Dubai-The Gardener

I had another man who was assigned to work in my garden. He was probably about my age, and whenever he saw me, he bowed down and greeted me with “Hello, M’am.” He scurried along the garden in his plastic sandals that were slapping at his bare feet. He worked very hard picking out weeds and cutting any loose branches that were falling from our palm trees. He did it with a smile, and he liked to talk. I found him difficult to understand, but he always wanted to explain everything he was doing out there. He wore genie pants and sandals, and he had a big turban that he wore around his head. I assumed this helped him with the heat. He worked so hard and so happily.

I was always sure to give him water to drink when he came, and he was always so grateful. Believe it or not, most people did not. As time went on, he would look me in the eye when we spoke. He was from Bangladesh. I know that where he was from, he would cower to anyone considered to be his superior. I think he saw that I was not going to treat him that way, and he relaxed a bit. I always waved and said hello. We’d chat about the palm trees, and I would give him water. I remember the day that I told him that I was leaving Dubai. His face just dropped. He said, “but you have the best water in the neighborhood.” I asked him if we could take a selfie together, and he was a little embarrassed. He started patting himself down and rubbing his hands through his hair. “Oh! but I’m not dressed nicely”. All at once, he felt ashamed. I told him that I liked the way he looked and I would remember him just like that. We took a nice selfie, but I have never liked it because he is not smiling. He was always smiling, but at that moment, he tried to look serious for the photo. I could see by the way he behaved that no-one (or very few) people had ever treated him with any respect. I was sure that he was one of the “untouchables’ and I know he appreciated the fact that I treated him like a human. This is a concept that is so foreign to where I am from.

One day he came to say goodbye. He knocked on my door, and when I opened the door, he was standing there, all clean as if he had come especially to say goodbye to me. He then proceeded to bow down very low. As he rose, ever so slowly, he had a series of hand gestures that he made. He bowed, crossed his arms, patted his chest, and moved his hands in a way that I knew meant thank you. He treated me with the highest respect as if I were royal or something. It was very moving. It made me cry then, and every time I think about it today, it tugs at my heart. It was quite amazing to see what effect I had on this lonely Gardner. He, who had just accepted his place in this world. It seemed that our brief encounter gave him a feeling of worth. If this is true, I will never regret giving this very sweet man a short moment in his life where he felt respected. It was an eye-opener into a world that I had never seen. He was special and remains so, in my memory.