Driving Lessons

“Bark” commanded Salim, the Omani driving instructor.

“Huh?” I hold the steering wheel tightly and turn to face him. He is a good instructor, but for once, I have a strong inclination to disobey him.

“Go slow” he continues. “You seeing that tree there? Go under that tree and bark. If you are barking right here in the middle of the road, the ROB catching you. So you go under that tree and keep barking. I going to the office to get dates for your driving test.”

Later, at the Arabic class, I found out that the Arabic language doesn’t have the ‘p’ sound. So ‘park’ becomes ‘bark’ to the amusement of most expats who take driving lessons here.

.....

Muscat is a beautiful city and most expats love it because of the hospitality and the friendly nature of the locals. However, it would be more appealing to visitors if they had a good public transport service. In the absence of these services, owning a car becomes a necessity and not a luxury.

I grew up in the small town of Vasai where only the very rich and doctors had cars. Nobody in my past generations owned a car - none of them were very rich or in the medical profession. Our parents brought us up to believe that to hire a taxi was a luxury. So I had hardly ever travelled in cars or taxis. My driving lessons began by trying to figure out where the brake and the accelerator were. Salim found this hard to believe. In his country, they had gone from camels to fast cars as soon as they were blessed with the discovery of oil. Petrol is cheaper than water in this part of the world.

.....

“Why are you so angry?” Salim asked me during the first driving lesson.

“Be relaxed...don’t be angry if you want to drive well” he explained.

Me...angry? Oh no, I wanted to tell him, I am never angry. Well, not exactly...my rare outbursts of anger are reserved for a precious few people. Salim certainly wasn’t one of them.

Day after day, during every lesson, he told me not to be angry.

One day, I told him very calmly in a measured tone, “I am not angry.”

“I see you are angry. See how tightly you holding the wheel. Let it go easily. If you getting angry, the ROB knowing you angry. He not giving you driving licence if he seeing you angry...”

“Please... I am not angry” I tell him again.

“Yes, you angry. I seeing it in your eyes when you removing your sunglasses. You so angry on the highway...” he went on.

“Do you think I am angry now?” I ask him one day when I reach home at the end of a driving lesson. I was standing in the cool shade of the trees in the garden.

“No, not now. You not angry now. But while driving, you are scary and angry” Salim replied.

Scary and angry – I say those words to myself. Scared and nervous – that’s what he meant. For sure. Suddenly I realise that he wanted me to be more confident at the wheel and not nervous.

.....

“Go right” Salim commands. I flick my finger down to indicate the left signal and carefully veer the car to the left exit.

“Go left” Salim orders. I flick my finger up to indicate the right signal and gracefully swerve the car to the right.

Salim sits with his head in his hands.

“I have a five year old son” he tells me. “If I tell him to go right, he going left. If I tell him to go left, he going right.”

I am embarrassed so I smile sheepishly.

.....

Finally, after failing the driving test thrice, I got my Omani driving licence.

Thank god, I did not have to break my friend’s record of twenty-one tests.

Shukran, Salim - Thank you!


(The ROP are the Royal Oman Police. Only Omani locals can give driving lessons in Oman in the type of stripy learning car that you see below.)