What Keeps You Sane?

Food? Friends? Freedom? Faith? Future?

I’m accustomed to living a solitary life, less devout than a monk. In my two years in the UAE as an expat worker, I haven’t visited many noteworthy or impressive places. Dubai feels superficial. Its bustling nightlife doesn’t appeal to me (and my wallet), and its man-made tourist attractions lack charm. It’s devoid of natural beauty – an ugly duckling transformed into a swan through extensive cosmetic surgery.

Have I dissuaded you enough? Trust me, it’s not a place you should dream of visiting. Aspire to work elsewhere if you have the choice or the power to make one.

I’ve seen many more ruins than blessings. I’ve heard more follies than victories. I didn’t come here to be defeated. And I promised to come back home victorious. There are many questions I wish people from my own country bother to ask me, my favorite is: “What keeps you sane?“

Dubai never lacks stories of expat workers succumbing to lunacy, if not suicide. Rarely would you find those tales published in papers, websites, or blogs. I didn’t. But today I feel obliged to tell others that this foreign land is not paradise, for some, it’s a grave. Who wants to dig his own grave? Nobody.

Did I hear you ask what keeps me sane?

I rarely tell people how lucky I am to have my best friend as a boyfriend. He’s supportive -and yeah, at times a bit pushy. But I secretly (oh, now it’s out) love his sharp wit and scathing honesty. I’d advertise his assets no further.

I also owe my sanity to my colleagues – Jam, Sana, Shruthi, and MJ. These sweet ladies make me feel a sense of achievement – though my deeds are tiny as dust, they magnify my contributions. I should remember Ihab for the frequent exchange of sarcastic and clever remarks – he doesn’t look down on me so I feel smart when I talk to him. Akbar is my only subordinate, and a very good assistant, though talking to him at times requires a trip to Google translate for Tamil language quick aid.

I should thank the readers and recorders of my favorite books. They make my morning bright and warm. I must not forget to be grateful to some musicians: Joey Ayala and his group for their upbeat and unique folk melodies, Freddie Aguilar (I scarcely knew he’d make me cry), Regina Spektor, whose song lyrics have so much to teach, and Ane Brun, whose voice can both heal and kill the spirit.

I must have missed to thank SOMEONE. He’ll send me a message privately, and I’d do the same perhaps. Nevertheless, I can’t help wondering if God ever read blogs.