I Had No Clue I Lived In A Bubble
Growing up in Abu Dhabi has its own flavor
The first time we came to Canada when I was a kid and the guy on the shake stand recited the menu; I almost passed out from boredom.
“Vanilla — Strawberry- Chocolate”
“You mean the Grandizer or the Abrabadbra?”
“Just vanilla — Strawberry- Chocolate.”
“That’s the base, right?”
“No, it’s either: Vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate.”
Where were the pineapple cubes? What about a splash of orange? Not even a touch of plum? Come on; pistachios are a staple in juice! It’s just lousy, honestly.
“Fine, with bonus.”
“Bonus?”
“Ishta.”
“Cream?”
“Never mind.”
I felt so sorry for this guy. HAHA- They have their juice without Ishta! Then I saw how fat my aunts got, and the joke was on me.
If you don’t love Seashell and Maroosh, your not from Abu Dhabi. I don’t care what anyone says; they are gourmet. These are your basic, local shawarma joints, but the juice section alone makes me proud to be part of that city.
Folks, we have a drink called Abood Mashakel — Abood the trouble maker- because it is topped with dragon fruit. If that’s not cool, I don't know what is.
I used to hate being from a small town; I don’t know; I wanted to be from Beverly Hills 90210 or Hollywood Boulevard because it sounded cool. Or Evergreen Terrace; even Sesame Street sounded fun. Anything but Khaldiya street. Like, it just sounded so…uncool. Does it have to have the KHHH in it?
I didn’t realize what a bubble I came from until I left the UAE and started to travel and discovered just how Abu Dhabi I am. That’s why I’m a huge proponent of traveling.
But after raving about all the wonderful countries I was blessed to visit and stressing on the importance of meeting different cultures, I want to start by admitting I love Abu Dhabi for the very reasons I hated it in the first place.
We have inside jokes and memories that are specific to the people of that city. For starters, we- the entire generation of millennials — were born in the same hospital- Khalifa Hospital. There was only one maternity ward back in the ’80s and ’90s.
Shaggy
Shaggy came to Abu Dhabi so much we were convinced that he was Emarati or Sudanese. Mr. Bombastic became our national anthem. It was back when we had to beg celebrities to perform in the UAE — and no one came to visit us except Shaggy, so we adopted him. Us- Arabs- love claiming other people as our own. Like Obama, we loved him so much we convinced ourselves he’s Arabic because of his name. Barak Hussein? He’s from Palestine for sure.
Shaggy always appreciated us.
Bikim
I moved to Montreal for university with a bunch of friends from high school. We were finally adults, so we decided to bake a special cake together but couldn’t find the pikin anywhere.
“Not Pikin; it’s Bikim.”
“No, you’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me, we can’t seem to find the pikim bower.”
Three or four grocery stores later, we were stunned to find out that it was baking powder that we were looking for. The ground shook when I found out. How did all the moms across the UAE get this wrong? Not one of them managed to pronounce it correctly?
Abu Brace
I went to Mexico in my twenties, and I was flabbergasted when the tour guide introduced me to Abu Brace like it was some national prize or some cute animal to pet.
“This is the Mexican lizard of Cancun.”
“OH HELL NO!!”
Quickly I started to throw my slipper at it while howling, and the guy thought I was insane.
Seriously? Abu Brace is a respected member of society in Mexico? What the hell?
Insects in general
I don't remember insects back home. Maybe because Abu Dhabi is a desert, but I can’t stand the sight of them. I would rather dive headfirst into a flaming fire than have a bee land on me. Also, has anyone seen this weird, black, ten-winged asshole that flies around Montreal? The one with 500 legs? I hate him so much. This guy ruined my tanning sessions the entire summer.
It’s embarrassing to be with a group of peeps from Abu Dhabi who all scream and duck behind each other from the sight of a bee, but we don't have them like this back in the UAE. Also, bees have no shame; they keep coming back for more regardless of how much you kick and scream.
Café Ole fries
I can almost smell them now; the Café Ole fries. I shiver in my sleep, thinking of them. Nothing has ever come close to their sogginess.
Everyone from Abu Dhabi knows the Cafe Ole fries were magical — another around the corner type shack. We used to sneak out early from school just to eat them. Then, my mom caught on because we stopped eating lunch at home, and she told the rest of the moms in the UAE, and from that day onwards, the kids all ate their mujaddara.
We had a random mom policing the area after school every day after my mom ruined the party. She would just beep at all the kids trying to sneak in to eat fries — the beep- threat.
Raquem-ing — giving out numbers
What about the ladies? Do you know what two sixes and a five mean? It's a phone number. I couldn’t believe it when I traveled to the West, and the first man attempted to give me his number.
“514–4637*&6*2##23… Call me, sweetie.”
“How? ”
I thought the guy gave me his social insurance number. Back home, the fellas spit bars and made rhymes out of their numbers to grab our attention.
The burger at the lady’s beach
We used to hate going to the Lady’s beach with our moms because it didn’t feel like we were taking a break from mujaddara. Even the shack that served burgers at the lady’s beach were Kafta; it wasn’t a real burger. It had Oum Suleiman spices in it and tasted healthy, for god sake.
Of course, it was a mom from Abu Dhabi behind the grill, a nice Philipino lady who also loved ruining the party.
Shisha Cafe grounding
If you haven’t been grounded for sneaking into a shisha cafe while you were still in school, then you don’t know the smoking hustle. The moms were like detectives on the case.
“I can’t come today; I’m grounded.”
“Me too; your mom told my mom she caught us at special cafe.”
“It wasn’t my mom; it was Sara’s mom, Reem’s mom told my mom.”
Like, come on, moms! Shisha is part of our culture; it's fruit-based, for god sake.
The Adan
Before they made the Adan — the call to prayer- uniform, as in, they got a guy with a stellar voice, and it became an automated recording that blesses the whole country in one go; we had a screaming match. I mean, every mosque had its own sheik who had to sing the call to prayer, and it would come from all directions.
It should have been illegal for some of these men to get behind a mic. Especially the guy next to my house. Mom, he sounds like he swallowed ten helium balloons. Of course, we were not allowed to hate it because that meant we would end up in hell.
The weather
I grew up in a country that has one season. Summer. It’s either hot or boiling, nothing in between. I don't think we even have a weather channel; we all just know it's hot or boiling from our car seats. That’s how we measure the temperature.
I am exhausted from getting attacked by rain in the middle of my summer in Montreal.
“Didn’t you check the weather before leaving? It’s going to rain at four-thirty.”
“No, I usually just check my makeup.”
We have a special kind of bond, us, the peeps of Abu Dhabi. The type of bond you only appreciate when you’re a bit older and have been grounded together by someone else’s mom.
I thought I hated all these things that made me from Abu Dhabi, but they really make me happy now.
I grew up in Bu’ Dhabi y’all!