Maris

Living in Dubai is very different than any other place I've ever lived.  It is kind of pretty, kind of not.  It is a big city, but not a bustling metropolis like Chicago or New York.  There are many adjustments to be made when moving to Dubai.  Aside from the obvious adjustment of living in a Muslim country, you have to get used to the heat.  You have to get used to driving in totally insane conditions, and you have to get used to not being able to find what you want, when you want it, in the stores.  Those are probably the major drawbacks about being here

On the upside, you have sunshine 99.9% of the time.  No real need to look out your window in the morning to see what the weather is ilke!  The kids go to a wonderful international school with kids from over 60 countries; this has expanded their view of the world dramatically.   And, you have people who want to wait on you - EVERYWHERE!  When grocery shopping they unload your shopping cart, ring up your order, bag your groceries and then put them in the car for you!   And my personal favorite - they pump your gas for you!  What a treat!

So today I write about Maris.  Maris is our live-in housekeeper.  When we first moved here, we were a little undecided about whether to have live-in help or not.   It is more common than not to have live-in help.  Some expats have a maid, a cook, a nanny AND a driver!  Us, well we have Maris!  

Maris is Filipina.  She is in her late 40's and came to Dubai six years ago  She has a husband and a son in the Philippines.  Maris came here to work after her husband lost his job in construction.  Maris is working to put her son through college; he graduates at the end of March!  Maris is also a new grandmother.   Her grandson is 9 months old.  She has not seen him yet and will not see him until he is almost two.
 

So what does Maris do?  Hmmm..what does Maris NOT do?   Maris gets up every morning and starts working at 6 AM.  She starts everyday by unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen from whatever mess we made the prior evening.  Then Maris whistles for the dogs to come downstairs.  They run to her!   Then she walks them while I get the kids ready and off to school.  Maris does the laundry, irons everything, cleans the house, washes the cars, tends to the dogs, cleans the windows,water the flowers and pulls weeds when she is bored!  Maris ends her day at 6 PM by taking the dogs out for their final walk.  

Twelve hour days, six days a week.  Wow!   I mean, really, can you imagine?!  At the end of the day Maris goes  to her room inside of our house.  It is a small room, but according to Maris it is bigger than her last.  She has a bed, dresser, table and stool, and an armoire that we gave her.  This is where Maris spends her evenings and her days off.  

I feel truly spoiled by having Maris work for us!  So how do I think Maris likes it here?  Well, it is really hard for me to say.  If you ask her, she'll tell you she likes it.   To Maris being able to go home once a year is a luxury.  Most contracts here with the workers are written so that they are permitted to go home once every two years - if they have the money.  The housemaids have it in their contract that the employer pays the airfare for them to go home every two years, but most North American expats send their help home annually.  

Last week Maris told me that one of our neighbors - a man we have not yet - hollered at her while she was walking the dogs.  My little dog, Rascal, likes to bark at other dogs. Period.  He doesn't bark at people, try to attack them, or cause any general disturbance.  He is 8 lbs of hair that like to hear his voice when there is another dog in the area.  He is boss!  So, while Maris was walking Rascal past our neighbors' villa, this man came out of the driveway and hollered at Maris, telling her to keep the dog away from his son.  He proceeded to tell her that if the dog bit his son, he would see that she goes to prison.  Maris was quite shaken when she told me.  She did not, and had not, had the dog by the little boy; she was simply walking by.  Oh, and the family has two kids and two nannies, both who are attached to the kids when they are outside, so really no danger for the dog to get at the boy, no matter how much he wanted!  The man went on to question her as to why she even walks the dog - she simply replied that it is her job.  

Anyway, Maris was pretty upset when she told me what happened.    I told her that if he approached her again, she needs to just tell him to come talk to her employer.  I apologized to Maris, but still felt so bad.  I told her that the man would never talk to me that way and the only reason why he spoke to her, was because of who she was and where she was from.  She understood, but it has to be a difficult thing to really grasp. 

This exchange caused me to really look around; I mean physically look around.  This country is filled with people from all over the world.  There is a definite ranking system here. The locals are at the top, way at the top.  Then there are the  Americans and Brits, then there are the other expats, and then after an incredibly expansive gap the philippeana, pakistani, and sri lankan workers.   I read in a book how as expats we learn to “edit out” the workers.   How we get to the point where we don't even notice them and they blend into the landscape of Dubai.  

So today I started watching and noticing.    I watched the gardener working ever so tediously in my yard.  He actually cuts the weeds out of the lawn with a little pocket knife, inch by inch.  I watched the eight buses pick up the construction workers from the building project in the front of the neighborhood.  I watched the man whose sole job is to wipe and polish the stainless steel railings on our bridges.  I noticed the four men who come to the same spot every day with brooms and brush the boulders in the waterfall, trying to keep them algae free.   Then I watched the many workers lay on the grass at noon and sleep.  This is the life of many of these workers.  They come here, work 12 hour days, nap on the grass when they have a break.  I do think that most are very grateful for the opportunity to work.  They are considered the lucky ones from their home towns.  They are the heroes when they go home to visit.  They are the sole provider for extended families.  Every penny that can be spared is sent home.  Do you know Maris has never been to the movies?  She wouldn’t think of spending money on something so frivolous.  

As I look at them, the lucky ones, I can’t help but notice the sullen faces.  Their definition of luck is certainly different than mine.  I am truly the lucky one.  Not only am I pampered, but now I truly see everything around me.   My ability to ‘edit’ has been changed.  There are no long people blending into the landscape, but people working hard to make the place where I live beautiful.   Thank you Maris..