At work in UAE

I worked in the desert, on the edge of Sheikh Zayed Military City, south of the town of Shahama, about half-an-hour from the centre of Abu Dhabi city.

Our Villa in the Desert

And, we rented a house fairly close by. I didn’t want to be too far away; I anticipated long hours and late nights, and it started out that way… But, it was not to last.

Every morning I’d get in my car and drive to the Base. Security was tight and I’d drive through a series of Security gates. At the first gate, half a mile from the office, they’d stop me and ask for my passport, driver’s license and work badge but this quickly turned into a smile and a wave – they would lift the gate when they saw my car coming. 

A wall with barbed wire on top enclosed our office building; the wall and the building were painted a strange salmon tint, almost pink. There was only one way in through the wall and only one entrance to the building, despite its many doors. Security manned both of these points too.

The guards inside the building were South Asian and the nicest guys you could meet; but they had their orders and wouldn’t sway. No briefcases, laptops, cameras, memory sticks or anything other than a phone and a handful of papers could go in or out of the building. No photographs allowed anywhere near the base, of course.

Staff visit the Dubai Airshow (inside C17)

Every morning we shook hands: I mean, every person you met in the building would shake hands with you every day! It was then I realised that in the English-speaking world, we shake hands on first meeting someone and then again if you haven’t seen them in a while, but not every day… (I believe it's a French custom)  We’d say hello, usually in the language of the recipient, and there were many languages, the staff were drawn from France, UK (Wales mostly), Germany, Italy, Spain, UAE of course, other Arabic countries, and a few North Americans: ‘Bonjour!, Guten Morgen!, Ciao Bello!, Buenos Dias!, Marhaba or Salam Alaikum! and Hey!’

The Emiratis, or locals as we called them, have a special greeting for those they are close to, called nose rubbing. In this the two men touch noses and make a ‘kissing’ noise (by tut, tutting using the tongue on the roof of the mouth), two or three times. In fact, I was alone at a festival in the desert and a boy of 12 or so came up and shook my hand then he held my hand and turned his face up to me (yes, he was shorter!), so I ‘rubbed’ his nose with mine. (Nose-rub video)

At the Dubai Airshow

All of these physical greetings were between men. As a general rule, men do not touch women, not Arabic women anyway. I found this difficult – I’ve always made a point of shaking hands with women. And, we had a lot of Emirati women on our staff, many fresh graduates in their first job, but they all said ‘Hi’.

Through the day, Ansari the ‘tea-boy’ would come by and offer to make you a coffee or tea to your liking. I was always torn – I didn’t like the idea of getting someone to make my drink for me, but nor did I want to prevent him doing his job. In the end, I made my own and he stopped asking.

We had a cafeteria; it was a separate building where an Arabic style lunch was catered daily.  The food was good and inexpensive ($6/£4). We all ate at a series of tables and generally we mixed well but one table was reserved for women. The Emirati women would sit there, sometimes joined by Western women. Just occasionally, men would join them to chat over lunch, but next day, a sign would appear saying, “This Table is Reserved for Women Only.”

If only our work efforts had gone as smoothly as the social interactions between the staff. For all the different nationalities that managed to get into the building, it was a great team to be part of.

Desert Sunrise