Who's oppressed? That guy, that guy, maybe her and definitely him.

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,

* * *

So, in typical angry-Western-woman fashion, I was ready to rail against the bus driver, his superiors, the passport office employees and anyone who would listen for keeping two busloads of women idling in a parking lot for over two hours on a hot day.

But, I didn't. Instead, I found it in me to calmly creep up to the front of the bus, past my ubiquitous black-clad sisters - in various states of outward modesty, depending on culture and conviction - and meekly ask the Asian-looking-Arabic-speaking driver, slumped over to the side of his seat:

"Um, what are we waiting for?"

Of course, up until then, my vista consisted of row upon row of fidgety women, some unfortunate enough to have brought along small children, for a trip to the mobile passport office that was roaming the coast for anyone who had yet to offer up their fingerprints for preservation. Oh, yeah, you couldn't leave the country or come back if you didn't.

So the wives and daughters of quasi-diplomats and other (self)-important people belonging to the organization my husband works for, were wondering just when we'd be escorted into the other side of the gender divide to complete what should have been a quick, routine job.

But that wasn't the whole picture.

"The women are going in ten at a time," replied the driver, irritated at my presence and referring to the steady trickle of ladies disembarking from the bus beside us. I barely heard him, fixated on another sight that none of us had noticed right across the sandy lot in front of us -- dozens of South-East Asian men lined up on the opposite side of the mobile trailer, waiting for their turn, just like us, but in the hot, desert sun.

A turn that would never come.

You see, no one had bothered to let these young, old and very old day labourers, drivers, security guards, what have you, know that some "VIP" women were going to be taking up an entire morning's worth of fingerprinting procedure. So they just stood and stood, watching black shadow after black shadow float up the steps into the air-conditioned sanctuary and back again, to the bus, another air-conditioned sanctuary I had mistaken for a discomfort. But by then I had realized what discomfort actually looked like.

Sweaty men, late for work, likely losing a day's pay or a few meals for themselves and their families back home in India, Bangledesh, Pakistan, etc., pressed up uncomfortably against each other, as the line seemed to crash against itself when the odd argument broke out. And there we were, cool, sort of calm-looking ladies going up and down the stairs, the only annoyance at that point being the patronizing tone of Saudi officers calling us 'mother' and 'Hajjah', and barking occasionally at a 'ya mama' moving too slowly.

"How many more women are left," asked one unusually gentle giant placidly, turning to his colleague who was identically dressed in a mild green uniform. "Fifteen," was the reply, greeted by a skeptical smile. "That's what you said at eleven." It was an hour later.

So even the guys inside didn't know that we'd take all morning, and nobody had bothered to tell the guys outside that they might not get in today, or why two busloads of women, and a bunch of other diplomat cars were sending up 'special' people ahead.

And so the obvious question is -- what does this little scene illustrate exactly -- ? The lack of respect this culture has for people who are other than Saudi/ Western / or so-called VIP? An inability to plan ahead / let others know what's going on?

What it certainly is, is another piece of evidence that it isn't every woman we need to worry about in a place like KSA - but the countless poor - women AND men - who have to rely on the mercy (or lack thereof) of those who bring them here to do work no one else is willing to do, or trained to do.

That anyone is treating them unfairly reflects poorly on a faith that promised to uphold concepts of equality, mercy, kindness and justice among all humankind. Here is a quote from Prophet Muhammad's last sermon, made during his final pilgrimage:

". . .All mankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over black nor a black has any superiority over white except by piety and good action. Learn that every Muslim is a brother to every Muslim and that the Muslims constitute one brotherhood. "

If only this could be imprinted on every checkered head-dress sold in the Kingdom, worn only by honest-to-goodness Saudi men, or else.*

May God Help us, and Accept the pilgrimage of the millions of people heading here for Hajj in the coming weeks, no matter the colour of their skin, or the nationality listed in their passport.

*(Of course, I ask forgiveness for sweeping generalizations. There are many, many good, fair people here. But you can't help but notice the unfortunate trends.)