Learning About Dubai

Ejo #9 – Ramadan In Dubai (What It Means And What To Expect)

Emirati Info, Islam, Learning About Dubai, Ramadan, , , Leave a comment

It’s been a while between drinks, hasn’t it?  Fear not, the ejo’s are not drying up, merely gathering steam in order to (hopefully) entertain and inform you.  For those of you new to the ejo, welcome and enjoy.

 

So, what have David and I been up to?  Well we’ve been quite busy, and allowed our itchy feet to take us where they will.  Since the last ejo we’ve been to Thailand and Jordan but what I’d really like to talk to you about in this email is our experience of Ramadan.  Now, before I packed up to move to a Muslim country, I’d certainly heard of Ramadan but I had no real concept of what it meant, or entailed.  Following is what I’ve learnt:

 

Ramadan is the name of the 9th month of the Islamic Calendar in the same way that September is the 9th month of our Gregorian Calendar.  Unlike our calendar though the Islamic one is based on lunar sightings and so is unfixed, changing from year to year (on average it starts 11 days earlier than the year before).  Ramadan is also the month during which the first verses of the Quran are said to have been revealed to the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).  This is kinda comparable to Moses bringing the ten commandments down the mountain but in fact much more important because it is considered the birth of Islam.  Exciting stuff huh?

 

Sooooo, to honour this major event (and because Allah told them to), Muslims around the world undertake to fast.  This means no eating, drinking, smoking, chewing gum, singing, dancing, swearing, thinking impure thoughts, playing music or showing affection in public during daylight hours.  (Daylight is deemed to have commenced at the first moment the naked eye can discern a white thread from a black one.)  The purpose of all this restraint is to separate the person’s physical body with their spiritual self.  It’s a time of increased spirituality, more intense praying and an opportunity to commune with Allah.

 

For us non-Muslims, it’s an opportunity to experience enforced denial (at least in public) of things you wouldn’t even think twice about before doing.  Things like having a sip of water when you’re thirsty, of going out to grab a bite to eat for lunch, and during this time, even holding hands with your partner is frowned upon.  If you are caught, say drinking water in public, the police may just give you a warning, but it is completely within their rights to throw you in jail for the remainder of the festival (yes, it’s considered a festival, go figure!!).

 

It is a really difficult thing to do (especially refraining from drinking liquid all day long when the temperatures right now are getting up to 42C/107F) and I especially feel sorry for the Indian construction workers who are outdoors for 12 hours a day.  They’re not even Muslim but they still have to deny themselves a drink of water.  It doesn’t exactly seem fair, and I’m not sure what Allah would think of it. But I don’t want to give the wrong impression.  I do admire and respect the basic principle behind it.

 

The daily highlight of Ramadan is, of course, the breaking of the fast after sundown.  This is called ‘iftar’ and the custom is to just eat a couple of dates initially in order to get the digestive system ready for the feast ahead.  And what a feast it is!!  Traditionally, a small animal (goat, sheep) is slaughtered as sacrifice, and then roasted to tender, succulent perfection to reward all those who have fasted during the day.  Occasionally this still occurs.  While driving through Jordan, David saw them slit a lamb’s throat, right out there on the road, and drain the blood in a bucket (halal style).  But it is more common these days for several families to get together each night and for each family to bring several small dishes of food, resulting in a massive and delicious buffet meal.  Yum!  Unfortunately we haven’t been invited to iftar this year but I’ll be angling for an invite next year for sure – especially if there’s a goat or sheep involved.

 

During Ramadan, all the big 5 star hotels make up for not serving food during the day by erecting enormous, air-conditioned Iftar Tents and then put on a huge buffet feast, kind of trying to replicate the traditional family breaking of the feast.  The other big eating time of day (or night, rather) is called Suhoor, and it’s the big feast before sunrise (or before you can tell that white thread from the black).  So people get up at 4am to stuff their faces with what is usually a very heavy, rich meal (to stave off the future hunger for as long as possible), and drink litres of water before going back to bed.  I’m not convinced this is the healthiest thing in the world to do but then again, I’m not the one fasting, so I’ll just shut up.  I’m pretty sure I’d be eating non-stop from iftar to suhoor, so there you go.

 

Being a Muslim country, the city, very thoughtfully, makes it pretty easy for the fasters.  As I’ve said, eating, drinking and chewing in public are basically illegal.  To that effect most cafes, restaurants, bars etc are closed during the day, and those that are open (to cater to non-Muslims) must conceal their dining areas behind screens or by blacking out the windows (alcohol is not permitted to be served anywhere in the city until after sundown).  I’ll tell you what, it’s a strange experience to walk through a mall foodcourt, usually buzzing with hundreds of people munching and slurping away, and to see it completely empty, tumbleweeds blowing past (well, not really but it conjures an image, no?).

 

Of course Islam seems to be a very reasonable religion, so the elderly, physically and mentally ill, children, pregnant and menstruating women are exempt from fasting.  Depending on the reason, a person will either be required to make up the missed fasting days at a later stage, or they must pay enough to feed one poor person for every day that they miss.  How much more reasonable can you get?

 

Anyway, Ramadan segues beautifully into my next ejo (coming out soon) which is about our trip to Jordan.  Funny story actually.  David had some leave from work and we thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of Dubai during Ramadan?”.  So we looked up the special fares that Emirates Airlines (our preferred airline of course) was offering during the period and we booked an AMAZING deal to Jordan.  About five minutes after we’d booked and paid for the tickets, we looked at each other and one of us (I can’t remember who) said, “Do they follow Ramadan in Jordan?”.  To which the answer turned out to be: DO THEY EVER!!

 

We weren’t going to let a little thing like that stop us enjoying our twelve days in Jordan though (being the bold travellers that we are).  And this is where I’ll leave you.  I hope you’ve enjoyed my little lesson about Ramadan (I do like to share everything that I learn here and I hope I’m not stuffing it down your throats). 

 

Kisses to all
Chryss

 

PS David says hi

Ejo #7 – Please Meet Jumeirah Jane (And Her Filipina Maid)

Emirati Info, Jumeirah Jane, Learning About Dubai, , , View all 15 comments

Hello. David and I were out of the UAE for a while which explains why there have been no witty missives from me in your inboxes detailing the zaniness of life over here. I was in Australia for six weeks to visit family and attend a couple of weddings. It was lovely to see everyone but to be honest, towards the end I was itching to get back here, back to what David and I have made our ‘home’.

 

Today, I’d like to talk to you about two very different ‘types’ of people that exist in Dubai. In fact they co-exist in a very symbiotic way. Allow me, first, to introduce you to Jumeirah Jane. This creature is married, usually with a couple of young children and a husband who works in business and earns a boatload of money. Of course Jane’s husband works very long hours and is often away on business, leaving Jane to her own devices. He also leaves her a Platinum American Express card. Or two. I’m sure every major city in the world has their own version of this magnificent specimen. In Melbourne, she’d be found in Toorak. In Dubai she lives in the beachside area known as Jumeirah (hence the name).

 

Jane lives in an emormous villa with a swimming pool and perhaps a tennis court. She drives a Range Rover (because it’s safer) to drop the kids off at school, and a two door Jaguar coupe (because it’s sexier) to get to her yoga classes, tennis lessons and hair appointments. When Jane wants to socialise (with others of her kind) during the day, she heads down to the Lime Tree Cafe in, of course, Jumeirah, where she and the other Janes congregate and partake in carrot & beetroot juices (to keep the skin glowing, naturally). Should Jane occasionally (god forbid) indulge in a piece of (organic) lemon slice she’ll immediately call Rob, her personal trainer to see if he can squeeze her in for a session that afternoon before the kids get home from school. Because looking good is a full time occupation for Jane and she needs to be able to fit into that new Givenchy dress her husband bought her for the business dinner they’re hosting tonight at the villa.

 

Sounds like a fun life, doesn’t it? Jane’s got it all. She has to be happy, right? Or maybe not. Maybe she’d give it all up for a husband who not only paid the credit card bills, but who paid her attention. Because statistics show that a number of Janes are actually looking for affection outside of the institution of marriage. In fact, a number of personal trainers (remember Rob?) are claiming that they are involved in affairs with the women of Jumeirah. A recent newspaper article uncovered several trainers who are either having affairs (sometimes multiple), or who claim to have been seduced and propositioned by their clients. And it makes sense. If Jane isn’t getting enough loving from her husband, who better to develop a relationship with than the man who sees her at her most stripped down – vulnerable, semi-naked and sweaty. Some of the women in the article even said that their husbands were aware of it and turned a blind eye. But you would think that if Jane was content, if she was really happy, she wouldn’t be looking for love (or lust) outside of the marriage.

 

By the same token, if she felt good about herself she probably wouldn’t spend as much time and money as she does on botox, fake tans, teeth whitening, chemical peels, waxes, liposuction, massages, manicures, pedicures, hair extensions, Pilates, facials and accupuncture. To within an inch of her life. On a regular basis. And THAT is what makes up Jane’s day to day schedule. I get the distinct impression actually that Jane’s life is soulless and empty. But gee, she looks good!! The only time Jane spends with her kids is driving them to school in the morning, and that’s more for show than anything else. Why else would she do it with a full face of (Shiseido) make up, blow dried hair and wearing freshly pressed, white Dolce & Gabbana capri pants and Louis Vuitton wedges. Not that she’d admit it, but a lot of effort and pressure goes into being Jane. Even so, she wouldn’t dream of venturing out to pick up the kids at home time – the traffic is unbearable at that time of day. No, she’ll have someone else do it for her.

 

Which, quite nicely segues into the next type of person I’d like to introduce you to. Please make the acquaintance of Mary the Maid (this moniker, unlike Jumeirah Jane, doesn’t actually exist – I made it up for the purposes of this story). Almost invariably from the Phillipines. In fact I think the actual job description on their visas is “Lowly Fillipino Maid”, which goes some way towards explaining the vacant stares and sad faces of the women occupying these positions. And there is no shortage of them. It seems to be rather fashionable (the ‘done thing’ if you will) for every family here (expat and Emirati alike) to own a maid. And yes, I know I said ‘own’ instead of ‘have’ or ‘hire’. Because they really are, generally, treated like slave labour. Sadly, as with the construction workers, no matter how bad things are here, it is still better than back home so they stay.

 

To give you an idea of the kind of treatment they are subjected to, a new law was recently passed in Dubai decreeing that only households with two or more bedrooms could employ a live-in maid. Just think about that for a second. Prior to the law being passed, and obviously to the extent that the governement saw the need to implement it, families living in one bedroom and studio homes were employing live-in maids. I don’t know where they were sleeping, I don’t know where they were changing in and out of clothes, and I don’t know where they had their ‘personal space’ but I for one am very happy with the new law. Actually, it’s considered so normal here to have a live-in maid that people actually have asked us if we planned on getting one. I, personally, couldn’t think of anything worse than being the ‘boss’ of a stranger living in my house. And please don’t get me wrong, I am not against having a maid per se (in fact, in my mid-twenties, the share household I was in often procured the services of a maid on a weekly basis). I’m just not planning on getting one to live with me simply because ‘everyone else is doing it’ or because it’s so dirt cheap.

 

There are actually two types of Mary the Maid. There are the Marys that are abused and taken advantage of, and there are the Marys that are not. I honestly believe that Jumeirah Jane doesn’t treat Mary badly. In fact, she probably thinks she treats her better than is required. She gives Mary a room of her own (perhaps even her own bathroom), she gives her a day off once a week and only asks her to work 12 hour days. And of course, she even gives her a few extra dirhams in her paypacket when Mary’s picked up the kids from school that week, and when she has to look after them for a couple of days while Mr. and Mrs. Jane go to Morocco for the weekend. And yes, this actually is a well treated maid. She has windows in her bedroom. Lucky girl.

 

I have heard of instances of maids having their salary withheld, of not being allowed to own a mobile phone, of not being allowed to socialise with other Fillipino’s (even on their days off – which sometimes do not exist), working 15-18 hour days every day, and yes, being given rooms with no windows. As a matter of fact, our apartment has maid’s quarters, which incidentally does not include a view of anything except four walls, a floor and a ceiling. We call it a ‘study’ – we use the ‘study’ for storage and it’s barely big enough for that. There are families in our building though that have live-in maids and I can only imagine that this is where they are being kept. On the more extreme side of the abuse spectrum, I have heard of Mary the Maid being raped by the husband and by teenage sons living at home, regularly beaten by the wife, denied food and water, and being locked in their rooms. I’ve heard that their passports are hidden so they can’t go home and they can’t run away. There really are some horror stories out there – and for all this, an average maid’s salary would be about 1200dhs a month (about AUD$120 a week). It’s not a lot to live on.

 

Many of these maids have husbands and children of their own back in the Phillipines and desperately need to hold onto their jobs to send money back, so they put up with a lot of crap. There is absolutely no way they could afford to bring Mr. Mary and the children here to live here as a family. I often spot Mary the Maid in the malls, trailing behind her Jane. Mary’s carrying six shopping bags (Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Hermès) and pushing the double pram, children screaming and throwing their toys to the floor. Jane, in the meantime, struts ahead, chatting on her Blackberry. The only bag she’s holding is the latest 8000dhs Dior “It” bag. For me, it really is as upsetting as the plight of the construction workers, if not worse because of the personal abuse they must endure.

 

I hope I’m not being too cynical of my view of Jane and Mary. I really am just telling it as I see it. They say that this city hardens you but I do try to keep my fresh (and yes, sometimes naive) perspective in place. Sometimes that is a little difficult. Next time, I promise you something more lighthearted.

 

Til then Chryss (aka Burj Betty)

 

Ejo #6 – Women and Muslims in Dubai (and Not Working As An Air Traffic Controller)

Air Traffic Control, Emirati Info, Islam, Learning About Dubai, , , , , One comment

I probably haven’t made it very clear to all of you that I’m not actually working at the moment. Unless of course you count sweeping, dusting, cooking and cleaning (and of course ejo writing) as work. Which in fact, actually is rather hard work. A few times people have asked me whether I’m even able to work here. Being a woman and all. And I understand why they ask because there is this stereotype of the Middle East being a place where Islam represses women. I don’t know about the other Middle Eastern countries but here in the UAE I have not experienced, or even observed, any kind of repression of women. They are able to drive cars, climb the corporate ladder, hold any job they are qualified for and pretty well do anything that men are permitted to do. They actually get treated with a lot more respect than I’ve seen elsewhere. In fact women receive preferential treatment to men in several situations.

 

One of these is ‘Women Only’ queues. Several times I’ve been waiting in a queue with David and some official has approached us and told us to go to the Women’s Only queue which invariably is about 1/10 as long. Yeeeehaaaaaa!! When we recently went to the Road & Traffic Authority to finalise our UAE licenses I was again ushered to the Women’s Only line which was in fact titled, “Women and Other People With Special Needs”!! Yep, that’s me alright!! I still feel slightly uncomfortable though going directly to the front of a queue when there are 60 men ahead of me who have been waiting for hours to be seen. So unlike several other women I’ve observed (and I’m not bagging them in the least) I don’t go straight to the front. I always wait until I am directed there. And I always am. I think it’s a sign of respect for women’s ‘modesty’ to not have them mingling with the men. Women’s modesty being a huge tenet of the Islamic faith, which is why they wear the black abayas (robes).

 

Emiratis also have a special fast-track queue so the people that always get shafted are the blue collar expat workers who cannot afford to bring their wives to live with them in Dubai. That just happens to be the majority of the population. And everything, from getting a driver’s license, to the four or five stages of applying for residency, to having the compulsory health checks involves hours and hours of waiting around with a ticket in your hand waiting for your number to get called. My permanent residency was just finalised about a week ago (religion: Christian (they don’t recognise Atheism), profession: Housewife) and if I never have to pull another queue ticket out of a machine again it will be too soon.

 

We spent three months essentially waiting in queues every time David had a day off. And I couldn’t do it by myself when he was at work because I was just here on a visitor’s visa. That’s worthless when dealing with all the government departments. So we waited in queues, filled in forms, had them translated into Arabic (this is compulsory and you get charged for it), processed the forms, ran from department to department (sometimes all the way across town), had blood tests and chest x-rays, waited days for the results, picked up the results, filled in more forms, blah blah blah!!!!

 

In the end we were thrilled to discover that the official who had processed the revision of my visitor’s visa to a temporary residency visa had failed to stamp my passport with the correct stamp. So I was in fact living here illegally for 31 days. Cough up a 3000dhs fine, thank you very much. For a friggin’ stamp!! You’ve gotta laugh!!

 

We’re hoping that David’s employer reimburses him for it, as they have promised to pay all costs associated with gaining residency visas for the whole family. But lately there have been grumblings of overspending on Air Traffic Controllers in general. When you consider that they’ve recruited forty ATCs in the last six months that’s quite a lot of cash. Not only do they pay salaries but they also pay for the whole family to be flown here, temporary accommodation, one month’s car hire, an entire year’s rent in advance (and the exorbitant school fees where applicable), and to process the visas. That is a lot, a lot of cash!!

 

David and I moved here with the expectation/hope that I would be offered work after David had fully qualified and settled into the job. Actually our move here was predicated on that fact. They’d been hinting that I would probably begin work at the new 6 runway Al Maktoum airport in Jebel Ali which was expected to be completed by January of this year. Last week I had a meeting with the Big Boss of airport services in Dubai to get some idea of what opportunities existed and when I could expect to start. First thing he said to me was, “Bad Timing”. Second thing he said was, “We’re not hiring any more controllers for the foreseeable future”. Third thing, “Due to the economic crisis, the completion date for Al Maktoum airport has been pushed back to June. Of next year!!” Talk about pulling the rug out from under my feet. I’m just grateful that David still has a job. Financially we can afford to live on one income. Professionally I had been expecting to have 2-3 months off work before returning to the job. Not 2 years!! I don’t know if I want to go that long without working. I don’t even know if I can go that long and still be employable as an ATC. So my limited options are clear. I can stay in Dubai and either find some other work or perhaps study, and hope that the recruitment situation in ATC changes sooner rather than later. Or, I could return to Australia and hope that my previous employer would take me back. This latter option is, professionally, the desirable one. Personally though it is untenable as David has to remain here in Dubai. If he was to break his contract now we would have to pay back that huge amount of money that Serco paid to set us up here and right now we really can’t afford that.

 

So, for the moment (and boy, this can change at any time) I am staying here. I have to wrestle with the feelings I have that my identity is wrapped up in my being an Air Traffic Controller and somehow I have to find something else to BE. My greatest fear is that if I am not an ATC, I am nothing. I can’t DO anything else. I am still grappling with this fear and trying to overcome it. Deep down I know that I am, and always have been, more than just my job. I’ve just allowed my pride in what I do to help shape and define me. So really, in a way, this ‘disaster’ is perhaps just an opportunity for me to try and discover other things about myself. Other skills, other ambitions and goals. As they say, when one door closes, another door opens. And I am not powerless. I am choosing this path. If I wanted to pursue my ATC career I could probably do so back in Australia. But right now I am choosing my husband, I am choosing an exciting and interesting life abroad and I am choosing to make the world my oyster.

 

Anyone who has ever spent some time with me and knows me at all, knows that I love to write. Words have always been my passion and since the age of about ten I’ve harboured a strong (unkillable) desire to one day ‘be a writer’. This must be my chance. If I don’t take this opportunity now to pursue this dream, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance again. So that’s what I’ll be. A writer. Who knows, I may even get something published (or made into a feature film!!). So yes, I feel a bit down at my lack of job prospects as an ATC in Dubai but I am also very excited at finally having the time and ability to focus on another passion. I’m extremely lucky that David is able and willing to support me in my endeavours and that we can even afford to live on one salary (we’ve gone from being DINKs to being SINKs – ouch!!). I have one reason to be sad but many, many reasons to be happy. Of course if any of you wants to write to me to tell me how much you love me and how much faith you have in me, well, that’d be pretty nice too!! Until next time.