Assignment Yanbu – Adventures on the Red Sea

Author’s Note: This fourth in a series of articles, brings to a close the first decade of my experiences in International Human Resources Operations and Management across the Middle East and North Africa. These stories recount experiences from a time now past – a time full of adventurous opportunities for those in our industry and hopefully these stories will serve as a bit of a testament to both my colleagues and to those times

January 10, 1982:  The San Francisco 49ers had miraculously defeated the Dallas Cowboys 27-26, etching forever in the memory of football fans, the late fourth quarter touchdown pass from Joe Montana to Dwight Clark now known simply as “The Catch”.  With this victory, the 49ers were on their way to their first-ever Super Bowl and the City erupted in paroxysms of hysteria!

Through the haze of the city’s collective hangover, as the next day dawned and the entire San Francisco Bay Area looked eastward to Pontiac, Michigan, the Cincinnati Bengals and the Super BowI, I had a plane to catch.  I had been home just shy of two years since leaving Algeria, working in the company’s San Francisco headquarters when the Sirens’ song again beckoned.  And not unlike the fabled sailors of yore lured by the Sirens’ song to shipwreck on rocky shores, I too ended up on rocky shores – on the western coast Saudi Arabia in a village called Yanbu.

Yanbu is about 200 miles north of Jeddah and up until the early 1970’s , served primarily as an historical footnote as the home of T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) from 1915-16.

However the Saudi government had huge plans for Yanbu and its larger sister city, Jubail, on the Kingdom’s east coast.  Both sites, previously small fishing villages, had been selected by the government for unparalleled industrial and urban development.   I was assigned as Project HR Manager on the Saudi Yanbu Petrochemical Plant, a joint venture between Mobil Oil and SABIC (Saudi Arabia Basic Industries), and one of the four major industrial developments initially planned for Yanbu. 

As the country gradually eased into more industrial diversification, petrochemicals derived from oil and gas by our processing plants, would be used to make ethylene, polyethylene, ethylene glycol and polypropylene all of which would ultimately find their way into western markets in all forms of plastic bags, piping, containers, and antifreeze.

When I arrived in Yanbu, the jobsite was just a dusty, barren stretch of desert on the shores of the Red Sea.  Major mobilization was yet to take place, but loomed on the horizon.  In the early 1980’s, there was little in the way of an indigenous work force in-Kingdom and nearly all labor, from gas station attendants to chemical engineers, had to be imported, and this was always a challenging and expensive proposition in this part of the world.   

To minimize costs to the client, our project adopted the approach of limiting the number of people we would need to bring in to Saudi by limiting the work that actually had to be done in-kingdom.  To accomplish this, the project execution strategy called for much of the plant to be modularized in fabrication yards in southern Italy, shipped directly to the jobsite and integrated in the plant footprint.

Our scope was overall construction management and start-up for the client and our in-country population peaked at around 150 professionals.  Most of our management and supervisory staff came from the UK and US and the mid level technical professionals and all administrative positions were primary brought in from the Philippines.  At this time, our company had four major projects underway in-Kingdom, with Filipinos being a key element of our staffing strategies, and a major recruiting office had been established in Manila.  Saudi nationals held key positions in Security and Government Relations.  My Yanbu HR team was a bit more eclectic, comprised of young professionals from the UK, Lebanon, Egypt, Saudi and the Philippines.   

Most positions were single status, i.e. employees without accompanying families.  This was a function not only of cost but also of government restrictions.  Saudi Arabia acknowledged the fact that in order to meet the massive challenges of their developmental juggernaut, the importation of foreign workers was essential.  But in order to minimize the social impact of foreign culture, the government limited the issuance of family visas to only those in senior positions holding university degrees.  Additionally, in-country foreign schooling was limited to grades K-8 at this time.

Like all construction jobs in the deserts of Africa and Arabia, days were long, dusty and hot.  Six day, 60 hour workweeks were not uncommon.  There was little in the way of in-country entertainment.  Yanbu, while gradually expanding to meet the influx of workers, was still a relatively small town, with one “pioneer” Holiday Inn and a smattering of shops and restaurants.  There are no cinemas in Saudi nor are there nightclubs or pubs.  Much of what passed for recreation was left to the imagination of those living in camps and compounds.   

And in a country where alcohol is prohibited and recreation is limited, active imaginations would not infrequently turn to the production of home-made intoxicants!  For the seriously dedicated, ARAMCO published (perhaps they still do) a small booklet called the “Blue Flame” that provided detailed instructions on how make a still for the production of 190 proof grain alcohol.  This “white lightening” could strip the chrome off a trailer hitch and went by the local name “sidiqui” or friend. 

For the less serious and less discerning, wine (or something somewhat close to wine!) was relatively easy to make.  Using a very basic approach, one would take a standard five gallon jerry can, two kilos of sugar, one case of grape juice, add yeast, water seal the container, wait a couple of weeks for the yeast to interact with the sugar and … bingo – ethyl alcohol!   As a somewhat ironic aside (or a coincidence for those who believe in such things), five gallon jerry cans were sold everywhere in Kingdom, sugar was sold only in two kilo packages and grape juice was sold by the case in re-sealable bottles.  And then of course for the really impatient and less cost-conscious, Johnnie Walker Red Label was available on the black market for $90/bottle (note that is 1980 pricing!).

But long hours and camp life could often lead to tedium and lack of productivity.  To counter this, most companies would provide their expatriate staff periodic escapes from the daily, desert grind.  Rest & Relaxation (R&R) was one of the real perks for working in remote, hardship locations - two week paid vacations with air tickets to just about anywhere every three or four months.  In the Army we used to count down the days until ETS (Estimated Termination of Service).  In Saudi, we counted down the days to the next R&R.   

There’s a great quote from the 1927 novel, “Beau Geste”, describing the experience of a British civil servant taking leave from a government outpost in Africa:  “There he would embark on the good ship Appam, greet her commander…and sink into a deck chair with the glorious sigh of relief, known in its perfection only to those weary ones who turn their backs upon the Outposts and set their faces towards Home.”  I always felt this perfectly mirrored the feelings of boarding an aircraft, settling into your seat, and losing yourself in the anticipation of the next few weeks ahead.

And one cannot talk about R&R from the Middle East without talking about Bangkok. 

Having risen to prominence during the Vietnam War, Bangkok was a premier R&R destination with American GI’s now replaced by construction hands and oil workers coming in from the jobsites and offshore oil platforms of the Middle East and Southeast Asia.  A picture-postcard country, Thailand offered great food, white sandy beaches, mist-covered mountains, cheap prices and beautiful, friendly people.

And one cannot talk about Bangkok at this time, without talking about one of the most legendary watering holes in all of Southeast Asia.

In a nondescript building on Surawong Rd, close, but at the same time far removed from the neon fantasies of Patpong Road, Tiger Rydberg, presided over an eclectic collection of CIA spooks, oil and construction workers, mercenaries, journalists, ex-Air America pilots and other war-worn remnants of our misadventures in Southeast Asia.  An ironworker from Oakdale, California, Tiger arrived in Bangkok in 1971 from a job in Bangladesh and, as he frequently recounted, immediately went out on a 54 day drinking binge.  Upon regaining some semblance of consciousness, he discovered that he was now married to a Thai lady named Lucy and that he had purchased a bar.  And thus was the colorful, alcohol-soaked genesis of the infamous Lucy’s Tiger Den.  

Even before its demise in 1987, Lucy’s Tiger Den was from an era now past.  Its walls were covered with the photos of patrons and GIs, business cards, oil and construction company decals and slogans from a war some still waged.  The atmosphere was heavy with patriotism and testosterone. T-shirts for sale paid tribute to General Claire Chennault, commander of the fabled “Flying Tigers” of WW II and American Legion 

China Post No. 1, operating in exile.  Driven out of China by the Communist Chinese, Lucy’s, was of course, the Bangkok Memorial Division of China Post No. 1.  An evening spent at Lucy’s was always an entertaining, eye-opening experience!

Of course Bangkok was not the only R&R destination.  When it came to R&R, with apologies to Shakespeare, the world was one’s oyster.   During my time in Saudi, I had the opportunity to chase collegiate memories across southern Germany and northern Italy, watch the rising sun erase the morning mists over the plains of the Masai Mara, body surf the waves (and waves of Australians) on Bali’s Kuta Beach, take primitive sea water showers and swim the turquoise waters of the as yet undiscovered Maldive Islands.

After such experiences, it was never easy to return from R&R, having to look at an unrelenting stint of four months of dust, sun, sand and six-day workweeks.  Unlike Algeria, were topographical contrasts abounded, most of the Saudi landscape provided no such diversions or contrast – mile after mile, the landscape was monochromatic, the color of washed-out khakis.  That was until you reached the western shore.

And there, the Red Sea awaited – a true salve for the soul - the juxtaposition of sea and sand could not have been more remarkable.  With no real urban development outside of Jeddah and no tourism allowed, the waters of the Red Sea were unspoiled, pristine, teeming with life and exploding in colors.  One of my all-time peak experiences was the time spent diving in these waters.  

A memorable introduction to the Red Sea had us gearing up on the beach and then snorkeling across a shallow lagoon, nearly scraping our chests over the top of the reef … and then, as you pushed off over the edge of the reef… the bottom suddenly dropped away leaving you suspended 30 feet or more above the sea floor in crystal clear visibility  - what a rush!

Many Fridays were spent on or under the water, an exhilarating, but too infrequent break from the weekly grind.  Early mornings providing the best visibility and with such great visibility, one was often tempted to dive deep.   But the deeper you go, the more the sunlight and colors fade.  So much can be experienced in the first 30 feet or so – reef fish, eels, rays, all types of corals and sponges - there was no real need to go much deeper.  Also as depth increases the time you can spend safely submerged is reduced.

But there are justifiable reasons for diving at depth and one such reason was resting on the seabed a few miles off the coast of Yanbu below a reef called Shermo.   Many stories and rumors swirled around the wreck of this huge freighter.  The most reliable information indicated it was a Turkish ship named Ionia that sank in 1915 after a collision with the reef.

The freighter rested on a fairly steep incline with bow at about 40 feet and the stern at 160 feet or so.  Not knowing what to expect on my first encounter, we descended along our boat’s anchor line and continued down to the ship’s bow.   The collision must have been powerful as a large section of the bow had separated from the rest of the ship and lay on its starboard side.  As I descended further and inched along the bow, my peripheral vision somewhat restricted by my diving mask, I suddenly looked up and recoiled as I looked into the huge yawning mouth of what I would eventually recognize as the upright hull and superstructure of the rest of the ship.

As I had mentioned, diving at depth quickly limits the time you can safely remain submerged, and as we were reaching depths of 90-100ft, our time was limited. But what glorious experiences we had of swimming along the decks and corridors of this ill-fated ship.

Meanwhile, back on the surface, our project moved along.  The modularization strategy was working quite well and it was always quite the spectacle when ships would pull into the dock, the massive structures carefully off-loaded then slowly driven to the site, lifted and positioned in place – a long, slow and precarious process.  Despite the daily grind, the job was fascinating as towering vessels, miles of piping networks and storage silos all rose from what was once a barren desert plain.   In the home office one can easily get wrapped up in paperwork and politics and its easy to forget what the company’s business is really all about.   After spending a year on the star-crossed Rhourde Nouss project in Algeria, it was exciting to be part of a project that, from the beginning, was efficiently managed and adequately resourced.

Unlike my two years in Algeria, my experience of Saudi Arabia itself was quite restrictive, limited primarily to the jobsite, camps, beaches and the periodic trip to “downtown” Yanbu.  The constraints of a six day workweek did not really allow for local excursions and when R&R rolled around, one most certainly wanted to exit the Kingdom.  On a few occasions I had the opportunity to spend some time with Saudi nationals - government officials or co-workers - in social settings outside of work.   These were always strictly male-only sessions generally structured around food.  On the rare occasion of encountering a Saudi female, one would never address much less consider approaching her.

But things change - sometimes at a glacial pace - but change can take place.   I was fortunate to return to Saudi on another assignment 30 years later and my experiences could not have been more different.  As Country HR Director, 90% of my team of 20 or so was comprised of young Saudi nationals and nearly half of them were female!  It was a fascinating experience, forging real working relationships and friendships across cultures.  But this is a story for another time.

As the project was successfully winding down, I was offered a new assignment in San Francisco and the opportunity to kick the sand out of my desert boots was welcome indeed.  I had a great HR team in Yanbu and it was quite easy to turn over the reins of the department to them as the project moved towards start-up and completion.  

It had been an interesting three years to say the least.  And again, my stories tend to focus more on the experiences surrounding the assignments than on the projects themselves– not unlike the approach I took to my career – not so much for a position or title, but for the opportunities the assignments provided.  And as I’ve looked back compiling these narratives, it seems that in the blink of an eye, a decade had passed – from Das Island to Yanbu – nearly a circular journey.   

As we moved further into the 80’s and beyond, urban infrastructure would play a more prominent role in the company’s business strategies and I would ultimately follow that trend to assignments in the more welcoming environs of Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore.  Stories for another day?  Perhaps…should the spirit move.