What's Luck Got To Do With It?

A couple of days ago, something happened which really made me think. In the short space of a taxi ride, my entire perspective on my life and the world changed completely. Let me explain. Where I'm living right now, it's common knowledge that you just don't make conversation with taxi drivers. It sounds terrible, but you don't because the majority of the time, they're quite frightening. Sanity isn't really a word you would associate with them, and I suppose that has alot to do with the fact that they work long hours for practically nothing. They've been forced to come to a country where they know no one and communicate in languages most of them have never learnt. As well as that, half the time they have no formal training and whether or not they are in possession of a real drivers license is questionable. Not a particularly safe mode of transport, but you get used to it. Needless to say, you learn to ignore them. God, just saying that makes me realise how horrible that sounds, but it's the truth. They're a burden you learn to bear. Their erratic driving, their bad manners, it's all something you have to put up with; and the easiest way to do that is to get into the car, tell them where you want to go and pay them at the end.

The other day I got into a taxi, told him where I was going, and then proceeded to nearly have a heart attack when he turned around and in perfect english began to speak to me. I mean, perfect english. I ignored him, gave him one word answers, and kept looking out the window because I didnt know what else to do! Never before had I come across a taxi driver in the UAE that had the ability to speak more than a few mandatory english words. Soon enough my curiousity got the better of me, and I wanted, no, needed, to know who this guy was. So I asked him, and I am so glad that I did.

He told me he was from Afghanistan, and the reason that he knew English so well was because he had taken a 6 month course to learn it. He had been at university in Afghanistan studying engineering when troubles started and the Taliban began bombing. In the middle of his first year at university he was forced to leave. The university closed down, and he had no other way to continue his education. When he was 25 he married, and now has 3 sons. He's 33 years old and a couple of years ago he came here to work as a taxi driver, because even if he got office work in Afghanistan, he would be earning no more than 200 dirhams a month. (That's about 50 dollars). At the moment, he's earning 600 dirhams a month (150 dollars). 600 dirhams! 600 dirhams a month for the abuse he has to put up with. I can easily spend 600 dirhams in a few minutes, and there he is earning that for a months hard work. He said it was a horrible job. To be a taxi driver in a country that considers them no better than an animal, when he was initially hoping to become an engineer. God, my heart went out to him. I told him to go to Europe. Why come here, why come to a country that doesn't have a minimum wage for foreigners? Go to Europe, they have minimum wages there. Get refugee status, do something! But he told me he can't get refugee status now because there is now technically an effective government in Afghanistan. He supposedly has nothing to flee from, except perhaps poverty. I gave him some money when I left, but I wish I had given him more.

Do you want to know the crazy thing? When I was leaving he turned to me and wished ME luck in my life. He wished me happiness, a good marriage and luck in whatever I do. ME who has more chances than he could ever dream of. Wished me luck when he's the one who needs luck the most. How cruel is this world. I should be down on my knees thanking God for the opportunities I've been given. I wished him luck, but what good will that do? He's still going to be driving that taxi, earning nothing, and dreaming about the time in the distant future when he'll be able to go back to Afghanistan and see the sons he spoke to me so dearly about. Luck has nothing, and everything, to do with it.