Chapter 33 - Welcome to the Pleasure Dome
Approximate Reading Time – 16 minutes
Nick looked up from examining the afternoon's latest patient. He caught a glimpse of Julian coming through the door to the ER with a broad smile across his face. The smile, coupled with the fact that Julian rarely made an appearance in the ER, piqued Nick's interest.
"You look pretty happy. What's up?" He asked as Julian approached.
"You'll be smiling too when I tell you about our invitation for tonight."
Julian motioned for Nick to step away from the others. Nick asked DeSousa to finish with the patient and walked to a quiet corner of the room.
"All right, I'll bite. What will I be doing that will make me smile?"
"We have an invitation to join the Colonel at his 'guest villa' this evening, and from how he talked, he has a surprise for us."
"That should be interesting. I'm not sure I'm up for a surprise from the Colonel, but I assume this has nothing to do with work. Or maybe, just maybe, this is the Colonel's way of thanking us for helping with the Palestinians."
Julian responded.
"I very much doubt that. We'll have to wait and see, won't we? I'll arrange to have someone drive us."
Julian paused for a second as if hesitant to express his next piece of information.
"One more thing: Keith will be joining us as well. I suspect that the Colonel has some procurement questions to review with him. So why don't you pop round about half eight, and we'll go from my flat."
"Sounds good; I could use a little diversion. Eight-thirty it is."
Keith was the hospital's somewhat sly but effective purchasing manager. The contract had three parts; Julian only controlled one of them, personnel, while Keith controlled the other two, supplies and equipment. While Julian occasionally dealt with the Chairman, Keith was in almost daily contact with him.
Julian was ready and waiting when Nick arrived. They walked down to the parking lot and found Ernesto waiting.
"Where you go tonight, Sir?"
Ernesto asked politely.
Julian replied.
"A villa in the town. I'll direct you."
The Colonel's villa was in a quiet residential area a few miles from the hospital. From the outside, it was nothing special. Like most suburban villas, this one was two stories, surrounded by an eight-foot wall. A few acacia trees grew near the outer walls, their tops just visible just above the walls.
Ernesto pulled up to the villa's front gate, stopped, and got out to open the door for Julian and then Nick. Julian gave him instructions for the evening.
"Don't go too far away. Could you check with the houseboy at about midnight? My guess is we'll be here until 1 or 2 am."
He handed Ernesto a 50 Riyal note.
"Get yourself some dinner."
By this time, Mahmoud, the Colonel's houseboy, had heard the car pull up, had opened the front gate, and was waiting. He ushered the two men inside. Mahmoud, a short, slightly plump, middle-aged Indian, had first worked for the Colonel as a driver. Now, he had been promoted to 'houseboy,' the discrete caretaker of the guest villa. It was a satisfying job for Mahmoud, as it was prestigious among his peers. The job required only a few occasional evenings each month and rarely a weekend night. Moreover, the Colonel gave him a relatively free hand running the villa. This authority, however limited, provided Mahmoud status, which was rare among his peers.
He greeted the visitors.
"Welcome, Mr. Julian, Dr. Nick. Come with me. Mr. Keith is already here."
They followed him up the front steps and through opaque glass doors.
Once they entered, they could see that the villa inside was completely different from its bland exterior. Persian carpets covered highly polished marble floors. The entryway was adorned with French-style furniture, and a large crystal chandelier hung over the entry.
Julian and Nick removed their shoes and left them by the front entrance. Mahmoud led them through the entry hall into a large sitting room filled with overstuffed, blue velvet chairs lining the walls. Another crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and ornate mirrors in gold frames decorated the walls. Keith was seated with a couple of men in local dress. They were already drinking tea and talking loudly. One of the men recognized Julian and called out to him across the room.
"Julian, how did you get lucky to be here? You make a mistake! This is the wrong house for you. Go down the street to another villa."
The man laughed loudly at his joke and stood up, smiling at Julian. His presence filled the room as he shook Julian's hand.
"Adeeb, you old bugger. I'm here for the same reason you are to enjoy a nice quiet dinner with the Colonel."
"No, Julian, you didn't come to see the Colonel; you came to see his friend Johnny Walker, the black one."
The two men laughed.
"Adeeb, have you met Dr. Nick yet?"
He looked directly at Nick, pretending not to know him.
"No, no, I haven't."
The big man turned to Nick and offered his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Nick. Where are you from, and why the hell did you come to a god-forsaken place like this? Excuse me; I mean this beautiful desert paradise."
"I'm from California. I wanted to compare deserts. The Saudi desert has its advantages over Death Valley."
Adeeb laughed at the irony.
"Julian, Nick, come, sit over here with us. You can ignore Keith for now."
He took Julian by the arm and led him to where his friend sat. Mahmoud followed, a little concerned that Adeeb had usurped his role. However, he quickly stepped in front and took control of the seating, showing Julian and Nick to chairs next to the other men; he called out for the tea boy.
"Yalla, Yallah, (come, come)Ahmed."
The same man Nick had seen on his first day in the Colonel's office entered the room. As before, he held a coffee pot and a set of small cups in one hand. Julian and Nick sat and watched as Ahmed carefully poured. After filling the first cup, which he offered to Adeeb, he filled others for Adeeb's guests, Nick and Julian. A few minutes later, he rapidly repeated the ritual with the second cup, offering a cup to everyone, then stepped back a few feet.
Julian looked over at Adeeb and then at Nick, who spoke.
"In all my years here, I've never gotten used to this. The sweet tea's alright, but this green coffee is still awful."
He sipped the beverage slowly. Nick disagreed.
"I'm beginning to like it and the dates that usually come with it. They are a good complement to the bitter taste."
Nick now looked at Adeeb.
"I guess we just sit and wait for the Colonel to show up?"
Keith spoke up.
"That's the way it goes most of the time. You sit, wait, and drink tea until he shows up.
Then, if you are lucky, there's a TV with football on, but we're not fortunate tonight. But I still wait, especially for Julian's friend Johnny to show up."
Adeeb introduced the man with him, a distant relative of the Chairman from Riyadh. He had brought the man along for a formal introduction to the Colonel and Keith. Privately, Adeeb hoped The Chairman would move this fellow into his job so he wouldn't have to deal with the Colonel.
The men exchanged small talk for a few minutes before the conversation eventually came around to the elephant in the room, Kuwait, and preparation for the war.
Adeeb was direct.
"The Chairman thinks that there's not gonna be any war. Yanni, he thinks Saddam will pull out at the last minute and probably get some payment through the back door. But still, he wants me to get some ambulances and other things just in case Saddam doesn't do what the Chairman said."
He paused for a second before getting to his point.
"Keith, you know where I can get some ambulances? I got to get ten ambulances here by the end of the year, and it's early November. The Colonel wants them ASAP, and The Chairman wants to ensure they go through Riyadh. You got any connections?"
"Good luck, mate. I'm afraid there's no ambulance souk in London. Ambulances aren't in any carpark, and if there were, you better believe the army would be there first, snapping up all the available ones."
Adeeb looked crestfallen. As usual, he had hoped for a quick solution to The Chairman's direction, involving as little work on his part and as much opportunity for commission.
He moved on to the next item on his shopping list.
"How about Gas Masks? Yanni, we could make a lot of money on gas masks. Order thousands of them and sell them to the hospital. Or in the souks, we'd make a killing."
Keith chuckled.
"Afraid not, same story. There won't be any left worth buying. The good ones went to the army, and any that were left Her Majesty's Government bought up weeks ago."
Adeeb looked irritated for a second; his mouth pursed to make a quick remark but then smiled.
Keith quickly added, almost as an aside,
"I never handle any of this. You know that."
Nick watched this exchange, half amused and half concerned. Adeeb looked at the pending war as an opportunity to make extra money with little concern for the hospital's actual needs. But, on the other hand, his bumbling efforts seemed to render him harmless.
The conversation might have moved on to more items needed for the war effort, but the Colonel’s arrival interrupted it.
Mahmoud ushered him in, hovering about while the Colonel walked over to Adeeb and Keith. Captain Salim was with him. The Colonel handed his hat to the houseboy and asked him to take the Captain's.
Adeeb exchanged greetings in Arabic with the Colonel and the Captain, introducing his friend. Julian and Nick waited patiently while these pleasantries took place. Finally, after a few minutes of bantering back and forth, the Colonel turned to Julian and Nick.
"Glad you could make it, Dr. Nick; good thing you come along."
The Colonel snapped his fingers.
"Yalla, Mahmoud, tell them to start the food and get Ahmed here to serve us something to drink."
Mahmoud came as quickly as his short legs would carry him, arriving a little out of breath.
"Everything is ready. Food is in the back."
"Tiyeeb, OK, first we have a drink, then we eat, then we have another drink. Where's Sayeed? Get him in here. OK, let's sit down."
The men took their seats, and the Colonel pulled up a small table with an ashtray. After sitting comfortably, he took out a cigarette and lit it. He inhaled, then exhaled, watching the smoke for a second. Mahmoud entered the room, pushing an ornate tea cart. An ice bucket, eight crystal tumblers, bottled water, soda water, tonic, 7up, Pepsi, and most importantly, a bottle of Vodka, gin, and Black Label were on the cart. Mahmoud stopped the wagon in front of the Colonel and turned around, leaving the room.
"Come, make yourself a drink," said the Colonel, looking first at Adeeb and then at Julian, wondering which would make the first move for the liquor. The two men looked at each other briefly, and then Adeeb rose and spoke.
"Nick, what do you want? You might like Johnny Walker, right?
"I prefer bourbon, but it's still whiskey. So, yes, I'll have some over ice."
Nick walked to the tea wagon with Julian close behind. Adeeb served the rest of the guests.
When they were all seated again, Julian proposed a toast.
"Cheers, Colonel, and thank you for this generous invitation."
The others raised their glasses in response. Then, when they had all taken their first taste of the alcohol, Julian began to relate something he had recently encountered.
"Yesterday, I left the hospital to go into town, but when I reached the Riyadh highway, I couldn't turn. So I had to sit and wait as the bloody great parade passed. Did any of you see all the American tanks headed up north? The Yank tanks were painted in desert camouflage and were on trailers. The whole thing took about half an hour; there must have been a hundred or more."
Nick nodded.
"No, but I saw some of them arriving a few weeks ago, painted green and brown; probably just arrived from Germany."
The men laughed. Their small talk about various preparations for the impending war continued for another half hour until Mahmoud interrupted them, announcing that dinner was ready.
The Colonel rose from his chair.
"Yanni, make a drink, take it with you, and follow Mahmoud out to the tent."
Nick looked at Julian quizzically.
"Tent, what's with the tent?"
"Don't worry; it's not what you think; you'll see," Julian reassured him.
They followed Mahmoud out of the villa into the warm night air. When they emerged from the building, they spotted a rectangular, black camel hair tent pitched in the backyard area. It was a traditional Bedouin tent, large enough to host at least a dozen men. Sayeed stood outside the tent, holding open a flap for the men to enter. Red and blue oriental carpets covered the ground. Around the edges were rectangular cushions covered in red and black fabric. Copper lanterns hung from the tent's poles, glowing warmly. In the center of the space was a huge silver platter with the main course, a roast lamb atop a bed of yellow rice dotted with raisins, and small pieces of vermicelli. Surrounding the main platter were smaller platters with hummus, tabbouleh, kibbe, stuffed grape leaves, cucumber and yogurt salad, and baskets of local flatbread. In the corner of the tent, a servant stood waving a big fan to keep the flies at bay.
Nick was surprised at the scene before him. It transported him from modernity, taking him back a century. He was about to participate in an ancient desert tradition known to the Westerners as a 'lamb grab.' The men positioned themselves cross-legged on the floor with a cushion behind them on which to lean. The Colonel sat in the center, nearest the platter. He took a large knife from the plater, carved meat from the lamb, and served it with rice on a plate.
He served Adeeb's guests from Riyadh as a gesture of honor and then moved on to Adeeb, Captain Salim, and finally, the three Westerners. The men then began passing the plates of humus and other items around.
The Colonel grinned and looked at Julian before filling a plate for him.
"OK, Julian, what do you want? Any of the good parts for you?"
"No, I hope you have given Adeeb the honor of the eyeballs and kidneys and that lot. Just the regular meat, if you please."
The Colonel placed a large piece of meat on Julian's plate and looked at Nick, who gingerly offered his plate.
"Nick, is this your first lamb like this?"
"Yes, Colonel, I have not had the honor before. Of course, I've heard about this, but this is the first time I have experienced it."
The Colonel continued.
"This is good lamb, Australian, not goat. Julian probably told you it would be the goat. He wants to scare you. I know him."
Julian laughed at the good-natured ribbing, happy to suffer any amount of kidding for the privilege of free scotch. Finally, the men helped themselves to the rice and other items on the smaller trays.
Julian looked over, seeing a concerned look on Nick's face. Then, turning to him, he quietly asked what was wrong.
"Forks and knives; where are the utensils?" Nick asked in an anxious, hushed tone.
Julian quickly responded, whispering.
"This is a hands-on process, if you will. Just watch the others, don't use your left hand, and be sure you finish before the Colonel. When he finishes, the meal's over."
"Thanks for the advice. I'll see if I can keep up."
Nick followed the movements of the other men. They took little meat pieces, added a small amount of rice, rolled it in one hand into a ball, and ate it. He imitated them, ensuring he only grabbed a little meat or rice. After the first few tries, he was able to manage the process. The rice was sticky enough to hold the food together.
The Colonel briefly spoke to one of the guests from Riyadh, with Adeeb occasionally joining in the conversation. Julian and Nick watched along with Captain Salim, not wanting to distract the Colonel. In the background, the servant quietly fanned away some additional flies who had come for the feast. Nick watched the food on the Colonel's plate slowly disappear as his conversation continued. When the food was finally gone, the Colonel called for Mahmoud.
"Yalla, Mahmoud, it's time for more drinks. Make sure you have everything ready."
The Colonel rose from the tent's floor and led the way out while Mahmoud opened the tent flap. The men followed in single file while the Colonel led them on a short walk back into the villa, down a hall to a door near the front entrance. If this were a Western residence, one would assume that it was a coat closet, but instead, the doorway led to a staircase descending to a basement beneath the main section of the villa. They emerged into a large, dimly lit room when they reached the bottom. As their eyes adjusted, they could see a bar on one side of the room, complete with stools and a mirror with glass shelves behind it. Three sofas stood on the far side of the room. A large, oriental carpet covered the floor. On the walls were four small speakers. If he weren't sure, he was in Saudi Arabia, and Nick thought he could be in any basement rec room in the States. Nick noticed two doors just past the far side of the bar, which he assumed were restrooms.
"I'm impressed, Colonel. This is almost like being at home." Nick said, smiling.
"Walla, this is the Colonel's home away from home," added Adeeb, laughing.
The Colonel seemed pleased and looked at Julian.
"Julian, why don't you be barman for the night?" to which he replied,
"It would be an honor. Just show me where you keep the supplies."
"Look behind; you, everything's there." Said the Colonel, motioning for Julian to walk around behind the bar.
Julian walked around the bar. Underneath were two small refrigerators filled with mixers and bottled water. On the shelves were three bottles: Johnny Walker's Black Label, Vodka, and Gin. On the floor behind him was an ice chest. Julian set to work organizing the bar and putting out drinks and mixers. The rest of the men sat on the sofas or at the bar. Nick chose one of the barstools, watching Julian set up the glasses and taking orders.
"Colonel, a double scotch for you with a little ice, right?"
"Yeah, but don't cheat me on the Scotch."
Julian grinned and poured an extra half-jigger of scotch into the glass. He quickly filled orders for the others and settled behind the bar with his drink.
The Colonel walked over to a corner of the room where a small cabinet with a glass door held a music system. Looking intently, he reached for a cassette tape, put it into the player, and started the music. Julian had expected Arabic music, but instead, some of the latest American and European pop music came out. The first song was Sinead O'Conner's recent hit, "Nothing Compares 2 u."
Later, the music changed to traditional Arabic music, heavy with drumbeats, cymbals, and the Oud (a small 11 or 13-stringed instrument similar to a Lute). Mahmoud dimmed the lights. From a doorway covered by thin curtains emerged the figure of Aisha. Her body was undulating to the rhythm of the music. She was shimmering in a sheer, powder blue skirt, a belt of silver coins, and a matching blue bra with ample sequins. Her long black hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were made up with heavy black eyeshadow and long false eyelashes. Barefoot, she moved slowly around the room, pausing briefly in front of each of the guests, finally turning her back on the room while she moved across to the far side, where she picked up a pair of castanets. Accompanied by the castanet's sharp sounds, she danced with rapid hip movements and other actions that made her belly the focus of all the eyes in the room. Her abdomen rolled in ripples in rhythm with the music.
As this dance ended and the music faded, she retreated behind the curtain and re-emerged as the next song began. After the third time, she disappeared for a few minutes, returning in a fiery red costume with sleeves that looked like wings. The men watched in silence, spellbound by her movements, following her back and forth across the room. Finally, she moved back toward Adeeb and took his hand, encouraging him to stand up and join her in the dance. He struggled to find his feet but stood and awkwardly followed her movements. Once this was over, she disappeared again and re-emerged in a golden outfit carrying a sword. This dance was her finale, the sword dance. All eyes followed as she began, skillfully balancing the sword on her head. She moved effortlessly around the room. The gaze of the men followed her, watching the blade to see if she would lose the weapon's perfect balance on her head. Aisha was an accomplished dancer, and her days of dropping the sword were far behind her.
She finished the dance and then made a round of the room. She stopped first by Captain Salim, who gingerly placed a hundred riyal note in the waist of her skirt. She moved to Julian and Keith next; each followed suit, stuffing notes at her waist. Nick had been in the process of finding the correct bill in his wallet without drawing too much attention. He made it just in time as the dancer approached closer. She had decided to tease the newcomer, and instead of shimmying near with her waist, she bent forward, offering her bra for the money. Nick was hesitant, but the Colonel urged him on. He carefully placed the bill in her bra on her ample breasts and quickly removed his hand. She smiled and moved on to the Colonel. Aisha turned her back to him and bent far back, letting her hair wave in front of his face. He then placed a five hundred riyal note in the back of her skirt.
She moved away, then disappeared through the door. The music slowly faded, and it was clear that the evening was ending. Nick and Julian stood up, thanked the Colonel, and ascended the stairs to the main level. They bid good night to Mahmoud and went out to the waiting car.