A different perspective

‘Tonight I will take you to real Dubai,’ called Fatima, ‘see you at seven.’

‘Lift?’ called a male Indian, dressed in ripped jeans and a chequered shirt, as he inhaled the last few puffs of his fruit-scented tobacco pipe. He mopped his face with a muslin cloth and opened the taxi door for me. ‘Ok?’ he smiled, through a set of undeserving white teeth given the number of empty cigarette packs that littered the front of his taxi. I smiled back and nodded. I looked through the rear windscreen; the Burj Khalifa – the world’s tallest building – was only recognisable as a disguised silhouette in the overpowering presence of the dust cloud that had settled. Wasn’t this Dubai?

Fatima was waiting. A dark black liner carefully painted around the perimeter of her eyes drew even more attention to the spectrums of brown it encircled. ‘Wear this,’ she pressured, handing me a burkha as we walked towards the creek.

The fumes from the barbecues met us as we stepped off the wooden dhow; they only added to the relentless humidity of a Middle Eastern summer. It was Eid Al-Fitr, the last day of Ramadan. A small child, who had been gouging on a heavily scented kafta kebab tugged my hand. The aromatic smells of fresh ginger and paprika clung to the linens that draped the seating area I was pulled through. My hand was thrust onto a table. The lady seated glanced up and nodded, whilst she hovered a pen above my hand. I nodded back and she became engaged in staining an intricately weaved design on my hand. Another child handed me a pipe attached to a central tower. I inhaled and exhaled slowly as the females around me watched on. I took a deeper breath. I pursed my lips and slowly let the smoke filter from my mouth. Fatima whispered in my ear, ‘this is the real Dubai, what do you think?’ Though my mouth was shrouded in black cloth, I was smiling. Underneath the garments I was only, me, but for this occasion, I was one of them.

The Muslim prayer called out as I made my way to the airport the following morning. The taxi driver rubbed the beads that were drooped round his gear-stick, ‘Have a safe flight madam, I hope you enjoyed your stay.’ I smiled at a Muslim woman who passed the taxi door. Her child’s eyes followed me as I organised my belongings. I watched on and smiled, forgetting that I was only ‘me’ again. I hadn’t only visited Dubai; I’d experienced Dubai.