Her main purpose in life was to be an avenue for procreation and to remain devoutly obedient to her husband; that was the way life was lived in these regions
If she had no choice in who she married, she could mould her children in any manner she pleased
Instead of being harsh on them, she chose to love them endlessly and tirelessly
Love was something which all her children – be it girl or boy – thrived in
He grew up watching her carry water from the streams, coming home to light a fire with her bare hands, grind grain to make wheat to make perfectly round chapattis, cook what little food was available and make sure all her children were fed even if she went hungry
On top of all this, she raised her children making sure they never looked dirty or dishevelled
He loved the way she could never stay still and yet she was omnipresent
The way she stroked his hair as he drifted off to sleep and sung a soothing lullaby to allay his fears
It wasn’t until his father died that her true strength was realised
She had to become the breadwinner and maintain the role of a mother
Yet she did it without wallowing in grief or complaining to God about her fate
She did it with quiet, complicit acceptance, tilling the land, selling what grew on the land and raising her children with a smile on her face as her calloused hands burned under her papery skin
When he became old enough to work, he left school and helped lighten the burden even though she insisted he study
But he wanted more
He wanted to remove her pain and it was this thirst for monetary gain that brought him to this day
He stood at the edge of the building his own hands had built and prepared himself for the jump
The dusty, arid wind howled around him with such ferocity, as if prompting him to take a step back
There was no going back
It was now or never
He paced side to side, looked down at the hustle bustle of Dubai’s commercial life and screamed out loud, “Do it now!” with spittle and tears falling down his face
All he wanted to do was go home
Home – where his mother would be waiting with a cup of garam chai (hot tea) and ghee-laden, greasy parathas ready to be devoured
He wanted his mother’s hands in his own and if he wasn’t allowed to fly to see her, death would take him there in spirit
As his toes pinched the edge of the majestic building, he bent his knees, closed his eyes tightly, squatted down to his feet and took the biggest leap in his soon-to-end life
At first, the sheer current of the wind prevented him from doing anything but soon enough, as his body adjusted to this maddening descent, he spread out his legs and arms and formed a star shape
He smiled at the realisation that he was free! Free from obligations, punishment and restrictions
He was going home to his family and he had the ultimate say in how he was going to get there
Even though his owners had seized his passport and papers, they could never control the manner in which he came to his demise
He recalled looking out excitedly from the aircraft’s window at the wide expanse of land, full of glittering buildings built so high that they were close enough to touch the plane’s underbelly
He wanted his family to have an easy life, a comfortable bed, running water, electricity and other perks of a comfortable living instead of being draped in poorness
He would make it big in Arabia
There was no doubt about it
As soon as he landed into Dubai, he had done nothing else but craned his neck upwards at the sheer magnitude of the airport
He was dumbfounded by this insanely busy place
People were running around everywhere in such a rush as if they had somewhere very important to be
He walked around with slow, measured steps gawping at all the opulence and bare flesh of women which his eyes weren’t accustomed to
When his sponsor located him, he didn’t have a smile or any kind words for him
A grand welcome indeed! Instead, he was bundled into a filthy bus whose door had come apart from its hinges and driven to a faraway location in the middle of the desert
He was thrown into a room full of men with downcast faces and twitchy eyes and told that this was to be his new home until the job was done or until the sponsor decided it was time to go
The men looked at him with inquisitive eyes and whispered “new fodder” to each other as he looked around trying hard not to look scared or upset
A sea of bodies awaited him when it was bedtime and he somehow had to etch out some space on the floor for him to sleep
Cockroaches roamed the floors freely and many a times he would feel the spindly antennae of such insects touching his face to ascertain whether he was fodder or dispensable
Most of the time, it was the latter
When he started work at the building site, his back ached from carrying heavy loads and his hands became rough and calloused from handling bricks and mortar
If only his mother could hold his chapped hands and rub ointment on them
Piece by piece, he had helped transform Dubai in to the dizzying rush that it was to please white foreigners
But at what cost? When he asked if he could return home to see his family, he was laughed at and taunted
“What home? Why do you want to go back to that country when you have everything here?” laughed his master
When he asked for his contractual pay, he was always told that it was on its way even though it never would materialise
A man’s dignity could only take a certain amount of bashing and his was depleted
Beatings and lashings kept him in quiet servitude
He became a muted robot in order to appease his masters
The years passed by in this cyclical routine but the time had now come to ask for a week’s holiday and he tentatively approached his master for one
It was granted! His servitude had paid off! His elation didn’t go unnoticed and his employer granted him one extra day
He cried tears of joy and even kissed his employer’s hand, causing him to pull his hand back in a reflexive action
“Ammi, I’m coming back to you,” he thought to himself as he spun round and round, falling downwards swiftly
“Ammi, Ammi, Ammi,” he said chanting
His mother never wanted him to go but his temptations sealed his ears to all voices of reason and now she too was gone
He had just spoken to her a week ago and laughed about his quirky siblings, his brothers, his sisters and his elderly grandfather
He said he was going to return soon and bring lots of presents and after five long years things were starting to look up
He couldn’t wait to hold his mother’s hands and seek her blessings
The night before he was meant to fly out, he saw his mother in a dream all cloaked in white, smiling at him and telling him not to worry, that she was happy and that her hands, legs or back no longer hurt her anymore
She kept saying that she would see him soon and to rest in peace
It was the most comfortable night’s sleep he had had in years
“Wake up! Wake up! There’s bad news!” shouted his comrade as he was awoken from his slumber
The rest was a blur
He heard words like “a low-flying drone”, “killed a whole family” “no survivors” “somewhere in your village”
After frantic calls to his mother with no reply, the catastrophic news was confirmed by his paternal uncle, who screamed in grated anguish, “They are all dead! All dead! Ya Allah! They are all dead
It was early morning and the devil in the sky came and killed them all
Some informant wrongly told them that there were terrorists in that house
” He had heard enough
His uncle had long viewed their ancestral land with greedy eyes and wanted it all to himself following his brother’s death
He could have been the “informant” behind the attack
Who knew? No one could be trusted whether they were related by blood or otherwise
His uncle must have known of his return and would have tried to ensure they were all killed
Well what choice did he now have? Who was left for him in this cold, callous, greed-obsessed world? If he tried to go back, his uncle would mock him and evict him from his land
If he stayed in Dubai, his masters would work him to his death
In his fugue state, he absconded his employer’s jail and went to the first building that his hands had helped construct and jumped
By falling down, he was being lifted up
He would be taken to his mother and upon seeing her he would put his head in her lap and sleep soundly as she silently stroked his hair
As he spun downwards he noticed the glittering buildings all clamouring around him as if watching him fall to his demise
This glittering land was dazzling to look at but it carried no substance
Like a moth to the flame, he had come too close to the heat and his wings burned like Icarus’s
The time of his death was becoming ever more imminent and then, BANG! He was gone in an instant
His shattered body lay on the ground and crimson red splattered all over the floor with screaming passers-by devastated at having the peace in their life splintered for good
He was gone but he was not lost
He had stepped into the light and could see familiar faces, all smiling back at him
In the centre of them all was her beautiful, smiling face and outstretched arms
This story is an attempt to highlight the atrocious working conditions that people from South East Asian countries are exposed to while working within the UAE
They are denied their basic rights so that other people can profit
Many tolerate it as they are left with little choice but others resort to drastic measures like suicide as a way of relieving themselves from a difficult situation
This story also attempts to highlight the unfairness of drone strikes and poverty which can tip anyone over the edge
The character felt like he didn’t have a choice in living and telling his story, unlike Yonas Fikre, who was tortured in a UAE prison upon the alleged request of the CIA as punishment for refusing to become an informant – an ordeal which has cost him his dignity and has placed him on a no-fly list
He has spoken out bravely although thousands don’t get the same chance
| Date: | 02-Apr-2015 | Reference: | View Original Link |
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