Military lined the road in and out of the compound. I called it "Army Road" and would listen to exactly two happy songs as i stomped down army road each morning. Sometimes acapela versions of Christmas songs to remind me that I would be out of the country at Christmas. No vehicles were allowed and if I took a rickshaw it had to leave me at the entrance.
"Assalamu akaikum" I would say to the chaps at the entrance, pointing their guns down, politely.
When my partner came to visit him I took him to the office. "You might want to wear waterproof shoes" I said "its muddy and filthy, the road there". He was in work out gear which the Westin found immensely funny. Why would you walk or run for fun? Why not just be a rickshaw driver. I was excited about taking him to the office and showing him my world. I was in white kamiz pants a red shalwah tunic and a white orna. And leopard print gumboots and giant sunnies. He didnt seem to mind that I looked ridiculous. He had minded a alot when we were in Sydney.
We arrived in the compound. "Welcome welcome!" Jurhman said warmly.
"You are very rich and powerful!"said Jewel.
"Well, not really, but it's a plesure to be here" he said.
"We must take photograph!" said Jewel. "Of you and Angelina. Here by the plaque!"
Photos were taken by the plaque. Others gathered around.
"I think you are very rich and important!" said the IT guy.
"No! I am not important! Or rich! Angelina is very poor!" They all thought about it for a minute and laughed. I wore peasant shalwahs and waterproof leopard print gumboot which only a farmer would wear.
The Guy Who Comes For Free With The Building appeared with tea. He gave it to The Partner.
"We have a fax!" he said.. A week later he was electrocuted and his body lay in the kitchen, people stepping over it for a few hours before someone called his family who had it collected in a rickshaw. His brother showed up the next day to assume duties of the Brother-Of-The-Guy-Who-Comes-Free-With-The-Building. He cried for many days. Some d*ckhead gave him a copy of an Emirates magazine entitiled "50 most luxurious houses in the world". He couldn't read the title and assumed it that was how everyone in the west lived. He threw it at the wall in a fit of pain and rage at the unfairness of it all and went home to the slums on the riverbank.
The Guy Who Comes For Free With The Building was stationed outside my office. He would smile and say "hello" everyday when I arrived, no matter how early. I would greet him in hopeless Bangla and try to practice my Bangla with a summary of what vegetables I wanted to but that day. I asked to visit his slum but was told it was not a good idea by some other random dude who took great pleasure in practicing his english.
One day I made him a cup of tea as i made my own coffee. I scooped the ants out of the coffee and walked to my office.
"Here you go" i said, passing him the tea.
"Yes" he said, smiling. He then followed me around for 20 minutes with the cup of tea as I checked on people, took time out on the balcony, made some calls. It finally dawned on me that he thought the tea was for someone else and was waiting for me to tell him who to give it to. I didnt know how to say "Its for you Azim."
I think I just gestured in the end. No one ever made Azim tea.
