Women in Dubai

I have currently been in Dubai for 6 weeks now and in that time we have found somewhere to live, eaten out lots and have experienced Ladies Night, but nothing prepared me for THE misconception.

The main thing that has hit me, is the overwhelming way Emerati's put women on a pedestal - Completely the opposite to what I had expected.

I am not saying that I had expected the women to be oppressed.  I had heard the rumours that women have to walk behind their husbands - False by the way.  That they are not allowed out without a male with them (even their 5 year old sons can be escorts) - Again completely false.

Having been here before I knew that that was far from the case:  I knew that women had influence - Woman here asked if they could have their own cabs, with women drivers so they do not feel intimidated, and they got them (those with the pink roofs as clear indicators), AND their own compartment for travelling on the Metro.  However, I do know they are modest and conservative and tend not to hold hig positions in government or office, so these rumours had led me to think that women were viewed in society as second class citizens to an extent.  Just how wrong could I be?

I had no idea just how much they are revered which was beautifully illustrated to me on the day that I had to get an extension on my  Travel Visa.  

Initially, and against procedure, I had arrived in Dubai three days after Ian had left the UK.  Ordinary protocol is that the dependents follow on their own visa one month after the husband has arrived, therefore enabling the husband to find a house and process the dependents visas when they have all of the documentation (this is a laborious process which I will tell you about another day).

We had been misinformed that we needed to get our attested Marriage Certificate re-attested by the UK Embassy in Dubai, before having it stamped at the Attestation Centre in the UAE Foreign Affairs Department, 2 miles away from the UK Embassy.  

The contrast between my treatment at the British Embassy, and that of any of the UAE Government offices that I have visited has been stark;  That said, the contrast between the public facade of the Embassy when compared to the Government offices, is equally just as opposing...

I arrived in taxi at the white walled building which is the all encompassing colonialism stereotype that people would expect from 'Great Britain'.  The Embassy would overlook the  Dubai Creek and the Rolex Towers had it not have been obscured from view by the large white wall with just the tops of palms trees showing, pocking out from behind.

The Asian staff who greet you on arrival were lovely.  They take you through security in much the same fashion that you would expect when boarding a plane in the UK.  You are then ushered along a concrete path fenced off with metal railings to a portacabin.  Yep, you heard me, PORTACABIN!!  It was just like any doctors surgery you would see in the UK;  In need of refurbishment, dying plants in the corner of the room, pen holders for form completion with no pens on the attached wire...

After taking my ticket and waiting 20 minutes to be served, I was told by a lovely lady she thought that this trip had been a waste of time.  She said they can stamp my certificate again, exactly as it was already and charge me £30 for the priveledge, but as she didn't think it was required, advised me against this.  She was very helpful and suggested that I try to get it stamped with the Foreign Affairs department first, and if this fails, return to her.

Oh the contrast!  I got to the UAE Foreign Affairs Office and was greeted warmly by two Emirati men who, because I was a woman, escorted to the front of the queue to pay, and again to get the certificate stamped.  I was in there not even 10 minutes.

Already impressed, I took a 15 minute taxi ride to Immigration where I planned to try to get an extension on my travel visa (Your travel visa obtained at the airport is valid for 30 days.  mine was due to expire in a week, but my own residence visa had not even been started to be processed due to the delay in Ian's visa).  Ordinarily, people tell you to fly to Oman and then return so your passport is stamped again.  I had been told you can avoid this (plus the day of travelling), by visiting immigration.

Immigration is a vast building, with two huge billboard size pictures of the rulers of Dubai, emblazoned above the entrance.  Everywhere I went the locals were friendly and I even braved asking "Tatakallum Engleezee?" (Do you speak English?) with one man.  And he understood!!!  I was so impressed with myself!

First I was instructed to leave the main, air conditioned, fully glass building and walk back over the square outside to the cafe.  In the cafe I could have my application form typed up.  The cafe was full to the brim with men crowding up to an old wooden, filthy counter waving money at the men who were typing and shouting at them to get their attention.  There was no air-con, and the heat inside was sweltering.

I was noticed and guided to the tiny ‘women only’ side in which women were waiting and queuing for the same services.  Whilst the men, crammed behind the counter, typing all of the details up, were left to bake, the women did have an all-be-it archaic air con unit blowing on their section.  Whilst this did not really blow out any cold air, it was a lot more than half of the workers and the male customers had.

Whilst I had to wait a little while to be served, within 15 minutes of taking my order I had the application and was ushered back into the building, where I was asked to leave the cavernous (and hot room) with at least 100 plastic chairs nailed to the floor.  These were full, of men, predominantly Indians and Asians with just a smattering of westerners.  More men were stood around the perimeter looking towards the counters numbered to 60 along all sides of the room.

I was directed through a small door at the side of the room.  This was the ladies room.  On one side of the room was a long green comfy sofa, with plush cushions in crimson and artwork adorning the walls.  Along the other side, were desks, behind which Emirati women sat to assist you.  The air con was set perfectly and there were Tea and Coffee in gilded services available, and the latest magazines available to read whilst you waited.  We had to wait no more than 10 minutes to be seen.

It transpired that the application form was incorrect.  I was given a note, and told to go straight to booth 41 to get the form corrected.

The men whom I pushed in front (two of which were English), were none too impressed.  There were huffs and puffs, rolled eyebrows and then complaints.  The Asians and Indian's respectfully said nothing, their faces betraying nothing of how they felt, but after hearing the two Englishmen be told to be quiet, no one dared to say a word.

I apologised to the lady behind the counter for putting her in that position as I had pushed in.  The Arabic woman looked at me incredulously "Enough of that!" She barked at me, her eyes blazing "You are a woman are you not?!  They owe us life!  They must learn to respect us!!!" and then, with a cheeky smile and a glint in her eye, she added "and that means we don't wait."

It is ironic really that in England it took my home government three weeks just to stamp my marriage certificate as genuine for a move to another country, as opposed to here where all in all, the extension of my Visa took under one hour in total.  Having seen the queues that had formed with the men, I do not doubt that this process would have taken all day had it have been Ian doing this rather than myself. 

Ultimately however, everywhere you go, women are revered.  If you visit anywhere which is run by Emirati’s you sense this.  The woman summed up exactly how Sheikh Mohammed wants woman to be viewed men;  They owe us life.  They must learn to respect us.