The Sheikh’s Secret Son(22)
“I don’t understand how it could be this bad,” Zaid said in protest. “We’ve pumped so much money into Timina over the years. It doesn’t make sense. Funds have been put aside for revitalization projects. We’ve tried to foster business growth, but looking around; I don’t see any of that.”
“Where does the money go, exactly?” Rebecca asked. “Is there a person or committee that handles the money for projects in Timina?”
“Alacabak,” Zaid said. “In fact, he is in charge of both Rajak and Timina.”
“Well, it’s hardly my place, Zaid, but it looks like you need to start checking where that money is going if it’s not making it where it’s supposed to be,” Rebecca told him.
“I’m starting to think you’re right,” he agreed.
“I’ve known it for some time that I was right. That was one of the reasons I agreed to take the assignment when they offered it to me. My goal was to get whoever was heading the tour to listen to me on this and start making some real changes.”
They came up to a girl sitting on the side of the street crying over a spot on her knee.
“Hold on,” Rebecca said, pulling a couple of bandages out of her bag and kneeling down next to the little girl.
“What are you doing?” Zaid asked her. “She might need medical attention,” he told her. “We can get someone here to take care of her.”
“It’s okay,” she told the girl while Zaid tried to talk her out of helping. “I’m here to help. You don’t listen to him, okay. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with you,” she told the little girl in Arabic.
She looked back up at Zaid. “It’s just a scrape. If we clean it off really well and put a bandage on it, she’ll be fine.”
She turned her attention back to the girl and pulled some antiseptic spray out of her bag. “This is going to be cold, okay? But once that wears off, it won’t hurt anymore.” She sprayed a light layer over the girl’s knee and gently placed a bandage over it. She ran a hand through the girl’s dirty, matted dark hair before helping her to stand up. “Feel better?”
The girl nodded solemnly.
“Then, go. But be careful.” She watched as the little girl tested her legs before running off down the street.
“Your Arabic is better than the last time we were together,” Zaid told her.
“I wanted Calum to know it, so I kept my language classes up.”
“So, he speaks Arabic?”
Nodding her head yes. “He’s learning. There’s a mosque not too far away and the Imam’s wife has been giving him lessons along with their sons.”
They continued walking in silence. Rebecca watched him look at everything. His face seemed pensive and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. His father had come under the watchful eye of more than one human rights organization for the lengthy list of complaints from the migrant workers who both lived and worked in Sharjah. When she was asked to come on this tour, she had made sure to study all the files she could access. She had been shocked to find how rampant it was in such a small area. It was as if their poverty supported all of the other wealth in the Emirate.
“One of the problems I wanted to bring up is the water in Timina,” she said.
Zaid stopped walking and looked at her. “How is it that you know more about what’s wrong in Sharjah than I do?” he asked her. There was no humor in his voice. He was truly concerned with how out of touch he’d become.
“It’s my job, Zaid. I study places like these and help people in power figure out how to fix it so that it doesn’t become a political problem. You know, I help you avoid the torches and pitchforks.”
Zaid grimaced as he took in the sewage in the gutter on the other side of the street. “What about the water?”
“You should have received a copy of the water sanitation report from the UN Water Program. The scientists that came through here two years ago reported broken pipes and unsafe levels of toxins in the drinking supply.” She was about to continue but a cloud passed over his face as he turned to her.
“First, I need to find out why Timina is crumbling while the rest of the Emirate is growing and progressing.” She could tell by his tone that he was angry and she was glad it wasn’t directed at her.
“What about the water? Some of your poorest Emiratis don’t have safe drinking water. What are you going to do about it?” she asked insistently.
“I will need to get a copy of that report and have someone look into it. In the meantime, we can bring in water trucks. Since this is not something that we can resolve overnight, we will have to look into temporary solutions until more permanent ones can be found.”