Re-discovering Sharjah
A lot is said about the city of Sharjah – a cultural capital – a village – a poor mans city – blah blah blah..
hmmmm..makes me wonder if maybe on the contrary, too little might have been said about this city.
Agreed, that it is not the most ideal place in the world to let your hair loose, but there is a certain essence that makes Sharjah what it is. I was born and brought up in this city and as much as i regularly crib and complain about wanting to leave this godforsaken place – i dont seem to wander too far away…
Home is where the heart is ? could it be that deep inside i really like this place ?? eeeps….. could it be ??
When you have lived in Sharjah for as long as i have, you tend to pick up the subtle idioscyncracies of the city that usually gets overlooked by the everyday passerby..
Numerous expats (pathans and malbari labourers mainly) identify Sharjah as a home away from home. A city that is not overly cosmopolitan, nor a run-down ‘basti/slum’. Its non-cosmopolitannes presents the advantage of low rents and moderate living expenses that is always a boon to the man whose sole purpose of coming to the emirates is to send home – money, so that his family may have a better life than he. On a Friday afternoon, he strikes a charming pose amongst the few flowers on the roadside and writes home letters of his life in the emirates. The pictures and the words describe just about enough to make his loved ones believe that he is happy – sitting in a garden of flowers by the sea.
It is sights such as these that very significantly define the character of this city. Other sights that go unnoticed would be the occasional Malbari and Pathan labourers walking hand in hand – fingers interlocked lovingly, mobs of Pathan labourers sqautting by the streetside hoping to earn a few extra dirhams on the weekend if somebody stops and asks help to move furniture, tiny social gatherings that come together on the greens of every roundabout where construction workers enjoy a siesta or a chat. All this, while a Pathan tries to persuade you into buying a ‘lovebird’ whilst he frantically swings the cage in every possible direction (enough to give the poor bird a migraine and kill it on the spot) and ofcourse the most unsubtle of all features of this city are the erratic directions and positions that every car finds itself abandoned on the streets of a Friday afternoon whilst every devoted muslim make their way towards the most nearby mosque to pay their weekly dues.
Away from the city and in the malls, the most ridiculously dressed arab/sudani/bangladeshi teenagers pace back and forth in search of a pretty booty to ogle at. Idolizing black rappers of the ghetto, these poor souls have been brainwashed by Mtv and the likes into believing that ‘cool is about being a rebel’ and although they have never known a real african-american, they certainly know their ‘hood’ and their ‘brothers’
Drinks are not served nor sold in Sharjah, which is why many flee to the nearby emirate of Ajman for a pint or two. Comparitively liberal, this city sports a few pubs, bars and nightclubs but you probably wouldn’t be too tempted to paint it red – i mean partying out at a concrete brick shaped one-floor building the size of my apartment isn’t exactly my idea of fun.
.. and if you thought Ajman was any less islamic … think again *snigger*snigger* talk about ‘Positioning’
Anyway, i probably need an entirely new post to talk about Ajman in more detail. Back to talking a little more about Sharjah…..
As Evening nears, Shawarma shops (shops serving a local wrap delicacy) start up their ‘automatic chicken’ machines (a name given to the automatic grill that rotates a full piece of chicken in a heated oven) and in a frenzy begin responding to the continous cacophony of honking customers who await their juicy orders in the luxury of their cars.
On the evening streets of Buhaira, half rolled up tinted windows reveal a nike baseball cap over the peering eyes of a young local teenager driving at snail pace. He makes sure his loud stereo earns him enough attention, while he in return gets a good look at every woman on the street. Nearby, hoots and whistles accompany the stroll of an attractive abaya clad woman who dares to cross the street alone. She bids adieu by dissapearing behind the tinted glasses of her Mercedes…… where she briefly sits enjoying every moment of the flirtatious attention she received yet maintaining an uncaring poise – all in fear of possibly coming within the sights of a gossiping family member who may be in the vicinity.
As night falls, the streets of Sharjah begin to grow empty leaving behind the occasional municipality truck that sweep the roads clean for the beginning of yet another week…another week in this city where really nothing much happens…. well nothing too exciting really…
