The existential expatriate

“It is a mistake to expect good work from expatriates for it is not what they do that matters but what they are not doing.”
— Cyril Connelly, journalist

I came here so I could get absolutely twisted, be promiscuous and become a raging alcoholic. Could you not mention my real name, please. You know, the gaffer and all that.” So said Daniel S (name changed) when I asked him the reasons why he had come to work in the Gulf.
And he didn’t stop there: “Back home in the UK I couldn’t get away with half the things I do here. It’s ridiculous...people see this region as being oppressive and intolerant, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
Expatriates with views like Daniel’s are not as rare as one might think. We all have our reasons (no matter how surreal) for picking up and leaving our home countries for far-flung shores. Most of the time it’s in search of a better life, but there are others that aren’t as cut and dry.
Why are we expatriates? The question has more than a hint of existentialism about it. During many an introspective moment it has rattled around inside our head, banging on the walls with a questioning mallet... “why am I here?”
Money seems to be the resounding answer. Fair enough — no matter how the romantic idealist might sneer at the materialist — money has become an intrinsic part of our existence, for better or for worse.
“When I came here the salary was great. Now with the dollar weakening, my salary has almost been halved after conversion to pound sterling. So I guess in many ways the reason I came here in the first place has disappeared,” says Mark Bismouth, an oil worker in Saudi Arabia. But he still hopes that it will get better in the near future.
Mark is a Western expatriate, and in a majority of cases they are paid far higher salaries than expats from the sub-continent and Southeast Asia.
“It used to be that Europeans were simply better workers than the Asians in specialised fields,” says Greg Stevens, who manages a recruitment company in Dubai and has done so for the last 10 years. “Hence they were paid more. But these days it’s the other way round. Unfortunately the pay disparity has remained the same in most GCC countries.”
Ashok Mehta used to work in Bahrain as an IT consultant earning BD500 a month. He has since moved to Bangalore, India where he is getting paid the equivalent of BD2,000.
“I do agree that at one time salary scales in India were nowhere close to the money you could make in the Gulf. Now, however, all that’s changed. With the economic boom salaries in specialised fields have risen to the extent where they have taken over pay scales in the Gulf,” he says.
“Try getting a journalist from Bombay or Delhi to come and work in the Gulf these days... it’s impossible,” says Keith J Fernandez, editor, Travel & Tourism News.
“Salaries for journalists in India’s metropolises have increased to the extent that coming to the Gulf’s just not financially beneficial any more. In fact there are more journalists returning to India than ever before.”
But what then of those who have no choice in the matter — the ‘forced expatriates’? Those who are so mired in debt back home that the opportunity to come to the Gulf and work for measly salaries seems like a godsend.
“I find it disgusting in many ways. All these countries have so much money, yet these labourers live in squalid conditions. It’s exploitation...plain and simple,” says Greg.
And then of course there’s the ‘little’ aspect of tax, or the lack thereof. “If it wasn’t for the tax breaks, hardly anyone would be here,” says Daniel.
The lack of a taxation regime means that your salary is yours and yours alone, no government fingerprints anywhere to be found. But does that also mean that you lose certain benefits that come along with taxation: medical, pension et al?
“Medical? That’s a joke. We pay quarter here compared to what we’d pay back in the UK,” says Mark. “And if you don’t save up enough money to replace the lack of a pension, then you’re a bit of a dim sod, aren’t you?”
We are family
I moved to the Gulf because my family was here,” seems to be another paramount reason for people moving to the region.
The Gulf is one of the few places that consists of ‘expat generations’. Whole families live here as expats, and on a number of occasions new generations are born and never see the land of their parents (or in some cases their grandparents), until they are much older.
Children of expatriates, or the ‘expat brat-pack’ as they are referred to in some quarters, may study in their home countries, but never even think of living there.
“Life is so much better here [the Gulf]. Sure I went back to the UK to finish my education, but I would never consider living there. For one the weather sucks, and the second is all my friends are here,” says Ray White, a proud 21-year-old member of the Expat Brat-Pack in Bahrain.
“Every single male member of my family has worked in the Gulf for long periods of time,” says Goa-born Julius Mascarehnas, who works for a car company in Dubai. “So by the time I was 18 and had finished my education, it felt like the natural thing to do [work in the Gulf]. All my uncles, aunts and cousins, work in Dubai, so I felt quite at home.”
Julius plans to not only continue working in Dubai for a long while (“long enough for me to buy my dream house on the beaches of Goa”) but also start a family there as well.
Many others simply came here to visit family members and wound up staying a decade or more. “I came here from Scotland to see a friend of mine, and decided to stay,” says Jody McRobert. “That was 10 years ago.”
So is it fair to say that — along with the quest for riches — family and friends play a key role in keeping the Gulf’s alluring neon lights lit? I certainly think so.
To some the reason for the move isn’t as simple: “It’s complex. I was running away from a lot of things, but am nosy by nature, so of course I wanted to find out how other people live — it was only once people talked about how ‘everybody’s here for the money’, that I decided to come here. Needless to say, I haven’t been very successful. The issues I was running from stowed away in my suitcase, I have no Emirati and very few Arab friends, and Dubai’s galloping inflation leaves holes in my pockets,” says Keith.
But not everyone has a reason that floats above the waters of the human penchant for nefariousness. Running away from a dark past to start a new life is not a situation reserved for Elmore Leonard novels. It is also a ‘real’ reason why people come to the Gulf.
Bad relationships, legal issues and debt-ridden flights in the still of the night make up some of the reasons that people opt to become ‘expats on the run’.
“Of course the reason can’t be big enough that the cops will be out to get you. If that’s the case, you don’t have much of a chance in the Gulf, as they’ll deport you immediately,” says Greg, who feels that running away from debt is probably the leading spur for an ‘expat on the run’.
Why we stay
When one of my favourite authors, Ursual LeGuin wrote: “It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end,” she must have known something that expatriates don’t.
Is there an end to the expat life? Some goal we hope to achieve after a certain number of years? Or are we just living our lives, hoping that something will dazzle us into calling it quits a few years before the bitter end?
The expat’s journey often falls into two categories: The penny-pinching grind and the frivolous compound carnival.
The first, strangely, does, in theory, have an end in sight: Money. But like most people know, too much of a good thing is never enough, and humans find out the hard way that money, like vice, is a craving that sleeps soundly only once you are lowered into the earth.
The frivolous life is all about enjoying the journey and only crossing that final bridge when the last bottle of wine hits the floor.
Either way, most of the time both paths lead to tears and regret. So if the outlook is that grim why keep doing it?
“It’s not really that bleak,” says Mark. “It’s about how you approach the expat life. I have already decided that I will stop working at 58. And I’ve made sure that by then I will have saved up enough money to live comfortably. But that doesn’t mean I penny-pinch. I do live a sociable life, though it has dropped off a bit after the second sprog was born.”
Greg has a flip side to Mark’s statement: “I have seen more marriages break up in the 10 years I have been here than ever before. I have watched seemingly rational men drink themselves into blubbering messes. I have also seen those who have been ‘holier-than-thou’ fall into the Gulf’s vice trap. It’s a slippery slope, and you’ve got to be careful.”
If there’s one thing a majority of expats love to do, it’s complain about how “these things would never happen back home”.
“I hate people like that. They should all just pack up and go back if they feel that way,” says Jody.
So why don’t they? During our survey, less than one per cent of those polled said that the reason they continued to be expats was they would never find a job back home.
“If I went back to England I would be deemed as a useless, unemployable social misfit,” says Daniel. He was one of the few who was willing to admit that sometimes being an expat blinds you to the fact that the world is growing progressively competitive, and the bar’s being tossed upwards in most fields.
I have, many a time on the pages of this paper, bemoaned the lack of quality journalists in the English-language Press in the Gulf. I have always felt most newspaper people myopic; failing to keep up with global trends. They comfort themselves in the fact that no matter how low their level of expertise, their jobs are safe as quality is not of paramount importance.
“Where else in the world can someone walk off the street, with no experience and get a daily radio show and a weekly television show, like I did. That would never happen in the real world. The reason for this, I guess, is the lack of talent. I’ve never tried to get a job back in the UK, but with so much talent walking through their doors, I’d be surprised to get a foothold as a tea lady, even with 10 years of Gulf experience,” says Marie-Claire commenting on her radio stint in Kuwait.
Keith has obviously given this subject some thought: “As Dubai gets bigger and brighter and shinier, marketing itself on CNN and BBC, more people from the West especially are lured by the idea of the easy life and of working at the beach in the bright sunshine. When they get here, of course, they realise you can never find the time to get a tan in Dubai, but this is what brings in people that would never get a job back home. If they could, taxes and all, they wouldn’t come out — and indeed, many do pack up and return after a year, parlaying their experience here to get far better jobs.”
And then of course, there’s laziness. Twenty-two per cent of the people polled said they were simply too lazy to start looking for jobs back home. So is it then a combination of laziness and trepidation that keeps expats in the region years after their worth has dissipated into the desert sands?
A former editor of mine once said to me, after I told him I was taking up a job in Dubai: “You’re making a big mistake Dean. You’re going to ruin your career by moving to the Gulf. You’ll never be able to get back in the real game.” I quoted the tax-free salary, and he smirked like he was wont: “That will change soon enough.”
That was years ago, and things have changed. Eventually it turned out he was right, but I continue to delude myself into believing that I’m making a difference in the region; brining a little bit of the outside world into the region.
I guess that’s what makes expats the world-over so unique, their knack for delusion and the ability to find a silver lining to even the darkest nimbus.
John Milton wrote in the Lamp of Heaven: “The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.”
Misled? Maybe. Lonely? How could we ever be? We shall forever be a part of that wave of humanity that comes together from all parts of the globe to surge towards that elusive dream. The dream that one day we will wake in a place where the traveller may rest his weary feet upon the rewards of a life well-spent.
Until that dream be realised we shall live the expatriate life, constantly looking over our shoulder at a shore that can never ever be home again.