Abu Dhabi

WHAT’S IT LIKE AS A GERMAN CHILD GROWING UP IN ARABIA? A VISIT WITH THE RIEDEL FAMILY IN ABU DHABI

The sidewalks are lined with men sitting around wearing ankle-length, white garments. Traffic clogs the multi-lane streets that are bordered with bizarre skyscrapers embellished with arabesques, interspersed with older buildings, stately palaces and mosques. “That’s where Sheikh Zayed, the father of the nation, is buried,” says Kristina Riedel, pointing through the windshield to an enormous mosque that can hold up to 40,000 worshippers. It also contains the world's largest Persian carpet, which is as big as a soccer field. And hanging from the ceiling is the world’s largest chandelier: 18 meters in diameter. Abu Dhabi, the city of superlatives, capital of the United Arab Emirates, whose boom is owed to its gigantic oil resources—a city that attracts hundreds of thousands of foreigners: 80 percent of the city’s inhabitants are expatriates, primarily low-wage workers from India, as well as specialists from the four corners of the earth, who also often bring their families with them.

A MULTICULTURAL LIFE
Sitting in the back of the air-conditioned SUV are Jasmin, 14, and Nicole, 11, the Riedel’s two daughters. The children have lived their entire lives in this Gulf region. “Abu Dhabi is my home,” explains Jasmin. Of course she misses her grandparents, who live in the German city of Dortmund. “And busses that are frequent and on time, so that I can go out now and again without my mother.” In Abu Dhabi there is no public transport. And otherwise? “In Germany there are only Germans,” says Jasmin. “Here, I know people from all over the world.” Kristina, Jasmin’s mother, adds while driving:“We don’t want to return to Germany.We enjoy the multicultural life here.” When the Riedels throw a party, the house is filled with people of ten different nationalities, continues Kristina. “Alone the culinary side of things is great fun. Everybody brings something. My contribution is cheesecake and sauerkraut." And what are the expats from other countries like? “The Lebanese are generally never on time, but very warm to children,” says Kristina Riedel, laughing. “The English always make light of everything. The Emirati children sleep in the afternoon for three hours and stay up until midnight.” Perhaps the reason why people get together so often privately is that the range of public offerings is on the weak side: no theater and no opera, no youth centers, libraries or sports clubs run by volunteers. The commercial recreational facilities are also widely scattered. Kristina Riedel drives an average of 150 kilometers a day.

But that doesn’t seem to bother her. “We have a different problem: the nonstop search for a place to live,” she says. Living space is in short supply and expensive. The Riedels have had to move six times in the last 17 years, and their current landlord now wants to raise the rent again, this time 40 percent. “In the meantime, the rents are higher here than in Paris: three to four thousand euros monthly. Even those who are prepared to pay that much have trouble finding an apartment.” This explains why many expats live in hotels for months at a time.

THE MALL IS THE MEETING PLACE
The Riedels currently live in a semi-detached house in the suburb Khalifa City. Before they moved here, the family lived in an apartment in the center of town. Jasmin loved that, especially since the Al Wahda Shopping Mall was just a few steps away, one of several luxurious shopping centers in the Emirates that have begun to displace the traditional bazaars. Jasmin spends almost every Saturday here. “Last weekend, Jeanine, who is from Lebanon, came with me, as well as Zeid from Jordan, Lucy from England, Hamdan from the Emirates and Grace from South Africa,” the 14-year-old says ecitedly. Hour after hour, the teenagers stroll through the fully air-conditioned shopping paradise with its escalators, dazzling arcades, restaurants, cafés and boutiques, all spread out on three levels. From time to time the group of friends relaxes in a café with a cup of hot chocolate or a frappuccino and “we sometimes also take in a movie.” The names of the stores are also in Arabic lettering. Is Jasmin fluent in Arabic? “We have a one hour lesson every week. I can read and write it, but I can’t speak it very well.”

APPOINTMENTS, APPOINTMENTS
Kristina pulls up to the school with her car, and the girls get out, immediately switching to English as they greet their friends. At the international school where the Riedel girls are enrolled the annual fee per student is around 8,000 euros; most of the teachers are British. Today is Sunday, and after their school day Jasmin has orchestra rehearsal, followed by trampoline training; Nicole has swimming and tennis lessons. On other days, there’s volleyball, a traineeship in an animal shelter and figure skating. Ice skating? “That’s right!” says Kristina Riedel, as she turns into the driveway of her house in Khalifa City. “There’s an ice skating rink in Abu Dhabi that Nicole loves. She goes there three times a week to train.” And Nicole’s mother has to drive her every time, 15 kilometers each way. A bit extravagant, even though a liter of gas costs only around 25 cents; Kristina Riedel has become a kind of transport company, allowing her husband to focus on his work. He typically spends twelve hours a day at the power plant.

Jürgen Riedel studied electrical engineering in his hometown of Dortmund. After completing his studies, he applied for a job with the Babcock Group in Oberhausen, which was, at the time, looking for electrical engineers to work in Abu Dhabi. That was in 1991. One year later, his girlfriend Kristina followed him there. They married, and have been there ever since. “I was tempted by the prospects for promotion,” says Riedel.

CHATTING WITH 20 FRIENDS
Jürgen Riedel specialized in maintenance services and today works for Bilfinger Berger Power Services. For three years now he has been responsible for the smooth operation of the Al Taweelah B power plant. Every day, a huge amount of seawater, around 640,000 cubic meters, is turned into drinking water and electricity is generated with steam and gas turbines: 2,000 megawatts, enough for a medium-sized German city. Jürgen Riedel usually comes home at around 8 p.m. By then, the family has already eaten, and Nicole, who wants to one day become a veterinarian, plays with the cat O’Melley and the rabbits. Jasmin is at the computer, chatting online. This is the only way to stay in touch with friends. During the week it’s almost impossible to meet up with her girlfriends after school given the great distances between where they all live. That’s why Jasmin is allowed to spend around two hours every evening on the Internet. And why doesn’t she just call her friends on the phone? “Making calls only involves two people, but we’re a group of five, sometimes 10, 20, even 30 friends!”

BEACHES ARE MOSTLY PRIVATE
In an adjacent room between a home trainer, tabletop soccer game and a kid’s bicycle that’s never used because the distances are simply too great, Kristina Riedel is standing by a shelf and sorting photos into an album: Mama with Nicole in a small motorboat, Mama with Jasmin on the beach, Papa on water skis. “Up until a few years ago, we spent a lot of time at this beach,” she relates. Now the seven-star Emirates Palace Hotel is located there and the beach has been privatized— as they are throughout Abu Dhabi. The Riedels are only allowed to swim there after paying a high admission fee.

FINALLY, THE WEEKEND
After two hours, Jasmin shuts down the computer and climbs the stairs to her room, which looks like the room of any 14-year-old girl: a bunk bed, bookcases, desk, mirror, makeup, jewelry and two bottles of perfume. After her online chatting, she devotes herself to her second passion: “I love books.” German or English, it makes no difference. She reads everything that she can get her hands on. Normally, it's lights out at nine-thirty. But today she’s allowed to read a bit longer since tomorrow is Friday, the weekend. The whole family intends to drive to the desert; Jasmin’s English friend Amelia is coming along. “We usually switch on the four-wheel drive, let some air out of the tires and drive over the dunes,” enthuses Kristina. “Sometimes we hang a sled onto the back of the car and streak across the sand,” adds Nicole.

THE DESERT IS ALIVE
On Friday morning, they’re off. They also have the compressor with them to fill the tires again for the trip home.While on the road, they stop at a camel farm: More than 100 animals are slowly sauntering across the sand course, when suddenly the 14-year-old Jasmin happily shouts: “How sweet, they all have babies. Look, the little one can hardly walk— and there, that baby is drinking from its mother.” The girls spend half an hour feeding the animals hay; then it’s time to get going again. The family wants to find a sheltered spot for the tent among the dunes before darkness falls.

“What about scorpions and camel spiders?” asks Amelia timidly while she lies on her back near Jasmin on a dune, while letting sand run through her toes.“Don’t worry, they only come out at night when we’re safe and sound in our tents.” It’s seven-thirty, and the sun disappears behind a dune; the tent is ready to be inhabited. “These are the special moments,” says Jürgen Riedel, smiling: “Evening in the desert, sitting around a fire and above our heads, an unbelievable starry sky.” This summer, the family will again take a trip to Germany and spend their vacation with their grandparents. What is Jasmin most looking forward to? The answer comes like a shot: “Rain!”

(Text: Uschi Entenmann, Photos: Uli Reinhardt)