The heart of the spare parts souk isn't what many people might think of as magical... Deira, Dubai, isn't Cupertino, CA, where IPads and other revolutions are created.
And no, it's not the oppressive 3rd world sewer that other people think of either. It's a place like no other.
In the course of my everyday analysis of metals markets, I was unexpectedly given an assignment in the heart of Deira.
The assignment had me driving down to rundown building in the heart of the souk, with characters such as Raju, Ahmed, and Mohamed...
Raju was the suspected "jack-of-all-trades". He was at once, a pimp, a conman, anda bootlegger. He was the former watchman, and knew the building well. Then there was Mohamed, who used an office meant for 5 people to house 30 workers. Like the Jews lost for 40 years, he was similarly lost trying to keep all 30 in the cramped office, and his modern-day slaves were put into a concrete box.
Ahmed was the sweaty accountant, who supposedly kept tabs on all accounts. He worried me the most, because he rented out the boxes, and knew about the building. But complacency, and perhaps want of a better life had him leave the building in disrepair. But he was the one I blamed first, then the building owner.
But despair wasn't the theme of this building:
Downstairs the shops had a different feel to them: The Awazi (Iranian) trader mentioned that the building he was in had more baraka (blessing) than the others, and it was a sentiment shared by other shops.
The offices on the mezzanine had a colorful character named Godsown... Who traded textiles, and ready-made garments with a smile. His role was the opposite of Raju's; he was at once a tenant, A community leader of the Nigerian's in the area, and a middle-man for other traders.
With the banter of deep-voiced Nigerians at the door-way, you'd see white-robed indian Ghora's pass by you to the mosque, as evening prayers called through the alleyways.
Hope was the theme of the building.
Hope is the theme of Deira.
And no, it's not the oppressive 3rd world sewer that other people think of either. It's a place like no other.
In the course of my everyday analysis of metals markets, I was unexpectedly given an assignment in the heart of Deira.
The assignment had me driving down to rundown building in the heart of the souk, with characters such as Raju, Ahmed, and Mohamed...
Raju was the suspected "jack-of-all-trades". He was at once, a pimp, a conman, anda bootlegger. He was the former watchman, and knew the building well. Then there was Mohamed, who used an office meant for 5 people to house 30 workers. Like the Jews lost for 40 years, he was similarly lost trying to keep all 30 in the cramped office, and his modern-day slaves were put into a concrete box.
Ahmed was the sweaty accountant, who supposedly kept tabs on all accounts. He worried me the most, because he rented out the boxes, and knew about the building. But complacency, and perhaps want of a better life had him leave the building in disrepair. But he was the one I blamed first, then the building owner.
But despair wasn't the theme of this building:
Downstairs the shops had a different feel to them: The Awazi (Iranian) trader mentioned that the building he was in had more baraka (blessing) than the others, and it was a sentiment shared by other shops.
The offices on the mezzanine had a colorful character named Godsown... Who traded textiles, and ready-made garments with a smile. His role was the opposite of Raju's; he was at once a tenant, A community leader of the Nigerian's in the area, and a middle-man for other traders.
With the banter of deep-voiced Nigerians at the door-way, you'd see white-robed indian Ghora's pass by you to the mosque, as evening prayers called through the alleyways.
Hope was the theme of the building.
Hope is the theme of Deira.
