Desert Notes: The Backside

Most countries develop their own unique subset of idioms and idiosyncrasies in the spoken word. Think “ja nee” or “just now” or “robots.” South Africans would understand exactly what I just wrote, but others would be rather confused.

The UAE has also developed its own version of the English language. Known to some as “Dinglish” or ”Dublish” (Dubai English), it contains words from Arabic, Urdu and Hindi amongst others.

By far the most popular adopted word is the Arabic word “khallas.” Pronounced with the same guttural “g” sound that Afrikaans uses (as in ghallas), it means “finished.” You hear parents telling their kids “Khallas!” when there are no more sweets, or when they have had enough of their nonsense. It also means a deal has been closed. It peppers conversations everywhere.

Another favourite with expats is the Arabic phrase “mafi mushkila” which means “no problem.” I like this one!

I hear what sounds like “schway schway” on a regular basis from all different cultures, but I have yet to figure out exactly what it is. I get the feeling from the context that it might be “hurry up” or “quickly.”

Then there are the English phrases that have taken on a slightly different meaning.
If someone is away from his desk for example, you will likely be told “he is not on his seat.”

And then there is the phrase “same same” which simply means that two things are, well, the same. For example, my children are same same. Which means I have two girls. When they were measuring for our curtains, we wanted same same throughout the lounge. You get the picture?

I’ve mentioned before the business about things happening inshallah (if/when Allah wills it). There are some variations. If a person says “today itself” they mean it will actually happen today rather than “today inshallah” which could mean anytime between now and next week. You could be more specific and say “today afternoon” or “today morning” if you prefer.

One of the classics which I have come to love is “backside.” Initially I didn’t quite know why people commented on it. It does not mean your bum. It does not mean your back. It is used in reference to giving directions.

I had to try very hard not to laugh the first time I had it said to me. I phoned to get directions to a hair salon, and when the receptionist told me it was at the backside of the hotel, I nearly fell off my chair.

Buildings have backsides you see. Not “back entrances” or “rear entrances.” They have backsides. And that’s the way the say it – backside. Not back SPACE side. Backside.

One of the phrases that can inadvertently cause offence is the question “What is your good name, sir?” For people unfamiliar with the phrase, it can cause them to stop and wonder whether they have a bad name too. It simply means that the person is requesting your name.

And you are most likely to be called “Mr John” as opposed to “Mr Smith.” Your name is of importance here, and your surname merely an indicator of your family name (sometimes known as the fathers name). And the term “Mr” is a mark of respect. If you don’t know someone, or aren’t invited to call them directly by their first name, stick the Mr in front. Or in the case of a lady, Miss.

Women do not carry their husband’s names after marriage. They keep their fathers name. For example, a man would be Mr Ali Bin Khalifa Al Mansoor. He would be known as Mr Ali. “Bin” means “son of” and “Khalifa Al Mansoor” is his father. For woman, it would be Miss Fatma Bint Khalifa Al Mansoor, “Bint” meaning “daughter of.” If I were a UAE national, my name would be Ms Mandy Bint Thomas Snashall.

It took me a while to getting used to being called Miss Mandy and to hear my husband called Mr Colin. It was especially funny when our furniture was delivered, and the English got mangled. The delivery note was very clearly made out to Mr Colon.

Mafi mushkila. Desert Notes is khallas for this week. I’m off to meet Mr Colon at the backside of the villa.

Desert Notes: Mehboob Watch Shop

There is no need to keep your cash in your wallet in the UAE. The national pastime appears to be shopping, and there are a number of malls at which you can fulfill your every desire.

While you may find the well-known brands at the big malls, by far some of the more interesting shops are the little ones located on the ground and mezzanine levels of most apartment blocks.

Generally speaking, you will find at least some of the following in any given block:

The Grocery. This is the UAE equivalent of a corner café and spaza shop. These tiny little shops can barely fit more than three people in at a time, but are crammed from floor to ceiling with every imaginable goodie. From bread and milk to washing powder and toothpaste. You name, they’ll have it. And the amazing thing is, you don’t even have to leave your car. All you do is park outside and hoot. Someone will come running out, find out what you need, go and get it, and bring it to your car!

Photocopy and Typing shop. An absolute essential when it comes to dealing with the red tape that Abu Dhabi loves so much. Here you can get your official documents typed in Arabic and have the appropriate number of photocopies done.

Photography Studio. Again, an essential part of Abu Dhabi red tape. For every document, you’ll need at least 4 passport sized photos.

Saloon. No, this is not a pub, but a barber shop. There are hundreds of hair saloons around town, where you can get a haircut and a shave with a straight razor. Some even do men’s facials and hair dyeing. Ladies saloons are generally not visible from the street because of the requirement to cover up in public.

Automatic Laundry. Unlike a do-it-yourself Laundromat, here you drop off your clothes for washing, drycleaning or ironing. And can collect again within 24 hours. Very convenient.

You are also likely to find a butcher, a tailor (again, men’s and ladies shops are often separate), video stores and internet gaming cafés.

Often specialty shops are grouped together in informal districts. In one street, for example, you’d find all the car-related products: window tinting, car upholstery, spare parts, tyre shops et cetera. In another, it will be back to back jewelry stores, or carpet shops.

But by far my favourite thing about these little shops are the signs. As English is seldom the first language of the proprietor or sign-writer, you get some terrific names. Our local grocery is the Aroma Grocery. My husband gets his hair cut at the Green Ruby Saloon. The photography shop near our first flat was called The Lovely Studio.

I first started keeping an eye out for funny shop names and signs when I spotted Mehboob Watch Shop. I had a mental picture of a little old man with opera glasses carefully watching the passing boobs…..

On the way to Khor Fokkan (a seaside resort town) one weekend, I saw the Al Kanaris Bird and Fish Shop. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera ready, and couldn’t take a photo.

I also wasn’t able to take a photo of the Green Goat Butchery (lovely image) or the Laughing Chicken Butchery. I really don’t know how much laughing the chicken was doing, but I hope the butcher himself is laughing all the way to the bank.

I am not sure what exactly the Families Roaster offers, but I am not sure whether I’d actually choose to eat there.

And despite its name, I think Rasim Rasul Puncture may actually be a tyre repair shop. At first my husband wondered whether punctures were imported to compensate for the excellent conditions of most roads.

Because of the various language issues, spelling can also be a problem. I am quite sure that this Day Spa may actually be a “Wellness Centre” as opposed to a “Willness Centre.”

And after much pondering, we figured out that what the Al Falah Natural Treatment Centre was offering was in fact a physical, as opposed to the advertised pizhichil.

Nothing, however, could top the one we spotted on the way home from the Post Office. I’m dying to try out some traditional Arabic sweets and pastries, but I’m really not sure whether I want to buy them from the Butt Sweet House.

I think I’ll do a taste test somewhere else.