From denial to the Nile

A new year dawns, and with it some big changes for Lola LebCan. After many happy years in Sheikh Zayed Road's prestigious Orifice Towers building, Dubai's PR queen is being forced to pack her bags. Either that, or have thousands of labourers gaze at her naked splendour in the shower every morning as the new Dubai Metro whizzes right past her window.

But like many long-term expats, Dubai has palled for Lola. The once-glittering heights of SZR's skyscrapers are but dusty glass. The glamourous sandlands social whirl is a shallow chore. There is no joy, no inspiration and the city, Lola says, is "soulless". She has even swapped karaoke at Harry Ghatto's for this festive lament:

Deck the malls with discount banners
Fallah-lalala-lala-lala

‘tis the season to sell your hummers
Fallah-lalala-lala-lala

Donning now your old pyjamas
Fallah-lalala-lala-lala

Join the bankrupt Jumeira mamas
Fallah-lalala-lala-lalaaaa*

Two years ago, Lola fled to Egypt for sanctuary. She now plans to seek the healing waters of the Nile once more and work on her Masri twang. Plus there are around 40 million men in Egypt, compared to just 2.5 million in the UAE.

*(c) Lola LebCan 2008


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Xanadu Atlantis

In Jumeirah did Big Sheikh Mo
A massive great hotel decree
Where streams of sacred sewage ran
Through beaches uninhabitable by man
Down to a polluted sea

So twice five dozen top celebs
Did mingle with the local plebs
And there were fireworks bright with flashing stars
Apparently they could be seen from Mars
The only ones that didn't party or rave
Were some newly captured Pacific dolphin slaves

A sheikh with a kandoora
In a vision once he saw
It was an Abyssinian maid
Overworked and poorly paid

And with fireworks loud and grand
He did build that Dubailand
That massive mall! Those slopes of ice!
And we all thought them very nice
But all should cry, Beware! Beware!
This sandy land is not so fair
And now financial storm clouds grow
It might be time to pack and go
For we on honey-dew hath fed
It's time for some real life instead


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The Golden Journey to Dubailand

In tribute to James Elroy Flecker, who died well before his time.

At the Gate of National Paints Roundabout, Sharjah. Blazing humidity.

THE MERCHANTS
(Together)
Away, for we are ready to drive far!
Our camels sniff the traffic roaring by
Lead on, O Taxi Driver from Sharjah,
Lead on the Commuter-Pilgrims to Dubai.

THE CHIEF DRAPER
Have we not Carrefour rugs of nylon fine?
Cheap shalwars for a worker's salary
And Versace of Karama design,
And keffiyahs from Al Jaber Gallery?

THE CHIEF GROCER
We have shawarmas, we have shish kebabs,
Hummous and pickles ready for our meal,
And Umm Ali in great big sloppy slabs
And chocolate-coated dates bought from Bateel

THE PRINCIPAL JOURNALISTS:
And we have newspapers of Tecom style
By weary expat hacks; we have words
And adjectives and adverbs to beguile
And turgid press releases for the herds

THE MASTER OF THE CARAVAN
But you are nothing but a load of hacks

PRINCIPAL JOURNALIST
Sir, even dogs have daylight, and they paid us cash in brown envelopes.

MASTER OF THE CARAVAN
But who are ye in rags and rotten shoes,
You blue-boilersuited, blocking up the way?

ISHAK
We are the labourers, master; we shall work
Always a little longer; it may be
Fifty degrees in shade but we won't shirk
High up our scaffolding beside the sea,

Sharing a dirty squat in Sonapur
Unpaid and weary in the endless sand
Every day another to endure
Building the Golden City of Dubailand

HASSAN
Sweet to drive out from Sharjah every morn
When gridlock is gigantic on the sand,
And loudly through the traffic honk the horn
Along the Golden Road to Dubailand.

ISHAK
We surf the internet in the free zone;
For blocks and bans are more than we can stand:
For lust of knowing what should not be known,
We bypass the Golden Proxy of Dubailand

MASTER OF THE CARAVAN
Open the gate, O watchman of the bachelor-free apartment block!

THE WATCHMAN
Ho, sandlanders, I open. For what land
Leave you this dim city of no delight?

MERCHANTS
(With a shout)
We take the Golden Road to Dubailand!

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Life In The Emirates

Thanks to a kind anonymous commenter, the classic UAE song "Life In The Emirates" by The Establishment is now revealed:

It's tough in the Gulf when the A/C's not working
And the desert is burning in the hot noonday sun
But I've learned how to cope, take the smooth with the rough
'Cause like every expat I'm a long way from home

Hala wa marhaba to life in the Emirates
Dubai, Ras Al Khaimah, Abu Dhabi, Ajman
They're the places I love and the places I won't forget
Sharjah, Fujairah and Umm Al Qawain

Well I miss my sweet wife and I miss my dear children
Sometimes I feel like it's breaking my heart
And I'll never get used to having Sunday on Fridays
But I know I'll feel sorry when it's time to depart

I work hard for my dirhams and I try hard to save some
At the end of each day I am worked to the bone
But the friends I have made here will be my friends forever
Uprah inshallah I am never alone

Hala wa marhaba to life in the Emirates
Dubai, Ras Al Khaimah, Abu Dhabi, Ajman
They're the places I love and the places I won't forget
Sharjah, Fujairah and Umm Al Qawain

Altogether now: "...OOOM!!! Al Qawain."

We didn't start the fire

Cheap villas falling down, prostitutes all over town
Roadworks, no perks, endless building cranes
Drivers, housemaids, everybody's getting aides
Asian labour, expat slavers, blonde Jumeirah Janes

Kids crashing sports cars, Saudis filling all the bars
Underage camel jockeys, getting round the proxy
Flickr blocked, Skype snipped, black texta censorship
Soaring oil, sinking dollars, rent hike apocalypse

We didn't start the fire
Though they burned Oasis, and they tried to blame us
We didn't start the fire
While the Palm was sinking, we just kept on drinking

Sheikh Zayed gridlock, all the way to Hard Rock
Burqas, workers, no one will pay 'em
Three palms, camel farms, Sharjah banning naked arms
Emaar, Alabbar, Sultan bin Sulayem

Muntafiq, Al Gergawi, carpets from Mostafawi
Burj Dubai, Sheikh Mo, how high can you go?
Hummous, shawarma, knock offs from Karama
Zayed, the sheikh and I, Bridge on the Creek Dubai

We didn't start the fire
Though the sun was boiling, and the boys were toiling
We didn't start the fire
While you built your icons, we were all in Cyclones

The Joy of SMS Spam

Spam spammity spam spammity, spam spam spammee
Here comes another text from the HHIE
Spam spammity spam spammity, they take us for suckers
They spam us and spam us those spammity ... funsters

Prisoner Cell Block W

"Didn't we have a lovely time the day we went to Wathba?
"A beautiful cell, we ate camel as well, and all for under a dirham you know"

Three Australian men are enjoying a rather less than seven star luxury holiday courtesy of the UAE government:

Mr Mulcahy said Snaith was being held in "horrendous" conditions at Al Wathba prison, about 100km out of Abu Dhabi in the desert, where temperatures reach over 50 degrees.

He said Snaith was the only westerner among 150 inmates sharing a cell the size of a tennis court, but he was in good health despite the conditions.

"It's a disgusting hell-hole," Mr Mulcahy said.

"At this stage Mr Snaith's spirits are reasonable, considering.

"He's being well-treated - well, he's not being mistreated. He's being fed a diet of fermented camel meat and some rice and bits and pieces.

Well if they don't like it, they can always leave

Happy to be a bachelor boy

When I was widowed my landlord said
"Sir I have something to say"
He told me to get out and never return
Until my dying day
He said "Sir, you are a bachelor boy
"And that's the way you'll stay
"Sir, we don't like bachelors here, so please go far away"

Picture the scenario: a married western oil executive - six figure salary/luxury apartment/prestige car - is suddenly, tragically widowed. His company and friends rally round, fix the funeral, arrange for him to have some time off. After the memorial service held at Jebel Ali Religion City, the executive returns to his flat to spend some quiet time grieving.

No sooner has he poured himself a drink and settled down to read various condolence letters than he hears a huge bang. The door is kicked open and the Emirates Elite Eviction Squad storms in.

"This is a family building! Evacuate the premises immediately!"

Shocked, the oil executive starts to protest but it is no use. He is now a bachelor. By definition he is a troublemaker and a pervert, a disruption to the sacred tranquility of neighbouring families. He has no right to live among these normal, decent people. He must relocate at once to bachelor accommodation.

That night, as waits to use the grimy bathroom shared with forty other bachelors in his new shanty villa, he worries that his new bedspacemate will be a snorer. There is no air conditioning so he is also anxious about the onset of summer and arriving at the office each day in a sweat-stained, dusty suit.

There were no parking spaces available near his shanty villa, so he has to cross Sheikh Zayed Road on foot each day to reach the bus stop on the other side. The executive is not quite sure how he will cross the barrier, perhaps his bedspacemate can loan him some wireclippers or a small rope ladder? But several planned pedestrian crossings, that should be ready in a year or so, are at least something too look forward to.

Fuming fools

In September 2004
They showed cigarettes the door
In just a fortnight
The fags were alight
And things were as fugged as before

In September 2005
They said that the ban would revive
But given their lies
No one was surprised
When eventually it never arrived

In February 2006
They were back to their fag-banning tricks
And once again nothing
Prevented the puffing
No laws, no ban and no fix

In May 2007
They yet again promised us heaven
At the end of the day
We know smoking will stay
Because they are gutless and craven

Jumeirah villa man

Dubai dweller, expat fella
Thought to himself oops I've not a lot of money
I'm caught in a marriage terminally
I'm into swinging, karaoke singing
I'm paying the price for all the whores that I'm ringing
Oh it's the expat debauchery
He gets about, the wife finds out

He lives in a villa, a very big villa in Jumeirah
Always getting laid, even screws the maid in Jumeirah
He drives a Mercedes, leers at all the ladies in Jumeirah
He's a cheating sleaze who likes getting pleased in Jumeirah

He's been down the pub, pissed behind a shrub
Had a rub'n'tug at Jebel Ali Club
In touch with his own impiety
Weekends at Hatta Fort, likes to talk sport
He's eating junk and always getting drunk
Oh he has no sobriety

He lives in a villa, a very big villa in Jumeirah
The wife and kids have left, but he's not feeling bereft in Jumeirah
He gets in his car, drives to another bar down in Deira
Takes home a tart, got another early start in Jumeirah

Winter Sandyland

Traffic roars, are you listening?
In the sun, sweat is glistening
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight
Walking in a winter sandyland

When it sands, ain't it dusty
And the camel's getting lusty
We'll frolic and play
the Bedouin way
Walking in a winter sandyland

In the desert we can build a sandman
Then pretend that he is Mullah Brown
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man
He'll say: Then goodbye you're going down

Later on we'll perspire
as we sweat by the fire
Of the hot desert sun
It's such sandy fun
Walking in a winter sandyland
Walking in a winter sandyland

Vice in verse

Sunday's vice is farewell sex
No more the Deira
Streets to roam
The working girls
Are going home

Monday's vice is full of tech
Tecom bids
Farewell to sin
As Ghanim brings
The proxy in

Tuesday's vice is a bit of rough
A thousand clams
To grope a thigh
A month in jail
To punch an eye

Wednesday's vice is up the duff
You did the deed
So stop your moaning
At least we let you
Off the stoning

Thursday's vice is public loving
Kiss me quick
Squeeze me slow
Into Al Slammer
We shall go

Friday's vice is so far nothing

And the vice continues day by day
For it's even illegal to be good and gay

Manic Sunday

Five o'clock already
And the mosques are all beginning to wail
I was kissing Valentino
And they caught me and they threw me in jail

But I can't be late
Because I gotta drive Al Shittihad Road
These are the days
When you wish it all would go and explode

It's just another manic Sunday
Wish it were Friday
'Cause that's my dead day
My don't-get-out-of-bed day
It's just another manic Sunday

Have to cross the bridge again
Gotta be at work by eight
And if I had a sheikhmobile
I'd still be three hours late

'Cause the Sunny in front
Can't go faster than two miles an hour
And the roads are all blocked
Where they're building yet another bloody tower

It's just another manic Sunday
Wish it were Friday
'Cause that's my brunch day
My all-I-do-is-lunch day
It's just another manic Sunday

All of the time
Why do they seem to want to drive us out
Of this town?
Nobody cares
That the rents are up
And the pay is down

They tell us when we start to moan:
"If you don't like it, you can go home"
Time it goes so slow
When you're stuck in traffic...

It's just another manic Sunday

Moon not soon

Oh let Saturday be cloudy
So they can't sight the moon
We lose a day of holiday
If Eid begins too soon

Let's hope the sky stays dusty
And hides the moon away
For if Eid starts on Monday
We will get four full days

Ode to the outcasts

We are the boys in blue
We work here, and we live here too
We build your villas, we lay your roads
We wash your cars, and haul your loads

We work long hours, for miserly pay
We earn in a month what you earn in a day
We have no rights and we have no say
You shut us out and you turn us away

You say we're dirty, you say we stare
You say we're shabby, whatever we wear
You throw us out of your shopping malls
You don't want to look at us at all

But you wouldn't like it, one little bit
If we weren't around to shovel your shit
Deny it, but you know it's true
Because we are the boys in blue

Our favourite things

YouTube and MySpace and Orkut and Flickr
BoingBoing and Vonage and UAEprison
Friendsreunited and Metacafé
Please keep the evil corruption away!

Girls in bikinis with bits that are rudey
Ladies of Lesbos and good friends of Judy
The Empire of Zion and poor pussycats
Save us from moral perversion like that!

When the road roars, when the rent soars
When we're feeling shit
We simply remember the sites that are blocked
And then we don't mind a bit

Sites inconsistent to UAE values
Sites that could threaten the delicate family
Sites that let girls and boys flirt and hook up
These are few of the things that are blocked

Religious discussion and mags that are foxy
Sites that explain how to get round the proxy
Internet phonecalls and expatriates
We really cannot be confronted with that!

When the Palm sinks, when Modhesh winks
When we could slit our throats
We simply remember that everything's blocked
And then we sit back and gloat

Beating the rap

To the tune of the playground classic "Miss Lucy had a Steamboat":

Dallas was a druggie
He liked his little buzz
He trafficked to Dubai one day
And got caught by the

Fuzzy is our justice
Frankly it's a farce
If you need prescription pills
Best shove 'em up your

Ask them for a pardon
And you'll be out of luck
Unless you're a celebrity
Then they won't give a

For codeine you'll get half a year
For hashish traces four
But when it comes to famous folk
Then justice is a

Who really feels it's proper?
Who really feels it's right?
Celebrities get off scot-free
When we land in the

Driving song

We barrel down Sheikh Zayed on a sunny afternoon
The speed alarm is beeping out a very merry tune
We rubberneck to see a wreck upon the other side
We phone a friend and send a text, it's such a joyful ride

Driving Dubai, yeah, Driving Dubai
We race we speed we crash we burn we die

The traffic lights have just turned red and so we dash across
We nearly cause an accident but we don't give a toss
We shunt a taxi up the rear to get it out the way
We're off before they call the cops so someone else can pay

Driving Dubai, yeah, Driving Dubai
We roar we fly we zoom we hit we die

We roar up the hard shoulder and we weave it all about
But they can never see us as the windows are blacked out
Across the central barrier and up onto the kerb
We tailgate everyone in sight, it really is superb

Driving Dubai, yeah, Driving Dubai
We skid we swerve we screech we smash we die

Now given music and voice (download here) by Dubtown Lady.

Sun sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more scorching and more full of sweat
Harsh desert winds blow most people away,
And winter's lease hath all too short a date:
Always too hot the eye of heaven glowers,
Despite the smog his fire burns like hell;
And everyone is desperate for cold showers,
But all the water's boiling hot as well;
And this eternal hellfire never fades,
The boys in blue are all roasting alive;
And e'en at night it's fifty centigrade,
Although officially it's forty-five:
If only we could breathe without A/C
We might endure this total purgatory

This week in limericks

Saturday
There was a young camel in RAK
Whose mother consumed too much crack
Her calf was not deaded
But was born three-headed
And is earning its owner a stack

Sunday
The Wise Men of Al Shariqah
Have banned everything but the car
Goodbye to the bike
"Because we no like"
The future is smog, fumes and tar

Monday
A journo in Umm Al Qawain
Was tricked in a nasty campaign
By police trying to force
Him to give up his source
But they couldn't get him to explain

Tuesday
People of sizes decreased
Are serving Egyptians a feast
A cafe in Cairo
Has ended their giro
All hail to the Dwarves of the East!

Wednesday
There was an old man in Karama
Who wanted some tea with his shawarma
But to his bad luck
They'd banned all the cups
Creating much discord and drama