Thursday, November 16, 2006

Philanthropy

Chapter 8: Shift in Focus
Chapter 9

What is it that makes a truly charitable person? I suppose it takes becoming a bit of a Jesus Christ--willing ultimately to sacrifice it all. One gets into his head that some among his fellow human beings are being mistreated, and he resolves that this is wrong. He wants to make a stand; he wants to do something about it in his own small way. He has this great philanthropic drive, prodding him to do what is right.

Lurking in the shadows, however, is a voice that says,
You are a hypocrite. You act out of self-interest. When push comes to shove you will run. You are not ready to pay the price, and the only sacrifice you'll ever know is the one you chose not to make.
How is it that a man who pays Dhs 1,000,000 for a lofty perch atop the world, can approach with sincerity the poor man who has risked his life to build that perch. Will the poor man ever trust the rich man? Would the rich man dare to give-up half his ground to level the field?

These sorts of questions would somehow find their way competing with the simple desire to do what I thought was right, to take a stand, however, small--even if unwilling to bear any great cost. The truth was that in attempting to realize my own dream of owning that lofty perch, I had to sacrifice most of whatever other objectives I had, even that which might involve acts of charity. Such was the perceived value of the dream and such was the measure of my own limitations.

Whatever the ultimate motivation, whatever my limitations and regardless of how it might complicate my life, it still seemed right to follow the impulse to reach out a hand of compassion toward the beleaguered laborer. Even if I could not help in any substantial way, I might at least improve myself by learning to better appreciate the predicament of these men. It would do no good, in any event, to excessively critique my motives.

Raja Reddy was twenty-six years old, according to his passport. In fact, he did not know his exact age; no records were kept in his village at the time of his birth. I had only talked with him a few times, but I loved just repeating his name. Rajareddy, Rajareddy--it was like some kind of onomatopoeía.

I had met him on one of my strolls along the Marina promenade. He worked at the site of the Marina Emblem, a planned 36-storey tower at the near end of the canal. He was relatively tall, thin and very dark-skinned. Were his physical characteristics hereditary or the result of hard work in the hot sun? He had, in fact, features typical of many of the migrant workers from southern India. He was from the south-central state of Andhra Pradesh, from the district of Karim Nagar, not far from the town of Jagtial.

Raja Ready was friendly when I first met him--with a ready smile. It was early evening, and he was just finishing his shift. He was willing to talk about his work and his living conditions, in response to my questions. But his limited English meant that the going was slow. Before I could ascertain much, I shook his hand and said we'd meet again. He told me his shift was the same everyday, except for Fridays.

A week later I met him again, at the same place, about the same time; and we chatted further. He had already been in the UAE for three years and this was his second construction site. He was trained on the job as a plumber and by now had an assistant working under him. He was, some would say, an uneducated man from a backward village, but he spoke four languages, hardly a feat for the untalented. His native language was Telugu, he spoke fluent Hindi and Urdu, his English was passable and he understood enough Arabic to follow orders.

He was equally curious about me. Why wasn't I married, he wondered. How much was my salary? Why was I buying an apartment in Dubai? I told him of the places I had travelled in India and how I liked the culture, the religion, the history, the festivities, etc. In such a way, Raja Ready and I hit it off. I had to sometimes shush that voice in my head saying, "You're only interested in Raja Reddy as a research subject."

That was not the source of my interest although I was motivated by a desire to know about the world he had come from and the world he was now in--one unlike that which I inhabited, in a kind of parallel universe. I would not pay much attention to that silly voice in my head. Raja Ready was interesting and I enjoyed talking with him.

August 2006, and work was progressing at the MAG 218 site. Excavation it would appear was nearly complete, although there were still piles to drive and other works beyond the purview of a lay person like myself. That didn't stop me from updating my blog with as much technical detail as I could pretend to understand. I believed I was doing my job well. If only it were my job. I had been a near obsession for over a year and I was enjoying the role of reporter. I fancied myself more than that. Perhaps I could be a spokesperson, or better yet, the chairman of the board of owners.

Interestingly, real estate had come to be a fascinating subject for me--at least with regard to Dubai and the Marina. What were the trends? Who is buying in the Dubai Marina? How good an investment was it? The most interesting questions were, "Will the towers, when all are completed, sell out or will there be a glut?" and "What will happen with prices when finished units begin to flood the market--will they level off, dip or plummet?"

Construction was also an interesting area. How will supply be met with the huge demand from an increasing number of developments? How can delays be avoided? Where will the experienced and qualified builders come from? It was no surprise to me that there were delays in the MAG 218 tower, or on any of the other tower projects across the Marina. Construction start on 40-storey tower mid-2006, completion end 2007. Pronouncements like these were commonly made but never to be believed. Mid-2006 would become mid-2007, and end 2007 might become end 2009. Even that was optimistic. My real concern was that some towers would stall and even worse abandoned mid-way. It had not happened yet to any appreciable extent, but it could. Even the big players--perhaps especially the big players--were not to be trusted.

Nakheel is wonderful in its sense of vision, but has big problems with delivery. On extravagant projects like the Palm islands this can be forgiven, but on more down-to-earth projects it signifies an inability to execute. Some of it was hit and miss. The Mall of the Emirates was a big hit, Jumeirah islands and the Garden View villas are misses. On Jumeirah Lake Towers the verdict was still out.

Emaar, by comparison, had a stellar record. On even its most challenging products it seemed to excel. Dubai Marina Phase 1, its showpiece Marina project was an unqualified success and several other Emaar projects had come up along the Marina without incident. It was no wonder that even with delays and projects under the direction of a large variety of developers, the Marina was progressing at a pace unlike any other large development in Dubai.

Although no major failures had yet occurred, many eyes were on Damaac, the self-proclaimed largest private developer on the market. With 50 towers across a number of countries (although primarily in Dubai), 90% of that number existed as largely blueprints. Its first completed tower suffered some near disasters--with new tenants left in the lurch.

Although real estate, construction and the like had become new found passions, the stories of men like Raja Reddy harkened back to an earlier calling. Amid the towers of the Marina which seemed to symbolize wealth and progress, the workers who dug the foundation pits and raised the tower walls were the reverse, an image of destitution which echoed a pre-enlightened era of forced servitude. Raja Ready was a subject with whom I could practice empathy and service in accordance with the ideals of my youth. The human face of the Dubai Marina, not that of wealth and prestige, but one of humility and fortitude, became an image that would inspire me.

One week later, I again met Raja Reddy. He entreated, "Come Friday my camp. I not working." "I'd be glad to..." On this day Raja did not greet me with his usual infectious smile. "Accident today," he explained. One worker had fallen from a fourth floor beam and died. He was not using his harness, which was left with its strap dangling as he worked. Raja Ready knew the man although they had not been close. He couldn't help but think it could have been him or one of his closer comrades. Raja, however, would not be scaling many beams. Most of his plumbing work was carried out only after floors had been laid.

It had taken one hour before an ambulance reached the fallen man. He was still alive it seemed, some 30 minutes after the fall. His co-workers were angry. Many stopped their work at that point even though it was still early on their shifts. They were cautioned to return to working but some would not relent. Raja Reddy didn't join the protest. He didn't believe there was any point, and besides, he had a job to complete. The daily quotas of work were not hard for him as by his third year now he was quite experienced. He also knew that if he had stopped working, his assistant would have been forced to do the same.

Raja Reddy knew that this man needed every hour of pay he could get. He had borrowed money to get to Dubai, to which he had arrived only 6 weeks earlier. Gopal was older than Raja Reddy, but new to the job he worked under his experienced senior. I'm sorry," I offered. "Did you know the man? How did it happen?"

1776 (this post), total 15,661 words
Chapter X: under construction

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Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Shift in Focus

Chapter 7: Pay Day
Chapter 8

It was fast approaching one year since the MAG 218 and Dubai Marina became the focus of my attention. In the beginning it was about what it would be like to live in the Marina. Though a work in progress it was possible to walk the partially barricaded promenade and envision future views. It was fascinating to see one tower begin to rise after another. I was anxious to see new heights scaled as 80, 90 and 100+ storey towers were due to be constructed.

Abdul Rahim's eagerness encouraged my own to monitor in detail the progress of work on the MAG 218 tower. There was not, however, very much to monitor. For months the expected start date was delayed, until year-end when the first contractor to begin work onsite was announced. Still then, another 3 months would pass before any significant amount of progress had been made. Nevertheless, I would continue to update my blog with photos and progress details.

As time progressed, however, I discovered there was more of interest in the Marina than what it was to become. It was already the site of a vast population of laborers who were like cogs in the wheel. Their role in the building process was both among the most taxing and fundamental, yet unlike other essential agents--the designers, engineers, project managers, etc.--the compensation received for their efforts was unconscionable. No justification could be offered for paying such meager wages on projects that sold at such high prices, except, that is, if one were to attempt to justify the practice of labor exploitation.

The truth is none of what I had seen was really new to me. It was common knowledge in the UAE that laborers were underpaid, over-worked and lived in inhumane conditions. The problem was that caring or really doing anything about this was difficult, too difficult it seemed. The UAE with its 80% expatriate population was not a place for activism. One lived and worked here by the good graces of the country's rulers. Displease them and you might be sent back from where you had come.

Few were ready to mount a challenge even on behalf of the laborers they saw suffering among them. The laborers, themselves, were no more likely to stand up for their own rights. In this regard, all were in the same boat. Many among the local population may also have felt restrained. While there being no risk of deportation, nationals received a lot in the way of grants and subsidies from government. They too would not want to bite the hand that feeds.

Walking through the Dubai Marina had begun to inspire me. Talking with a few of the workers made me more sympathetic. Perhaps action was not an all or nothing proposition. Understandably the laborers themselves were afraid to raise their quiet voices. As bad as things were they could always get worse if one risked rocking the boat. Those who sat on more comfortable perches, like myself, also had a lot to lose, but small moves, small acts and even thoughtful gestures might make a difference. At least it could be a starting point.

The first place to start was with the web. Blogging in the UAE, though not as big a phenomenon as in many other countries, had nonetheless a following among a group of self-styled web-diarists. Their UAE Community blog offered just the form for this motley crew with varied interest to whisper, shout about or otherwise plug. It was now my turn to use this forum as a springboard for my own agenda. Having an agenda, it would seem, was the key to making a difference. With this in mind I set out to focus attention on the issue of labor exploitation, particularly that with regard to construction the construction industry.

The local newspapers were already doing a good job of pointing out the problems, which if anything the public was probably beginning to grow numb to. That is why I had to also try to stir up a dialogue. My 16 June post at the UAE Community blog was an attempt to do that:
Small Moves

It is hard to live in the UAE and not feel some compassion for the many people seen laboring in the hot sun constructing roads and buildings and carrying out all manner of civil works. Added to this is the knowledge that wages are meagre and, even at that, sometimes unpaid for months.

Furthermore, one can see the burgeoning of a mature and developed property market, where end-users pay millions of dirham for modest homes and apartments, while wages being paid the laborers who build them remain largely unchanged. A certain amount sympathy arises for the workers and even anger toward a system that allows such problems to persist.

We all in the UAE are in some way part of that system and thereby bear some culpability. Isn't time we venture to take some action on a personal level--however limited our reach?
My plea generated sympathetic responses. Many agreed with the sentiments and some debated whether there was, in fact, anything that we as individuals could do. It was the effect I was looking for.

My next step would be to set up my own blog devoted exclusively to the topic of laborers in the UAE, specifically within the construction industry--of whom some estimates place near 500,000 workers. Thus, the blog, In Support of Laborers in the UAE was born.

The idea, in fact, to create such a website had been planted in my mind years earlier, after my first visit to a labor camp. The camp was located in a sprawling community in the industrial town of Musafa, some 30 km from central Abu Dhabi. Once exiting the main highway one would continue on secondary roads to reach the camp area spread out over a number of blocks. Up to 50 thousand workers were probably housed in the area. While not so large in acerage and having no large buildings most camps fit 12 or more men into a room in what were usually porta-cabin type structures. An assemblage of such units would house several hundred to a 1000 men, who would share the communal toilets, showers and kitchens. Provided ammenities included window-unit air-conditioners and running water. The men usually furnished their own rooms with a tv (along with a hacked sattelite or cable connection) and a small refrigerator.

The best way to characterize such dwellings are with words like ramshackle, laundry--hanging everywhere--and crowded. They lacked storage facilities or even vacant space, and the bedroom served as hall and dining room. Meal time meant spreading newspaper on the floor, and taking out dishes from under beds. The 12 men in a room might eat in groups of 3 or 4, taking turns so as not to crowd each other out.

On my many visits to a number of different labor camps and the accommodations of different companies, I seldom came across any that were filfthy or smelly. The 12-20 men per room and the hundreds in the compound managed to keep their quarters clean and more-or-less livable. Somehow, in deed, they managed this through personal tidiness. There were also cleaners assigned to clean toilets and bathrooms. Other than that, one must say that the men had learned coping skills and strategies that enabled them to live in not only in clean--albeit cluttered quarters--but also in relative harmony. Never did I see a fight, although there were the occasional arguments, and I did often find camaraderie. That being said many were lonely and uncomfortable. They learned how to grin and bear the difficulties.

There were differences among the labor camps, although all were over-crowded. Abu Dhabi had only the one, with countless other laborers and other low-wage workers of various categories, crammed into apartment buildings in the city. Dubai had three. One was the older Sonapur, several times larger than Abu Dhabi's Musafa camp with different levels of accommodations, and in general even more crowding. In the evenings and on weekends the dusty roads would be crawling with thousands of workers scurrying about to take care of needs or visiting friends and relatives at other company barracks. Steam would always seem to be pouring out of the communal toilets and washrooms as the desert temperatures meant there was no such thing as cool tap water.

What characterized every campsite was the envelope of darkness that descended upon the township with night. The municipality provided almost no lighting. The busses, trucks and cars that transported the laborers had to skirt around the almost invisible bunches of men who walked beside the roads or dashed across. It was an incredibly hazardous environment.

The newer, Al Quoz camp area in Dubai was spread across an industrial area. The labor camps shared the large district with warehouses and storage yards. The buildings here were larger and better constructed, usually of 3 or 4 floors. Everything was generally better in Al Quoz. The roads were wider, the floors in buildings had Formica or tiles and there were few, but better shops than in the other labor camp areas. In Musafa and Sonapur, many of the structures were truly dilapidated, the plumbing, electric supply and air-conditioning faulty. In Al Quoz there were generally fewer of these problems, although the crowding was the same.

The newest Dubai labor accommodation area was in Jebel Ali, some 40 kilometers out of the city but nearer the new Dubai project areas. LIke Al Quoz most facilities were newer and sturdier. There was, however, less infrastructure in place than any of the older camps. No shops, few transport options and in many instances companies left workers without essential services like water and electricity. It was a new, but in many ways neglected addition to the collection of labor camps or villages.

Such was life at the labor camps. As bad and inadequate as the facilities were, what hurt the workers just as badly were the long commutes from the campsites to the worksites. One hour each way was common. In Dubai that could go up to two hours, ehich often meant boarding a bus as early as 5 or 6 a.m. and returning in the evening as late as 6 or 7 p.m. Additionally, laundry facilities were woefully inadequate. The men had to do most of their washing by hand and hang dry clothes in any available spot. Cooking facilities were hardly any better but most of the men would turn into one pot dish specialists. When they could afford to they ate mounds of rice with vegetable or meat dishes cooked in generous portions of liquid. Most, in time, probably learned to prepare tastier food than their wives back home.

It was this not infrequent exposure to the living environment of the laborers that had long ago given me an urge to speak out, perhaps through the means of a webpage. But there was never that definitive moment that would say to me the time is now. It was not until I had the opportunity to appreciate the utter contrast between the real life of the laborer and the life of luxury they were laboring to construct on the Marina's rising landscape. Repeatedly walking along the promenade and engaging with the hardworking yet friendly men on the construction sites finally spurred me to turn idea into action.

1928 (this post), total 13,885 words
Chapter 9: Philanthropy

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Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Pay Day

Chapter 6: Pyramid Builders
Chapter 7

May 2006, and already the third payment on my flat was due. The $22,000 would not be hard to swing, as I had already drawn on savings that had been previously allocated for retirement years. It was also 2 months since excavation work at the MAG 218 site had finally gotten underway. I had some sense of comfort in that the progress could, at last, be measured on the ground, but the fact was that there had already been a significant amount of delay and my weekly visits to the site did not reveal a very fast pace of work. Regardless, the third payment was due, bringing me up to 30% paid, while completion of the tower could well be some 3 years away.

I continued to marvel at the pace of development across the Marina at-large. True, most projects were behind schedule--some a few months, some up to two years and even some that seemed to have completely stalled. The casual observer, however, would not be cognizant of this. Visit the Marina after a lapse of a few months and one would find numerous towers rising which had not before been evident. Other towers would be seen topping out. In a city full of construction zones, the Marina was clearly the site of the most frenetic pace of work. This was in large part due to the massive 40-tower development called the Jumeirah Beach Residences, or simply JBR.

It is possible to hire a small pleasure craft and ride out into the Gulf from the Dubai Marina. From offshore one will see the JBR and the rest of the Marina appearing as a dense row of towers lining the coast. This is the new Dubai. The JBR is promoted as the largest single-phase residential development in the world, a claim no one would doubt. It is also emblematic of a lot of development in Dubai Marina if not Dubai at-large. Once complete it will consist of up to 6,500 residential units and four hotel towers, catering exclusively to up-market residents and travellers. In a city with a chronic shortage of low and middle-income housing, Dubai Marina will eventually offer high-priced accommodations for up to 200,000. The idea is to create an exclusive, freezone enclave that caters to an international cliental who can afford the life of an executive or high-tiered traveller. As such, while hoping to attract millions of dollars in investment and leisure spending to Dubai, the large service and labor sector is being neglected.

From the start of construction in 2003, the JBR was home to thousands of laborers. Although bussed to and from the massive construction site daily, the workers spent long 8-12 hour shifts onsite carrying out all the jobs too difficult or too expensive to do by machine. Their low wages meant that hard to source equipment in an over-stretched construction market could be forgone for the cheaper option. Without adequate safety regulations in place or inspectors to enforce the codes that were present, companies did not have to spend much on expensive safety gear and other provisions.

Safety boots and gloves were the responsibility of the workers on salaries as low as $150 per month--or $0.60 per hour. The coveralls they wore and put through the grind daily had to be washed, often by hand, by the workers themselves--that is, when they could find time between queuing to use toilets, showers and kitchens. Even at that, one could say that safety conditions were better than they had been up to the recent past. At least most workers could actually be seen wearing boots instead of sandals and most were provided helmets. Safety harnesses were available in some number, but still used infrequently.

The biggest safety hazard, however, was that workers were largely untrained and pressured to work fast and hard. With so many construction sites across the city, most workers were FOB--fresh off the boat. Most, coming from farms and villages, had no experience at construction work and had never seen before the tools and equipment being used. While not yet acclimated to their new environment they were immediately put to work. Most likely even the foremen, supervisors and project managers that worked with them were short on experience and certainly inexperienced at directing a platoon of fresh workers. All this was compounded by language issues where laborers themselves may have represented a variety of language groups, in addition to their foremen and supervisors. Communication consisted of an amalgamation of pidgin-level Hindu, Urdu, English and Arabic, along with a variety of other languages common to South Asia. In time varieties of Chinese and other East Asian languages would have to be added to the mix.

Onsite accidents and mishaps were not infrequent. A major incident might have been reported in the press, but even that was on the rare occasion. Small cuts, injuries and illnesses due to heat, exhaustion, stress and the poor work and living environment were par for the course. Life in the JBR from 2003-2007, the expected completion date, would be one of hardship and misery for its builders. One of the big questions was "Why," when millions were being spent by future residents and buyers even before these projects were anywhere near completion. Materials and equipment costs were clearly rising, but the high prices being charged for properties were a reflection of not the cost of building them but the demand or suggested demand in the market. The revenue that flooded in for many projects, however, did not manage to trickle down to pay laborers' wages or purchase needed safety gear and equipment for them.
Saturday, 20 May 2006
Another worker dies on JBR site

Another worker has died on Arabtec’s Jumeirah Beach Residence site. Last month, two more workers were killed when the cradle in which they were working, collapsed. The man died on building 62 of the massive Dubai construction site. He is understood to have fallen to his death at some point during the nightshift of 13 May. His body was discovered at around 5 am the following morning. A company spokesman confirmed that an investigation was underway but that its findings had so far been inconclusive.
So read the news on one fine May day. The accident happened sometime during the night. Nighttime construction was a hallmark of not only the JBR but of the entire Dubai construction scene. It was not to spare the workers the high daytime temperatures, but to meet the deadlines that inexperience and delays in sourcing materials and equipment inevitably led to. His body was discovered at around 5 am the following morning. Was his fall not seen by anyone when it happened? Was he walking or working alone high atop the skeletal structure? Shrouded in mystery as many deaths, injuries and accidents were, at least this one made the news.

JBR was an impressive building site. The finished property would be stellar, as could be said of many of Dubai's new developments. Delays would be the order of the day and finished properties would almost surely fail the snagging processes. Numerous defects would be found in materials and workmanship. But at the end of the day, these would be impressive and attractive properties. Enough money was being paid by investors to assure as much. But there was also a high price being paid in blood, sweat and tears. Workers would be injured or grow ill without access to adequate medical care. Like most other expenses, charges for doctor visits were the responsibility of the laborers. Even in the case of an accident onsite, companies often required workers to reimburse it for the cost of treatment, which would be deducted from wages. A worker dare not get injured or grow ill for the double burden of suffering physically while bearing the resulting financial burden. For losing additional days or weeks of pay for not being able to work, he could well be driven into a cycle of debt, if not already up to his neck in it.

Some would even consider the fallen worker, the luckier one. There were suicides. Perhaps this might explain the mysterious death of the worker not found until morning. While the most unlucky would meet their deaths while building Dubai's towering residences, more would suffer from injuries, minor to severe, and nearly all would bear the hardship of poor living and working conditions and wages that, when paid, often still left them in debt and poverty.

In the United States a $5-$6 per hour minimum wage is lamented for not being enough to keep a small family above the poverty level. Construction laborers in the UAE earn 1/10th of that, while in many respects the cost of living in the UAE is comparable to that of any industrialized country. The UAE, as a country, is relatively wealthy, and the wages of the its wage-earners clearly reflect this. The many thousands at the bottom, however, who make-up over 20% of the work force, earn wages comarable to the poorest of third world countries.

Pay day on 1 May 2006 meant another $22,000 installment to be paid out on my small luxury apartment. That single installment would pay the salaries of 146 workers for a month. Using the same math, over the 4 years it might take to build the tower, only 5% of my total spend could employ 6 workers throughout the duration, leaving over 95% to pay for whatever other cost there were associated with constructing a tower. Six workers--so what? Extrapolating that figure to cover all units in the tower, just 5% of the total payment being made would cover the salaries of some 4000 laborers over the full 48 month duration. There will never be 4000 workers on the MAG 218 site. At best the maximum number of laborers at any one time would be 1/10th of that. The cost of labor on the project, therefore, would hardly amount to even 2 or 3% of the total cost. The cost of office supplies to the company would probably be greater.

Pay day for Mohammed, Abdulla, Rajeesh, Kumar, Harinder and any of the countless other laborers at the tower sites scattered across the Dubai Marina, and the whole of the UAE, would be about $150 for the month, $5 a day or just $0.60 per hour for toiling in the heat and dust.

1759 (this post), total 11,957 words
Chapter 8: Shift in Focus

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Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Pyramid Builders

Chapter 5: Arabian Forasol
Chapter 6

Good news! I received word that my friend, cyber-friend, that is, would be flying in from India. Abdul Rahim got the opportunity to develop some prospective business opportunities in Dubai and decided to make the trip in from Hyderabad. No surprise, visiting the MAG 218 site was high on his agenda. I had arranged to meet him at the airport. Unfortunately, due to my working situation I was unable to offer him a place to stay. My own accommodations were at my desert worksite during the week and in a rundown studio in Abu Dhabi I had rented for weekend stays. It would, of course, have suited me better to rent in Dubai, but I wasn't one for settling for bedspace. Besides, I had too much stuff to put up in a room or flat shared with others, which seems to be the norm for most in Dubai.

I managed to arrange for Abdul Rahim to stay in a less expensive hotel in Dubai during his two week stay. At sixty-five dollars, the rate was reasonable, but for anyone needing longer stays, even that would get pricey. There was little in the way of cheap these days in Dubai. A few years ago, 30 dollars could get you a seedy room in a seedy part of town, but even that was hard to come by now. The city takes pride in not only all of its fabulous 5-star properties, but also in the fact that its hotels have been rated the second most expensive in the world, second only to Paris.

My weekend upon me I headed straight to Dubai, bypassing my apartment in Abu Dhabi. I was anxious to see if Arabian Forasol had begun any work at the MAG 218 site and update my Dubai Marina blog with new photos. I left pre-dawn from the worksite and reached Dubai Marina at 6:30 a.m., after a 2 1/2 hour drive. Although the Marina and most of its worksites were quiet, many workers were arriving onsite. At the MAG 218 site there was little sign of activity. It appeared that the plot had been levelled further, but there was no evidence that Arabian Forasol had begun their job. I didn't suppose that Abdul Rahim would be very glad to see that.

I wandered on from the MAG 218 site to take photos around the Marina. I was interested in the towers already completed, those still coming up and even the sites with nothing more than an excavated pit. Even that was a positive sign that progress was being made even if the final product was some 2-3 years away. On one site at the edge of the Marina the workers who had already gathered had not yet begun to work. I took the opportunity to chat with one who stood nearby.
Where are you from?
(This question is so common in the UAE that it has become a cliché. Even those who don't speak English can understand it.)
India, he answered.
Which state? I probed. Kerala, Tamil Nadu...?
Andhra, he answered with some hesitation.
Andra Pradesh? I repeated.
The rudimentary conversation continued for several minutes. In that time I learned that the worker had been in the UAE for only 3 weeks. He was from a small village and this was his first time out of India and out of Andhra Pradesh. He was living now in company accommodation in Al Quoz, one of the newest and largest labor camps, as they are called, in Dubai, only a 20-minute drive from Dubai Marina.

He worked every day even on Fridays, normally a day off. His job was Ok. He was a friendly fellow, in his mid-20's, and seemed to speak better English than anyone else among the small group of co-workers who had gathered around as we talked. Not wanting to make a scene or get the young man in trouble, I thanked him for his time. Upon my exit, I made a quick double-take, abruptly entreating whether he and his mates could pose for a quick photo. They all happily obliged. I wanted to add that they could get a look at their photo at http://..., but instead offered only another quick thank you.

6:30 p.m. and Abdul Rahim was due to emerge from the arrival bay at any moment. I was curious to see his reaction to all the changes that would have taken place in Dubai since his last visit more than a year earlier. A half-hour later and my charge was riding with me down Sheikh Zayed Road (SZR). This was the premiere expressway linking old Dubai to new Dubai and continuing further on to Abu Dhabi. The transition between old and new takes place at the Dubai World Trade Center (DWTC) tower. This 39-storey tower emerged on the Dubai horizon as long ago as 1979. It long represented the outer limits of the city, until the equally iconic Emirates Towers were constructed and completed in 2000. From that time onward this stretch of the SZR became the center of development as towers began rising one-by-one on either side. This might have been suitably referred to as the new Dubai until post-2005 when the construction in the city began to explode even further outward.

Jebel Ali, some 20 km from the Trade Center, was once the distant port that propelled Dubai toward the status of regional trade, shipping and business hub. The Dubai Marina and neighboring Emirates Hills developments came to represent the new center of activity. Within short order, however, the entire 20 km stretch between the first new Dubai at the DWTC and the second new Dubai in the area of Jebel Ali became the focus of extensive development and construction. No sooner would one pass one row or clump of skyscrapers under construction, when another would emerge, and among them sprawling road interchanges, massive shopping malls and, soon to add to the mix, the beginnings of an elevated railway, to be christened the Dubai Metro when partially completed in 2009.

Although having taken this drive just over a year earlier, Abdul Rahim was in for a treat, as surely the number of towers rising along the horizon would have doubled and others would have begun to reach soaring heights. The most notable among these was the Burj Dubai, planned to be the tallest building in the world. At the end of 2004, the tower was still no more than an architectural render. By this time, however, the skeletal structure of the tower had finally begun to rise out of a deep excavation pit upon a newly poured foundation. Per my expectations, Abdul Rahim was indeed taken aback by the level of change and progress that just one year brought.

Next morning, in the light of the day, Abdul Rahim and I visited the MAG 218 site, where he was predictably disappointed. There was little to do there but photograph the open sand pit and attempt to visualize the dimensions of the tower to rise. There were a few Arabian Forasal workers onsite who Abdul Rahim was able to speak to in their native language. Not certain that one could really rely on their accounts, we were told that there were about 20 construction workers assigned to the site. They were awaiting heavy equipment to be transferred there from another project site where Arabian Forasol was carrying out piling works.

Upon leaving the MAG site, I asked Abdul Rahim if he would accompany me to other sites where we might talk to some of the workers to find out what conditions were like for them. News of unrest and hardships for construction laborers in the UAE was being regularly reported on in the leading news publications. A new tempo of protest seemed to have been set with a march by nearly a thousand constructtion workers on Sheikh Zayed Road, just in front of the Dubai Marina. It was 19 September 2005, when the workers, clad in blue coveralls, construction helmets, caps and towels, marched down one side of SZR at the peak of morning rush hour. The resulting traffic jam stretched for miles. The protestors, all belonging to the same firm, were complaining that they hadn't received salaries in months.

Their plight was rather typical, where contractors often claim they are unable to pay workers for not having been paid by the project developers. Company officials offer these and other excuses for not only non-payment of salaries, but also for many other hardships and abuses workers are forced to endure. Accommodation is nearly always provided, but at standards that are often shockingly poor. Over-crowding and unsanitary conditions are the rule. A single dorm-style room will house 20 men in bunk beds. Storage space is limited to what can be pushed under the lower bunks or stuffed into small cabinets the men, themselves, buy or build and attach to the wall beside their bunks--effectively reducing the clear space above their thin mattresses. The lower bunks double as seating space although the occupant must usually assume a crouching position due to the low height of the upper bunk. There is insufficient bathing, toilet and other basic facilities, and unsurprisingly a total lack of recreational facilities.

Basically there is no regard for the worker's personal lives, and in many instances they are in effect indentured--indebted to sponsors or agents who got them into the country and to whom they are unable to repay due to woefully low wages. An 8-10 hour construction work shift, plus up to two hours in transport time, will often find workers compensated by as little as 80 cents on the US dollar, per hour. This, in an environment where finished properties generate revenues in the millions of dollars--sometimes even before construction has even begun.

By my own reckoning, the sale price of a single 2 or 3-bedroom apartment in the city's most exclusive tower (under construction)--the 160+ storey Burj Dubai--could pay the salaries of an army of 2500 laborers working 365 days, for a year, at a better than average wage of $10 per day. At the less than $5 per day that many laborers report earning, the cost of the 2 or 3-bedroom apartment could fund this army of 2500 unskilled and semi-skilled workers for 2 years! The fact is that, while property prices have risen to unjustifiable heights, labor has remained an insignificant component of the total building cost in the UAE. The price of raw materials, the millions to be paid for plots of land, consultants' fees and service contracts account for the primary burden. Furthermore, the 10 percent within the company who occupy the middle and senior positions, will probably earn some multiple beyond what the 90% who make up the labor force earn.

One can almost visualize the scale of the grand development projects rising in the deserts of Dubai and at sea as a modern-day version of the pyramids and the great temple cities of ancient Egypt. The armies of construction workers in Dubai--into the hundreds of thousands--are akin to the slaves who were forced to labor then. While no worker can argue that he was forced to come to Dubai, many will have been lured on false promises. Furthermore, the conditions they are often forced to endure cannot be rationalized on any basis, even if they all voluntarily take the risk.

Laborers are not like investors or speculators who chose to take risks in the hope of multiplying their investments. Migrant laborers, as are all who work in such a capacity in the UAE, seek little more than what it takes for them and their families to survive in decency. To deprive them of even this basic level of compensation is unjust within any context, but even more so when the projects they work on are generating enormous sums of wealth in the form of revenues and profits for owners and others involved in the design, construction, marketing and sale of these projects.

Abdul Rahim was not particularly interested in spending much time probing these issues, but he was amenable to humoring me. From his perspective, the laborers were consigned to their fate. Whether back in India or having migrated elsewhere, their lot, he concluded, would be one of hardship. These were not the kind of words I was prepared to hear. In any event, whatever the rationale or cause of these workers' plight, I preferred to hear more about it from the horses mouth, as it were. These men were clearly beasts of burden, but they deserved a measure of respect much greater than that which they were receiving.

2146 (this post), total 10,198 words
Chapter 7: Pay Day

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Monday, November 06, 2006

Arabian Forasol

Chapter 4: Hyderabad
Chapter 5

It was December 2005 when a contract was awarded by developer MAG PDD, Moafaq Al Gaddah (Group) Property Development Department, to Arabian Forasol. The local/Swiss joint-venture firm was to carry out piling and excavation works for the MAG 218 tower. That announcement brought about a welcome sigh of relief from investors like myself and Abdul Rahim, who had been keeping abreast of developments with great anticipation. Still, the commencement of construction work on the project was by now 6 months late.

Considerable attention at this point would be directed toward Arabian Forasol. What kind of company was it? How was their record on other jobs? Who worked for them and what were their qualifications? These were among the numerous questions that could be raised. To be of any real value, however, questions such as these would have to be fashioned in some way so as to illicit objective or measurable data. An enthusiastic investor though I was, I regrettably knew little about how to pursue the answers to such questions with any measure of skill.

What I would find, however, was that the story of Arabian Forasol and its contract with MAG PDD was typical of the Dubai Marina and the Dubai construction scene at-large. What was at play was a complex set of variables by which a developer needed to secure consultants and contractors to go about the job of turning blueprints into formidable concrete, glass and steel structures. While this would be nothing new in terms of any locality involved in large-scale construction works, what was taking place in Dubai was of a level which had little precedence in history.

To appreciate the scale and audacity of the current construction drive, it might help to imagine oneself in the midst of the building boom in Manhattan of the late 1920's. City towers, then, were being built to unprecedented heights at unprecedented density. The New York city skyline that is visible today is largely the city skyline that was crafted in the teens, twenties and thirties of the 20th century. Similarly, the phenomenal level of construction in Hong Kong during the 1960's and 70's might also provide a precedent. What Dubai brings newly to the equation, however, is not only the simultaneous construction of a series of city skylines, but also other massive works, including land reclamation at sea, the creation of numerous water-themed communities inland, and extensive road and rail works.

The impact that all of this has on a deal such as the MAG PDD-Arabian Forasol partnership is considerable. What essentially has emerged is an extremely tight market where the builder-developer, consultant, contractor and supplier all struggle to meet ever-demanding objectives. The builder-developer, first of all, must strive to be innovative enough to design a product that stands out among the crowd. He is pushed to stretch the limits on what can be achieved, whether that be to design a one of a kind or a property that is top in its class in any number of categories. Once the blueprints are finalized, one is likely, then, to have a project which demands a considerable amount of sophistication and expertise to construct.

Next, the contractors who bid on the various projects on offer are faced with two significant challenges. One is to be able to exercise enough discipline to take on no more projects than they can comfortably handle. The sheer volume of orders being put out and human tendency being what it is, the typical contractor will over-commit itself. This inevitably leads to a range of problems during the construction phase. The second challenge the contractors face is that of delivering on the high level of sophistication required for projects often designed with the extreme in mind. The problems these challenges engender are further complicated by the fact that Dubai's construction industry is a relatively nascent one.

When, later, the suppliers are brought into the equation, they may find themselves in positions similar to that of the contractors. The demand for materials of all kinds being at a premium, it would take the most astute among them to resist the temptation to over-commit, especially knowing that developers may be willing to pay almost any price to get the job done. The bottlenecks that would inevitably result would be further worsened by the ever-increasing need for more materials--a cycle fueled by still more projects being pushed through the pipeline.

Finally, the glue that holds together this complex mix of players are the consultants, who presumably have the expertise to oversee and guide the project from one stage to the next. Their role is, in effect, to mediate the transition between the blueprint and the emerging structure, a job that requires experienced eyes on the ground, at the drafting table and in the boardroom. Like the contractors and suppliers, these key players may well lack the experience to execute the complex tasks, as well as the discipline required to restrict the number of jobs they take on.

In short, good contractors, suppliers and consultants are a hard-to-get commodity in a market that has grown to the extent of Dubai's. It was within such a climate that MAG PDD launched its Dubai Marina tower project.

Other developers, large and small, will have face the same issues. Delays at every important stage in the process will be the rule as opposed to the exception. May 2006 was the original date given for commencement of construction on the MAG 218, which was announced in November of the preceding year and launched the following April. That date quickly slipped into July, then August. December 2006 finally saw the selection of the project's first major contractor, yet the question of when construction work would actually begin was still an open one.

Arabian Forasol, like many companies in the UAE, had ties to a larger, more established foreign entity. While not referred to as a parent company Swiss Forasol is the larger entity with its domestic base in Switzerland and international divisions operating across Europe. Numerous companies in the UAE are structured in such a way in order to satisfy the requirement that majority ownership in companies outside of freezone designated areas be held by a UAE national or national entity. As an added value, the local entity has the opportunity to learn and benefit from the experience and expertise of its parent enterprise. With so much activity having emerged in the construction industry in just the past few years, the shortage of established and experienced firms to meet the great demand has resulted in a preponderance of start-up firms, albeit under the parentage, or with at least some affiliation, to larger, overseas entities.

This does not come without problems, primarily with regard to the lack of size and experience of the local entity, even with the support of its parent. The basic element of time--to grow and develop in the field--is lacking. The new firms gain experience on the job while forming themselves from within. The critical notion of a company culture is lacking and needs to evolve bit by bit through a process of trial and error. It is against this backdrop that foundations get built and towers rise. Needless to say, snags, delays and other perhaps more unfortunate mishaps occur. Some euphemistically refer to these issues as teething problems. Such might be the case in a normal and mature business environment where every new start-up requires an initial period to, as it were, learn the ropes.

In Dubai, however, nearly the entire construction industry is learning the ropes. One firm's teething problems compound that of another. The developer building its first tower will learn and discover how to set-up and manage various arrangements with its contractors, and the contractors, also new to the task, will learn to reciprocate and work out the same arrangements with their suppliers. And so the process will play itself out with, in some instances, teething problems for all involved. Such is the reality of the construction industry in the UAE. It is at once characterized by an enviable degree of daring but a corresponding level of inexperience.

It is surprising that so many investors are taken aback by the numerous delays, in not only project deliveries, but at every stage along the way. Announcements and warnings of delays make eye-catching headlines, but they should hardly be taken as news. It is all par for the course in Dubai and will be for some time to come, as in all likelihood, delays on average will grow even longer.

Abdul Rahim wrote me excitedly with the news that the piling contract had been awarded, something I was already aware of. This was, nonetheless news, and good news, for MAG 218 investors. In the months that passed since I began my journey into the world of construction and property development, I came to appreciate that the good stories were not limited to announcements of new and taller towers, exercises in groundbreaking or the awarding of contracts; nor were the good storeis always about good things. I came to appreciate more the human face of the building process in, if not the largest, then certainly the tallest and most built-up marina in the world.

1561 (this post), total 8052 words
Chapter 6: Pyramid Builders

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Saturday, November 04, 2006

Hyderabad

Chapter 3: A Walk in the Marina
Chapter 4

Abdul Rahim sat at his computer in the office of his small trading company in Hyderabad, India.
Dear Bruce,

I'm concerned about the progress--or lack thereof--on work at the MAG 218 construction site. These fellows have been saying for months that they were going to be at this or that stage and they still haven't even dug a bloody hole in the ground...
He went on about the apparent delays and about whether our investments were really safe.

After sending off the email he left the office and went to the crowded central market in Secunderabad to pick out some fresh fruit to take home. Secunderabad was midway between his office in the central city and the suburbs where he lived. He travelled by bus to Secunderabad and then by train from there. The infrequency of the train runs usually left time for him to make a quick detour to the central market. If he didn't buy fresh produce, he would at least get a bite of his favorite snacks, chicken pakodas or moong-bean kalmi (both deep-fried flour paddies).

In order to purchase a flat in the MAG 218 tower, Abdul Rahim had to make big sacrifices. He had shelved plans to expand his business and, as uncomfortable and inconvenient as it was, he continued to live with his wife's family in the bedroom town of Borabanda, some 30 kilometers out of the city. The flat, he told himself and his wife, would be either a retirement home for them or a place for either of their two children to settle in after completing their studies. He saw in Dubai, with its reputation as a trading hub and a pioneer in new industries, a future for both himself and his children.

Having worked with his father and uncles in an old trading house in central Hyderabad some 20 years earlier, he later struck out on his own and established the limited venture, A. Rahim Equipment and Parts. Although his family had dealt in textiles and shoes, the boom in the hi-tech industry convinced Abdul Rahim that electronic gadgets were the future. He would at least remain true to the family tradition of trading, but in goods more relevant to the times.

That, however, was not good enough for his father. The row that resulted from his decision to go it alone also led to his having to move away from center city to the home of his in-laws. It seemed a worthwhile price to pay, however, if it would enable him to realize his dream of being successful on his own terms. To be able to move to Dubai and into the MAG 218 by 2009 would be the perfect culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. For that reason, the continued delays in start up on the MAG 218 project were beginning to rattle him.

It was now more than two months since excavation and piling work was due to commence at the MAG 218 site in early August. That was also the month that I started my new job at the remote desert site in Abu Dhabi. As an English instructor my job was to provide lessons to UAE national employees whose language skills were not up to par. This would be an increasingly difficult problem for the company as it sought to increase the percentage of UAE nationals in its workforce and was, thus, required to lower the bar on admissions.

On the upside, the new job meant that I would not have any problem making payments on the new property, at least for the near future. Unfortunately, however, the remote location meant that it would be hard to maintain the ardent schedule I had kept up over the preceding weeks of visiting, photographing and otherwise documenting progress at the Dubai Marina.

My relationship with Mona would also be affected. She had been back from Egypt for about a month when I started the new job and I had gotten into the habit of meeting up with her every few days. It would not be possible to continue meeting with such frequency, but it was probably just as well. When she returned from Egypt it seemed things were different, from both our perspectives. I suppose having spent time with family eased some of the sense of isolation she may have felt in the UAE. At the same time, my preoccupation with my new hobby meant that my reaction to the apparent change in Mona's disposition was muted.

I guess I didn't feel strongly led to rekindle the fire that had been lit just a few months earlier. I suppose, also, that it was more than that. I was in my mid-forties and, although I had been in brief relationships in the past, there was always something that led me to pull back before the inevitable--marriage, that is. Oddly, I always felt that I just didn't need to take that last step--not in my 20's , nor in my 30's and not even now.

There was no need to close the chapter on Mona, however. I intended to just let things be as they were. We still met on most weekends, even if briefly. We talked on the phone every few days. And I must say that one of the main things that attracted me to her was her independent spirit. She had come a long way on her own, which for an Arab woman is not so easy. Though younger than I, she seemed to have the same spirit and determination to winnow out her own course in life. The future, I always reminded myself, is never known with certainty. One would be presumptuous and perhaps foolish to discount those things that logically have some possibility of occurring.

I took Abdul Rahim's letter with the level of seriousness that I was sure he had intended. However different our circumstances may have been, we had both committed ourselves to making substantial investments requiring a great amount of sacrifice. The sacrifice on my part would be simply more frugal living--fewer vacations, fewer purchases, etc. In my desert outpost facilities were excellent and meant that I had to spend little for my daily needs. Meals, laundry, room cleaning, etc. were provided, as well as facilities for exercise and recreation.

On weekends, however, I joined the legions of renters in the UAE who learn to make do with what they can afford. With the charges for rental on accommodations skyrocketing, many on limited budgets share accommodations to the extent of paying for little more than bedspace. I was fortunate not to have to resort to such desperate means, but the single studio flat I found to rent was in the oldest, dirtiest, most crowded and ugliest building I had ever lived in, but alas the sacrifice was worth it.
Dear Abdul Rahim,

I share your concerns. My hope is that by putting a spotlight on these issues--through the website--I may get the developer to better appreciate the urgency of getting on with the task. Besides that, I have spoken with the GM who has offered some explanation for the delays...
I went on about my faith that the investment was still a good one in spite of any eventual delays.

After picking out some fruit--a half dozen mangos, some lime and apples--Abdul Rahim quickly headed back to the station. He missed the train once when the crowds in the street were so excessive that he could barely take more than a few steps a minute. It wasn't so bad on this day, but as usual the central market of Secunderabad was pulsating with life--merchants and hawkers selling every manner of household good, fresh produce of all kinds, colorful textiles and garments, and perhaps, most special of all were the many garlands of flowers, which people used to adorn religious statuary and wear during special ceremonies. The air was filled with the fragrances of carnations, roses, periwinkles, lavender, plumeria and numerous other colorful and perfumed flora.

1364 (this post), total 6490 words
Chapter 6: Arabian Forasol

Friday, November 03, 2006

A Walk in the Marina

Chapter 2: Passion or Obsession?
Chapter 3

The summer air is hot, even at 6:30 a.m. A warm breeze blows in from the Gulf some 200-300 meters away. Despite a slight feeling of discomfort the sight of the morning sun's golden rays is invigorating as it strikes the facades of towers rising nearby and in the distance. The canal that runs the length of the 3.5 kilometer Marina narrows and widens intermittently, bending at either end to meet up with the sea. Around its perimeter wraps a 5-meter wide promenade. It follows the canal's bends and turns providing up to 11 kilometers of pavement for runners and cyclists to have a go at in cooler months.

There are few other pedestrians to greet at this hour of the day. Gardeners, sweepers, security guards, other workmen and attendants can be seen in the areas that have already been built up. Some construction workers are already busy at the various building sites while bus loads of others arrive. Their blue uniforms look bright and crisp in the morning sun. On closer view, however, many are dusty and stained. The faces of some workers both young and middle-aged already look tired, although some are quite cheeky as they jostle and joke around with co-workers.

Accompanying the labor force are machines that pound, lift, level and tread among the construction sites and the roadways that surround them. At early morning the sounds are muted, but reach a crescendo as the level of activity peaks with the rising of the morning sun. Only at noon do things begin to quiet down with a government mandated mid-day work stoppage. In former years there was no respite for workers who continued to labor through the afternoon, as temperatures soared to 45 Celsius and above.

Small boats and yachts gently bob in the water at the Marina's only dock, located near the mouth of the canal. This area is commonly referred to as Phase 1, the site of the Marina's original tower project. It consists of 6 towers varying in height from 20 to 40 floors and perched atop an extended podium base. The podium encloses concealed levels of parking and the Marina Walk, a mall of mostly restaurants and a few shops. A $1,000,000 fountain along with smaller fountains decorate the plaza that opens up at the center of the complex. The main fountain spurts up streams of water at irregular intervals. When children are present they regularly dash in and out racing to avoid the blasts.

Phase 1 gradually became the center of life at the Marina following a quiet beginning, when in 2003 the first towers opened for residence and the restaurant mall followed a year later. A final jewel in the crown of the Phase 1 development are the villas that surround the towers atop the podium base. They create an attractive architectural mix of high-rise and uptown residences. The villas are surrounded themselves by palms and other greenery, which from ground or plaza level create the effect of hanging gardens.

The literature, often seen, which describes the Marina is largely uncritical. A city within a city is one of the most common boasts. But if the Dubai Marina is a city, then it is one without schools, medical facilities, government offices and even parks. None of these facilities or services have yet been started or announced. What is sure to be in ready supply are shopping venues, typically with expensive boutique offerings. Still, one will probably not be able to pick-up any new furniture for their pricey new home, it will be impossible to buy or service a car there, and at present there isn't even a sign of any filling stations. The Marina is more a residential resort community, but of the size and density of a compact urban center.

Another reference commonly made is that of the Marina having distinct districts--ten, the number usually given--spread out across its length. Any suggestion of the kind is nothing more than promotional propaganda. What districts that might be identified will have, largely, been artificially construed. Where dividers of some sort--roads, bridges and the Marina canal itself--may come to have an effect on segmenting the larger community, the distinctiveness of one district from another is likely to be non-existent or imperceptible. Anyone who knows NYC, for example, must never expect to find a Greenwich Village, an Upper East or West Side, a Harlem or anything of the sort. Rich and flavorful districts and communities of this kind cannot be manufactured by a city or property developer.

That being said, the 3.5 kilometer stretch of the Marina does have some distinct features which seem to have emerged by chance rather than planning. The Phase 1 area does have a unique quality due simply to the fact that, compared to anywhere else in the Marina, it has a history--a full three years worth! As morning progresses on Fridays, especially during cooler months, this part of the Marina is a buzz with hawkers selling trinkets and knickknacks at stalls, diners seated at outdoor tables and children playing at the fountains.

By contrast, the far end of the Marina has a more introverted character that will probably remain so, even once most construction activity has ended. It straddles the large Dubai Electricity and Water Authority plant, a clearly less desirable area to settle in. Although towers are rising there too, the area is quieter and less likely to have shoppers and diners about. In that sense, the unfortunate nearness of a huge power plant may inadvertently result in a neighborhood that is nonetheless pleasant for being more tranquil.

Alas, there are no public parks in the Marina, and the wide beach which fronts the Jumeirah Beach Residences (JBR), a 40-tower complex, is likely to be inundated with sun-worshipers. It is billed as the largest single-phase residential property development in the world, a boast that seems credible. No doubt the JBR will also emerge as a distinct community--one of mostly expatriate, non-resident apartment owners and the European guests they hope to lure in for short-stays. It will be a beach culture of the exclusive and perhaps snobbish variety.

In any event, the Dubai-resident owners who have purchased properties with sea-facing views will benefit from the year-long opportunity to enjoy the rejuvenating charms of the sea. Others scattered throughout the Marina may have a difficult time of finding any open vistas that a park or beach might offer. For most residents the only public beach access will be kilometers away as all other beach property is being managed by exclusive hotels and resorts.

What about pollution--air, water, noise--transportation options, policing, roadworks, etc. Emaar, the master-developer for the Marina, is in a sense the government. It collects taxes in the form of management fees and is responsible for roadworks, security and other concerns. Furthermore, these responsibilities will be divided somewhat among the individual property developers, who will be expected to build in some extent of services for the residents of their respective properties. Security is already one of the most visible functions being carried out on a property-by-property basis. But how effective will this type of security arrangement be in the long run? The municipality of Dubai has in many ways taken a hands-off approach to Dubai Marina and other new city developments.

For the enthusiast like myself, however, these are all challenges not obstacles to enjoying a high quality of life in the Dubai Marina. Above all, the community is a work in progress. In 2005 it was still largely a construction site; in 2006 the same can be said. 2007 will likely be no different, with only 2008 finally seeing a leveling off of construction activity and the emergence of a real, living and breathing community. At that point in time, it will begin to develop a unique character and one probably very much unlike that portrayed in the sales and promotional literature.

A walk in the Marina may lead one to think about such things. Or, perhaps, more likely, one will take note of the towers rising on either side of the canal and in the vicinity--some 300 in all, including those of the adjacent Jumeirah Lake Towers development. The towers will stand out above all else, if not for their number then for their height. In due course, some of the towers will rise above 100 storeys.

The three bridges that cross the center length of the canal will each come into view, along with one other which connects the Marina to Dubai via a coastal thoroughfare. In addition to the three dozen or so boats docked at the head of the Marina, one will also notice, oddly, small craft anchored in the middle of its wider parts and in the knobby fingers that poke into the adjoining banks.

A closer look at the water and one will spot floating debris, most of it blown by the wind or flushed into the canal from neighboring construction sites. Though largely free of odor, the water in the 5+ meter deep channel has a deep blue and sometimes greenish hue. It mirrors the surrounding towers at both daylight and at night, that is, when it is not stirring in the normally light sea breezes.

Like the promenade that lines the canal there is only a limited amount of traffic on the water. Most boat owners appear to let their pleasure craft sit unperturbed between the odd cleanings. Also undisturbed are the skies above, which thanks to the sea's proximity are often a clear blue. The same cannot be said when one looks inland.

Except for the plaza at Phase 1, howevr, the Dubai Marina is not yet a community, much less a city. As one prepares to take an invigorating stroll along the prominade, he should keep in mind that there are no benches yet to rest on, no shops to pick-up a refreshing drink at, and even the promenade is in places barricated, forcing one to either abandon his trek or navigate in the sand around construction sites. Dubai Marina and the eventual community or communities that will emerge there will remain under development for some time to come.

In the final analysis, Dubai Marina, even in its present state, is an incredible achievement. Less than a decade ago it was but a barren strip of coastal desert, without even the Marina canal whose construction began in the late 1990's. It is one of the largest of the numerous grand projects announced in Dubai over the past several years and one of the first to have become, at least in part, a reality.

1810 (this post), total 5126 words
Chapter 4: Hyderabad

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Passion or Obsession?

Chapter 1: That Fateful Day
Chapter 2

I grew up in the US state of Louisiana--a long way from Dubai. The trail that led me from there to here was uncharted, but purposeful nonetheless. It was guided by a yearning for adventure--not the sort that entailed daring feats or great risk, but by that which found fascination in the simple and the ordinary. The only requirement for my journey was that there be a pervasive element of the unfamiliar.

In the culture that was Louisiana's, the simple and ordinary were there but not that most intriguing element of unfamiliarity. The pictures I grew up with were only black and white--that is, people were defined as such. In the Louisiana of the time, the US South and perhaps the nation-at-large, people were distinguished from one another simply and arbitrarily on the basis of race; one was either black or white. Multi-faceted, multi-dimensional individuals of multiple heritage were all simply black or white. How peculiar for me that I did not seem to fit very well in either camp. I was called black, but as far as I could see I didn't speak black, I didn't walk black and I generally didn't act black. Then again, there was no way I could be white. I felt both morally and intellectually disconnected from white. White had dispossessed and oppressed a great many of the world's long-suffering colored peoples.

It is doubtful that I understood in exactly those, but by the age of 10 I was well-aware that the world was much wider than America and its 50 states. I used to draw and color-in maps of the world, where jagged borders made countries fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I knew at age 11 that Vietnam was a place to fear. It was the early 1970's, when the US was engaged in what seemed like endless peace talks with North Vietnam. It seemed that the only consequence of that was a war that got worse or was prolonged.

I discovered at the age of 12 what a foreigner really looked and spoke like. It was a boy named Mazda, from Iran, who had enlightened me. He appeared like a colorful Christmas ornament in a school that was otherwise only black and white. He was from one of those far away places that I had only known through my colored maps. Although he was different, I felt he was like me. He too could not be crudely defined as either black or white. There was no paradigm into which he fit, just as there was none into which I fit.

At age 13... and the story goes on. The trail that I chose led me out of Louisiana and on to Vietnam. I discovered a different language, different foods, different attitudes, different smells, and the list went on. It was a journey, however, not of the body but of the heart and mind. At the age of 13 I had met some among the first groups of Vietnamese refugees to make it to the United States, upon the inevitable capitulation of their war-torn country. Even more than with Mazda, I became transfixed by the Vietnamese community. Theirs was a simpler but more purposeful way of life--or so it appeared to me. They had little upon which to build a new life in the United States, but they worked hard and achieved much. The experience was both different and intriguing.

From the little Vietnams I had encountered in the US I went on to Japan. This time it was an actual journey to another country, my first landing on foreign soil. I discovered that the Japanese were not at all simple, yet theirs was a country of ordinary folk. Every one in Japan strove to be average. There was valor in that, whereas anyone who appeared to be too different was subject to ridicule. While there was a sameness among them, there was still that pervasive element of the unfamiliar. For 11 years in Japan, even up to my final days, I marvelled at how different and Japanese everything and everyone was.

Ultimately, the trail led to the UAE and more importantly, the Dubai Marina. Sometimes I wondered how I got here and whether or not I had made the right choices. After all, what was simple and ordinary about living in a pricey Marina district full of high-rise towers and other symbols of wealth and class? I couldn't really answer this question although I would argue that I was still being true to my ideals.

In any event, I was becoming passionate about photographing the towers which had rapidly begun to fill the Marina. Each tower would begin as a deep pit in the ground, to only later emerge and then rise up to towering heights. I had to know the name of each one and all the relevant details: who the builder was, how many floors there were, how tall in meters it would be, what the expected date of completion was, etc. With some 200 towers planned, underway or completed, the task of photographing and documenting each was becoming monumental in itself.

Life, however, could not be restricted to one task or a single passion. Mona, meanwhile, was preparing for her return to Egypt. I had never been to her home or even to Egypt. Our acquaintance was based on a sort of camaraderie and mutual respect developed on the job. We were both teachers of English. I was impressed not only by her proficiency in English but also in her adaptability to a foreign, that is, Western culture as well. Although she had never been to the United States, she had studied for some years in the UK--thus her advanced language skills and outlook. When I first met her I neither thought she was Arab nor a non-native speaker of English. The name Mona only added to my confusion.

We had decided to spend her last weekend before leaving at a resort in one of the UAE's quieter emirates. It was at the Al Hamra Fort Hotel and Resort in Ras Al Khaimah. This was a secluded seaside property built in the style of an ancient Arabic fort. The new freehold development of which it was part consisted of a village or community of villas, townhouses and apartments along with the hotel complex. It would be the first visit for either of us to this rather enchanting destination.

It wasn't intended that this excursion would be anything more than a chance for two close friends to get to know each other better and enjoy a nice location. We would stay in adjoining rooms and indulge in some of the hotel's water sports. It ended up being a wonderful trip and the perfect way to see Mona off on her journey back to Egypt. It would be one month before I would see her again.

Mona gone, I had more time to devote not only to my Dubai Marina blogs but to the MAG 218 project--the property that had got me started off on this new adventure. Within days of my initial posting on the topic a few other buyers got in touch with me. One in particular, a gentleman by the name of Abdul Rahim, was especially interested in not only the building project but the unfolding website as well. He was based in Bangalore, India, so did not have the opportunity to, as I did, casually visit the MAG 218 building site or office. Abdul Rahim became a frequent emailer and poster to the website's comments pages. His enthusiasm only added to my own. In due course, I was visiting the MAG 218 site and the Dubai Marina on a frequent and regular basis taking photos and gathering the data needed to keep all my blogs updated.

On one visit I began to chat with some of the laborers onsite at a tower project near the MAG 218. Work on the MAG 218 itself had not yet commenced, and the plot was little more than a cleared-out sand pit. All around the Marina there were other towers and tower plots at various stages of construction. The workers I had found to chat with were friendly and eager to make conversation, even though they had to struggle with the language. The group of five with whom I spoke were all from India.

My first questions to them were about their living and work conditions. That such laborers had it quite rough in the UAE was common knowledge. These men had their fair share of complaints. Chief among them were the crowded conditions in their lodging and that they had no time to take care of daily needs. They awoke at 5 a.m., rode off to the work site at 6 and returned to their lodging at 6 or 7 in the evening. In the few hours they had before bedtime they had to maneuver among the dozen or so men in their crowded sleeping quarters, while scrambling for time in the toilets, showers and kitchens they shared communally. A single building at the lodging site might accommodate several hundred to even 1000 men.

Suddenly a new world was beginning to open up to me in the presumed luxurious Dubai Marina. Each tower that rose would tell a story of wealth and extravagance alongside another of struggle and destitution.

1590 (this post), total 3316 words
Chapter 3: A Walk in the Marina

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

That Fateful Day

Chapter 1

16 June 2005 was not a special day except for one thing. It was the day I walked into the real estate office and signed my contract as an owner of a swanky new apartment in Dubai Marina. I use the word "owner" with some latitude. What I signed was a sales agreement, which stated that the apartment would be mine only after I had paid for it in full. More disconcerting was that it would not actually become mine until it was finished being built--in 2009!

That didn't really matter much, anyway. What was important was that I had signed the contract and committed myself to someday being a proud owner in the MAG 218 tower. I walked out of the real estate office with a real sense of accomplishment. "I'm 44 years old and will at last become the owner of a place I can call home." 16 June would always be a day to remember.

It is funny how a good thing can get twisted and turn into a bad. On that day, almost a year and half ago now, I could not have known how much would change in my life as a result of signing that sales agreement. I didn't even have to wait until 2009. In the initial days and weeks that followed all was going well, even better than I had expected.

You see, the thing that always made owning a home seem like a distant dream was, of course, money. How could I ever come up with the 100,000 dollars or so needed to buy a simple home? Even worse, I was in a country where I might in a single day lose a job, and thereby lose a visa ...and thereby find myself not only out of job and home, but out of country as well. Buying a home under such circumstances seemed like an impossible dream.

The impossible dream, however, suddenly began to seem plausible when a number of favorable events converged. The first of these occurred in April, when I was told that my contract for work in the UAE would not be renewed when it expired in a few months time. My secure job of the previous 5 years would abruptly come to an end.

Ironically, instead of feeling panic I felt a sense of liberation. That 5-year job had become a drudgery and, for some unexplained reason, I felt confident that I would find another. Instead of the dread I had of one day finding myself out of job, out of visa and out of country, I simply felt I was being freed from a pointless job and given a new opportunity.

The second of the favorable events to converge was that only weeks earlier I quite unexpectedly found myself in a relationship that seemed to hold the promise of much more. I had met on the job a co-worker with whom I felt a connection much deeper than that of a colleague. Although this fellow educator, quite a few years younger than I, had not expressed herself in a way that I could gauge for certain, all the signs were there. Her feelings finally became clear to me when she accepted my invitation to join me on an off-day excursion.

Finally, there was a third event that would make it an opportune time to enter the real estate market. My savings, which had been accumulating over the previous four years, had reached a level that would allow me to comfortably put down a deposit and make the first few payments--most off-plan purchases had to be paid in installments.

Beginning in 2002, there had been stirrings in the media that foreigners would be allowed to own property. It would be primarily within special development zones in Dubai. The Greens, the Springs, Dubai Marina... as time passed a buzz began to grow around these new developments. I spotted the ads in the Gulf News--the leading English news publication--and slowly began to entertain thoughts of buying property in the UAE. It was funny that having lived in other foreign countries for years, I had never seriously considered buying property in any of them.

In the UAE my decision to purchase was as much out of a personal desire to own property as a personal need to feel safe and secure in a place I was sure I'd like to remain in for at least a few more years. But 2002 was too early for me to act on my impulses. In 2004 I visited the sales centers for the Springs, the Greens and Dubai Marina, but alas it was sticker shock that hit me when I saw the prices being asked for. Finally, in mid-2005 everything seemed to coalesce. While prices had in fact become even higher, I found myself in a better position to contemplate making the commitment.

My feeling of confidence was real but perhaps ephemeral. Who could know how long a budding relationship would last and if in fact it would flower at all? Though I believed I could, what if I didn't find a new job, and especially one with at least as high a salary as I presently had. But, at the start of things at least, my instincts seemed to be guiding me correctly.

Once I had put my ink on the sales agreement, my first thought was to call Mona, my new love interest, and tell her the good news. It was by no means an our apartment sort of thing, but it seemed right to share my feelings of accomplishment with her. Of course, she had already known what I was planning.

"Are you sure it's the best thing for you?" She was always one to take the cautious approach. "It's now or never," I said with confidence. "I'll show you the contract this evening. Finally, my dear, the UAE is beginning to feel like a place I can call home."

Mona and I had in common that we were both expats. She was from Egypt and I from the US. I know we were not an ideal pairing, not to mention the age difference, but at least she was Christian. I could never accept the idea of changing my religion to marry someone. Isn't religion supposed to be a matter of faith--not obligation? One hears about prison and other conversions which are, in my opinion, anything but a willing expression of faith. Anyway, Mona and I weren't anywhere near marriage. It was just my habit to always get ahead of myself.

So, the deed was done. I had the sales agreement in hand. It was 16 June and for the next few weeks, at least, I was in the clouds, years before my flat on the 66th floor would be ready to occupy. Being the computer and Internet enthusiast that I was, I decided to blog about the MAG 218 tower and Dubai Marina. I would Google up every detail I could find to post in my blogs. The idea was to play a role in making the MAG 218 and Dubai Marina the kind of place that I and other residents could call their own.

It was 23 June. One week had past since that fateful decision. Everything was going as planned, like clockwork, if not better. Mona and I were spending more time with each other. She was about to return to her family in Egypt for the summer and needed to take care of shopping and other details. Not having a car, she depended on me to drive her around. Meanwhile, I found myself getting more drawn into to my web pages. I didn't imagine blogging could be so much fun. Although few links came up when I Googled MAG 218, I soon discovered that I could take the lead as the main provider of content on that subject. It was a challenge I was up for.

On the job front things were also progressing well. The few applications I had pending were beginning to bear fruit. One was an offer from a start-up university in Oman. As attractive as the thought of living in Oman was, the salary being offered was not, and it wasn't the time for me to move on from the UAE, even if temporarily. It pays to have patience, and in due course I had another offer for a job in Abu Dhabi. It met my pay requirements and would also enable me to get by with few out-of-pocket expenses. It meant, however, working at an oil field complex, off at a distant desert site. Ok, it wasn't ideal. I would be further away from Dubai and from Mona. But if it would bring me closer to realizing my dream of owning a home in the Dubai Marina, then it was worth it.

In early July, I received a letter from a former colleague of mine who had left the UAE a year earlier to take up a teaching position at a college in South Korea. The letter began,
Dear Bruce,

Your're probably surprised to hear from me after so long. I wanted to share my good news. Do you remember my girlfriend, Su Yung Kim? Guess what, we've decided to...
That's right, get married. Was this a sign, I wondered? No, it couldn't have been. I had only been close to Mona for a couple of months. I had to remind myself that hers was a traditional culture. People did't just meet, get acquainted and then elope. That distracting thought quickly out of mind, I got back to my work in progress. It was the lastest post for my Dubai Marina blog. It involved uploading photos I had taken of the ongoing construction work. The time consuming process involved editing each picture to get just the right crop and angle, not to mention the time and effort it took to walk around in the hot summer sun. The only way to manage it was to start either early or late in the day. Every other weekend or so I would find myself traveling to Dubai Marina to engage in what was steadily becoming a passion.1726 words

Chapter 2: Passion or Obsession?