25 October 2020

Portraits of a Souk Vendor

Arman.
Fuji Velvia 100, Nikon F100

I met Arman almost a year ago, while photographing the souks near the Creek. Near the abra station, where tourists flock to cross the water, a small textile shop sat squished between the dock and the road. Arman, like all souk vendors, greeted me and offered me a handshake. Naïve, I accepted, and he pulled me into his store with a strong grip. He began placing a ‘ghutra’, the traditional Arab headdress, on my head, attempting to sell it to me. I declined, but I asked if I could make his portrait. He agreed, I made the shot, and I never thought of it again.


Bastakiyah.
Tri-X 400, Leica IIIf

Last month, I saw him again at the same spot. Surprised, I walked up to him and said ‘hi’. At first, he tried to ignore me as he was preparing his shop for opening, but upon remembering me he dropped his façade and genuinely greeted me. I showed him the portrait I had made months ago, and he was pleased. He asked me if I could return later once his shop was open and he was less busy.

While I did not return that day, I visited him a week later and asked if I could document a day in his life, to which he readily agreed.

I learnt so much in a few hours. Arman moved to Dubai in 2012, and he has worked in the same store since he arrived. Coming from Afghanistan he had no English knowledge, so he used his co-workers and customers to slowly build his understanding. From what he told me, I made out that he was sending money back to his family.

‘All I do is for Allah and my family.’


Creekside.


The souk has hundreds, if not thousands, of similar shops selling ghutras, pashminas, and scarves from different materials. Most of the time, these shops are adjacent, making it fairly difficult to sell. ‘Sometimes to sell you have to lie’ was one of the first things he told me about his job. ‘It’s [a] very competitive [job].’

Examples of his strategies to get the sale includes the classic line ‘you’re my first customer’ to early-morning tourists. When I asked him about his other tactics to attract customers, he told me that he attempts to relate to them. His most typical way is by speaking in their language.

‘You know [where they’re from] from their faces, their hands, their shoulders.’



Persuasion.


Most of the afternoon consisted of him calling out to tourists and wrapping fabrics around their heads and shoulders attempting to draw them to his store. It mostly ended with aggravated responses and no sales. He told me their reactions do not affect him. Economically, the largest issue Arman and his peers face is the lack of tourists, so taking his chances with the available ones is the best one can do, even if it leads to negative responses.

 

Waiting.
 
 

 



            As the sun set behind the squatting buildings, where Arman shares quarters with thirty other residents, the call for prayer sounded. He invited me to his mosque to see the prayer, which was a first for me. He explained:


            ‘It’s like a church. We welcome everyone!’



Prayers.

The experience, as a whole, was brand new to me. Seeing the other side of this man’s life was eye-opening, and not one the average Dubai tourist would experience outside of the beach, the mall, and the skyscrapers.


Heading back for chai.


This is a write-up from December 2019, made for my submission to the '400Tx Project' competition 'PROOF Vol. 1' which was, sadly, not accepted. Check them out on Instagram: @400txproject !