By Sarah Al Hajjar | Contribution to Saudi Life

I COULDN'T have been less enthused about a family car ride to a Saudi historical festival. But my dad insisted, “It’ll be good for the kids,” so off we went. I made my dissatisfaction known by arguing with my older brother as the eight kids piled into the van.

“Where is it?” I asked impatiently, barely five minutes from our home. 

“Janadriyah,” replied Baba, “about an hour's drive.”

I really hate going out anywhere, let alone being packed in like sardines for a long car trip. I sat quietly sulking, wishing I could have stayed home.

As we drew closer to our destination we began seeing herds of camels alongside the road. I’d never seen so many camels or so much hay in all my life! At least now there was something cool to look at! My younger brothers were fun to watch as their eyes grew big with wonder at the sight of the large animals.

Soon the traffic stopped. I was shocked that there were so many cars out in the middle of the desert. “There must be something to this festival after all,” I thought. Suddenly, cars began racing off the road into the dunes, so many impatient drivers trying to find a short cut into the festival.

“Yalah, Baba!” I yelled, “Race on the dunes!”

After a moment’s hesitation, we too were kicking up dust on our quest for a shortcut. The van was tilted towards the passengers’ side as we traveled the slanted terrain. The kids were all excited and chanting for Baba to go faster!

Finally we parked amongst the myriad of cars out in the dust. After we got the two little ones strapped into their strollers, we started crossing the sandy lot towards the gates. The rush of chattering people filled the cool night air. It was reminiscent of the excitement of our trip to Disney World in the States.

After the long walk we came to a cement lot where a host of street venders displayed their goods. There were cool drinks, snacks, and flashing children’s toys. I was caught up in the excitement before I realized we weren’t even inside yet!

Once we entered the gates, my mother started writing Baba’s phone number on my younger siblings’ forearms. I was a bit embarrassed when she asked for my arm, but considering how crowded it was, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

Right away I noticed the fast food vendors. There was Corn-In-A-Cup, Hot-N-Crispy Fries, and other Arab specialties like fool, humus and bread. My mouth began to water, but my mom had other plans.

Our first stop was a huge building where the Ministry of Health had several booths set up. This was quite anti-climatic, but my mother seemed to enjoy talking to the folks about CPR training and her birth workshops.

When we came out, Baba exclaimed, “We missed the parade!”

I could see the tail end of a costumed band marching out of sight. This place was huge! There were people everywhere! Most of the men were dressed in thobes and sheemagh and the women in black abayas and niqab. This made it difficult to follow my parents as they blended in with everyone else in the crowd. It was obviously an event tailored to locals, as all the signage was in Arabic.

I was glad Baba was with us to explain all the sights. We visited an area that looked like a town square. There was a tall stone castle to one side and small shop doors lined the walkways. We peeked into the shops and saw colorful abayas, golden honey, silver jewelry, swords, pottery, hand weaved sufras, and lots of other wares typical in Saudi during the days of old. 

We stopped atop a hillside to watch the all-male arda dancers on a stage below. They were dressed in white and green costumes and most wielded swords or canes. They stood in a line and their step was as rhythmic as the beat of the tablah drums behind them.

Looking down on the crowd below, I noticed the men sitting in rows on the left and the women on the right. Baba pointed out that several of the women were standing at their seats and clapping and swaying to the traditional tablah drum beat, which is a rare scene in Saudi culture. The atmosphere was light and fun and the women’s flamboyant expression of rhythm summed up the ambience of the night.

Baba brought us some thick, creamy, white labnah dip with bread. It had swirls of bronze honey through it. I was afraid to try it. My mom and little brothers seemed to enjoy it well enough though.

From here we moved on to other areas of the festival. Baba explained that the different sections were representative of the architecture, goods, and living quarters of different parts of Saudi Arabia in the past. I enjoyed traveling back in time and peering into the ancient bedrooms, kitchens, and living areas of each little town. I had fun climbing up the steps of castle towers and looking out over the crowds. I recall visiting sections of the Eastern Province, Madinah, and Riyadh. I’m sure there were others, but with such a large crowd we just couldn’t see it all.

The various market areas were alive with scents and colors. There were dates and spices galore! At one point, Baba got us some bright colored drinks. One was orange and the other a deep violet. I was happy for the cool refreshment, until I tasted it! It was not the sweet taste I’d expected. All of my siblings were wrinkling up their noses and pawning their cups off on the babies.

“What the heck is this?!?” I asked.

“Subia, Saudi beer,” Baba replied.

“Beer?!?” I repeated in surprise.

“Non-alcoholic,” my mom assured.

“Well I don’t care for it,” I said.

We continued wandering around and sampling different sweets. But it was the Hot-N-Crispy Fries that I loved!

The last thing we saw before we left were Japanese drummers. They were awesome. They had huge drums and moved their whole bodies with each beat of the drum.

“That’s a real workout!” my mom exclaimed as we watched them in awe.

Baba explained that the Japanese were special guests at the festival this year. We didn’t get to go inside the Japanese display house as the queue was just too long!

We spent over five hours there. It was about ten before we left and I was exhausted from walking so much. Apparently this was the twenty-sixth annual festival in Janadriyah. Perhaps next year I won’t give my parents such a hard time about going.

Sarah is Saudi Life writer Aisha Al Hajjar's daughter