Don’t underestimate women’s power

A significant number of Saudi men like to assume the mantle of lords of their domestic dominion. This can be commonly reflected in their bravado when discussing household affairs with friends and acquaintances. However, reality often conflicts with fantasy, and when it does, what emerges is usually the factual state of affairs.

Take the case of my friend Fayez. He called me the other day to take part in a tennis match with two other friends. His wife was off to Dhahran visiting her family, his kids were visiting friends, and he yearned for some male bonding. We gathered on the tennis court at his beach house after Isha prayers, and started our warm-ups on a very pleasant evening.

After some cross-court social chitchat, teams were selected, a couple of cans of tennis balls were popped open and the game began. As Fayez was my partner, and usually an astute and active player, I felt comfortable at our chances over our opponents. As a group, we are a competitive lot and our adversaries were masters of boast and brag. The kind that incites you to shove a full can of tennis balls down their throats. We settled on a best of five set series for the match.

The game began with a few quick gains on our part. Our opponents were not amused. Just then a mobile phone rang. It was Fayez's wife calling from Dhahran. He excused himself for privacy, while we gathered around discussing issues of the day. He was back 10 minutes later, and we resumed where we left off. There was a difference though.

His game was not on par, and he committed some unforgivable errors. His mind seemed to wander, as did his game. Frustrated at my partner's lack of concentration, I asked him if anything was the matter. He kept quiet at first, and then blurted out that his conversation with his wife had bummed his mood out.

"Why?" Assem inquired from across the net. "Is anything wrong?"

"Well, not really," replied Fayez. "It's just that she wanted me to visit her mother and father and the rest of her family, and frankly I did not feel like tagging along. She just called to let me know how annoyed she was that I hadn't accompanied her. She wouldn't listen to reason. And when I told her I did not feel comfortable among the presence of my in-laws, she slammed the phone down."

"Shouldn't you guys have had this conversation before she left for Dhahran?" I questioned as the match kept slipping away. "I mean, what's the point now? You are here and she is already over there!"

"Women!" exclaimed Assem as he gently urged us to continue the game. No sooner did he get ready to serve, there was another phone call. It was Fayez's wife again! Once more our host politely excused himself, while we groaned out of frustration. This time, he was gone for a longer time. And once again, when he returned, his level of his game seemed to have sunk even lower.

"Now what?" I inquired rather dejectedly. "The way you are playing, I would have better chances teaming with my six year old!"

"Well, she called again to tell me that not only was she disappointed in me, but so were her family. And she kept on and on, just trying to make me feel guilty for wanting to spend some time with the guys."

Imminent victory

"Let's continue before we're interrupted again" interjected Mustafa, who had stayed out of this discussion so far. Well, we did, but two more calls from Fayez's wife along the same lines seemed to have paved the way for imminent victory for our opponents.

Well into the night, with our team facing impending defeat, we were interrupted by another phone call. This time however, it was our opponent Mustafa's wife. She had been disturbed earlier in the evening by a phone call from one of her friends who had tearfully announced to Mustafa's wife that her husband of 27 years had announced his intention of re-marrying another. A Moroccan …and young enough to be his daughter! Mustafa had to hurry up and return home, she commanded. She needed his reassurances.

That call swung the odds in our favour, as Mustafa's shots became increasingly erratic. On more than one occasion going for an overhead slam, he punched a couple of balls straight into the neighbour's compound. The game went into the fifth set. We were tied five games all. The situation was tense.

Lo and behold! The shrill of a mobile phone pierced the air. It was Assem's. His wife was on the line. She inquired as to what he was doing, whom had he been playing tennis with, and when would he be returning home. A five-minute delay, as he huddled in a corner speaking softly into the mouthpiece. Once that was over, so was Assem's game. Fayez and I easily and effortlessly won the next two games and the match.

As I mused over the evening's events on the drive home, my own cell phone rang. It was my wife, wanting to know when I would return home. It seems that behind the shoulders of seemingly macho men lurk some wily and powerful warrior queens. 

Tariq A. Al Maeena is a Saudi socio-political commentator. He lives in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.