I don’t speak much English. Just a little when talking to clients who hire my taxi here in Dubai; “To where Sir,” “Twenty Dirham Madam”, that sort of thing. I am good with money, driving and directions, so getting the job done has never been a problem.

I came here ten years ago. My passport says my name is Babu Chacko and people call me Babu. It is not my real name; I don’t like it very much. But this name has kept me safe. Like me, a lot of men here have escaped from circumstances back home. One man, and I won’t say who, robbed a bank to pay for his passport and visa! Here, nobody notices us. We are the faceless population that moves this city. The lucky ones clean the bathrooms in the airport; the unlucky ones work in construction. On a Dubai summer day, you can boil a bowl of rice in minutes outside! But these poor workers don’t get a break. 

A bunch of us came from fishing villages near the town of Thalassery, at the southern tip of India. The beaches of Thalassery are very popular among filmmakers. Film companies from Bombay and Madras flock to these beaches all the time. I saw a French movie being made there once and I was the errand boy on the set. My job was to bring coconut water and tea to the crew. But one day, the movie crew disappeared without paying my dues. Turned out that the director had died of food poisoning. Dead from drinking tainted water, someone told me.

Since I was the errand boy, police suspected me. I escaped with just the clothes on my back, and some money I had after selling ancestral property. But I swear I had no hand in that man’s death. The police always go after poor people like me, when they had no one else to blame. Sure I made the tea from water from a tanker that used to contain kerosene. But most people would only get upset stomachs. The man was just weak. An Indian would have been just fine; we can digest rocks. If you ask me, these westerners have such weak constitutions because of all that bread and cheese they eat.

I have been driving taxis in Dubai for the past ten years, and have done well for myself. Actually, driving taxis is only one part of my life here. I offer other services too, which is really why I am here. I know people in many places- in government ministries, of many countries. You wanted to get a Chinese uncle an Indonesian passport? No problem. You want to buy a Chalet in the Swiss Alps, but can only pay cash. I can get that done. How does a taxi driver do all that? That is my superpower. I know all the right people, at the right places. For the right price, I can get things done. 

I must thank the gentleman, who offered to write this for me as a gesture of good faith. He was a passenger I had picked up at the Royal Meridian. Most of my clients don’t pay attention to the little brown-skinned driver. Mr. Bischoff was different. He was curious to know about my life and how I ended up driving a taxi. I told him my story, and he offered to write it up. He did as he promised, and even read this out to me a few days later. I must confess, everything sounds grand when you hear it in English!

I do hope you will visit our fine city. While you are here, look me up if you need a ride, or have a job for me. Just ask anyone at the airport about Babu. I have done business with almost all of them.