Shaybah's Song
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Author: John Etheridge
Released 10 June 2005
Shaybah
Photograph by Aramco ExPats
One afternoon the American teachers were invited, along with other Aramco teachers, to visit the Shaybah Oil Fields. The entire group left many vacant seats on Aramco's private jet that afternoon, so I sat far in the back, expecting my colleagues to follow me. Instead, they sat up front with most of the Aramco teachers.
After the usual demonstration by the flight attendants, a recorded voice informed us that we were about to hear the traveler's prayer. The voice spoke with a remarkably authoritative kindness, so I relaxed to hear what I thought would be a few memorized, unintelligible Arabic phrases.
Conversations continued, as if the voice were just an intrusion. The lights seemed to dim and the prayer began.
From the very first word, I heard music. The precise enunciation, the melodic cadence of each exquisitely crafted phrase, the unintelligible Arabic--all these combined to make one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard.
Suddenly I was a small boy facing some unknown situation. The voice became my father's voice, reminding me that I had nothing to fear. He would be with me. No matter what lie ahead, I needed only to let him take care of me. Whatever direction our travel might take, he would be there beside me to comfort me, to protect me, to provide for me.
As with all beautiful music, the song ended. Afraid to interrupt my friends to find out the true meaning of the prayer, the idea came to me that I would find out what I needed to know the next morning in the dining room near Steineke Hall. There would be man there wearing a thobe but no ghutrah.
The entire Shaybah experience was but an extension of the miraculous music I had heard on the plane. The next morning, in the dining room, I sat with some members of my group. The conversation had quickly drifted to topics beyond my interest when I noticed a man in a thobe but no ghutrah sitting alone across the room from us.
Without thinking about the rules for introducing myself or for interrupting someone's privacy, I took my tray over to where he was sitting. Muttering only, "Excuse me, sir. I need your help," I put my tray down across from his. "That's what I'm here for," he replied, and moved his food aside to give me his complete attention.
I explained the prayer and what I had imagined it to mean. He agreed with what I had interpreted and provided even more beautiful imagery. I could almost physically hear the music from the night before.
To apologize for my interruption, I told him that I had somehow been given the idea that a man in a thobe would help me. He replied that, earlier that morning, he had planned to wear trousers but somehow had been given the idea that he should wear a thobe.
I had not really interrupted him, he concluded. Instead God had given him a point for helping me, particularly since it was Friday. . . .