MissiOnLine.org In the migrants’ ghettoes: the other side of luxury The Slaves of the Persian Gulf Persian Gulf, migrant workers, slavery In the Emirates there are millions of immigrant workers: it is they who build the record-breaking skyscrapers while they themselves live in desperate conditions in cities of only men. “But at home they’re waiting for our savings”.

From the Mussafah ghettoes the capital city’s lights are only far-away dots. When the sun is setting, in these industrial neighbourhoods at the outskirts of Abu Dhabi, beyond the big bridge connecting the illuminated island to the mainland, the only lights that shine are the signs of a few minimarkets. Under the green neon dozens of men continually come and go and, when observed closely, they  look more like robots.
With shopping bags in their hands and still wearing their work clothes, they set off in a line, looking absent-minded along identical streets lined by rows of prefabricated buildings. Every now and then a minibus displaying the brand of some multinational company, coming from one of the city’s thousand open construction sites, brings back to the dark streets a new load of slaves.
Welcome to the record-breaking skyscrapers’ paradise and to the immigrant workers’ hell. Where oil wealth, that in forty years time has changed a desert without any water or electricity into a permanent fairground, continues to benefit only a very tiny minority of inhabitants, the certified first class citizens originally from the Emirates, while it may touch only indirectly the millions of immigrants who – despite the crisis which made Dubai tremble last year – are becoming more and more numerous following the mirage of a “gilded Gulf”.
Mussafah’s slaves – Indians and Pakistanis, Bengalis, Nepalis, Iranians and to an increasing extent also Chineses and Koreans – have built the buildings which touch the sky, the artificial islands, the malls where, among Gucci and Rolex shops, the West is on sale, or at least that portion of the West which can be bought. However, once they’re down from the scaffolds, the “arms” of that system are relegated here, in the labour camps guarded by the police: entire cities of men only (the entrance is forbidden to women without authorization) who have left their wives, kids and parents at home. It is to send home the little money that they manage to save in unending, very hard working days, under the Persian Gulf’s burning sun, that the “robots” accept to live for years in overcrowded ghettoes where tens of thousand people live, even eight or nine in a 3 x 3 room, effectively slaves of their masters.   
“I cannot fly from here: the company refuses to give me back my passport and I don’t know what to do in my condition,” an immigrant named Joseph says while leaning against his crutches. Originally from India, seven years ago he fell from a scaffold and suffered permanent physical damage: he sued his employer but lost the lawsuit. Thanks to the help from an Indian businessman who looks after the protection of immigrants’ rights, he appealed the judge’s sentence. “After years of fighting,” he recounts, “I managed to receive compensation for the accident. My passport, however, is still in the company’s hands”. This is a very common situation here: in fact, the immigration laws provide for the worker to enter the Country only after having signed a contract with a company which becomes the “sponsor” of that employee. The company keeps his documents and, with them, his freedom. 
“Do you see how we live?” Denis Joe, a forty-year old man with a three-year working permit, enters into the discussion. “Not only we are treated like animals, but we often don’t even get paid for months! There are people here who have not got their salary for one year. But what can we do? We don’t have any options”.
In the Emirates there are no real unions and striking is illegal. After the economic crisis of last year that left dozens of thousands of immigrates unemployed and thus with no residence permit, the government increased the control over the companies which do not regularly pay their employees but cases of abuse are still numerous. And the ones abusing are both local enterprises and the myriad of multinational foreign companies that make their business in the Gulf. Lebanese and Saudi but also Syrian and Palestine companies are the ones with the worst reputation while one person asserts that “Western corporations manage their labour camps with more dignity”.
The camps, which are built by the government, are then leased to the companies, who use them as residences for their workers. Some are more fortunate than others: in Mussafah there is a labour city where there are even a few basketball courts and cricket fields. Others live at the extremes of human endurance, cooking basic food on gas cookers with a bottle as the only diversion. Alcoholism is widespread among workers: “Alcohol is illegal but the government turns a blind eye because this market is really profitable”, Joy K. P. explains.

Joy is a living proof of human endurance in harsh conditions: an immigrant from Kerala, he is 34 years old and this is the life he has been carrying on for the last 14 years. He lives in a storage unit illegally transformed into a residence by the company he works for, a large construction company: “We were told that they could not afford to rent rooms in a real labour camp. So, during the day we close everything so that from outside it is not evident that someone lives here”. When he arrived at the age of 20, Joy started like everyone else, earning 600 dirham per month (130 euro) for 6 working days per week, at least 10 hours per day. “However, I have worked hard during these years, I’ve learnt the language well and now I am the manager of the electric area of the company. I earn more and I have some privileges, for example, a whole room for myself”.
Joy allows us, with discretion, to see his “privilege”: entering the storage unit we climb up a very steep iron staircase and arrive at a small landing onto which some small and narrow rooms overlook. Joy’s room does not pace more than 2 x 3 metres and it houses, in a surprising order, his whole world. His laptop sits on the bed; in a corner there is an ironing board with a tie on it. On a small shelf, there are framed pictures of three children: two boys and a girl. “They’re my kids, in India. I have never lived with them but today I manage to go and visit them every six months…It’s not that bad”. It is definitely better than the majority of his colleagues who, on the other side of the landing, live four people in a small room like Joy’s and return home once every three years, if they are lucky. But is there someone who manages to bring his family here? “It is almost impossible, because you need to have housing and guarantee that you earn at least 4000 dirham per month…”.

In any case, it would be temporary housing considering that, according to the law, once they retire, immigrants are forced to leave the Emirates. It is only one of a thousand chains that aim to hold– by force – local citizens’ privileges, a tiny minority that does not even account for 15% of the population and that, understandably, is afraid of losing control of a precarious socio-economic balance in which those who have the “right” passport do not pay taxes and share the proceeds coming from energy resources while everyone else lives off the crumbs. And they are kept as much as possible at the border of the system, even physically. “Before it was possible to find an accommodation in the city but today rents are reaching exorbitant rates and we, the immigrants, are pushed further and further from the city centre”, Joy explains gloomily. But he brightens up immediately: “Here there are also some good points, for example crime rates are very low since anyone who commits a crime is immediately sent out of the country. Furthermore, the exchange rate between dirham and rupee is very good so, if we work hard, we manage to help our families at home. This is why, despite everything, we may say that we are happy”.