So, tonight's taxi ride started off a bit unusual: I think he scammed me, by taking a circuitous, nonsensical route through some parking lot that had a lot of twists and turns. When he was done wasting about 60 cents on the meter, we pulled out onto the main road and I asked, "Uh, why did you do that?"
He responded, "Sorry sir, I lost my way and the whole time I was thinking bad for you, I'm very sorry," in a layered Pakistani accent. He asked me the usual question then: "Where are you from sir?" I told him, and then asked him. I could hear that he was Pakistani in his voice, but when he said it, I was still surprised because he looked like Edward Norton. Honestly, he did. Same eyes, same facial structure, same skin color.
That's the trouble with Pakistanis: it's really hard to pin down who is and who isn't Pakistani, because there are so many looks that they can be. There is one thing you can always count on though: they're great people.
No, I didn't believe his story about getting lost. As he began talking about the troubles of the world to me and we did some arm-chair philosophizing for the next 30 minutes about life, Pakistan, the plight of the common man, and morality, I couldn't help but proving to myself why I could give him the benefit of the doubt that he'd taken a wrong turn, and also give him the usual tip I give other taxi drivers: "So, how long have you been driving?"
"In Dubai?"
"Yeah."
"2 months."
"When did you come here?"
"The same time."
"And you work 7 days a week, right?"
He laughs. "Yes Baba, I work 365 days a year!" I know he's not lying. I've heard the same from other taxi drivers. "For 3 years, I come here and work. No girlfriend, cause there is no time. Lady passengers ask me 'Where is your wife? Where is your girlfriend?', but I cannot have one. My father, he has eye surgery, uh, maybe last week, and for 12 days, only one time in 12 days I can call him." He goes on, talking a bit about his family. "Do you work 5 days a week?" he asks.
"Kind of." But even admitting to him that I work 50-60 hours a week, and often come in on weekends, feels shallow and devoid of compassion. I cannot even begin to compare my life to him, so I try my best not to. Anything else would be disrespectful, I feel. As he ends giving his last thoughts on the job, I can only finish by saying, "Sometimes, I really hate Dubai." He laughs, and I smile.
--
Honestly, what kind of place requires taxi drivers to sign 3 year contracts that has them working every single day for the full amount of time? All the taxis are run by RTA out here, which is the transportation arm of the government. It's not like the government is unaware of what's going on. I feel bad riding in the taxi, yet at the same time I know that he needs the money.
The longer I live in Dubai, the more I come to despise what it represents: exploitation of poor immigrant workers, combined with vast amounts of money to be made for those from the more privileged countries, all funded by the same oil that's destroying our planet one gallon / one spill at a time. Yep, that's the system I'm a part of.
--
"Teaching is a great job. You can change people. You can change minds!"
"Yeah," I said. "I know. It's tiring." I felt silly saying that in front of him. "I know that I can change my kids though, and teach them respect, so that makes me happy." The driver kept talking about the value of teaching and education. I kept thinking about it: is there something I'm not getting here? How can so many in the world get so trampled on, and then there's me....
No comments:
Post a Comment