’t had female interaction in so long are all at my house drinking and smoking hash, come so that we can physically and sexually abuse you because you know, oppressive country.”

Proper soz if I didn’t jump at the chance to get gang raped by horrible smelly horny boys. At this point, I genuinely felt fear. In this country, none of the girls that I know ever get into cabs alone, even when they’re licensed. Everyone is always weary of travelling late and it’s avoided at all costs. For some reason, I seemed to have missed it because since I came here six months ago, I’ve been getting taxi’s alone all the time, licensed or unlicensed. I get into taxi’s late at night alone regularly. Granted, I’ve had some dodgy experiences and met a few weirdo’s and everyone keeps telling me to stop but I’ve never actually felt scared or too uncomfortable. This time was different though. For the first time, I genuinely felt unsafe and in danger, and I didn’t really know what to do. He had actually said ‘no’ when I politely requested that he just take me home and started driving off somewhere else. For a moment I thought, shit. My mind literally was like: ‘Shit, this isn’t good. Okay, this is interesting. Oh good, he’s driving off to an unknown location. Okay this is not ideal. Oh fuck. Faaaaack. Yeah, I’m going to die tonight.’

I even asked him to stop the car. I didn’t know what I had planned to do once out of the car, but at that moment, anything was better than play time with suppressed sex-deprived drunken boys. Eventually he drove back to an area I recognised so I told him that that was where I lived, so he could let me out now. Thank god he didn’t actually drive to my house because when he stopped the car he was like “Oooh, so this is where you live huh?” Ugh, for god sake, get out!!

I was just so relieved at this point, I asked him how much it was going to cost. I just wanted to dash the money in his face but then I realised that I only had a 500 riyal note (around 90pounds) SOZ, not about that life. Anyway, he wouldn’t let me pay! I asked him a few times, how much, how much, and this sad man actually allowed these poetic words to exit his mouth: “the only payment I needed tonight was seeing you”. Alright mate. I’m not going to beg you to take my money. And off I trotted, having narrowly escaped gang rapeage or murder. This probably sounds ridiculous and dramatic and exaggerated but a man in London asking you if you want to go back to his place for a spliff and a drink is just a typical Friday night (for some..), here it is literally the equivalent of “I’m going to rape you. And then my friends will rape you”. It’s fucking terrifying. The worst thing is that if (god forbid) something like that were to happen to you, there is literally nothing that you could do about it. Never mind during it, you wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if you tried to report it after. In fact, you’d probably get charged for adultery and be whipped. And if you had the audacity to accuse a Saudi national of raping you, you’d just get into more trouble; Saudi’s are quite literally above the law here and Saudi men rule alongside God. That’s what makes these situations so terrifying, it’s the fact that if something happened, there’d be nothing you could do about it, literally nothing.

So there is the story that led to realisation number one: I am not invincible. How sad is that? In all seriousness though, that was the first time since I’ve been there that I’ve genuinely felt scared and unsafe. Six months in and I’ve finally learned my lesson. Do not get into random taxi’s alone and definitely don’t do that at 5am. Sigh. Being back in London for a while seriously messed me up, I came back having gotten used to basic human rights. So audacious of me.

It’s a bit of a painful realisation to be honest, I quite enjoyed walking around telling myself that I was immune to the ridiculousness of this place. Oh well, I’ve got my game face on now and I am READY. Should I start carrying a pistol around with me? Joke. Imagine me bringing out a pistol from underneath my abaya. Ha!