The "Whitie" Tax

Before leaving, our pending move to the Middle East inspired images of desert, camels, white dishdashas (the white robes worn by men) and wide open spaces. As could be expected, arriving in Dubai was quite the reality check. Yes, we have desert, camels, dishdashas, and lots of wide open spaces. But we also have designer labels, global brands, tricked-out pimped-out vehicles, and general BLING everywhere (including a tremendous amount of construction on towers--Harry calls them the f***-you buildings). For those of you that know the movie Shrek, recall his arrival in the city of Far Far Away -- change the word plays on the brand names to Arabic script, and you will have a good visual of my first impression of this grand city.

However, something else we have here, of fundamental importance to this growing economy, are about 1 million Indians/Pakistanis/Bangladeshis (hereinafter Indians). Which brings me to the title of this posting. In the US and Europe, Harry and I could go about our business with general expectation that our color difference would mean little. Usually that was true. Not so here! Let me explain:

Case 1: We have been searching for apartments. Since Harry is at work, it was my job to call about places we picked out in the paper. I would call, some Indian guy would answer, and quote me a price for the annual rent (obscene prices by the way--rents have tripled in the last two years, and we are looking at about $30K rent per year for a one bedroom apartment), etc. I started to notice that these published prices were usually higher than the advertised price. Or the place is not available. Strange. Then on the weekend, Harry calls and gets quoted a much lower price for the same thing, or suddenly, places are available. What is happening?

Case 2: Harry, his old friend Al, and I are walking around the "Indian" part of town after dinner (in Old Dobby). We go into a shop because I need some Ibuprofen. By now we are suspicious of the "whitie" effect, so Al asks for the price: 5 dirhams. OK great, I say give me two packs please. Wait, oops, the shopkeeper realizes I am with the Indian guys. Suddenly, he made a mistake on the price--it is actually 8 dirhams, not 5. SO I have to pay 16 total (about 5 USD). Cheeky bastard! He did not even hide his price inflation! (we found out later from another pharmacy that 5 was the appropriate price).

Case 3: On this same evening we are walking around said part of town looking at apartment buildings and checking with the night watchmen for prices and availability. Our strategy is for Al to go in and ask for the price, while Harry waits with me on the street. Seems to work well, the prices quoted are reasonable for the area.

SO, if you have not figured it out yet, this is the whitie tax: the premium placed by Indians on goods and services for white people. SO far the range seems to be from 10 to 30 percent increase, and is imposed when I am present, regardless of Harry being with me or being the one ordering. Before writing I spent a good three days pissed off on principle about this phenomenon--now I am calmer and more philosophical. In fact, this morning, when I put about $2K worth if dirhams in my purse without a worry that I might be mugged (stealing is severely punished, as is rape --penalty beheading--) I decided that I will view this whitie tax as my cost of feeling physically secure in a city full of "brownies". Somehow, connecting a worthwhile (if fabricated) expenditure to such an unfair tax alleviates my outrage at such blatant discrimination.