Big city syndrome: Know thy neighbour

Home to over 200 nationalities now, Dubai’s transformation into a multi-cultural society has changed entire neighbourhoods and redefined relationships between neighbours.

XPRESS met residents in Bur Dubai, Karama, Arabian Ranches, Lakes and Al Barsha to find out what they had to say…

Bur Dubai and Karama

When Vanessa Sequeira, an Indian schoolteacher, got married in Sri Lanka in December 2004, the best man at the wedding was her former neighbour Ganesh Arya.

Arya and his family had moved to Canada earlier that year, but they had kept in touch through Facebook and an occasional telephone call.

Another close neighbour, Sarabjit Singh, could not make it, as he was getting married around the same time. "In fact Monu [Sarabjit] was the only one of our neighbours who could not make it to the wedding," recalls Vanessa.

When the Aryas left Dubai, it was an emotional blow to the Sequeira family, who had been living in Ali Shambi building in Bur Dubai since 1978.

"After the Aryas left, Vanessa moved into their flat and became our neighbour," said her parents Vincent and Sandra Sequeira.

It was a convenient arrangement in the run-up to her marriage. The family of five, including Vanessa’s brother Stan and sister Charlene – with nine cats – are neighbours to four other families in the building.

"I bump into Paresh, Krishnan and Eric every day as they go out for work and return, which is around the time I water my small garden. I know Eric’s wife is a nurse at a private hospital," said Vincent, 60, a retired shipping company executive.

Friends in nearby buildings such as Monu and Vineet Bishnoi are their extended neighbours. The duo have known Vanessa since childhood when they used to play together in an open ground which is now a sprawling parking lot. They do manage to meet up twice or thrice a week despite work-related pressures.

But not all share such a close bonding with their neighbours.

In nearby Karama, another Asian stronghold, the situation is different. Madhura Rajendra, a radio presenter, said, "We just exchange pleasantries with our neighbours, mostly from southern India, when we converge at the elevator for a ten-second ride.

"I know the names of most of the kids playing in the building and they say ‘Hi aunty’. Some housewives have invited us for dinner, but we have not been able to go," she added.

A Filipino couple in the building keep to themselves.

Gated communities

John O’Kelly, 48, has been living with his wife Liamhan and five sons in Arabian Ranches, but is not too familiar with his neighbours.

"I have been living in Dubai for 26 years and my wife for 19 years, but we only moved to Arabian Ranches two years ago. I know a Mexican family in the neighbourhood, but then we knew each other before we moved into this neighbourhood," said the Irish businessman.

"I think Dubai is suffering from the big city syndrome. People tend not to mix these days as they did back in the day when it was a village. It is par for the course when the city gets big. I mean, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It is just the way it is."

Liamhan’s degree of familiarity with her neighbours is limited to "saying hi and maybe knowing their first names, but not much else", she said. One does get a sense of an invisible social barrier when she says: "People in this area are friendly. We chat occasionally, but I wouldn’t have been inside their houses."

The pace of life is also to blame. "People are so busy here. They don’t have as much free time or they are not looking to be entertained by neighbours."

Cultural diversity also can be a bit of a spoilsport in Dubai.

"If you live in an area like Arabian Ranches where you have so many different nationalities within a small compound, you are not fully aware of people’s boundaries, so you don’t want to overstep them," said Liamhan who said that back in Ireland she "would have no problem calling any neighbour’s house, going in and borrowing anything".

South African Jane Cloete, a resident of The Lakes community, concurs that Dubai keeps one "too busy" and there’s just not enough time for neighbours.

Although she said she "knew" her neighbours, it was only limited to "basically hi, how are you doing, and chatting on the street. Not so much into each other’s houses".

She confessed that in three years her family had got invited to just one festive celebration, Diwali, by an Indian family living next door.

It is the pace of life again which is keeping things cold between Rahman Saeed, 25, and her neighbours in Arabian Ranches. "In the last eight months, I don’t think we have had a five-minute conversation with our neighbours. We greet each other, but that’s about it," said the mother of one.

Al Barsha

Eid Hassan has been witness to Dubai’s metamorphosis from a pearling village to a steel and glass metropolis. He has spent most of his life on the Dubai Creek in Bur Dubai, and later on in Satwa. But since moving to Al Barsha four years ago, he feels a bit detached from his neighbourhood. "It’s very quiet here, you don’t have the hustle and bustle of Bur Dubai or Satwa," says the 63-year-old grandfather of 12. "When I grew up everybody knew everybody, if someone sneezed you’d find out and go check up on them."

He still meets up with his old friends and neighbours, though they have long since moved to other parts of the city.

In another part of the neighbourhood, an unassuming tent is pitched in front of villa number 30. Sabeel Ali Ebrahim warmly greets guests. The 26-year-old is now the head of the 20-member family. This is his father’s funeral service. "Many people from the neighbourhood have come to pay their respects. I don’t really know any of them; they learnt at the mosque that there was a funeral in the neighbourhood. They do it as a formality," said Ebrahim.

Just a block away, three men sit in the courtyard of the neighbourhood mosque enjoying light conversation over Arabic coffee and dates. "I know my neighbours," said Abu Hamad, and begins to name them and what each one does for a living, "but that is the extent of our interaction, I’m sorry to say. We don’t interact beyond mere greetings." The father of seven moved here five years ago. "It’s not the same anymore; there is no feeling of community. Emiratis have become an endangered species."

"Everything has become superficial," says Jamal Mohammad, an Al Barsha resident for the last four years. "We have adopted this new modern lifestyle that is just not compatible with our culture. I interact with my friends through SMS more than in person."

Islamic duty

"In Islam it is the duty of every Muslim to respect and look after their neighbours. You should treat your neighbour as you would a family member," said Shaikh Khalil, the mosque’s imam.

"That is not the case these days," interjects Mohammad, "You pray shoulder to shoulder in the mosque every day, shake hands and exchange blessings like you are lifelong friends, yet you don’t even know them."

Sociologists give their take

"Before the discovery of oil, Dubai had what is known as clustered communities," said sociologist Rima Al Sab’aan. "These communities were very close-knit. They helped and were dependent on each other, sharing resources such as food and shelter, in spite of the harsh living conditions," Rima explains.

"After oil, there was a sudden influx of wealth into the community. Walls were built between homes and families, people could afford to hire maids to do their daily chores. That dependency on each other disappeared, there was no need for that attachment, and so the interaction also disappeared."

Rima also said that now that women have also entered the workforce, both parents return home exhausted and barely have time for their own family let alone getting to meet new people.

"The internet and chatting consumes the lives of the new generation, leaving no time for any outdoor activity that can nurture neighbourhood relationships," she said

Sharjah-based sociologist Premlal Vijayan says, "People in Dubai are wary of approaching neighbours as they belong to different countries and cultures and do not know enough about them. The work-related stress and family problems do not give them enough time to interact with neighbours. People are comfortable developing friendships through the internet."