On the UAE and Such

It’s been half a year since I set foot into Dubai Airport, carrying 2 overweight suitcases, and 2 hand bags, filled with the remnants of a scrubbed-off past life; books, my favorite DVDs, comics, random collectible toys, Zalatimo sweets, summery adornments, a brown envelope of stamped papers and certificates that define the person I am. I wore a ridiculously out-of-place leather jacket, a scarf wrapped around my neck and winter boots which would be perfectly fine in a jump across the hemisphere.

I stood in line, behind hundreds of people queuing to get their passports stamped; black, white, yellow, short, tall, thin, fat, men, women, beautiful, ugly, sleepy, tired, laughing, smiling, Arabs, Iranians, Russians, Asians, Indians, Brits, Africans. I was awed by the sheer amount of people, and how they all waited patiently in line, tapping their feet, listening to their iPods, holding hands, waiting to pass the gates, beckoning to the unknown.

When it was finally my turn, I approached with a smile. An Emarati officer bid me where my visa is. I confidently displayed the fat, brown envelope I tugged around containing all my important papers. I removed a printed, black and white copy of my work visa with a wacky smile on my face, like a knight unsheathing his sword. He brushed me off, and politely asked me to pick up the original copy from downstairs. I raced downstairs my handbags beating against my waist where I gave them my name; Sami.

And there was actually a pink visa waiting for me top of the pile, regardless of my cynicism. I rushed up, queued again, stamped, walked out to the stifling heat, waved to my receiving relative who completely ignored me expecting that I was still the teenager that he last saw.

So, I’ve been pondering this post in my head since, in my inner-duologues, and private thoughts, I have finally found the opportunity to put it into a written format.

And even though there is a lot of bashing going on for Dubai; the rent prices, paranoiac dangers of deportation, SALIK, traffic jams and others, nonetheless, I always give praise freely and unconditionally when it is due.

(This is not a kissing-ass post for any body, nor is there a gun pointed to my head telling me to write lavish poems; I am expressing myself freely with no strings attached just as I like to.)

This country has made us feel at home more than home itself. The people themselves are warm, hospitable and beautiful. The government officials are always smiling, willing to share a joke or two, helpful and eternally-patient. I remember at the airport when I came back from a business trip, the Passport Control Emarati looked at my passport and said “Welcome back, Abu-Nasab (brother-in-law)” referring to the marriage of Princess Haya of Jordan to Sheikh Mohammed. I was about to jump and give the dude a hug, but I was too tired to do so since the plane arrived at 4 in the morning.

Not to mention national security reasons.

Not so far away, expats are treated very differently. Trust me, I know.

So on behalf of me, Sami, Jordanian, Arab and all expats in the UAE..

Thanks :)