There’s another side to Dubai that not everyone sees. While the city dazzles with its futuristic skyline, luxury shopping malls, and opulent hotels, there’s a more modest and often hidden aspect of life.
Dubai’s glittering façade often overshadows the reality faced by many who helped build it.
After a stimulating conversation with a taxi driver about his living situation, I decided to challenge myself and spend a week in a partitioned room to experience how some of Dubai’s unsung heroes live.
The taxi driver shared stories of his daily routine, his struggles, and his hopes. His living situation was a stark contrast to the image most people have of Dubai. He lived in a partitioned room, a common arrangement where a single apartment is divided into smaller sections to accommodate multiple tenants. These rooms are often cramped and offer minimal privacy, yet they serve as homes for many of the city’s labourers, drivers, and service industry workers.
Entering the small one bedroom apartment I noticed it was divided into sections – a cosy kitchen, a lone bathroom, and ten identical bedrooms, all distinguished by their white doors. Dragging my suitcase towards the door marked ‘3’, I couldn’t help but notice how snug the space was for someone my size. With just a single bed, a tiny desk, and a wardrobe barely big enough for a week’s worth of clothes, I knew I was in for a challenge.
As I started to unpack and settle in, the reality of sharing a bathroom with ten other people began to sink in. Leaving my belongings behind, I made my way to the bathroom, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable scramble for space. Stepping inside, I was surprised by the relative spaciousness compared to my cramped room. Quickly unpacking my shower gear, I made a mental note to keep my bathroom time short, mindful of the others who shared this communal space.
After my shower, I was dying for a coffee. Thinking I was in a hotel, I went to grab a mug but was swiftly told – by someone staying in Room #1 – that I would need my own mug as everyone has their own crockery. She kindly let me use her mug. My next issue? I didn’t have coffee, luckily I saved a few sachets from my previous hotel which I used.
Soon it was dinner time, luckily the people in the apartment were kind and welcoming and offered a sense of community I wasn’t accustomed to. I hit it off with a Moroccan pair who mentioned they were cooking a traditional Tagine feast and invited me to dine with them. As we chatted while they prepped, suddenly four other apartment inhabitants emerged from their rooms – an occurrence (according to them) that happens every Saturday night. They rolled out a woven mat and everyone sat around on the floor. The Tagine taking centre stage. They insisted I dig in with some bread right from the clay pot, a dining style I was totally down with. Honestly, it was one of those rare moments where I felt truly content – The sense of community was overwhelming and everyone welcomed me with open arms.
After the feast wrapped, it was time to pray but the apartment was obviously too small for us to conduct prayers in – so we took our mats to the hallway and conducted the group prayer there. It seemed like everyone was doing it and suddenly the hallway became a mosque.
After the prayers had finished, I headed back to my room, buzzing from the night’s vibe. I kicked back with my favourite show, ready to wind down. But just as I was drifting off around 1am, I was jolted awake by the unmistakable racket of someone clanging pots and pans in the kitchen.
“Bang, clunk, thump!”
It felt like they were trying to break a world record for kitchen noise. Finally, around 2am, the clatter quieted down, and I could finally slip into some much-needed shut-eye.
Living in a partitioned room for a week in Dubai wasn’t just about experiencing a different way of life; it was about connecting on a deeply human level with the unsung heroes who call this city home.
It gave me a true appreciation for the people who make this city!
