By Chinenye Anuforo
The subject line of the email was simple: “Invitation to the Second Global Labour Market Conference (GLMC), Riyadh, KSA.” My heart quickened. Another international assignment. Another opportunity to witness the world unfolding through my journalist’s lens.
Excitement, as always, was tempered with a touch of apprehension. The name, Saudi Arabia, conjured a complex tapestry of images and narratives, many of which felt at odds with my own experiences. The invitation, however, was an irresistible pull.
Visa secured, I began my research, focusing on the January weather. “Moderate,” the reports assured me. Packing done, I boarded the Qatar flight, the first leg of which included a lengthy layover in Doha.
Hamad International Airport, a familiar sight, never failed to impress. The sheer scale of its innovation and efficiency was a stark reminder of the global development gap. As I navigated the polished terminals, a familiar question echoed in my mind: ‘When will Nigeria catch up?’ It was a thought that would resonate throughout my journey.
Then the biting January wind of Riyadh slammed into me the moment I stepped off the plane at King Khalid International Airport. The “moderate” weather forecast proved a cruel joke as my teeth chattered and my layers of clothing offered minimal protection.
“From shivers to insights,” I muttered, a mantra I didn’t yet know would define my three-day sojourn in Saudi Arabia. The contrast between the hyper-modern, climate-controlled bubble of Doha and the raw, bracing reality of Riyadh was immediate and jarring.
My journalistic instincts, honed through years of reporting from diverse corners of the globe, were on high alert. The seamless efficiency of Doha, a symbol of rapid modernization, had prepared me for a certain kind of “progress.”
But Riyadh, I quickly learned, was a different beast altogether. My pre-travel mental image, shaped by Western narratives of rigid traditions and social constraints, began to crack.
The GLMC was my official reason for being there, but the real story, as always, lay beyond the conference hall. A chance encounter with Kojo Nkansah, a vibrant Ghanaian chef at my hotel, provided a crucial local perspective. He became my impromptu cultural guide, a window into the Riyadh beyond the tourist brochures.
His voice brimming with enthusiasm, he said: “My sister, things are changing here, big time!” He spoke of women driving, of entering the workforce, of a society loosening its grip on long-held traditions. This was not just talk; I saw it in the confident strides of women navigating the bustling streets, in the conversations I overheard in cafes, in the very air of the city itself.
Yet, the cultural nuances were undeniable. A trip to the local market became a lesson in social norms. My beloved Ankara gown, a riot of colours and a symbol of my Nigerian heritage, drew curious stares.
It wasn’t hostility, Nkansah explained, but a simple unfamiliarity. “They are not used to seeing such vibrant attire,” he said, “especially with exposed skin.”
That moment, the feeling of being an outsider, was a pivotal one. It wasn’t about judgment, but about understanding. The stares were not malicious, but inquisitive, a reflection of a society grappling with change and cultural diversity. It was a reminder that cultural immersion isn’t always comfortable, but it’s always illuminating.
Interestingly, the same attire that drew curious glances also sparked unexpected connections. Several Saudi women, both at the conference and the market, approached me to express their admiration for my African dress. They saw not a cultural anomaly, but a vibrant expression of identity. It was a powerful reminder of the universal language of beauty and the capacity for connection across cultural divides.
The “shivers” of my arrival gradually transformed into “insights.” I learned that Riyadh wasn’t a monolith, but a complex tapestry of tradition and modernity. I learned that change, even in the most seemingly rigid societies, is possible. I learned that cultural understanding requires more than just observation; it requires empathy and a willingness to challenge one’s own preconceived notions.
My three-day immersion was brief, but profound. I left Riyadh with a notebook filled with observations, a camera roll brimming with images, and a heart full of stories. Most importantly, I left with a deeper understanding of a city, and a nation, in the midst of a fascinating transformation. The stark contrast between the futuristic perfection of Doha and the raw, evolving reality of Riyadh had set the stage for a journey of discovery, a reminder that the best stories are often found where you least expect them. And that sometimes, the journey from shivers to insights is the most rewarding one of all.