I told my wife about how Dubai’s Roads and Transport Authority (RTA) was offering gold if you use public transportation and suggested she take the bus to work. “Aren’t you feeling well?” she asked. “Maybe you are right, I should take a taxi. Driving me to work early morning every day could tell on your health. You are getting on, you know,” she said.
I realised long ago that you do not make fun of a man’s age and never mention that he is now long in the tooth, as they say. Men, for some reason, I found, are touchier about their age than Renee Zellweger, who, as you know, went and got herself a new, supposedly younger looking face.
But I digress. I flung off the comfortable quilt and shot out of bed and said: “No, I am fine. I will drive you to work.”
Waiting behind a long queue of cars, I broached the subject again after taking a sip of the tea from the mug that I had brought along with me. I am not a morning person and definitely cannot drive in this city with its erratic and eccentric motorists, without a cup of strong chai.
“It’s ridiculous,” I said, a little upset. “I read somewhere that every family in Dubai has 2.3 cars. Can you imagine the pollution being spewed from these vehicles and the terrible traffic jams because people can’t be bothered to use public transport,” I said, as someone behind me honked impatiently.
After a few moments of silence, my wife asked: “How can anyone have 2.3 cars? Who makes up these silly statistics?”
“What?” I shouted back, irritated by the lady driver in the front, who was trying to force herself into my lane that was moving relatively faster as compared to her lane. “They don’t mean that the couple’s child has 0.3 of a car,” I explained. “It’s the same when the census says that every family has 3.2 children,” I said.
“Look”, I said, “I am not asking you to start taking the bus immediately. You can begin by taking the Metro. I can drive you to the station. Remember, you would take the bus and a streetcar (tram) to work in Toronto,” I told her. “Once you get used to it, you can take the bus and there’s a bus stop right in front of our building,” I said.
“Remember, you are the one who keeps talking about sustainable development and who separates the garbage before putting it into various recycle bins,” I added. “How much gold are they offering?” asked my wife. “I think it’s like four kilos,” I said. “How much is that in Dirhams?” she asked.
“I don’t know ...” I said, trying to calculate. “I am not sure if they are giving 18 carat or 24 carat,” I said. “But the live spot price showed that it is Dh 145 per gram, for 24 carat gold,” I said. “So that would work out to Dh145,000.”
“Nobody in my school comes to work by bus,” said my wife. “The children are dropped off in fancier cars than what the teachers drive. Public transport is well, for the public,” she said.
“You can stop on the side,” she said. “I will get down here so you don’t get stuck in the traffic at the entrance.”
Looking over my shoulder to the left, I could see mothers sitting patiently in huge SUVs as the traffic wardens tried to sort out the morning mess.
“Don’t forget to pick me up at 2.30,” said my wife. “We have an appointment with the doctor. I don’t think there is a bus service to the clinic,” she said and laughed as she jumped out of the car.
Mahmood Saberi is a freelance journalist based in Dubai.
