On weekends by the Red Sea, women in head-to-toe black shrouds picnic discreetly beneath umbrellas. These days, however, some prefer bare knees as they blast along on jet skis. Times are changing for Saudi women, but those who will speak out on the subject disagree sharply over how much and how fast. The Persian Gulf crisis, most say, is accelerating a process already under way. ``We've been spoiled with an easy life and never thought about independence,'' said Faiza Ambah, a Saudi reporter for the Arab News. ``If war breaks out, we are going to have to depend on ourselves.'' She shares a newsroom with men but covers her hair and clothes with black wraps. Her bookshelf contains Danielle Steele's ``Changes,'' but she is careful to note she brought it in for a friend. In Saudi Arabia, women have equal rights but far fewer privileges than men. They cannot drive or expose their skin to public view. They can work but, with rare exceptions, not around men. Men and women together, in cars, on the street or in restaurants, must be married. Dating and parties are strictly chaperoned and only take place behind the walls of private homes. Transgressors risk at least a rap on the arm from an Islamic vice squad, if not a term in jail. Women began school only in the early 1960s, when Saudi Arabia also abolished slavery. ``You can imagine the pressure,'' said an Egyptian diplomat who knows Saudi Arabia. ``Girls come home from Berkeley with a drivers' license and a degree and cower from some old man with a stick.'' Well before the gulf crisis, major shifts were under way. Women nurses were allowed to work with men doctors in hospitals. Now half the medical students in Jiddah are women. Years ago, some banks opened all-women branches. Now there are banks operated by women that lend money at a burgeoning pace to women who are opening shops, cooperatives and small businesses. When U.S. troops arrived, a favorite topic was all the women in uniform, liberated professionals who slung rifles over their shoulders, manhandled heavy trucks and barked orders at men. But foreign troops have been kept out of sight, and women soldiers wear modest civilian dress when they have to appear among Saudis. More visible are nearly 100,000 Kuwaiti women, traditionally far freer and more outspoken. As refugees, some attempt to observe local customs, but their attitudes are not masked by veils. Opinions vary widely over the weight of these outside forces. ``Anything is possible as long as it is done discreetly,'' said a Saudia Airlines stewardess, explaining how women forbidden to drive can frolic on jet skis in prohibited swimwear. ``The religious police don't go out on the water.'' A young hospital worker, educated in the liberal climate of Egypt, wears eye-popping bodices under her black abaya on the rare occasions she gets out at night for dinner with friends. ``I don't think things will change much,'' she said, clearly distressed at the thought. ``The Saudis are used to it, and they like it.'' But Rabaa al-Khateeb, who teaches Shakespeare at Jiddah's Abdul Aziz University, argued in a ground-breaking article for the Arab News that it was time to rethink the role of Saudi women. She wrote that Saudi Arabia could not continue ``suppressing the talents and stifling the abilities of one-half the society.'' With or without a crisis, she said, Saudi Arabia will have to employ its women to develop and thrive. Later, in an interview, she took pains to assure that she was not urging full-blown women's liberation. ``We accept that we are different here,'' she said. ``This is our way of life.'' She said most Saudi women believed that restrictions on their activities reflected a male desire to protect them rather than to keep them in an inferior role. Nihal al-Omari, a Western-educated journalist, works with the Nahdha Philanthropic Society in Riyadh which marshals women volunteers for health and social services. She sees important recent strides but a long road ahead. ``All the changes that have been happening lately,'' she said, ``all could go back to before.'' Even among the younger generation, pressure for immediate change is cautious, often muted, and expectations are few. ``We feel safe here, taken care of,'' said Aisha, one of eight young women, mostly students, who gathered at a private home to tell an American reporter how they looked at their future. Aisha, raised in Detroit by Saudi parents, returned only three years ago but settled into the lifestyle of Jiddah. Although she still visits the United States, she prefers Saudi Arabia. She said she was comfortable with a system where fathers and brothers had a say in whom she married and forbid Western-style dating. Her father has two wives, and she thought that worked well. ``It's better than fornification,'' she said, looking around to see if that was the word she meant. A friend corrected her: ``Adultery.'' But Leena, also educated in America, wanted more job openings for women, a greater say in how she shaped her life. And, like most Saudi women interviewed, she wanted to drive. ``The crisis will make the process quicker,'' she said. ``It has opened things up.'' Asked about priorities, one woman said: ``Freedom of speech would be nice. Don't quote me.'' After an hour's debate, most agreed they were content but would welcome change. Leena explained, ``We want to take some of the best you have (in the West) -your way of thinking - but with the protection and stability of our way of life.'' Aisha said: ``Our rulers do what is right. I just wish they would do it a bit faster.''
