Why are you crying?

October, 07

Just before 10am, Seema came to my desk about nothing special. “You look awful”, I said. “Are you sick? Not sleeping?”

“I was crying.” More tears as she reached for a Kleenex. “Why? Is your daughter ok?”

Turns out she just got to work after a 2.5 hour commute to go four kilometers (2.4 miles). She missed the 7:30am bus, and there is only one. Taxis with passengers passed her by. Seema called her husband, Sanjiv, but he could do nothing. They have no car.

More waiting. Then weeping on the sidewalk. A man stops and asks what’s wrong. He offers to drive Seema to work, and she accepts. Imagine how strong that feeling of desperation was for her to get into a stranger’s car. Public transportation is a big problem in Dubai. It almost doesn’t exist.

Seema and Sanjiv are not poor. They have no car because neither has a driver’s license. If you’re licensed in one of 36 favored nations (Western and Arab), you get a UAE license by transfer good for 10 years with only an eye test and 100 Dirhams (US$27).

But they are Indian and must pass a driving test to get a license. You can only take the test after completing a Drivers Ed course, which is about US$400 and many weeks of lessons. There are now just five driving schools in Dubai. Sanjiv has failed the test 3 times, which is strange because he drove for 10 years in India. And if you can drive in India, rest assured you can drive anywhere. I wouldn’t even cross the street in India, let alone drive there. Seriously, I told taxis to make a u-turn so I wouldn’t have to cross the street.

I dunno why it’s this way. Maybe it’s a racket where the driving inspectors get kickbacks from the schools for every failure. Maybe it’s simple prejudice. Maybe it’s an unwritten rule to keep drivers off the congested roads by discouraging them with a few failures.

January, 08

Fourth time was a charm. Sanjiv passed the test and they are getting a new Toyota Corolla. No more tears getting to work now that her husband can drive her.