Working in Dubai, Part 1
I don't know anything about working in Dubai as an expat, but while in Dubai I learned a lot about what it's like to work there as a migrant worker. I guess I should start off by explaining that there seem to be three classes of foreign workers in Dubai, and in the Gulf in general. There are the expats, who earn a tax-free salary, usually live in company housing, and live a lifestyle they could never afford to live in their home countries. There are the Arab expats, who are treated pretty similarly to the other expats, although it seems they sometimes get fewer benfits.
And then there are the other workers, the ones who are usually from India, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Nepal, and Indonesia. They often work jobs in the tourist industry, drive cabs, are nannies, or do construction or cleaning work. Don't get me wrong, there are skilled workers from these countries in the Gulf, but there are a large number of unskilled workers from these countries and they work at jobs that often require them to work 6 days a week, don't pay terribly well, and are plain back-breaking. Sometimes they get to go home every few months, but it's most likely they get to go home once a year, or once every two years.
The first person I met in Dubai was a woman who drove a taxi and her story broke my heart. Her story, and the story of others like her is next.
Dubai, Dubai
I went to Dubai for the first time over the weekend. Dubai is a strange city. It's at once enchanting and depressing. The amount and type of construction there is staggering: a hotel shaped like a sailboat, a ski slope in the middle of a mall, and man-made islands in the shape of the continents. It's breathtaking.
But I've never had the divide between rich and poor laid out so starkly for me. In contrast to scores of wealthy people, there are a lot of migrant workers there who don't get paid enough, or sometimes don't get paid at all. They give up being with their families to try to earn money to support their families and often end up alone and poor. It's heartbreaking.
More on this - and other things about Dubai - later this week.
Eid Mubarak Indeed!
Last night after going to the gym I drove over to the Family Food Centre near my apartment to do my grocery shopping. This FFC center, a regular grocery store, is on Al Nasr Street, which is known for being somewhat of a happening place. I've never reallyknown why, until last night, when I encountered a big long traffic jam of shiny new SUVs, 4x4s, Hummers, Mercedes, BMWs, and other 'come look at me' cars. They all still had lot stickers on them, plastic on the seats (which is actually not quite so unusual; quite a few people here leave the plastic on for ages), just a sense of complete shiny newsness about them. It was like every guy in a dishdash had gotten a new car for Eid. And then they decided to patrol this one street.
Now, the funny thing is, not that many of them had their windows rolled down or were playing any music, as one might normally do when cruising. Nor did there seem to be any women out cruising in shiny new cars. Just me in my little Tiida hatchback, men in dishdashes peering at me.
I got my groceries and headed home, eager to cook my dinner, crash on my couch, and go to sleep. As I was unloading my groceries, I realized that the bag boy had left a bag out (at the FFC, the bag boy will usually offer to take your groceries to the car, and I usually accept. I know I can do it, but they earn a little money), so I drove back, picked up the bag, and got back in my car.
I turned up my iPod, and, feeling in the mood for some Arabic music, turned up the Amr Diab and turned off Al Nasr Street as soon as I could. Then I noticed there was a Land Cruiser (to say it's a popular 4x4 here is like saying that chocolate is a popular flavor. Every other car here is a Toyota Land Cruiser.) behind me, two guys in dishdashes up in the front.
As I navigated the turns towards my house, I noticed the Land Cruiser wass making the same turns. Then, as I approached a large speed bump, I noticed there were two sets of headlights, one next to the other, headed towards me. One was in my lane. I slammed on my brakes and narrowly missed being in a head-on collision. I was so incensed that I rolled down my window and screamed a slurry of obscenities at the moron in the Red Mercedes who had almost killed us both (for some reason he stopped just behind me).
Then the 4x4 pulled up beside me. I ignored the guys, drove off, and got stuck at a red light at the next intersection. The 4x4 pulled up beside me again; out of the corner of my eye I saw the driver roll down his window. I ignored him and pulled out my cell phone, wondering who I could call for help.
In the U.S. I would have driven to a local police or fire station, but I don't think there are local police and fire stations here. I decided to see if I could lose the 4x4 before I called the handyman/housing officer who lives at one of the nearby apartment buildings where some of my colleagues live. Luckily, as I got closer to home I saw the headlights of the 4x4 grow further away.
I got home exhuasted and unsure of what I think of this place. I've been here a year and still don't know how to interact in this society. I don't know what to think of all these shiny new cars and the bored, rich youth.
