Validity of medical reports for Saudi work visa

I've worked in the Kingdom, as well as Bahrain for years. What I'm about to write is not with any flippancy whatsoever. Based on my many years of experience, it's just true. And I write this without a scintilla of animus in my heart!

The Saudi Kingdom, in particular, is possibly one of the most exasperating, complex, irritating, and motivation disabler I've experienced in my life! The problem is three-fold: (actually, at times, it can be four and five-fold).

The Kingdom offers no flexibility whatsoever...that is unless you're dealing directly with an individual who:
1. Is a member of the myriad of Royal families, ranging from the second cousin, of the third nephew, of the most recent brother, of the uncle of someone who purports to have had  a conjugal tryst of some sort. They have the ability...but generally not the inclination to sign off on whatever they want to sign off on, because anyone who would ever have the unmitigated gall to challenge or question their decision would end up in such a maelstrom of horrors that they'd be better off taking their life right then and there!

2. The individual is either breaking the rules, laws, or just generally deliberately getting another person in trouble for the mistake they've made, under direct instruction by the person who purports to have the authority to make such a decision.

3. Possibly the individual who goes against the specific instruction has suffered some acute suicidal event the previous evening and therefore has decided that they are desirous of ending their life...as they know it. (not literally...generally, but you never know!)

Thirty days is a simple, and practical period of time for an individual to have obtained these items. In a country where common sense and a commitment to not only service, but an honest desire to increase productivity, your medical form should be accepted with no problems whatsoever.

But again, I offer this caveat to you, that this is the Saudi Kingdom, where their national flag shows a huge sword.  The inscribed calligraphic script is written in what's called Thuluth script. It is the "shahada," or Islamic declaration of faith. But some Westerners have suggested that it's the declaration of faith that nothing, but nothing moves, works, or happens, without someone screaming at some poor soul from the sub-continent.

As for your children; my children did not require any documents, other than a notarised confirmation from our GP, which also had to be officially translated...just to make matters more complex. However, that was seven years ago. So it's possible things may have changed.

In deference to what the other individual offered about suggesting that you contact the Kingdom's offices to obtain an answer; I fully understand why you're asking this here. Occasionally, the idea of making three calls and whatever answer wins, go with that. I'm acutely how challenging it can be in getting simple answers to the most simple of questions. And beyond that, I'm aware of the ludicrous behaviour where the individual with whom you speak refuses to give you their name can leave anyone feeling a bit uncomfortable. All I can suggest is that you need to prepare to get accustomed to this.

Sadly, The Saudi Kingdom, Bahrain, and perhaps Qatar operate under the mindset that 'my enemy's enemy is my best friend.' At the airport, should a certain 't' not have been properly crossed, or a particular document have a misspelling (even though the individual reading it probably can't spell in the first instance), great joy could spring forth in the Official's heart, if refusing to grant you entry could cause misfortune for the person of authority who has initiated your coming to the Kingdom. All it can take is a family name the official may not like. But in fairness, if you're fortunate, the official could rush you through without a moment of hassle, should the name of the sponsoring individual is someone he may like, or more likely be related to.

Have I answered your question? Probably not. But I hope I've given you a soupçon of introduction to what you will come to recognise and live by as long as you're there.

Don't get me wrong, I have many extremely close Saudi, and Bahraini friends, some I love like brothers. However, I quickly learnt many years ago that where you and I think along the lines of minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months. In the Gulf, all of that goes out the window. They think and operate in with the mindset of months years and millennia. In some ways it's not a bad thing...unless you're dealing with Western deadlines and objectives.

One last thought: If you have a close Saudi friend, it's very possible they can help you by going to someone who has 'Wasta' (a phrase that recognises 'influence'), and ask them to assist you. That may be the quickest way to resolve any hiccups you may encounter.

When I first moved there and had to obtain my driving license, my boss, (and I confess, along the lines of the food chain, he was the Whale and I was mere plankton). called someone at the driving license bureau. When I arrived, I dutifully queued up, preparing to go through the hoops we all go through. But I was quickly pulled out of the queue, taken into the back, into a vast, luxuriously decorated office, where a gentleman came around from his desk, kissed me on both cheeks, and invited me to have a seat. Being a polite sort of chap, I sat down and we had general chit-chat. I commented on what  beautiful country the Saudi Kingdom was and how deeply moved I was by the kindness of the people. As we continued chatting, a diminutive Bangladeshi man, wearing no shoes, brought me a tiny glass of chai. I instinctively knew I was to let the gentleman keep speaking about his life, world, family, achievements, or anything else he wished to. I did comment how impressed I was by his magnificent office. He clearly took pride in this and at that point, the gentleman took a sheet of paper from his desk and pushed it towards me. It was blank. The man said, ' please, yanni, you write what you want on license.' I was a bit confused. I asked, 'do you mean my full name?' The gentleman said 'Malish.' As I understand, the 'yanni'' meant, 'whatever,' in the literal sense. And malish is a sort of colloquial word in the Gulf meaning 'whatever' as well.  But the gist was that he wanted me to put precisely what I wanted on my Saudi Kingdom driving license.

I wrote out my name and my date of birth on the plain sheet of paper. And the lackey asked me whether I had a photo. ( I knew I was to bring a passport sized photo with me, as well as my passport and my British/EU Driving License.) I reached into my breast pocket to retrieve my passport and offered it to the lackey. But the Saudi gentleman waived both his hands, saying 'La, La.' (no, no), and he shooed away the Lackey.

We continued our conversation. The gentleman took out photos of his children (I never saw a photo of his wife), and he asked me questions about life in London. In particular he wanted to know which was a better hotel: The Portman at Portland Square, (which is now a Hyatt, rather than Intercontinental at the time), or the Sheraton at Knightsbridge.

I chatted about both, sharing why I preferred the Intercontinental more, but just to be safe I added a few affirming words about the Sheraton, particularly that it was across from Harvey Nichols, etc... And I remember commenting about the fact my daughter loves the Mandarin Oriental, across the street. (Because they have the best Club Sandwiches, she says)...

I was becoming a bit concerned because I knew the queues were quite long and after getting my paperwork done, I was under the impression that I 'may' be forced to take a practical driving test...(someone had told me they had to do this, but I wasn't sure if it was a law)..

But just as I was about to ask these questions, the lackey returned and handed a small box to his boss. The man told the lackey to bring more chai...which I didn't want, but knew social protocol mandated that I drink it if it were given to me. But in the meantime, the man slowly pushed the small box across his table. He used his pen to push it so that he could reach all the way across to where I was sitting.  I looked at it and smiled, asking him was this something special of his I was having the honour to see. He laughed and told me to open it.

Inside was my new Saudi Driving License! I could have written anything on that piece of paper. And I could have placed any date I chose for my age, etc. I was amazed!   But what fascinated and concerned me most was the knowledge that there could be idiots, children, even blind people with a 'valid' driving license out there....as well as elsewhere around the world, using that document as a bona fide item that places them behind, at least a couple of tonnes, death machine!  (My license, although I've never even considered driving one, showed me as qualified to drive a full-sized lorry, school bus, or anything else on wheels.  This was a pivotal point in narrowing my learning curve regarding life in the Middle East. It continued throughout my tenure, working in Bahrain and travelling throughout the Middle East for all those years.

Apologies for having been so verbose in my writing. Your simple, honest and sincere question, just set me off with a memory.

I wish you every success in your endeavours. I fervently recommend that you do 'try' to give them a call. However, I assure you that someone giving you an affirmative answer will mean nothing once you're having your documents perused at point of entry.

I wish you every success!

Fr B+