Najla

Najla A few months back I received a facebook “friend” request from a woman I didn’t know, so, as I usually do, I asked two questions: How did you find me,” and “Why do you want to be friends with an old man halfway across the globe.” The reply I received was that she had seen some of my posts, had followed them and just decided to send the request. The bonus information was that she lived in Dubai. Bingo !!! . I thought..I want to know more about this Her name is Najla and she turned out to be a delightful person with a wonderful sense of humor and an openness that was amazingly candid. Of the many interesting aspects of her life as a Dubai woman was the story of her family. She is the daughter of an Uzbek mother and a Palestinian father. She is the eldest daughter of her mother and father but that’s not the full picture. Under Islamic law, a man may have up to four wives…There are lots of unwritten rules about what is proper and how things are to be done..It isn’t a free for all for men’s pleasure. With that in mind, she is the eldest child of her father with his second wife. He has a first wife and family who live nearby and the families mix and match with grace and a reasonable amount of harmony.

Najla’s father was a Palestinian who left the country on his own personal odyssey winding up with stints in Egypt, Germany, Yemen, Sudan, UAE and Uzbekistan where he met Najla’s mother before returning to the UAE and finally settling down there. Before winding up in the Emirates, and marrying his first wife with whom he has 7 children: 5 boys and 2 girls. Najla’s mother was a widow who lived in Tashkent and had two daughters by her late husband. Both of them are older than Najla who is 21. The last combination, Najla’s mother and father, have three children together, Najla and two younger sons. So, there are a total of 12 children from two different fathers and two different mothers. Najla says that the families do a lot of things together. Her brother’s best friend is his half brother in the other branch of the family tree. They are all brothers and sisters in the truest sense of the words. I asked Najla how the two mothers were with each other and the answer was, “Okay, not great, but okay.” I got the impression that getting along, at least civilly, with each other is more or less a required part of the job.

I asked Najla if she could be a second wife given who she is. She thought before answering but said: “No, because I have confidence in myself that I could be the best wife possible” and that she would have the relationship that she chooses and would be best friends with her husband and there would be no reason for him to want or need to have a second wife. Under Islamic tradition a man usually takes a second wife only if he has permission to rather than just desiring it. In the time when the society allowed men to have an unlimited number of wives, Islam limited the number to four. In the historical context polygamy offered a solution to the society. Polygamy is only allowed if a man can treat all his wives with justice and equality and provides equal living conditions and divides his time equally between his families. This permission, according to Islam, strengthens the status of women and the family because it helped ensuring the welfare of single women and widows in a society where there was shortage of men due to warfare. A man can also take a second wife if his wife is in a bad health condition, cannot bear children, or cannot take care of her own children. Instead of divorcing her, he would take a second wife with whom he can have children and who can assist him in taking care of his children. Sometimes a woman’s health doesn’t allow her to have more than one child while a man would like to have more children, which makes him take a second wife. Becoming a second wife for Najla’s mother was a no brainer…she was a widow with two daughters…basically, she’s toast in Uzbekistan…Nobody there wants to marry a woman who is a widow, has children, or who has been divorced…I’ve had several friends who had to flee Uzb for them to have any chance of a future other than scorn. Although Najla’s mom was used to living as an independent woman who took care of her 2 daughters all by herself with 2 or 3 jobs, Najla’s father’s proposal and his promise to take care of her and her daughters comforted her and allowed her to finally rest and feel like a woman who is being taken care of, and supported by a man who loved and respected her and gave her more children…all in all, a pretty good career move for Najla’s mom.

Najla told us the story and, during the conversation, an understanding of the whole multiple wives deal became a lot clearer and, at the same time, muddied some preset ideas about the concept and its actualization.

Dubai - no glitz, no glamor

The glitz is everywhere, from the airport to the hotels, to malls…it seems that if they can’t do it with glitz, there is not glory to be had. Opulence and over the top is the order of the day. Yet, with all this in-your-face wealth, there is a totally artificial feel to the place. Everybody is from somewhere else and the contact with the Dubai natives is nil. They walk down the street with a steely-eyed, straight-ahead look not acknowledging anything other than other Dubaians (sp) whom they pass. Then it is hugs on both sides of the head, kisses on the cheeks and a firm clasp of the hands which is more than just a handshake. It is a firm connection of like souls. The air of superiority is palpable and was acknowledged by countless of worker bees whom I encountered. I met countless of these worker bees all servicing the queen, as it were, and they all said the same thing. All others are treated with total disdain. I spent four days in Dubai and not until the very end did I have a “conversation” with a local. It was at passport control at the airport as we left the country. As the man stamped my passport, I asked: “Are you from Dubai? “Yes,” was the reply. Bang goes the stamp and that was it. Move along, buddy. The worker bees who maintain this system are treated as underlings and kept that way…Men and women from countless nations around the world cannot afford to bring families here because they must pay for the education of their children, the cost of living is so high and an apartment for a family is just an impossibility. A Taxi driver I talked with said he had been here for 26 years, sends money home to India every month to support his family and can only afford to return to India every two or three years for a couple of months and then returns to the life of a man whose life is better than it would be otherwise, but still feels that he is kept in a condition where he has no other options. Tales like this were common, as I engaged and explored conversations of this sort to try to get a handle on life here. The man at Emirates Airlines I talked with said that Dubaians, (still don’t know how to properly call them) don’t fly Emirates,, they take Etihad Airlines because it costs about three times as much and this allows them to avoid the unpleasantness of the riff raff. So, in the end, Dubai is just Las Vegas with oil and without the casinos, totally artificial, great place to visit, but not to stay…Only locals need apply. My dear friend, Najla, was born in the Emirates, but she is not considered a native because she has no lineage. Her mother is Uzbek and her father is Palestinian…that disqualifies her, no matter that her passport says otherwise. She says that the social structure is so set, it is impossible to break and find acceptance. In spite of this negativity or simple reality, it remains a fascinating place to visit. I love the call of the muezzzin, ringing from the minarets at various times of the day. Gone are the days when he walks the circular ledge calling to the faithful below to prayer. Now, in this modern world, 4-5 loudspeakers are placed to resound in all directions. It is a wonderful call, to me, simple and haunting. I have such memories of hearing it when I was young, and it has stayed with me over the decades. The song comes from a prerecorded tape. Everything changes.   Driving is an adventure on which I will pass….12 lane highways allow for travel at speeds not allowed on any Washington State highway…we zipped around at 75 mph (120 Kph) several times and also got stuck in traffic that would resemble San Francisco at 5:00 p.m. on a Friday before a three day holiday. Lanes are simply general guides to point you in the proper direction, and if you want two of them then why not? You can change lanes when and where ever you please, never mind if there is already someone in that lane and occupying the space you want…somebody will give…it’s a rule. I asked Carol if I sounded really negative and she said: “Yeah, but it’s all true” So I want to find some balance now that I have painted a scene that is less than desirable. First of all, I want to make it clear that I would return to Dubai…certainly not for the glitz and glamor, but for the other aspects of life that are fascinating…We took the tour to the top of the Burj Kalifa, the world’s tallest building, naturally, and to look at how the whole area was literally carved out of the desert was fascinating…this spire that reaches to the heaven is remarkably stable. Carol expected some sensation of movement, but there was none, we ascended to the 124th floor in speeds that rivaled the freeways…we couldn’t feel any movement, but the numbers kept going up. It was like some time portal where Mr. Etas sends you into an alternate reality. We looked down on buildings which previously looked like huge structures , yet now seemed insignificant was fascinating, and gave a broader picture of what they have accomplished with a few barrels of our insatiable thirst for oil. There are several desert adventures available and I would certainly be interested in seeing that. Falconry exhibitions, dune busting, as it is called, and overnight contact with the stars can balance the unreal atmosphere of Dubai.

Dubai is one of seven Emirates, and each is different. Najla lives in Ajman about an hour away from Dubai where she works because her father has no interest in living in Dubai. I’d love to see the other Emirates and explore them. We did get to Sharjah on the last afternoon as I felt the need find some dose of real life. We arrived in time for the fishing fleet to unload their daily catches and I was able to get down and dirty with the fisherman (Indians, naturally) and go on the Dhows, the same types of boats which have traveled across the Arabian Sea for centuries. I had lots of conversations of which I had no clue as to content, but they were about fishing and fisherman and I loved it. They were the basic human beings which contrasted so vividly with what I had seen for several days and they gave me back a sense of reality that had been missing. Throughout our stay, I was so impressed with the basic humanity of the workers…whether they be taxi drivers, hotel clerks, restaurant workers, and all the kinds of people a person meets in the course of any given day of our lives. They seemed truly thankful that I asked them where they were from and pleased that I had visited many of their countries.

I did get to see the iconic Burj al Arab, that beautiful hotel which resembles, appropriately enough, a sail. I didn’t get to go inside because you can’t if you don’t have a reservation…I could have booked a room at $2,200 for the smallest room per night, or tea at $150 per person and with that I would have been allowed to enter the inner sanctum...it’s so typical of Dubai, lots of fat cat golfers toting golf bags that matched their stomachs coming and going…but I did see it and that was wonderful.

I was totally impressed with the efficiency of the place…from the very start at the airport which is simply immense with a constant flow of humanity. I’ve never seen a busier airport anywhere in the world, and yet it seemed so well run, to the modern metro system which allows the visitor to move around the city easily and quickly. Dubai is simply a place that works. So Dubai has been a fascinating experience and one that I wouldn’t have missed for anything…It’s just that this is not my kind of place….it gives new meaning to the phrase, it’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here. And it’s only February, Imagine it in August…Ugh.

Anticipation and fulfillment

Waiting at Seattle airport for our flight stoked the fires of anticipated experiences yet to be discovered. The waiting area was filled with national dress from several nations and the air was filled with tongues which had no association in my past…certainly Arabic and Indian were very present, but others as well that went way beyond my understanding..ladies in Burqas and tattooed hands, men in long flowing beards made me realize this was not a flight to Calgary to see the Whiddens. I had booked my usual window/aisle combo in the hopes that the middle would stay empty and it did…only disappointment was when I tried to use my travel agent card to get an upgrade and was told that if I had contacted corporate headquarters, they upgrade TA’s to business class for basically the same price…aarrgggghhhh…but, take note, ladies of Silver Star Travel, my home base in Vancouver. The seat in the middle did stay unoccupied and was a lifesaver for the two old folks who aren’t as limber as they used to be. Arrival in Dubai was a “Wow” moment. What an opulent place even the airport is, and one of efficiency and expedited bureaucracy as well…coming down escalators with waterfalls on the side like some tropical rain forest rather than the desert, glitz everywhere, and really wide open spaces gave the feeling we were in a high end convention center rather than an airport…6 escalators rather than the normal one, bearded men in long flowing gowns smilingly directing traffic, and the really efficient way of processing the visitors took all the tension away from the usual “oh, oh, now we have to deal with getting out of the airport. Dubai has computerized passport control where you just stick your passport in to be read like your rewards card at the supermarket. We couldn’t make ours work so we had to go to the usual passport control, however there were about 20 stations open and there were not any lines at any of them…just find an empty one and zip, you’re through. Luggage came immediately and we were out the door where our hotel transportation was waiting for us. We were informed that there was a sand storm taking place and did we have any respiratory ailment? It looked “smoggy” from the fine sand blowing and while we didn’t actually feel any biting sand on us, people were walking with masks on mouths and noses and cars were coated with a layer of very fine sand. Checked into our hotel at 10:00 p.m. always a great time to arrive since it is much easier to get adjusted to the new time zone (exactly opposite to west coast time). A little walk to flex the leg muscles brought another realization…Middle Eastern desert locales are night time places…Long lines of cars looked like 5:00 traffic across the bay bridge on a Friday night. My friend, Najla, couldn’t call us when I contacted her because she was having dinner with her family….at 11:00 p.m. This is like Spain without a clock. The Burjuman mall was the glitzy spectacle I had expected…over the top opulence and muy, pero muy, upscale shops…walking past one a little six year old girl was looking at blouses and came running outside to say: “May I have photo with you?” So in we went where mom, dad and little brother all smiled. The photo was taken and it was a sweet little moment…but because I was really tired from the trip, I wasn’t into my travel mode as I should have been and didn’t find out her name or where they were from….but it did set the tone for what I know will be a wonderful trip. Our first morning was a bit of a wake-up to reality of life in the desert..looking out the widow it looks like Beijing, but it’s not pollution but the fine sand that blots out the sun and gives a grey haze to the place… during the day, the wind picked up and blew the sand across the streets like a fine layer of snow on a wintry day. This continued until late in the day…It finally subsided when, of all things, it rained… We met my friend Najla who is Uzbek/Palestinian in heritage, but was born here and has lived here all her life. Yet, she still is considered an outsider…She’s not really an Emirate.”…the class system here is very much in place with lineage as important as birth conditions. Accents, phraseology, and simple gestures define a person, Najla says.

She wears the hijab, the head scarf, but not the niqab, the face veil. She says that it is a hindrance to success here, since, even in Ultra Muslim Dubai, not being able to see a woman’s face raises some level of uncertainty in trying to get employment and educational advancement. The abaya, the long black robe is worn my most Emirate women and underneath it is some pant type clothing which covers the legs so that when they walk and the abaya which can be open in front does not infringe upon a woman’s modesty.

The Emirati men have long white gowns with white head scarves…interestingly, the head scarves are being replaced by baseball caps…it seems very out of place to see the elegance of the white robe juxtaposed with the down home baseball cap. Most men have very neatly trimmed, close cropped beards on their faces. It seems that the beards are always about a four day growth, never longer. Old men let their beards grow longer, but I haven’t seen any young men with this.

It’s really easy to tell an Emirati on the streets…if there are workers on almost any level, they are foreigners..with a population of about 2 million, only 20% are Emiratis…the male female ratio is also striking about 80 % male…this being brought about by the huge influx of workers from India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, etc…..Nannies are usually Philipinas, or Sri Lankan women who are distinguished by their clothing which differs from the black abaya worn by the females of the household…the other telling factor is that in restaurants, the mom and elder daughters are almost oblivious to the antics and distress of the little kids as the eat their meal while the nanny is fully occupied with her responsibilities. You will never see an Emirati working in shops, doing construction or other blue collar jobs. The Emiratis work for the government or other “official” policy making entities…they will be involved as managers and owners of businesses, but never on the nitty-gritty, down and dirty real work. These foreign workers are the real underpinning of the society, without whom the system would collapse…The lives and conditions of the workers here may be infinitely better than what they would have in their countries of origin, but it is a squalid, pitiful existence here. Money is sent back to support far-flung families, and they eat and sleep in conditions that can only be described as marginal, at best. So, one has the feeling that this is an artificial existence, a society based, not on values, but simply a “we’ve got it and we’re keeping it” rule of social Darwinism to its extreme. Oil, naturally is the grease which lubricates, literally and figuratively, the system…The glitz and opulence is everywhere…auto dealerships selling Bugattis, Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and other high end vehicles abound in different areas of the city…there isn’t just one such dealership. Louis Vuitton shoe stores sell no shoes under $2,000 a pair and the architecture is absolutely stunning…from the Burj Kalifi, the world’s tallest building (for the moment, since there other taller structures being planned, to the Burj al Arab hotel where the cheapest room goes for $2,300 per night, no continental breakfast included. Every company seems to want to outdo the others with the latest most avant garde design and it makes for spectacular settings, even given the artificial nature of the place.

itchy feet

The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things..For me, that means “Let’s talk travel.” With almost a year having passed since our last sojourn, it is trip time again…itchty feet are definitely searching for some foreign soil upon which to tread…I honestly can’t go too long a time without feeling the need/compulsion to see something which is going to bring me closer to some level of understanding myself and my world, which I didn’t have before. I’ve never had any trip which didn’t do that for me. It’s just that it’s been a long journey for me to get where I want to be. This trip has the potential to be even more powerful to the senses because a lot of divergent forces will come into play and rattle around in my brain. It began with the decision to go to India. It has been on my list for a long time, but, understandably, Carol has balked at the crowds/noise/total immersion trip that going to India presents. However, the lure of the Bengal Tiger has been sufficient to overrule those hesitations and so to India it was decided we would travel this year. In researching air fares, I found that the quickest flights were with Emirites Airlines…five hours shorter and also $300 cheaper per person….Gee, what a hard choice to make…So, Emirites it is, and a sweet non-stop from Seattle to Dubai . One Benadryl, two glasses of wine should cut nicely into a 14 hour flight. It didn’t make sense to pass through Dubai and not stop, so a 4 day stopover in Dubai was scheduled in. This is where the really weird, messing with my head, stuff comes into play…we are going to see the uber glitz of Dubai and then four days later land in Mumbai. I think that will be quite a jolt to the head space…. Further intriguing for me is the fact that I was in India in 1962 when we drove that old taxi from London to New Delhi….I traveled by train across India and I’m really curious as to what kinds of memories and thought processes going back after 53 years will bring. So, this is a trip with many more layers , or elements, to it than a trip to New Zealand, for example. We will travel by train, bus, taxi, and some flights and not have the convenience of the car which we often have. That in itself makes it a very different, closer to the ground, sort of trip, I think. So, as the eve of the trip approaches, I have great anticipation for a real adventure.