There is no sentence or string of words that can adequately describe the wonders in the desert of the United Arab Emirates. I have picked up the awful habit of calling it Dubai even though I was going to Sharjah, it was the easier thing to just call it Dubai or in Kinyarwanda “idubayi”. I just can’t sleep on planes, firstly my back seizes up and twists into a knot, and no matter how many times I fly I can never get used to the sensation. I tell myself that “This is a 767, prized for its safety and comfort backed up with twin booster turbine engines, the plane can even fly on one, or even glide to the nearest airport.” So I wretch on take-off and just as I am controlling my nausea they serve airline food, never mind that it ain’t tasty they spare your taste-buds by serving extra small portions that can barely fill your mouth, even anorexics complained they had nothing to through up, or was it bulimics?
The airport is like off Star-Trek, we docked at 0100hrs and the enormity struck us, we got on a bus and drove like 10 minutes to get to the terminal. When we got there it was obvious what a hub Dubai is, there were around 50 lines of travellers waiting to get through immigration. The natives of UAE were the most ungracious hosts at first glance; they grunted and groaned their orders as we were kraaled into manageable lines. I wondered what they were called, Emiraters, Emirian, Emirese, Emirants? I later found out they were called Emirati; they make up 17-20% of the population and lord it over their minions from the Indian subcontinent. The people there were every race on Earth, all races, proverbial colours, I was just waiting for Cardassians, Ferenghi and Klingons but they were on the next plane. The heat is inexplicable, at first I was in the temperature-controlled bubble of the terminal; they grunted that I should go down to do an eye-scan. I drifted through the process until I got into the car park when a gust of dry heat blasted my face. No wonder the Arabs waited for the invention of aircon before they set out to conquer the world.
Back into the bubble and the air-conned taxi, if wondered if it was as hot as I just felt? Or it was a trick of the mind, the taxi raced to Sharjah via a concrete jungle as there wasn’t a gap between the twin-cities. The hotel didn’t get my reservation, and their computer system was down and I didn’t get to bed till around 4 – 5AM. When I awoke from my staggered slumber as the aircon hummed and shuddered, I had to drink around 4 cans of soda as I was dehydrated as a husk. I stepped out and felt the blast again, up my nose, in my ears, my throat, my eyes and into my brain. I lost my bearings in the cacophony of sights and sounds; I say that because UAE is loud, both visually and sonically. I am an avid fan of architecture I have watched the Dubai-Sharjah miracle from afar as the scale is astounding. I partly went to see what I had referred to as “Architectural Porn” by “Porn” I mean the shameless exploitative exposure of a given subject.
I remember the Marks & Spencer advert which had “Food Porn” as the food was draped in sexual metaphors, as chocolate cream dripped down lusciously down a banana éclair. The same applies to Dubai, the big oil money, with little taste; you haven’t seen a building boom till you go to the Emirates, miles upon miles of impressive buildings. I had to say I was instantly disappointed by the porn on sight, I had dreamed of great architecture but found none, I realised that London is beautiful, Vienna is beautiful, Manhattan is amazing, as is Rome, Berlin, Rio, Calcutta, Angkor, Cape Town, St. Petersburg but the Dubai–Sharjah complex is a Lego-city. Endless staccato blocks stifled in narrow gridlines with little regard for form and place.
There are subtle rules of architecture - utility, durability and aesthetic beauty are the oldest but modern rules are about the “relation to space” both internal and external, it is here where you realise the root cause of the banality of design. The best architecture conquers physical limitations and blends in with its given environment; it expresses cultural thought and challenges traditions. The space is flat and clear with no obstacles in the way hence the need to conquer scale, do it and do it big! Sharjah is an overgrown dormitory town that has grown from the Dubai population overspill. The blocks are Soviet-lite concrete monstrosities with little grace. The space is a desert that is why the heat is jarring, if I was standing on a sand-dune then it would make sense but standing in an urban metropolis confuses you. The squares were filled with tasteless monuments with literal metaphors that slap you in the face. A globe and a hand with sword thrusting; I wondered what that meant.
I asked the concierge where to go and there was one reply “MEGA-MALL!” At least I knew what I was getting; post-modernity with shake and fries. I was ushered into a taxi and without consultation the Porter sent the taxi to the mall, the few seconds I stood in the sun were excruciating and I was truly happy to enter the mall, the cool air descended. I could have been anywhere, a mall is a mall is a mall; I had been plunged back into the modern world I had missed in Rwanda. It is one thing to be immersed constantly in Post-modernity but you can miss it and some of its original charm returns. I needed something familiar, something chickeny, something Kentuckyish, there was only one place to go, yup Burger King. So my KFC went down well, now I was too lazy to window shop. I walked aimlessly around the mall with all the familiar shops that were the same but with a twist, everything had glitter on it.
The British have an avid aversion to all that glitters; they coined “Bling” as an insult, but the Arabs love the glitter, gold, and tinsel of bling. Bling here is an ideology, a paradigm, an ethos; you see the new money, new buildings, new everything. It hit me that it was Vegas without the glamour, gambling, and sex. Like a naked man just wants clothes without even seeing whether they match, buildings are just covering the naked landscape, and nothing appears older than 10 or 20 years old. Occasionally you see an old mosque that pops up anachronistically like a sore thumb. I might have picked the disease of British reserve and I was disgusted but respectful much like when you see a fat kid eating 53 pies in 3 minutes at an eating competition. I respect them for building all that but I asked why, why and why again.
Dubai is a city that is designed to be seen by car; I walked to try and see it by foot and was on the verge of a stroke after 30 minutes. I sat in a taxi as I took the design slide- show with buildings that are designed to be seen fleetingly, on closer inspection they vary in inspiration and true beauty. It is like Miss World; at first you a blinded that they all look hot but an hour later “Miss Norway’s eyes are too close together plus she’s too blonde, Miss Burma looks creepy and what’s with Miss Sao Tome and Principe?” Back to the mall and a bucket of Seven-up, the Majority were Modernists. One myth is that American-style consumerism is incompatible with dictatorship but UAE and China bucks this myth.
I tried to maintain decorum while laughing at a woman trying to eat her KFC while her veil was over her face, it was like a cruel game, her husband was equally amused but steadfast in his belief that the veil was necessary to maintain modesty. The Emirati are like a shadowy presence maintaining a sinister presence in all government institutions, they exude a level of disdain that informs you of their status. The rest are seemingly Indian or Pakistani with the odd Philipino thrown in, imported wholesale from the indo-Gangetic plains and far-flung islands. They were so at home I was addressed in Tamil several times; they thought my dark skin meant I was one of them. Usually pointing at something with the price was all the customer service I needed, 100, 250, 600. Numbers are all you need; even writing down the number was enough.
Leaving to go back to the hotel I caught a taxi and gave him the card with directions, I then realised he was illiterate, well not literate in English or even Greco-Roman letters. Before I could look down on him I realised he read Sanskrit and Hindu text, he led me on a merry-go-round tour of the city with added entertainment free. Before we left he took it on himself to offer advice, he saw an obese, hairy, chain smoking lout on the street, he shouted at him, something like “You fat bastard, lose some weight!” I was sure he knew him but he assured me he didn’t. “See? Is stupid man! Is fat is stupid, is big problem. No good, you see?” I agreed it wasn’t healthy but I didn’t see the need to chastise him. The gregarious Bear of a taxi-man swerved and swung around the chicanes and lights and lanes. Cost me twice as much as he swore he knew the Square but wound up at the wrong place.
As you drive into the industrial areas of Sharjah, you can see the old city that is buried under all the Perspex; dusty windy outposts that betray the fact that this is a sprawling desert. As ever the heat pummels your head; I went to visit various yards dealing in heavy machinery, each stop was like landing in an oasis where I was offered cold water and cool aircon. The way back was in a packed bus with a mass of Indians and Pakistanis, the ram-packed nature of the bus cut out the aircon and we were stifled. The front of the bus is always reserved for women; women are such a rarity in UAE where there are 2.7 men for every woman, this is due to the high migrant-worker population. The few remaining women are firmly ensconced at home, only intrepid Philipina and daring Indian women venture out and when they do they get the plum seat upfront, sometimes a man is unceremonious bundled off the bus for the comfort of a lady.
Surfing the web is a precarious pursuit, it is one of the IT hubs but the web is so slow, this is due to the filtering and blocking of sites, when one ventures off the beaten path you get a sign saying “This site is not compatible with the religious, cultural and Political views of UAE.” That said, you see how it is at a crossroads of Western and Arabic culture, women on TV are dressed a friskily as ladette slappers out on the town, made-up to excess like drag-queens, teenage girls giggle round the mall. You just wonder where this place is headed, after all we Africans aspire to this. Rapid development is good but you see that social and cultural development should go hand in hand. Right now the Arabs of UAE can buy anything, even art and culture, Abu Dhabi has bought into the Louvre and displays all the finest paintings of Western antiquity but without understanding or processing their deep meanings, it doesn’t challenge their thinking but they are just objects that rich men should have. That sums up UAE it is like the MTV cribs of a country, even a rapper with too much money would find it tasteless. I think in due time they will develop a subtlety and modesty more compatible with Islamic culture but for now any man talking sense is drowned out by the loud sound of “Bling, bling, bling!”
The airport is like off Star-Trek, we docked at 0100hrs and the enormity struck us, we got on a bus and drove like 10 minutes to get to the terminal. When we got there it was obvious what a hub Dubai is, there were around 50 lines of travellers waiting to get through immigration. The natives of UAE were the most ungracious hosts at first glance; they grunted and groaned their orders as we were kraaled into manageable lines. I wondered what they were called, Emiraters, Emirian, Emirese, Emirants? I later found out they were called Emirati; they make up 17-20% of the population and lord it over their minions from the Indian subcontinent. The people there were every race on Earth, all races, proverbial colours, I was just waiting for Cardassians, Ferenghi and Klingons but they were on the next plane. The heat is inexplicable, at first I was in the temperature-controlled bubble of the terminal; they grunted that I should go down to do an eye-scan. I drifted through the process until I got into the car park when a gust of dry heat blasted my face. No wonder the Arabs waited for the invention of aircon before they set out to conquer the world.
Back into the bubble and the air-conned taxi, if wondered if it was as hot as I just felt? Or it was a trick of the mind, the taxi raced to Sharjah via a concrete jungle as there wasn’t a gap between the twin-cities. The hotel didn’t get my reservation, and their computer system was down and I didn’t get to bed till around 4 – 5AM. When I awoke from my staggered slumber as the aircon hummed and shuddered, I had to drink around 4 cans of soda as I was dehydrated as a husk. I stepped out and felt the blast again, up my nose, in my ears, my throat, my eyes and into my brain. I lost my bearings in the cacophony of sights and sounds; I say that because UAE is loud, both visually and sonically. I am an avid fan of architecture I have watched the Dubai-Sharjah miracle from afar as the scale is astounding. I partly went to see what I had referred to as “Architectural Porn” by “Porn” I mean the shameless exploitative exposure of a given subject.
I remember the Marks & Spencer advert which had “Food Porn” as the food was draped in sexual metaphors, as chocolate cream dripped down lusciously down a banana éclair. The same applies to Dubai, the big oil money, with little taste; you haven’t seen a building boom till you go to the Emirates, miles upon miles of impressive buildings. I had to say I was instantly disappointed by the porn on sight, I had dreamed of great architecture but found none, I realised that London is beautiful, Vienna is beautiful, Manhattan is amazing, as is Rome, Berlin, Rio, Calcutta, Angkor, Cape Town, St. Petersburg but the Dubai–Sharjah complex is a Lego-city. Endless staccato blocks stifled in narrow gridlines with little regard for form and place.
There are subtle rules of architecture - utility, durability and aesthetic beauty are the oldest but modern rules are about the “relation to space” both internal and external, it is here where you realise the root cause of the banality of design. The best architecture conquers physical limitations and blends in with its given environment; it expresses cultural thought and challenges traditions. The space is flat and clear with no obstacles in the way hence the need to conquer scale, do it and do it big! Sharjah is an overgrown dormitory town that has grown from the Dubai population overspill. The blocks are Soviet-lite concrete monstrosities with little grace. The space is a desert that is why the heat is jarring, if I was standing on a sand-dune then it would make sense but standing in an urban metropolis confuses you. The squares were filled with tasteless monuments with literal metaphors that slap you in the face. A globe and a hand with sword thrusting; I wondered what that meant.
I asked the concierge where to go and there was one reply “MEGA-MALL!” At least I knew what I was getting; post-modernity with shake and fries. I was ushered into a taxi and without consultation the Porter sent the taxi to the mall, the few seconds I stood in the sun were excruciating and I was truly happy to enter the mall, the cool air descended. I could have been anywhere, a mall is a mall is a mall; I had been plunged back into the modern world I had missed in Rwanda. It is one thing to be immersed constantly in Post-modernity but you can miss it and some of its original charm returns. I needed something familiar, something chickeny, something Kentuckyish, there was only one place to go, yup Burger King. So my KFC went down well, now I was too lazy to window shop. I walked aimlessly around the mall with all the familiar shops that were the same but with a twist, everything had glitter on it.
The British have an avid aversion to all that glitters; they coined “Bling” as an insult, but the Arabs love the glitter, gold, and tinsel of bling. Bling here is an ideology, a paradigm, an ethos; you see the new money, new buildings, new everything. It hit me that it was Vegas without the glamour, gambling, and sex. Like a naked man just wants clothes without even seeing whether they match, buildings are just covering the naked landscape, and nothing appears older than 10 or 20 years old. Occasionally you see an old mosque that pops up anachronistically like a sore thumb. I might have picked the disease of British reserve and I was disgusted but respectful much like when you see a fat kid eating 53 pies in 3 minutes at an eating competition. I respect them for building all that but I asked why, why and why again.
Dubai is a city that is designed to be seen by car; I walked to try and see it by foot and was on the verge of a stroke after 30 minutes. I sat in a taxi as I took the design slide- show with buildings that are designed to be seen fleetingly, on closer inspection they vary in inspiration and true beauty. It is like Miss World; at first you a blinded that they all look hot but an hour later “Miss Norway’s eyes are too close together plus she’s too blonde, Miss Burma looks creepy and what’s with Miss Sao Tome and Principe?” Back to the mall and a bucket of Seven-up, the Majority were Modernists. One myth is that American-style consumerism is incompatible with dictatorship but UAE and China bucks this myth.
I tried to maintain decorum while laughing at a woman trying to eat her KFC while her veil was over her face, it was like a cruel game, her husband was equally amused but steadfast in his belief that the veil was necessary to maintain modesty. The Emirati are like a shadowy presence maintaining a sinister presence in all government institutions, they exude a level of disdain that informs you of their status. The rest are seemingly Indian or Pakistani with the odd Philipino thrown in, imported wholesale from the indo-Gangetic plains and far-flung islands. They were so at home I was addressed in Tamil several times; they thought my dark skin meant I was one of them. Usually pointing at something with the price was all the customer service I needed, 100, 250, 600. Numbers are all you need; even writing down the number was enough.
Leaving to go back to the hotel I caught a taxi and gave him the card with directions, I then realised he was illiterate, well not literate in English or even Greco-Roman letters. Before I could look down on him I realised he read Sanskrit and Hindu text, he led me on a merry-go-round tour of the city with added entertainment free. Before we left he took it on himself to offer advice, he saw an obese, hairy, chain smoking lout on the street, he shouted at him, something like “You fat bastard, lose some weight!” I was sure he knew him but he assured me he didn’t. “See? Is stupid man! Is fat is stupid, is big problem. No good, you see?” I agreed it wasn’t healthy but I didn’t see the need to chastise him. The gregarious Bear of a taxi-man swerved and swung around the chicanes and lights and lanes. Cost me twice as much as he swore he knew the Square but wound up at the wrong place.
As you drive into the industrial areas of Sharjah, you can see the old city that is buried under all the Perspex; dusty windy outposts that betray the fact that this is a sprawling desert. As ever the heat pummels your head; I went to visit various yards dealing in heavy machinery, each stop was like landing in an oasis where I was offered cold water and cool aircon. The way back was in a packed bus with a mass of Indians and Pakistanis, the ram-packed nature of the bus cut out the aircon and we were stifled. The front of the bus is always reserved for women; women are such a rarity in UAE where there are 2.7 men for every woman, this is due to the high migrant-worker population. The few remaining women are firmly ensconced at home, only intrepid Philipina and daring Indian women venture out and when they do they get the plum seat upfront, sometimes a man is unceremonious bundled off the bus for the comfort of a lady.
Surfing the web is a precarious pursuit, it is one of the IT hubs but the web is so slow, this is due to the filtering and blocking of sites, when one ventures off the beaten path you get a sign saying “This site is not compatible with the religious, cultural and Political views of UAE.” That said, you see how it is at a crossroads of Western and Arabic culture, women on TV are dressed a friskily as ladette slappers out on the town, made-up to excess like drag-queens, teenage girls giggle round the mall. You just wonder where this place is headed, after all we Africans aspire to this. Rapid development is good but you see that social and cultural development should go hand in hand. Right now the Arabs of UAE can buy anything, even art and culture, Abu Dhabi has bought into the Louvre and displays all the finest paintings of Western antiquity but without understanding or processing their deep meanings, it doesn’t challenge their thinking but they are just objects that rich men should have. That sums up UAE it is like the MTV cribs of a country, even a rapper with too much money would find it tasteless. I think in due time they will develop a subtlety and modesty more compatible with Islamic culture but for now any man talking sense is drowned out by the loud sound of “Bling, bling, bling!”
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