I was having my daily walk with my sister and my son along the streets and alleyways of my neighbourhood when I was pleasantly surprised to come upon what at first glance seemed to be a large green recycling bin, not unlike a rubbish skip. I had seen bins like this in maybe only two places in the UAE so far and one was near a rest-stop cafe on the Emirates Road, not the most ideal place to make a stop (unless, of course, you have an obsession with the strong Karak tea they serve, like my husband). I walked up to it and lifted the flap but, alas, inside was a collection of paper and other assorted rubbish. This was not the recycling bin for used clothes I had mistaken it for.
Such bins are scattered liberally throughout older countries around the world but they have yet to catch on in the Emirates. I think we ought to fix that. Usually when we want to dispose of old clothes that are neither torn nor damaged but are simply no longer of use, we donate them to the Red Crescent. But I was once taken aback by a remark from one of its workers: "We're not responsible for your trash."
I'm pretty sure that good, clean clothes will always be useful to someone less fortunate. My aunt certainly thinks so; that's why she gives them to her working-class neighbours, who seem appreciative. To make such charitable giving easier for more people, perhaps it would be a good idea to place bins for used clothes beside mosques, where worshippers would have ample opportunity to donate items they no longer need. Come to that, it would be fantastic if there were also bins for other unwanted things, such as toys and bedding. All in good time, perhaps.
It is still rare in many parts of the UAE to see proper recycling bins for rubbish - different containers for paper, cans, plastic or glass, for instance, to encourage consumers to separate their waste and kick-start any central recycling programme. I have begun to notice such facilities appearing around Dubai and Sharjah and I wish they would implement this more widely in Abu Dhabi, as well. Quite apart from the vital need to look to the future health of the planet, there are immediate pragmatic reasons to tackle the issue of waste. The recent financial slowdown has meant that many people have moved from Dubai to Abu Dhabi, so it is more important now than ever to start making recycling possible in what is fast becoming a densely populated city.
But encouragement alone is not the answer. I firmly believe that there should also be strict fines imposed on anyone caught dropping litter: there are far better things on which the city's budget could be spent than paying an army of workers to clean up after people day and night. It saddens me to see a beautiful and developed country such as the Emirates inhabited by so many people who seem so unwilling to take responsibility for the environment we all must share, but somehow it is especially infuriating to see expatriates littering the landscape. We have a saying in Arabic that goes, "Oh stranger, be well-behaved". Dropping litter as a guest in another country is like being invited into someone's home and then vandalising it.
And while it's disappointing to see the usual detritus of fast-food packaging disfiguring places such as parks and beaches, what is really infuriating is the sight of bottles and cans of alcoholic drinks and worse among the mess. This country has been kind enough to grant expatriates the freedom to practise their customs in appropriate settings, but this welcoming gesture is abused time and time again.
One of the most depressing episodes I have witnessed took place when my husband and I were walking around Khalid Lake in Sharjah and saw an east-Asian man and his cheering friends pick up a bicycle - a bicycle! - and fling it clear into the water. What possessed him to do such a thing was beyond me, and my husband and I stared at each other in shock. I regret that we did not report him to the authorities right there and then but, while I do think he would have deserved being subjected to a harsh punishment, I also believe the focus should be on education and awareness of the need for communal cleanliness.
But, to be fair, it is not only the attitude of expatriates that is at fault. Many people here are strangely irresponsible. It's as though the selfishness that seems to permeate our lives, generated and promoted by many capitalist sensibilities - we always seem to pick up the worst of western values - extends to the whole issue of rubbish. In my traditional family we are obliged (or, perhaps, doomed) to go on frequent and extended family desert trips when the Emirati "winter" returns. Off we go in our big 4x4 cars out into the barren land of virgin sand, trees and mountains. We roll out our rugs, distribute boxes of snacks and cartons of juice among the young and old. Around noon the men produce gigantic foil-wrapped feasts of lamb makboos and the like, bought from opportunistic traders who have set up shop near by, and bag upon bag of carbonated drinks and water bottles.
More snacks, more litter and, the by time we're done, someone produces giant black rubbish bags into which goes much - but never all - of the litter. Frequently, these bags are left leaning against a tree and anyone who voices concern is told: "The municipality goes around and collects the garbage, don't worry." No matter that we are far from civilisation, usually on the Omani border, and that municipality rubbish lorries might not travel the 500km we have driven just to pick up after us.
In Islam you are, in effect, rewarded by God for removing litter from the side of the road. "Cleanliness is of faith," we often heard as we were growing up, while Christians are told that "cleanliness is next to godliness". What I find ironic about many people who are so dismissive of their impact on the environment is the almost obsessive attention they pay to their personal hygiene. They will wear the finest clothes, perfectly pressed, saturated with expensive perfume, and shower up to three times a day. To the casual observer they give every appearance of being at the very least culturally aware and sufficiently well-educated to reflect that image in other basic ways. It reminds me of JD Salinger's character Stradlater, from Catcher In The Rye, who is made fun of by Holden for being a "secret slob" and never cleaning his rusty razor.
I do believe, however, that the Emirates is on the right path and that hopefully, with time and a lot of media awareness campaigns we can change the old attitudes. People must stop thinking that the Indian man in green who toils constantly along the streets of the city will pick up whatever cigarette butt, can of soda or tissue they decide to drop out of their car window or dispose of on their walk or after their picnic.
"It's his job," is not an excuse for your fault. As cleanliness is of faith, so too it is undoubtedly a reflection of a good moral character. Iman Ali is an Emirati national. Raised in Scotland, she graduated in English literature from Zayed University, Abu Dhabi. She is currently writing a novel