Farewell from RAMEE SUITES-2

It's my last day in Manama, Bahrain. Tonight, I'm off to Ethiopia for a while, before heading back to Australia. I'm hoping to post a few times while I'm in Africa, but we'll have to see what the internet connections are like ... .

My three months here have gone past like lightning. I've made new friends, visited new places, done new things - and bought lots (and lots!) of new fabric.

In honour of my final day, I felt it was time to introduce you to the many moods of my constant companion during my time here. Ever steady, ever present, ever glowing, ever faithfully red. 

Bahrain, RAMEE SUITES-2 and I bid you a fond farewell.

 

Moving on from Manama

I love the way time stretches like elastic.

Some days seem like weeks, some months seem like days. A minute can stretch for an hour, or an hour can go past in the twitch of a cats' whiskers.

It's a kind of liberation, to be at the mercy of time in this way. And there's no way of knowing which way it's going to go.

My time here in Bahrain is coming to a close - I've less than a week left at this point. Three months has gone past faster than I ever imagined it would. I've lived in the porno palace for 12 weeks. I've had my little Nissan Sunny for 12 weeks. I've bought 12 years' worth of fabric and shipped it home to My One True Love.

I've visited Lebanon, the UAE, and Egypt - and next week I'm off to Qatar, and then Ethiopia for 10 days before coming home to Melbourne.

I wonder if I'm going to miss Bahrain? I'm going to miss the friends I've made, that's certain. I'll miss the porno palace and RAMEE SUITES-2. I'll miss having my flat cleaned twice a week, and the man who parks my car for me in the carpark. I'll miss the glare of the Middle Eastern sun. I'll miss the sense of excitement of being here.

There are some things to do before I finish up here, though. I have to pick up my abaya from the tailor in the souq - and I'm trying to find a niqab (the veil that cover your face but not your eyes). There is boozy brunch tomorrow at the Movenpick hotel, with some of the girls. There is Moroccan bath and massage at the salon on Saturday. There is breakfast on Sunday with my Syrian friends, and there is farewell cake on Monday!

I can't work out whether I'm sad about leaving, or happy about what comes next. I think it's a bit of both.

When in doubt, sew

I'm missing home a lot today, after a long day that has drained me of practically all energy and motivation, following a night of bad dreams that woke me up at 3.49am. I'd hardly have the strength to write this if it weren't for the fact that every time I look out the window at RAMEE SUITES-2, I get a little burst of chuckly bubbles fizzing up inside me. Oddly, that sign is becoming my friend. Strange, huh?

In an effort to assuage my mood, I'm putting together two new patchwork cushions covers. I brought a small pile of 4 inch squares with me to Bahrain, knowing I would need something familiar and comforting to do in the evenings, and tonight these are proving just the ticket.

 Here they are, laid out on my tiled floor. Isn't it funny ... no matter how melancholy I get, the simple act of putting together little squares of coloured fabric in a pleasing arrangement always manages to lift my spirits.

It's the little things ..... bedspace

.... that sometimes make you realise just how good you've got it.

Take these advertisements, for example. I photographed them on the weekend, pasted onto the side of a public phone booth on Bank Street in Bur Dubai.

The two notices at the top are advertising bed space. Not houses, not flats, not even rooms. Bed space.

There are two different kinds of bedspace available in Dubai - at least, there were when I lived there all those years ago, and I don't imagine much has changed if these ads are anything to go by.

Bedspace Type One is one-half of a bunk bed you rent in a room, which probably has three or four bunk beds in it, which means you could be sharing a room with five or six other people. Did you note that the ad on the top actually specifies you get an individual bed? For other alternatives, see below for Bedspace Type Two. You are probably an Indian or Pakistani man, perhaps Sri Lankan or Afghani. You might be a bachelor saving up money for your marriage at home, or you might already be married, and sending money home to your wife, children and most likely mother as well. If you're a woman you are most certainly young and single and submissive, most likely Filipino or South Asian.

Bedspace Type Two is literally, bedspace. You rent the bed on a timeshare basis. You're an Indian/Pakistani/Afghan/Sri Lankan shift worker, and you share the actual bed with one or two other people, and you each get a timeslot to sleep in when you're off work and the others are on. You might rent it from midnight to 8am, or on a twelve-hourly rotation. Take it as read, you don't get to sleep in.
 
Bedspace is a widely exercised and generally acceptable accommodation option in this part of the world. It's a prescription that means you can live in Dubai and earn money at a greater rate than you might in your home town.

It comes with its side-effects though, which can cause nausea and headache. The flip side is that if you're renting bed space you're probably employed by a third-party company who has confiscated your passport and only allows you one trip home every two years. You can't leave the company, because you haven't got a passport, so effectively you're a modern-day slave. You're completely dependent on them.

You probably earn between 400 and 1000 dirhams a week - the equivalent of about $125 - $350. Maybe the company doesn't pay you every month like it should, either ... maybe it only pays you every few months, or every six months, or maybe it doesn't pay you at all.

You probably risk your life quite regularly, especially if you work on a construction site during the summers here, when workers in their blue jumpsuits fall like stones from the top of tall buildings as their brains bake in the searing heat and their legs fail underneath them.

It's not all like this, of course. There are reputable companies who look after their workers (in a relative sense). But there are enough of the disreputable ones around to make you take a second look at the glamorous world everyone there is living in, with their designer clothes and fancy cars and top-end international lives. Lives which are built off the backs of the men who live in bedspace.

That makes some of us  thankful for the things we have. Glad for our suspiciously pornographic-looking flats and the ever-present soft red glow of our RAMEE SUITES-2 signs. We bid you goodnight, from the vast and gratefully unshared expanse of our four-poster porno bed.