Fernando
When I first arrived in the UAE, every Thursday I would wander around Bur Dubai, amazed at the mysterious sights, sounds, and smells of the Orient. As I wandered, I looked for inexpensive places to eat, and found a one-star hotel that offered a variety of tikkas for less than €2 (at today’s exchange rate), including a complimentary, unlimited salad bar. All the other patrons of this hotel were from the sub-continent.
One Thursday, the hotel was very crowded, and Fernando asked if he could sit at my table. I naturally said yes. Fernando seemed delighted.
‘This is so nice of you. You aren’t like other Westerners. They won’t share their table with an Indian. They are prejudiced, but you’re not.’ We continued to talk, with a great deal of flattery on Fernando’s part, until I had to leave. When the waiter came with the bill, Fernando said something in Hindi. The waiter smiled, and indicated that everything was taken care of. Fernando didn’t pay, either, and I have no idea what he’d said, but I thanked him.
As I was leaving, he said, ‘Would you please come to my home?’ I accepted the invitation, and, the following Thursday, I paid Fernando a visit.
Fernando lived in Satwa with his wife, who was obviously pregnant. His flat was a single room that barely held a bed, a chest of drawers, a single chair and a small table. On top of the chest of drawers were a few keepsakes, including an electric image of the Blessed Virgin, the electric lights substituting for the traditional candles. Just outside this bedroom they had a gas ring, a small refrigerator, and a sink.
The floor was bare cement with an inexpensive carpet covering the area around the foot of the bed, and the walls were bare cinder block with a few Christian posters.
He said the chair and table were for me, but he and his wife would sit on the floor. I insisted on sitting next to them. ‘This is so nice of you,’ he said.
Dinner was a spicy prawn dish, flavoured with cocoanut. I had never tasted anything like it. Fernando said he quite enjoyed my company, and really hoped I could come again, so I agreed to a second visit.
At the second visit, Fernando confided, ‘My employer is cheating me.’ He showed me his contract, promising €900 a month, and his paycheque for €300. He said he wished his wife could stay home, but, with the embezzlement of his salary, she had to work. I was outraged at this injustice. The second visit ended like the first, with the request that I return as soon as I could. I agreed to return the following Thursday.
On the fourth visit, Fernando explained that, due to his employer’s dishonesty, he owed quite a lot of money, and, if he could not raise it, he would go to gaol. He begged me to help him with a ‘loan,’ which he would repay in full.
And then I understood.
Fernando had seen a Westerner stupid enough to go into a hotel that catered to people from the sub-continent, and thought, with a very modest investment, he could obtain a significant return.
He had obtained his position from a friend or relative, and had agreed on a salary of €300, but had asked the friend to write that his salary was €900.
A salary of approximately €900 is required if a husband wants to bring his family to Dubai. Once here, his wife can work for a company that has no employment visas available, and there are many of those in Dubai.
I have no idea if Fernando really owed any money, but convincing me that he would be gaoled certainly aroused my sympathy.
I did not return to Fernando’s, but eventually Fernando saw me wandering about Dubai, and immediately pounced. He had a small child now, his wife was pregnant again, and he was again faced with the imminent prospect of gaol, so he was desperate. He just needed to ‘borrow’ a bit of money for a short time. Sadly, his pleas were to no avail.
And subsequent acquaintances with equally sad stories of desperation have had little luck convincing me their plights are, in fact, real.
One Thursday, the hotel was very crowded, and Fernando asked if he could sit at my table. I naturally said yes. Fernando seemed delighted.
‘This is so nice of you. You aren’t like other Westerners. They won’t share their table with an Indian. They are prejudiced, but you’re not.’ We continued to talk, with a great deal of flattery on Fernando’s part, until I had to leave. When the waiter came with the bill, Fernando said something in Hindi. The waiter smiled, and indicated that everything was taken care of. Fernando didn’t pay, either, and I have no idea what he’d said, but I thanked him.
As I was leaving, he said, ‘Would you please come to my home?’ I accepted the invitation, and, the following Thursday, I paid Fernando a visit.
Fernando lived in Satwa with his wife, who was obviously pregnant. His flat was a single room that barely held a bed, a chest of drawers, a single chair and a small table. On top of the chest of drawers were a few keepsakes, including an electric image of the Blessed Virgin, the electric lights substituting for the traditional candles. Just outside this bedroom they had a gas ring, a small refrigerator, and a sink.
The floor was bare cement with an inexpensive carpet covering the area around the foot of the bed, and the walls were bare cinder block with a few Christian posters.
He said the chair and table were for me, but he and his wife would sit on the floor. I insisted on sitting next to them. ‘This is so nice of you,’ he said.
Dinner was a spicy prawn dish, flavoured with cocoanut. I had never tasted anything like it. Fernando said he quite enjoyed my company, and really hoped I could come again, so I agreed to a second visit.
At the second visit, Fernando confided, ‘My employer is cheating me.’ He showed me his contract, promising €900 a month, and his paycheque for €300. He said he wished his wife could stay home, but, with the embezzlement of his salary, she had to work. I was outraged at this injustice. The second visit ended like the first, with the request that I return as soon as I could. I agreed to return the following Thursday.
On the fourth visit, Fernando explained that, due to his employer’s dishonesty, he owed quite a lot of money, and, if he could not raise it, he would go to gaol. He begged me to help him with a ‘loan,’ which he would repay in full.
And then I understood.
Fernando had seen a Westerner stupid enough to go into a hotel that catered to people from the sub-continent, and thought, with a very modest investment, he could obtain a significant return.
He had obtained his position from a friend or relative, and had agreed on a salary of €300, but had asked the friend to write that his salary was €900.
A salary of approximately €900 is required if a husband wants to bring his family to Dubai. Once here, his wife can work for a company that has no employment visas available, and there are many of those in Dubai.
I have no idea if Fernando really owed any money, but convincing me that he would be gaoled certainly aroused my sympathy.
I did not return to Fernando’s, but eventually Fernando saw me wandering about Dubai, and immediately pounced. He had a small child now, his wife was pregnant again, and he was again faced with the imminent prospect of gaol, so he was desperate. He just needed to ‘borrow’ a bit of money for a short time. Sadly, his pleas were to no avail.
And subsequent acquaintances with equally sad stories of desperation have had little luck convincing me their plights are, in fact, real.
posted by Dubai@Random at 5:51 pm
2 Comments:
this is sad. some might be real and some might fake them, but u cannot help urself sympathizing with them. just be careful... :)
Bahrain Commercial Laws
Qatar Commercial Laws
Oman Commercial Laws
Mauritania Commercial Laws
Morocco Commercial Laws
Iraq Commercial Laws
Post a Comment
<< Home