Every week I write and article for the Euro Weekly News, an English-speaking newspaper covering all the major resorts of Spain and the Balearics. You can pick up a copy on a Thursday ... or read it here every week. |
Thursday 27 September 2007
I used to love Ramadam. During my Saudi Arabian years I always looked foreword to this Moslem holy month. Basically I suppose due to the fact that the whole place went completely doolally. No one could eat or drink before dark, so most slept all day with business at a minimum (wonderful). At dusk, when the fast could be broken, the streets were completely deserted and the trading and movement of illegal (on my part strictly booze) substances, could take place with impunity. Those of us who indulged in such skullduggery actually used to wave to each other on passing our fellow bootleggers traversing the deserted roads. If ever a strictly Moslem country fell under attack around dusk during the month of Ramadam, its unlikely the inhabitants would even know the opposing force were ensconced until sometime around 9-10 o'clock when the locals emerged from their respective repasts. After that it was off to the offices and places of work, where social intercourse was the order of the night, and virtually no work done at all. Thereafter, everyone had a wonderful time before staggering back home before daybreak (a sort of Islamic Cinderella syndrome!). After a substantial breakfast, which in those circumstances was a somewhat contradictory term, you then collapsed in bed for the rest of the day. It was in fact all distinctly surreal and yours truly, having an undying affection for nonconformity, personally reveled in every minute of it. Delivering illegal booze in those prohibitive circumstances did of course still have its dangers. I remember one order of around half dozen cases of whiskey which were to be delivered to a sheik, whose offices were in the centre of the commercial district of the city. Unloading the cases from the street to the elevator was nerve racking enough. Halfway through this operation the sheik, who had actually begun to help us (Gutrah and Thoub flapping in the breeze, bless him), informed us he had to go upstairs to his office to pray! This particular consignment of whiskey had been imported under the false roof of a trailer and consequently, due to its restricted height, been re boxed in slightly flatter cartons. This meant the lids were not actually sealed but simply 'tucked in'. By now, sweating profusely, we duly stacked them in the lift and pressed the button for the required floor. Imagine our horror when the lift suddenly stopped early. The door slid open and to our almost unbelieving eyes in stepped two policemen (one was in fact in traditional garb but, being in the company of a uniform, was more than likely a member of the secret police, which were even worse). They then pressed the button to a floor above our destination and up we duly went. To say we were twitching was, as you can imagine, the understatement of the decade. As the lift continued its painfully slow, and to us nightmare ascension, the policeman, who was carrying an officer type baton, began as he conversed with his colleague, to idly flip at the lid of one of the (thankfully unmarked) boxes. Luckily it stayed shut. Never the less, the sweat dripping off us was now turning into a positive Niagara. About a year later, when we reached our chosen floor, I quickly suggested we continue on up to allow them to alight at their destination before we unloaded the cases at ours. They then actually made an offer to assist us to unload them first. Gawd! Unctuously declining this idea we duly preceded up, where, on reaching their destination, they finally alighted. When we subsequently all but fell into the Sheiks office I'll never forget the old rogue interrupting his prayers, raising his head from his mat and, completely oblivious of what had transpired, telling us to 'stack them over in the corner!' I dunno funny old life 'ennit? Keep a smile on yer boat. Keep them e's coming and whatever you do, always keep the faith. Love Leapy |
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