We are staying at Mr. Ibrahim’s derelict amusement park. There are many decaying amusement parks throughout Saudi Arabia, where the concept of a public commons is new, and where playground equipment is often fenced off and the people are charged one riyal for admittance. Today, however, no self-respecting Saudi child would be caught dead in these antique facilities. Today, Saudi children prefer to play Angry Birds on their hand-held electronic devices. And so, the mayors of small towns use these melancholy private parks to house foreigners who are walking through Arabia with camels.More on the Out of Eden Walk Audio Narrative
I walked 180 kilometers through a featureless desert to Al Wajh.
What is Al Wajh?
Al Wajh is a small town by the sea — by the Red Sea. It is a town in which nothing of historical significance has occurred for many years. For 67 years to be precise. The town historian, Ibrahim Khalid al Sherif, assures me of this fact. He has presented me with a one-page summary, in Google English, of significant events in Al Wajh dating back to 1936, when the town’s main historically significant event transpired: the building of Saudi Arabia’s first primary school. Mr. Ibrahim’s comprehensive document contains this sentence: “Al Wajh terrain: a plateau of a height of 70m above sea level and there are many valleys and mountains of the most famous is the valley of acid and lame.”
Totter.
Paul Salopek
This is my second stay at a derelict amusement park in the Kingdom. I have begun to catalogue them. Mr. Ibrahim’s bankrupt park is very modest. A few swing sets, gathering dust. A gravel lot.
Mr. Ibrahim is a little person. (A dwarf.) Many of Mr. Ibrahim’s male relatives are little people, too. We were guided to Mr. Ibrahim’s derelict amusement park after being met by a large mayoral delegation of ordinary-sized people at the edge of Al Wajh last night.
The staff of the mayor’s office in Al Wajh and one policeman from Al Wajh had come out to welcome us to the town of Al Wajh. They drove up in six old SUVs, filled to the gills with dignitaries from Al Wajh. The lights on the Al Wajh police car frightened the camels. “Welcome to Al Wajh,” they said, grabbing my hand and smiling intensely.
I was very tired and thirsty. “It is a great pleasure,” I said dizzily, “to be here in Haql.”
Digital Postcard: These micro-stories about the walk are designed to add narrative context to the project’s Twitter feed between Nov. 15 and Dec. 1. Ethan Zuckerman and Nate Matias at the MIT Center for Civic Media are curating @outofedenwalk during this time to test how to engage the public in storytelling using this medium.
