My family is lucky to live in the UAE, says radio broadcaster, blogger and mum of two, Helen Farmer
When I moved to Dubai more than 14 years ago I did so in my early 20s, and these were my priorities: finding a great (read: fun) job, living somewhere with a pool and travelling as much as possible. What I definitely wasn’t thinking about was raising children thousands of miles away from my family, but here we are!
Fast forward to today, and these are my priorities; having happy, healthy kids, living near the beach and getting to bed before 10pm as often as possible.
My own parents lived in the UAE in the 1970s, first in the capital, then Dubai, before moving to Japan, then back to the UK where I was born. After turbulent teenage years growing up between Belfast and Thailand, mum wanted some stability for her own kids, so we were raised in a little English village, with friends we had known since birth. And there’s a lot to be said for that – shops where everyone knows your name, a postman, lunch with grandparents, small class sizes and a sense of belonging.
Sometimes I wish that for my own girls, who are now 4 and 6. But honestly speaking, they get so much out of family life here in Dubai, and I hope one day they’ll look back and know how lucky they are: to be in a country where they’re safe, where we have the help at home to support their working mum, to have friends from literally all over the world, to travel, to swim almost every day, learning different languages (their Arabic is better than mine) and be truly global citizens.
It’s a cliché to call Dubai a melting pot, but it’s one for good reason. There are 11 different nationalities in my daughter’s class – she’s surrounded by food from all over the world via her classmates’ lunch boxes. I’d never eaten paratha, sushi or hummus until my 20s, but our kids have access to these foods and more, sampling flavours, spices and cooking techniques that would have chefs back home scratching their heads, reaching for Google.
Now more than ever, I’m grateful to be bringing up my children here – the sense of community I feared they’d never have has been fostered through school and after-school activities. In one weekend they can paddle board, go to the theatre, see sloths in a biodome and eat lasagna made from their best-friend’s great-nonna’s recipe.
Technology helps a lot (teaching the grannies how to Zoom was a serious exercise in patience but well worth it) and I’m under no illusions that we have it a lot easier than my mum did in 1977. But to know that we’re raising kids who, from an early age, have had their eyes opened to children from different countries, cultures and traditions, makes that long flight and missing family worth it.
One day it will be time to go ‘home’ but I’m in no hurry – and this feels like home now. It’s certainly the only home the girls have ever known. And that makes them very lucky indeed.
