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38 pages

English

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'Oman - Eastern Promise' is set in Oman at a time when it was leaving behind its almost medieval character and adjusting to becoming a modern Middle Eastern state with a booming oil industry.Peter Daniels, a police chief superintendent from London is sent with a colleague to train a number of Omani police officers to eventually take over responsibility for running the Omani police service. Seen through his eyes the challenges facing the new sultan and the country are explored, providing a vivid picture of its people who a few years earlier were involved in slavery. The beauty and romance of this desert kingdom is not ignored, together with the corruption and dangers of armed rebellion.

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Publié par	Distributed by eBookpartnership
Date de parution	01 juillet 2022
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781839784873
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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Oman
Eastern Promise
Ronald Austin

Oman - Eastern Promise
Published by The Conrad Press Ltd. in the United Kingdom 2022
Tel: +44(0)1227 472 874 www.theconradpress.com   info@theconradpress.com
ISBN 978-1-839784-87-3
Copyright © Ronald Austin, 2022
The moral right of Ronald Austin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
Typesetting and Cover Design by: Charlotte Mouncey, www.bookstyle.co.uk
Cover created with author’s own photographs and from istockphoto.com
The Conrad Press logo was designed by Maria Priestley.

1
H ampshire in southern England is a delightful county, green and pleasant with gentle hills, stretching from Fleet in the north within easy commuting reach of London and south to the channel coast with Portsmouth, Southampton and the New Forest.
Bramshill House in Hampshire, about fifty miles from central London, is set in 262 acres of grounds with eighteen acres of lake. It has formal gardens, an icehouse, stables, and dates from 1350. The main avenue, about a mile in length, approaches the main house from the southwest, through an arched gateway formed by two eighteenth century lodges.
The fifteen-bedroomed, three-storied house is one of the largest and most important Jacobean mansions in England. Inspired by the Italian Renaissance it was built mainly by German builders.
Bramshill is reputed to be the most haunted house in England, with no less than fourteen ghosts purportedly having been identified. The house has been cited as the possible location for ‘The Legend of the Mistletoe Bough’, a ghost story associated with several English country mansions.
This legend tells of a bride who supposedly hid in a wooden chest during a game of hide-and-seek on her wedding night. The story has it that the bride was found dead fifty years later still wearing her wedding dress and with a sprig of mistletoe in her hand. The chest is on display in the entrance hall.
Looking down the main drive from a first-floor window, Superintendent Peter Daniels of the Metropolitan Police reflected that the government had purchased the house and its grounds some twenty years earlier in 1960. It became a dedicated site for a UK-wide police training college. Apart from some accommodation blocks little had changed in the house or the estate for hundreds of years. Bramshill Staff College as it was known ran a number of residential courses for inspectors and for officers from some overseas police forces. They mainly came from empire or commonwealth countries who did not have facilities of their own.
Having just run a couple of courses for UK officers, Peter was now training one of the overseas courses with officers from Hong Kong, Swaziland, Oman, Trinidad, India, Zambia, Cyprus and Fiji.
The course had arrived at Bramshill a few days earlier as the snow was falling. As everyone on the course had come from warmer climates, their miserable faces indicated that they were all feeling the cold and they had to be kitted out with thick greatcoats, scarves and gloves.
Despite the cold and different food, they settled down quickly. All being experienced police officers in their own forces and all speaking good English, they were soon exchanging reminiscences of what life and policing was like in their own countries.
One member of the course had not turned up. Major Iqbal Khan of the Royal Oman Police had apparently travelled by plane to London but had not been seen or heard of since.
This situation was not unknown with the overseas course as some had visited relatives in London or got lost in the metropolis. Some had even lost their tickets or disappeared somehow into the fleshpots of London. So, it was with some relief that Peter received a message from one of the guards at the main gateway that a foreign-looking gentleman had asked for Peter by name, and had been sent on his way towards the main house.
Looking down the drive from his vantage point on the first floor of the house, Peter saw a bent figure trudging through the snow towards the entrance wearing a dishevelled t-shirt, baggy jeans, and plimsols.
Going to the main door of the mansion, Peter introduced himself and said, ‘I presume you are Major Iqbal Khan from Oman?’
From clenched shivering teeth the bearded figure whispered, ‘Yes,’ drew himself up to his full height and saluted. ‘I’m sorry I’m late but I’ve lost all my money and clothes and I’m very cold.’
Peter beckoned him in and arranged for him to be taken to his room, fed, and given some warm clothes to wear. Explanations for his late appearance would wait until later.
Peter had arranged to meet everyone on the course in the bar after dinner in the main house, where he knew that a roaring log fire would be appreciated and would warm the course members. He was amazed to find that they were all involved in animated conversation led by Iqbal, concerning the merits of various alcoholic beverages.
Iqbal was wearing a long white dishdash embroidered around the neck and wearing a very smart kumma head dress. ‘They found these in the store for me. They must have been left by another Omani on a course as our dishdash and headdresses are quite distinct,’ he said. His eyes glowed with pleasure, and then described with great eloquence the characteristics of the large Johnny Walker black label scotch he was drinking. He assured everyone this was the favourite drink of Omanis.
Peter said to Iqbal, ‘I thought you were a Muslim and didn’t drink!’
Iqbal replied with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Oman is a very progressive Muslim state and alcohol is available in most hotels and clubs. You must not drink in public and in any case I’m not in Oman now!’
Peter then ran through the contents of the next few days of the course, and generally chatted to them making sure that they were all warm enough, and that they could all eat the food and had no other problems. He then told them that during the next evening a dance would be held in the main building to which they were all invited. He explained that a coachload of ladies from the local area would be brought to the college at about 7.30pm.
He was immediately inundated with questions. Who were these ladies? Did they have to dress up? Would they have to buy drinks for them? What time would the dancing start? Peter explained carefully that the ladies were of good repute and all lived locally, and that the course would not necessarily have to buy any drinks. They didn’t have to wear uniforms as the whole event was quite casual. He told them that the dance would also be open to any other police officers on courses at the college. He also reminded them that they were all representing their individual countries and forces, and that they were to be on their best behaviour!
These dances, known by the staff as the ‘Scrubbers Ball’, were always a trial to the staff, who were responsible for ensuring that any incidents or slights were quickly smoothed over. The Overseas Command Course was always difficult in that modes of behaviour varied from country to country and could easily be misinterpreted. There was always a collective sigh of relief when the event passed by without any problems.
By 7pm that evening, Peter found the course had arrived early and were ready to go. They had dressed in various garbs, from full uniform to sweaters and jeans, to Iqbal in his dishdash and kumma ! All had a drink in their hands and their eyes fixed on the door awaiting the arrival of the lady guests.
They were soon joined by other officers on the various courses at the college, and it didn’t take long before they heard the sound of vehicles outside, the slamming of doors and the chattering of the women.
The door was finally flung open and a gossiping group of women poured into the room, all smiling and dressed in their finery. An overpowering mixture of scents invaded the room which seemed to heighten the tension.
The ladies were aged from late teens to middle age and were glancing around assessing the assembled men and were obviously there to enjoy themselves! All grins, flashing eyes and inviting glances.
The music started and surprise, surprise, Iqbal was the first on the floor, having attached himself to the prettiest girl in the room. She was obviously enjoying herself as she was twirled round the floor by Iqbal.
Peter was surprised that Iqbal didn’t fall over with his ankle-length dishdash, but he managed to negotiate the floor with great aplomb.
Gradually the other members of the course found their way onto the floor and had a great time, even if their dancing didn’t seem to meet the norm.
The following morning the smiles on the faces of the course told Peter that they had enjoyed the events of the previous evening! As the weeks went by the course members gelled to become a happy group, constantly laughing and joking with one another as they entered into the work of the course with gusto. Somehow Iqbal had picked up the lyrics of a song called ‘Daisy’ and had the whole course singing.
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do,
I’m half crazy, All for the love of you,
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’ll look sweet, up on the seat
On a bicycle built for two.
There was considerable excitement when Peter outlined a forthcoming trip before the course ended. It was to take them on a visit to the headquarters of the Norfolk Constabulary in Wymondham in Norfolk. An overnight stay in a local hotel, and then a drive round the Queens Estate at Sandringham.
Peter was immediately hit with questions. Will the Queen be there? Will we meet her? What do we have to wear? Will we have to make a presentation? There was some disappointment when they were told that the house would be closed