|
|
I owe my great ARAMCO experience to my father, Rolf C. Christophersen, and my mother, Melitza Angelich Christophersen. This son of an Iowa bank cashier and daughter of an immigrant
Montana merchant gave my sister, Jerry Karen, and me a vigorous start in life with our journey to Saudi Arabia.
The adventuresome came to Dhahran from all walks of life,
all professions, persuasions, and locations. Maybe the most
interesting aspect of expatriate life within the ARAMCO communities
of Dhahran, Abqaiq, and Ras Tanura was the rich cross-section
of Americana concentrated in these petroleum camps. As an
eleven year old, I was very interested in the differences
my new friends and acquaintances exhibited. Malcolm MacKenzie
had a father from New Zealand and a mother from Australia,
yet Malcolm was an American, born on the west coast. His speech
pattern was unique and puzzling.
As expatriates, we were divided from the Arab culture by our living
accommodations. The Dhahran camp, a combination of administrative,
shops, residential, transportation, and storage space, slowly
grew into a small, modern west coast-like community with wide
streets--some divided-- irrigated lawns and gardens, recreation
centers, schools, and hip-roofed homes without gutters and downspouts.
A high, chain link fence eventually surrounded our life in the
Eastern Province. It kept our lifestyle in and the Arab lifestyle
out, or maybe it just kept our lifestyles separated until a rational
conjunction could be achieved. Whatever the case, when the five
o’clock whistle blew, actually a siren atop a shops building,
the Saudi Arabs went away to their new living quarters outside
the camp and we settled down to more western ways. Living in Dhahran
was always a compromise of who you were and who was around.
The desert around Dhahran was a combination of rock, sand, coastal
plain, and date garden. West of Dhahran was the desert. It was
monochrome and seemingly never ending. To the east was Bahrain,
a British protectorate where a four-hour launch cruise landed
one at Manama. It was full of British goods and Government House
was the expatriate center since Bahrain had no star hotels. In
early times, the Dilmun culture inhabited the island.
The region teemed with natural life; oryx, gazelle, fox, various
lizards, exotic birds, an abundance of sea creatures, snakes,
spiders, and insects proliferated. Earwigs and other crawlers
found their way into our homes along with sand . Locusts came
up and swarmed on the crescent years. Arabian horses were a big
diversion. Domestic animals such as chickens, goats, sheep, donkeys,
and camels dotted the landscape. |
|
|
The Dhahran airfield, as it was called in the early days, was
the expatriate link to Europe, the Middle East, India, East Africa,
and ultimately, the United States. The U.S. Air Force and the
U.S. Army had contingents there. My parents hosted a number of
fliers who were veterans of the air battles launched against Nazi
Germany from England. My first job was that of a stock boy at
the base PX. Mr. Streghetti, an Italian, was my first boss.
The author dreamed of going back to
Dhahran and as luck would have
it, his dreams were answered
in 1982 with the help of boyhood
friends Steve Furman
and Marshall Jones. When
he left Dhahran in the winter
of 1985, he took a poster of
ARAMCO’s fifty year anniversary
celebration. That poster
illustrates the immense change
that had occurred in Dhahran
between 1933 and 1983. For part
of the celebration, each ARAMCO
employee received a Cross pen
and pencil set with the Arabic
numeral fifty as a small applique,
and one month’s extra salary,
an example of ARAMCO’s
generosity.
Without this generosity, how could Westerner or Arab alike
who were average citizens, have attended expensive boarding
schools? How could they have traveled the great oceans on
passenger liners and flown the skies to span continents in
modern aircraft? How could they have ridden the Orient Express
or crossed the Bosphorus and English channels? How could they
have flown out of the night to breakfast in Santa Maria, Shannon,
Lisbon, and Athens? How could so many returning school-age
friends have descended into cities such as Amsterdam, Rome,
and Paris to partake of the great cultural feast waiting at
addresses such as Harry’s New York Bar, the Coliseum,
Victor Emmanuel, and Rembrandt Square? We could not have done
these things without ARAMCO. Nor could ARAMCO have benefited
the Kingdom without the expertise and willingness of those
early Americans and Arabs who gave up a current lifestyle
to venture into uncharted waters. The journey wasn't for everyone.
|
