ABSTRACT
Driving through Abu Dhabi’s corniche is a cinematic experience. A long stretch of skyscrapers and the blue waters of the Arabian Sea flank the carefully landscaped, palm-lined highway. Westwards, close to the Emirates Palace—a former royal residence turned “7-star” hotel—a monumental photograph of Sheikh Zayed reminds the drivers—and the rare pedestrian—of the deeds of the country’s “father.” A short drive away across an artificial peninsula is the Marina Mall, an American-style commercial enclave looking back towards the city, surrounded by a sea of parking and a marina full of modern yachts. On a hot November afternoon, I walk to the mall’s entrance under the white tents shading the cars. The shoppers are mostly expatriates—members of a white European or, in some cases, South Asian middle class—who, perhaps like myself, feel “re-countrified” by the carefully crafted familiarity of the commercial landscape (IKEA, Carrefour, a multiplex, and designer stores) and by the circular predictability of the building’s layout. Some, distinguishable by their kanduras and abayas, seem local, walking in gender-separated groups. To use a shopping cart, customers insert one dirham (approx. 25c) in a slot in the cart’s handling bar. However, no customer returns the cart by herself. Young South Asian men, distributed around the sweltering lot in a quiet swarm, return the carts and retrieve the deposit, in a semi-formal economic entanglement as the machines’ grooms.
