Ma’asalaama Sidiki

Parfitt spoke with a soft, polite yet powerful tone, one that almost commanded respect.

“This morning I shall prepare you all for a very big culture shock gentlemen. Let me assure you that Saudi Arabia is unlike any other country you may have visited in the past. It’s far removed from the Al Garve and nothing like the Costa del Sol. Its people, its customs and culture are unlike any other you may have encountered before. Some may surprise you, shock you and in certain cases even frighten or offend you.”

He grabbed the sides of the lectern, leering at the front row.

“You either accept them or you don’t. It’s as simple as that.”

Parfitt moved into open space at the front of the room, placing his hands in his pockets.

“Gentlemen, I warn you now, you will arrive in KSA with two suitcases,”

Pausing, deliberately to emphasise a point he scanned the sea of blank, puzzled faces that sat before him. KSA, the acronym for ‘Kingdom of Saudi Arabia’ was the preferred reference used by the seasoned expat when they were, as they put it, ‘In Kingdom’.

Parfitt held out a finger for each suitcase as he mentioned them in turn..

“The first suitcase gentlemen will be for money, the second one for shit. And, if you''re sensible when one of them is full you''ll return home.”

Again he took a slow, deliberate breath to allow the full impact of his message and limited wit to sink in as muffled laughter grew. His piercing, hawk-like gaze picked out those he knew would be unable to accept the transition he spoke of, those who did not, in his opinion, fit the mould and those who were certain to fall by the wayside.