I visited Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates (UAE), for a couple of weeks this month.
I went to church this afternoon (10 September). In the very international ward I attended, I met members from the following countries:
United Kingdom
Nigeria
Austria
Tonga
Australia
Russia
United States
India
I attended the afternoon ward. The morning ward is a Filipino ward conducted in the language of Tagalog.
I met a nice sister from the United States who, with her husband, has been living here in Abu Dhabi for the last 19 years. Her husband used to be a lobbyist in Washington, D.C.
I asked this sister when work would begin on the Dubai Temple. She leaned toward me and excitedly said, “I have insider information.” She proceeded to tell me that a delegation from the Church came to Dubai nine months ago to meet with the “city fathers” [the wealthy Sheikhs, city planners, etc] to show the first draft design of the temple to them, and to discuss plans. Her friend was at the meeting. Her friend reported that the Dubai officials were “underwhelmed” by the proposed design, because they know about the Salt Lake City temple and they want the Dubai Temple to be more impressive.
I laughed, remembering back to when President Nelson announced the Dubai Temple and I joked with Sam that the Emiratis will want it to be the biggest, fanciest LDS temple on the planet, and they will probably offer to pay to make it so.
The sister told me she does not know the current status of the temple design. Did the Church delegation return to Salt Lake City to work on a grander version of the Dubai Temple design? I don’t have the answer to that question, but I wish I did.
Now I will tell you about my taxi ride to church. Akramullah, a young man from Peshawar, Pakistan, picked me up from the hotel. Peshawar is located in northern Pakistan, near the border of Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden spent a lot of time there along with his mujahideen [we called them mujahideen (people engaged in jihad) back then; now we call them terrorists] during their 1980s, decade-long fight against the Russians in Afghanistan. Peshawar is/was a gateway for the mujahideen into Afghanistan.
Back to Akramullah. He is 21 years old. He married at 16, to a 16-year-old local girl. They already have two children: two boys ages five and three. Akramullah said he and his wife are madly in love with each other. He liked his wife even before their parents decided they should marry. Akramullah can’t see his wife in video calls because some time ago his dad got angry and smashed the screen on his wife’s phone. They have to be content with voice calls for the time being.
Taxi drivers here get paid an average of 800 dollars per month. They work in 12-hour shifts. Akramullah drives from 3am to 3pm and his cousin, also from Peshawar, drives the same taxi from 3pm to 3am. They work seven days a week. If they take a day off, the company they work for deducts a little pay. Most of the workers (Pakistani or not) in this country and other countries around the Middle East often work for two years or more before taking a short break to return to their countries to see their families. Akramullah hasn’t seen his young wife and children for quite some time, because he can’t afford to go home. If Akramullah and his cousin, Malik Raheem, stayed in Peshawar, they might be able to find jobs making 300 dollars per month. That is the reason they, and so many others like them, leave home for better opportunities. They send money back to their families.
The workers live in what the English translation on the highway sign describes as “Labor Camps.” That’s probably not the best translation. It sure doesn’t sound good. I would translate the Arabic as “Workers Compounds.” Regardless, the workers live in dormitory-style buildings with 5-10 workers per room. They are not allowed to cook in the buildings. So, Akramullah usually buys something to eat before his shift and then he doesn’t eat until his shift finishes 12 hours later.
I wish every American teenager had to leave home for a mandatory one-year experience living in a “Labor Camp” and working 12-hour shifts, seven days a week. Never again would they complain about their pampered lifestyles back in the United States.
When Akramullah dropped me off at the meetinghouse, I told him that if he would return two hours later to drive me back to my hotel, I would give him enough money to buy new phone for his wife so they can see each other while they talk, and he can see his two boys. He was waiting for me outside the meetinghouse at 3pm, the end of his shift. He drove me to an ATM where I withdrew more than enough money for a good smartphone, and then Akramullah drove to his cousin’s “Labor Camp” to switch drivers. Before we dropped him off, Akramullah told me how happy he was that he would be able to tell his wife she’s getting a new phone. He is going to pray that Allah will bless me and my family, and he hopes to see me again here or in Peshawar.
Here are some of the foods I enjoyed (or did not enjoy) during my trip:
Each morning for breakfast I could choose anything I wanted from a variety of breads and pastries, along with other breakfast items.
