Dubai: a desert’s paradise

“I have a dream. A dream of changing the face of the Arabian desert. Turning all that dry and unfruitful sand into fertile soil, green grass. Sculpting it into a paradise. Palms and fruit trees to prove its natural riches. A place for everyone, open to everyone. Somewhere the whole world can come together, work together. A wealthy place where money is no problem and everyone has the possibility to treat themselves to something nice. Yes, everyone deserves that. A place like that, that would be nice, don’t you agree?”

That must have been what Sheikh Rashid thought when he woke up a few decades ago, still a bit cranky because the bed bugs did bite, ready as ever for his morning tea. Ready as ever to make his dream come true: turning his dry and ruthless desert into a luxurious paradise. A contemporary Garden of Eden, the new Atlantis, what it he had in mind for it. This place of lux and lush was to be baptized: Dubai.

It’s a natural consequence of our capitalist society that dreams turn into reality faster if you have some money. And it just so happens that our dreamy Sheikh had money. A lot of it.

The kind of money that turns a desert into a worldly symbol of luxury and wealth in less than thirty years. The kind of money that constructs the tallest building in the world (Burj Khalifa), the biggest mall (the Dubai Mall), the biggest aquarium, the biggest indoor ski run, the biggest… to make a long sum short (maths was never my strongest suit): multiply everything already big by ten and you get to where the Sheikh’s money took Dubai!

Everything is oversized in Dubai. Super-sized even. The desert roads are paved with good intentions. Ambitions of uniting the world in its geographical midpoint, of connecting West and East, of wealth, economic growth and financial security for as many as possible. Ambitions of all things great and beautiful. But you know what they say: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”. Now, I don’t particularly believe in hell nor do I see the face of the devil appearing like a mirage in the Emirates’ heat, but I do wonder where all the splendor and luxury that rose from those good intentions will take us.

In the meters high buildings; in the extraordinary proportions of anything and everything in Dubai; in the clear blue water welling up in the middle of the dry desert; in the cha-ching-ing of the cash registers in the Mall; in the four lane highways where luxurious cars race, blowing up the sand of the desert that was once there, filling the air with what little remains of its origins, lies a very subtle type of modern-day slavery. Dubai’s glitter and glamour begs the question: how did all this glamour rise up as fast as mushrooms in autumn grass? How did the sand, as far as the eye can reach, turn into a skyline of skyscrapers? How does the dirham pass hands as fast as bacteria while this piece of land wasn’t worth a penny only a few decades ago? Thanks to money, yes, and lots and lots of manual labour.

Next to the skyscrapers, big cars, dancing fountains and Arabs in gorgeous, long white (the men) and black (the women) dresses what you see most in Dubai is: cranes, construction sites, yellow helmets, blue and dusty overalls and tucked in them: Pakistani workers, Philippine workers, Afghan workers, Bangladesh workers… workers workers workers. Working working working. Building building building. The hunger of the rich doesn’t stop and do you think it feeds the poor?!

One thing to do if you ever end up in Dubai: talk to your taxi driver! The – probably Pakistani – chauffeur will enthusiastically let you in on the details of his personal life. Well, the ones that can be spoken out in the light of day. He’ll tell you about his family in Pakistan. How he visits them once a year, for two months during summer. He’ll tell you about his son attending university, trying to get his degree as a software specialist. And his eyes will light up when he mentions his daughter who’s going to acting school, aspiring a career in theatre. Yes, he’ll proudly tell you about the future perspectives of his children. Perspectives that look much brighter than his own ever were and will be. He’ll also repay your interest in him and will kindly ask you where you are from. If the response to that question is Belgium, he’ll be happy to inform you your country makes high quality guns, the best ones for hunting. Ah, another reason to be overwhelmed with national pride! This Pakistani driver, this jolly chauffeur, this humble man is one of the many workers who make the money machine in Dubai turn, one of the many hands that have built and continue to build this city, one of the many faces hidden behind the glamorous appearance of Dubai. Behind the whole facade of luxury, wealth and carelessness is a machine of “men at work”. Constantly at work. Ceaselessly at work.

Many spiritual and economic leaders state it’s inevitable actions on one part of the world have an impact on other parts of our world. As a consequence, this law of influence leads to one part of the world getting richer, while another has to deal with increasing poverty. The scales always tip to one side when unequal weights are put on it. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out which side Dubai ends up on…

People often say history tends to repeat itself. Look at Dubai, it’s a story as new as it’s old. It recalls what happened in ancient Egypt or how the Romans built the great Colosseum. The buildings and installations in Dubai will go down in history as cutting edge creations, as man who pushed his limits so far as to make a piece of land rise up from the ocean (in the shape of a beautiful palm tree or a sinking(!) map of the world), so far as to turn a desert into a skyscraper and glass window paradise, so far as to make the dream of one man with heaps of money and luxurious aspirations come true. The crucial question remains: how long before the bubble bursts?

While the bubble is still strong and high in the sky, about 800m above our heads in the shape of the Burj Khalifa, I would recommend you to go to Dubai! This luxurious mirage in the desert works as an eye-opener in so many ways. That’s if you allow it to! The desert sand – the few grains of sand remaining – quickly gets under your skin. The sight of an Arabian sunrise and sunset creeping between the tall buildings, reflecting in the many glass windows, is really a sight to see. Observing the lux and lust of thousands of spectators visiting this city is a treat for the eye as much as for the analytic mind. The Disney-like attractions (the dancing fountains, the huge mall, the yachts and lights of the marina, the brand new beach) are something light in an often heavy world. The elegance of the Arabian women wrapped in their long, black dresses, shrouded in mystery, reveal a sense of beauty, of subtle erotica we’ve lost in the West. The variety of people walking the streets, the differences between the languages they speak, the shades of their skin colours are living proof of the wonderful taste of a melting pot! Its international character shows a hi-tech, hyper-modern world, but the exotic sounds of Arabian prayer and music, the smoke of the shishas take you back to the times of Thousand and One Nights.

You have to see it to believe it. That’s Dubai! I feel grateful I was able to pass through this place, to discover its beautiful paradoxes, to witness its reality. I realize I’m in a place in my life that allowed me to put the cruel beauty of a flower grown from a poor seed – a luxurious lifestyle grown from hard, hard labour – in the right context. With the right mindset, with an observing eye, this place becomes as beautiful and precious to the curious and open minded spectator as it’s harsh and poor. Life lessons can and will be learned in this wannabe-exotic-paradise with its glorification of the human vices.

The origins of this intriguing place lie in the infertile ground of the desert. Its DNA is the endless sight of its sandbanks. Its original character is as moody as the temperature swings between a desert day and night. A rowdy soul like this one can’t keep quiet for too long…

Through history the desert has always proven to be the best place for self-reflection and turning points in life. Every religious text refers to the ruthless climate of the desert as the best way to a merciful transformation of the self. Its rough nature obliges man to discover his limits, to get in touch with his inner self. The natural simplicity and poor essence of the Earth’s sandy landscapes help us truly see what we usually take for granted. The empty horizons, the ground lacking vegetation, the soil useless to any plant inevitably lead to appreciation, gratefulness and an increased feeling of sense in life. In Dubai the lights are just blinding you. The buildings block the sight. But here, in the middle of the desert, there’s more than meets the eye…