Dhahran Diary®
Title: Parties
DD23
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Dhahran Diary® |
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Title: Parties DD23 |
Proms and the Tri-District dances were high points for students whether returning to the Field or getting ready to step into the nest phase of one's life. We were copying the behavior of our parents. | |
There is plenty of leisure time in Dhahran. We do not have the same lifestyle as in the states but ARAMCO arranges many activities to help fill the void. So do parents and their children. Someone is always having a party. My first dangerous party, one where I actually got to kiss someone behind the kitchen door, was at Betty and Tory Collins' house. I was in seventh grade and I was still a little iffy about the opposite sex. I liked those girls but I had a thin skin and these girls knew how to trim the fat off a swarma with words. We arrived and were each given a number right away. I'm wondering what this number is for and someone calls it from the kitchen door. I am pushed into the kitchen and fall into the arms of this dish! Thank goodness she knew what to do. She departs and I have to call a number. Girls have odd numbers. I called a number, and, ..... I got to know all the girls that night. I went home macho man. I was a different kid the next day. To heck with Zane Gray! The next time there was a party, I was the first one there! No kissing games this time. Mom was in the kitchen. We played guessing games, charades, and had a good time socializing. Mom brought out food and after that we played music and danced. Someone whispered to me that so-in-so was having a sleep over and we might want to show up after this party is over. Over time, this pattern is perfected. A girl, usually one with permissive parents, has a sleep over. The boys show up at the bedroom window and from there we would do many different things. Sometime, we just roamed the town playing hide and seek from one another and Security. After a party I would go home, get in bed for a while, and get up when things got quiet. I'd slip out the window and be down the street in a flash. By prior arrangement, I would go to a location, hook up, and head out. Since junior high students are constantly changing cliques, and attitudes, if your late, you were just left behind. Sometimes you were ditched unceremoniously. Frequently the girls did not wish boys around. This was a challenge to our 'manhood.' We would show up and act obnoxious, easy to do at that age. Father might come out and tell us to go home. We'd slip away and slip back. Father might call Security. We loved to run from Security. Some fathers were combative. We loved combative fathers. We'd ring the door bell and run. We'd throw rocks on the roof and run. Sometimes the father would chase us. We loved the father to chase us. Sometimes the father would chase us and throw rocks. The streets were oil and dirt mix. There were rocks everywhere. One person would ring the bell and run. The rest of us were hiding. When father burst out the door, he would speed past us in pursuit. we would yell at him as he went by. He would be distracted and the ringer would dissolve into the night. Some girls pretended to have sleep overs. They set a trap; very cunning, these junior high girls. Sometimes they let it slip during the day, that they are all meeting at a certain place. I recall the median island across from the Davies mansion was called the Passion Pits. The boys would arrive at the Pits only to find chalk directions and arrows scrawled on the sidewalk. We followed the arrows all night. It 's was a wild goose chase. The Dining Hall had numerous functions including returning student bashes. Big dances with foreign talent, like Bruno Martino and his band, were the norm. Local bands from the districts played too. The Patio was the scene of numerous outside dances and theatrical get togethers. The Dhahran Air Field had dance and jazz bands from time to time. The United States Consulate toward al Khobar hosted parties and dances including celebrations for the Marine Corps anniversary. As Saudi Arab families moved into the Dhahran compound, these outside parties began to wane. Dhahran's cultural values began to change to accept the new members of the community. House parties were fun but nothing was the equal of the beach party. We went to either Half Moon Bay or the spit at al Azzazziyah. Once, at the spit, Linda Lee Killian, Mary Pat Singelyn, and a few others brought their horses from the hobby farm. Can you imagine the beauty of riding an Arab stallion or mare through the surf? I got into trouble because I didn't realize these animals would run themselves to a standstill. I ran my mount at full speed until Linda Lee finally got me off its back. She was very demonstrative about my thoughtless behavior. That's when I realized the western film chase scenes were bunk! The Gulf was a romantic place, a sporting place, a contemplative place, a biological garden. There was something for everyone. We'd have a big fire, set up card tables for food, spread out blankets, and as it got dark, couples seemed to disappear. At Half moon Bay, a sand dune ran right into the water. You could run right from the dune's slip face into the gulf. Or, you could mount the crown on a moon drenched night and see the beauty of an Arabian night. Not to mention those girls down there sitting in a circle on a sand bar. They were up to their necks in the water. We ran down the dune and into the shallow reaches, splashing the girls. They screamed and chased. We ran away.
We used to' gook' the girls. The process, to tackle a girl in bathing attire, one piece preferably, turn her on her tummy and stuff the upper back of her suit with damp sand. We did this until there was so much sand, she could not walk to the water. Then we left. She was now at the mercy of her friends to help her to the water's edge. There she would remove the sand in various ways, her girl friends standing guard and holding towels to obstruct vision. This ungentlemanly act was met with indignation and a few girls who were beyond the idea of deference, made it plain that they were about to begin preying on one of us when we least expected it. The unsettling idea concluded all further actions. In the earliest days of Dhahran, before there was a fence around the compound, a road which eventually became known as Six Street, passed directly south out of camp to Half Moon Bay. When the fence was constructed, a gate was installed at this juncture and a gate guard was installed. Finally, the alternate exits from camp were closed, and it become a long ride to get to Half Moon since the Main Gate from Dhahran was on the north side of camp. ARAMCO provided large personal carriers to take people to either the spit or the bay depending on the schedule. We called them cattle cars. On numerous occasions, I rode to either beach in these personnel carriers. Later, concrete block fire pits were cemented in place; then bathrooms, and finally shower facilities. This required electricity and water so both sites received improvements. After Italian camp was removed at al Azzazziyah beach, there were no facilities other than portable rest rooms for some time. Although, the Dhahran Dining Hall and the Patio hosted huge balls, Tri-District Dances, galas, retirement dinners, and seasonal parties to celebrate Christmas and other events, the beaches gave great joy to the most people. There was an ever changing scene, waterborne contrivances, and numerous outdoor activities including live music and dramatic presentations. ARAMCO's recreation department was at the apex of most planning and resource.
When I left Dhahran in 1985, there was a yacht club at Half Moon Bay and villas constructed at al Azzazziyah. One industrial addition which reduced the pristine environment of the beaches was the rock crusher. These plants, almost surrounding Dhahran, created aggregate for building materials. They belched so much airborne pollution, that the coastal shallows at both beaches were layered with a gray film. The waters were foggy, and the air was so filled with dirt, the evening skies were much less dramatic. At times, one could no longer see the winking lights of Manama on Bahrain. This and other cultural factors reduced beach usage. |
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Copyright ©1999-2006
Rolf A. Christophersen |
