Dubai: The Glamour and the Gloom
I came to discover that the raised ground we passed just before entering this parallel universe was in fact Dubai’s main waste disposal landfill. When the wind turns westward a mighty stench swamps workers’ residence, where upwards of eight people tend to be crammed into a room. Many labourers are left with only salty water to drink and the average salary most can expect is around 900 dirhams (roughly £150) a month; a pittance in Dubai, where at the very buildings their tired, blistered hands built, one could easily spend as much on a three course meal. Owing to limited salaries, many have become prey to over-eager lenders, thoughtlessly taking out as many credit cards as are offered to them. I came across one dock worker at Jabal Ali port who’d somehow managed to rack up ten cards and now faced a lengthy jail sentence.
Not surprisingly, suicides aren’t uncommon, with just last month a worker plummeting from the 46th floor of the newly opened Burj Khalifa, only to be laughed at by others. And when not intentional, workers have been known to fall from the heights of partially built skyscrapers following fainting or heat stroke in blistering 40+ degree temperatures. Amongst other gruesome stories, some years ago a Sri Lankan housemaid hung herself in the ladies restrooms at Dubai International airport.
Likely owing to the desire of the country’s Royals not to turn off tourists, I was told new legislation has been introduced preventing employers to expect outdoors work between 12 noon and 2pm, the hottest part of the day. Much more, however, needs to be done; employee rights remain nigh on non-existent and criticism of an employer can not only get one thrown out of the country, but may also lead to a ban on ever entering the UAE again. Lower tier workers such as labourers and household maids are effectively owned by the companies and families they work for, trapped, often with their passports confiscated and impossible debts owed to dishonest agents that lured them into the country. Many are paid at will by their employers, if at all.
Whilst workers languish in cramped conditions, as you roam around the state, you can’t help but feel there are too many buildings hosting too few people. As I came to find out, cinemas for a start can regularly be found eerily empty. Partly as a result of unsustainable rates of building, the country took a massive economic hit last year as its artificially inflated property prices were given a hammering following the global downturn, only to be propped up by the more sensible rulers in neighbouring oil rich Abu Dhabi.
Having gone through all that however, let me surprise you by saying I understand why those with money would want to live here, Muslims in particular. The crime rate is incredibly low; you can walk home at 2am on the spotless roads with your family without fear of bumping into drunkards or morons of any sort. Ignoring the odd unsightly skyscraper and the feeling that everything seems a little, well, unsustainable, almost every building you walk past leaves you amazed in some way or another. The skyline is dotted with beautifully made mosques and, in this Islamophobia free zone, no one cringes when you ask for directions to one. Very much like central London, on one trip to a local super market you can bump in to people of twenty different nationalities, except they don’t seem so miserable. There are churches too, huge ones. And fountains. Who doesn’t love fountains?
You can find every Western food outlet you’ve grown up with and more; except here, it’s all halal. No limitation to the veggie delight or fillet-o-fish – as awesome as they are – at McDonalds. No more tedious scanning of crisp packets for animal rennet every time you’ve stopped over at the petrol pump. Liberation. The ten year old inside me was alive and buzzing. Those of us who suffered incomplete childhoods following the revelation that pork gelatin lines packets of Haribo’s, chewy bars and marshmallows – and subsequently discovered that rare halal and Kosher variants generally taste like cardboard – can here rejoice. With several daily packets of the good stuff, I certainly had my fill in Dubai.
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