THIS USED TO BE MY PLAYGROUND

THE DYWIDAG VILLAGE
One Last Glance



quiet. this is the least of all adjectives you would use to describe the now-eerily silent dywidag village. once a bustling oasis of never-ending activities, the compound now awaits the imminent closure of its gates: proverbiallly chained, padlocked, and shut. it teemed with life. it breathed. it contended with newer and state-of-the-art compounds which came out like mushrooms after a gloomy thunderstorm. and it bowed. one final curtain call.

will the eucalyptus trees last? will the parrots come back to perch and poke on the date palms? will the doves now freely fly lower over the pool? will there still be leftovers for the cats to feast on? will the cacophony of noise and sounds be replayed again?

for instance, that distinct thud of a tennis ball screeching inside the baseline as groundstrokers pound the yellow thing back and forth. or the summer splash that cuts through the tepid pool water as kids attempt to outdo each other in their diving skills. or the boisterous laughter and shoutings of the lebanese bachelors who even bring their own portable stereo by the poolside to add to the ever-increasing decibel of pulsating noise. or the clinks of cutlery over crockery on friday theme nights at the BBQ as glasses are raised to a toast and waiters impatiently scuttle here and there wondering what time this routine activity of the stomach will end. or even the cheap talks and the shallow exchanges of pleasantries. among children. among housewives. among husbands and fathers. these sounds, these noises, once validations of life and motion in the camp, are now sadly inconspicuous if not altogether dead.

having lived in this camp for more than a decade and being in the heart of camp activities myself, i cannot help but feel nostalgic as fleeting images of camp life play hide-and-seek in my mind. true, there will be no more work orders to attend to and no more demanding housewives to please-to-death, but i’d rather have them again in exchange for the deafening silence of the nights. true, there will be no more fabulous parties and travesty shows and rigid tournaments to organize but i would gladly be buried in busyness again rather than face an empty dance floor and lifeless tennis courts. true, there will be no more staff to supervise nor services to be rendered but give them back again and i won’t mind as long as we see other signs of life yet again. yes. wishful thinking.

this has been home. home not only to the familiar faces of the dywidag family members but also to more than 3,248 household surnames that came and passed and went and wrote chapters of their life stories here. each soul had its own story to tell. had its own tale to weave.

i have been witness to new friendships formed and have been blessed by quite a few number of residents who have become friends through the years. i have also seen relationships turned sour between couples which resulted in rueful divorces. i have witnessed love stories bud and blossomed. i have witnessed these unions giving birth to another life – many babies have been born and raised here. i have witnessed the sting of death too, as one family grappled with the demise of an only son and a young engineer died in his sleep. and even if by design or choice, i did or did not directly touch their lives, i know that in a small way a footnote in their life stories will mention an episode at the dywidag.

i have also witnessed passage of time as from year to year we celebrated valentine’s day and fasching carnival and easter egg hunting and summer night parties and st. martinstag’s children’s lantern parade and oktoberfest and halloween and the eagerly anticipated best-of-the-whole-lot christmas bazaar and christmas eve dinners and silvester in celebration of new year’s eve.

i have seen the baton passed among three compound managers before it was conclusively passed on to me. i have also seen the colours of my hair dramatically changed from asiatic dark brown to old-age grey.

i have seen satisfied faces of tenants going about their normal village life: ladies leaping onto shopping buses, children screaming as they get off school buses, men drinking non-alcoholic beer as their billiard sticks target odd and even balls to sink down billiard table holes. if there had been voices of discontent, they came in hushed whispers.

i have seen the sadness in these people’s eyes as they came into the camp office to confirm the truthfulness of their eviction, their faces looking for clues and answers as to what happens next. i have seen how, one by one, keys were returned, houses turned-over to us, and goodbyes tearfully said.

here and now, what do you do when you’re faced with 202 empty and forlorn houses staring down at you in all loneliness? do you shout back with bitterness and grief? or do you rejoice at the smell of freedom and relief from the oppressive routine? is it possible that during this inescapable ritual of handing-over the compound to its rightful owner, you feel both grieved and relieved in equal parts and at the same time?

i can hand-over every nook and corner, every spoon and fork, every air-conditioner and oven, every couch set and bed, every curtain and towel, but how do you hand-over memories? you don’t. you tie and bound them together. you store them in the recesses of your heart and mind. you come back to them when you want to find out where the last decade has gone. this, for sure, i will do.

and so – what remains after everything is said and done? gratitude. this last bit, i want to express in recognition of the many things i am thankful for.

firstly, i am thankful that i have been blessed with such a superb team of conscientious crew with whom, i like to think, i have had the good and enjoyable opportunity to work with. they pick garbage, change gas bottles, sweep and mop and dust, wash and iron, plant and landscape, repair, assemble and rebuild, even recycle people’s shit at the biogest! they dutifully perform their jobs and how! if the camp is credited for its excellence in providing speedy and professional service, kudos should go mostly to them. they may just be some nameless, faceless personnel number in a long payroll list, but without them it would not have been possible to run the camp as efficiently as we did.

secondly, i am thankful to have known a great bunch of professionals at the office. from the top secretary down to the guy who prepares the best indian tea. we may not have had the occasion to socially interact for lack of common interests, but i hope that we will remember each other for more than just being mere acquaintances. i hope to be remembered not only as the guy who runs the camp, who changes hairstyle as often as the wind blows, whose fashion sense borders on the ludicrous at times, who brought smiles and amusement, and whose loud laughter and wild jokes reverberate through the hallways of the riyadh office. but i want to be remembered as a member of a family who is now in pursuit of hopefully better things.

finally, i am thankful to the dsa management for the respect and trust that they have so generously charged me with. even during my early days at the dywidag, when i worked as a temporary telephone operator who fought for his overtime hours, this mutual regard has already been in place. respect and trust cannot be bought,only earned. it is my hope that i did not fail the management when i was entrusted with such huge responsibilities.

i will not gain much more from singing praises to the company, but this much i know is true: dywidag has opened doors and windows for me to expand my view of life and has provided with me the opportunity to interact with and learn from people from all walks of life. my experiences have become my education and have bolstered my confidence and belief in myself. dywidag has been the conduit through which most of my dreams have been fulfilled: to travel extensively and whimsically and to comfortably support a family back home (payday on the dot without delay!!!). most of all, dywidag has embraced me and took care of me and accepted me wholeheartedly for the person that i am.

for this and all of the above, i am infinitely grateful.

1 december 2001


(Dywidag Village was one of Riyadh's well-known Western compounds situated along the Old Khurais Road. It began its operation as a residential compound in the late 70s for the staff and crew of the German construction firm Dyckerhoff und Widmann AG when they were commissioned to build the Riyadh TV Center. Dywidag closed its gates as a compound on 30 November 2001.)