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Pronounced Bah'boo.
When I was in the UAE, I was running a certain Department. Yes, I was a Mudir! I had another colleague, and between the two of us we ran the show.

They gave us a secretary. Lets call her Ms N (I was going to call her Ms Moneypenny, having just watched Skyfall, the new Bond movie).

Ms N was a Local and a VIP, and married to one as well. She was very well behaved and well spoken. She was always extremely well groomed, and smelled like a bouqet of flowers. The only problem was, her spelling was atrocious. The torture started after you had dictated a letter or a report to her.

She was given a big and beautiful office, and her own personal Nathoor, her odd job man. He was an Indian by the name of Baboo, and he kept her office spotlessly clean and made the coffee and carried her stuff like her bag, or coat, or papers and files, following a respectful distance behind her.
He even brought her gleaming Mercedes 500 to the front of the building, AC running, so she could get in the car in comfort, without being touched by the heat of the Dubai weather.

I often came across him on his bicycle, sweat pouring on some errand or other for Ms N.

The usual sequence of events after you had dictated a report to Ms N was that Baboo would follow you around throughout the day back and forth in the building trying to get you to correct the mistakes in the final draft, of which there were many.
Even if you were doing something important, or were in a meeting, someone would come to tell you that Baboo was waiting outside!
My other colleague and myself were at our wits' end.

Then suddenly, the reports started to be written perfectly. No more spelling mistakes, no more sentences that didn't make any sense! No more gibberish to correct!

It was a miracle, and I started believing in God once again.

However, it came to pass that Baboo had volunteered to write the reports, and Ms N had agreed. Just between the two of us sort of thing. Ms N could now get on with her other important jobs like being on her diamond encrusted cell phone for hours.

Ms N had also asked Baboo to clock into work on her behalf and so she could come late to work. And leave early.

Baboo had a Masters in English. He had accepted this AED800/ job because of economic pressures. He had lived in the UAE for 10 years. He saved and scrimped and sent money back home to his wife and children and his parents.

Since the place that we worked at was Government, as part of the Emiratization plan most of the Administration was in the hands of the locals. So there were about 6 directors (in my opinion only 2 would have been enough, but anyway). One of the Directors, lets call him Ahmed, was newly inducted and enthusiastic. He was always in his starched white kandoura, smelled of roses, and was very well-groomed. He looked like a nice enough person.
One day, when it was only Ahmed on duty in the building, he laid a trap for Baboo and caught him clocking in for Ms N! Aha! Caught you!

And Baboo, poor guy, was terminated.

I saw Baboo the next morning. He was not in his usual khaki uniform, his usual soulful large black sad eyes were puffed and red. He had been crying all night.

He was soon gone out of our lives. But I have never been able to forget.

Always happy and laughing Ms N got another Indian Nathoor. Our spelling torture started once again. Life went on as usual.

After so many years, I still wonder whose fault was it? Baboo's? Could he have disobeyed Ms N? Shouldn't Ms N have stood up for him? But that would have meant denying Ahmed his scalp for the day that he was looking for. Or Ahmed's?
Maybe some chicken Biryani left overs would have put a smile on Baboo's face and made everybody feel a little bit better.

I thought you didn't like Indians?

And you would be dead wrong there......

What changed?

What do you mean what changed??? Nothing has changed! I am not a racist like you. That's something hard for you to understand.
I am sure you are going to bring up MCL now. Your one and only trump card.

You aren't racist? You don't like Arabs, you don't like Indians, you're not over keen on white women? The list goes on.

I dont know what you are talking about. That sounds a bit ridiculous what you are syaing. Anyways, I am not really interested in what you are going to say further. There is nothing else for us to discuss

Whatever you say master.