The first time was in a shared taxi in 1977 few months after I arrived in Dubai. I paid three Dirhams for the ride from Deira, Dubai.
What made you travel to Sharjah?
Ichanged my job four months after I arrived in Dubai. My previous job provided lodging and food. In my new job in a British bank, I had to fend for myself with my accommodation. I had friends working in Emirates Telecommunication Corporation (now Etisalat) in Sharjah who invited me to share accommodation with them. My first visit was to check their place out ahead of a likely move.
The first few things I noticed on the ride.
Seeing the bare, arid and sandy land partly merged into pools of water. It was a shallow lake along the no-man land between Dubai and Sharjah, a vast area.
Everybody raced on this desert patch. It was the local autobahn. It was free for all driving, with no speed limits and no police jurisdiction by either state of Dubai or Sharjah. I am glad I survived that ride in a taxi with no seat belts.
What did you notice in the streets of Sharjah?
The architecture was similar to that of Dubai. The desert and the landscape were also identical. The apartment buildings along Al Wahda Road were limited to four or five stories, spaced out.
Passing the Al Wahda Road was the Sharjah airport smack bang in the middle, opposite the modern-day Sharjah Zouk. One could see a few parked aeroplanes on its tarmac from a distance.
The roads were less busy compared to Dubai. There were parallel residential streets to the main roads. The main town centre was Rolla Square.
Describe your surroundings after moving to Sharjah
Myaccommodation was in the present-day Al Gharb, Al Ghuwair area. The entrance was through a sand road that had no street names. I was on the fourth floor of a 1970s building named Al Samshi, after its owner. It was basic and simple. I lived in boarding schools from age twelve to fifteen in Sri Lanka; adjusting to a new home was easy.
Out of the building, one had to navigate the sandy road to go anywhere. My black work shoes were permanently white with so much sand wherever I laid my feet. There was no point in polishing my shoes. The closest supermarket, Rochiram, was run by two friendly Indian brothers. I bought groceries and essentials from them.
Al Usman, a popular takeaway restaurant, served delicious shawarma sandwiches for two Dirhams a piece. They were exotic.
What about the wider area and neighbourhood?
The shared taxi stand was at Rolla Square, where one could hail a taxi to Dubai or Ajman. The fare to Dubai was three Dirhams in a shared cab, the Uber of the day. If you wished to head to Ajman, the neighbouring northern city-state, it was just one Dirham. Dirt cheap.
A row of hardware stores and basic eateries were run by Indian and Pakistani communities. In the mix were electronic shops that sold car stereos. They were popularly patronised by taxi drivers.
There were few shops along present-day Arabian Gulf Street selling music cassettes. I often hung around at these shops in the afternoons, browsing through collections of my favourite western pop stars. Every week, a few cassettes were added to my collection. That addiction is a story in itself.
What was the weekend like?
There was only one rest day, Friday. The mornings were for Islamic prayers when the whole city’s mosques became busy sites; everyone prayed wearing white caps.
Rolla square was the busiest venue, full of people, mostly construction workers enjoying their only day off after six days of hard work in the scorching sun. There were hardly any females among the crowd.
Many pavement hawkers sold their wares on makeshift racks and shelves along the streets. Many a bargain could be found there.
On Fridays, the eateries sold biryanis. Mutton biryanis from Pakistani restaurants were the best, gulped with a bottle of RC or Dixi Cola. Friday was a busy day for the restaurants, shops and their workers.
Describe something fascinating that blew your mind in Sharjah.
Onweekends in the middle of Rolla square were cameramen with polaroid cameras hanging on their necks. They set up makeshift backgrounds, a palace or jungle . The subjects had a choice to pose next to. Either a cut-out of Hema Malini, a beautiful Indian actress, or a life-like, feisty-looking artificial lion. If the poor subject felt romantic, they’d put their hands around the cut-out of the actress. If they felt manly enough, they’d pretend they were taming the wild lion with their bare hands. After the shoot, the polaroid shot would be ready within about five minutes for five Dirhams each. It was fabulous to watch them posing and their delight in seeing themselves in photos.
One of my friends took this saga to the next level of amusement. He was so mesmerised by the whole thing that he posed with a lion and got himself photographed. Imagine a British lad among the waiting Pathans for his turn to be photographed in the busy town square. It created furore and excitement at Rolla square. Eventually, he had an epic polaroid on his hands. He was immensely proud of that photo, showing it to his friends. Finally, he mailed it to his parents back home. I can imagine how amused his parents back in Britain felt seeing their brave son’s faux adventure with a wild lion in the desert city of Sharjah.
What did you do for leisure?
Some evenings, I walked to the Grand Flotel, a floating ship anchored on the southern part of Sharjah corniche. My friends Brian and Norbert worked on the ship and lived in its bunker. One could buy a beer for two Dirhams at the discounted staff rates. It was easy to gulp a beer or two at that bargain price with them.
Cinemas that showed English movies were rare in Sharjah. Grand Flotel had a small theatre where they showed English movies for five Dirhams per patron. I saw many a movie on the floating ship. Both Godfather I and Godfather II. I was so captivated by Marlon Brando’s and Al Panico’s acting that I watched each movie twice. The movies were masterpieces by the legendary director Francis Ford Coppola.
The neighbouring state city of Ajman had better beaches. I went for a swim and a stroll on that beach on some weekends. If I had extra money in my pocket, I went to the pool at Ajman Beach hotel instead.
Cyril Stanley A story of gratitude — Denzil recalls a friend who looked out for him in his budding years in Sri Lanka Denzil Jayasinghe 11 min read · Aug 27, 2022 1 Give us a bit of background on how you met Cyril. It was the seventies in the sleepy village of Dalugama , my ancestral hometown, some ten kilometres from Colombo. With their flared bell bottoms and Afro-style hair, it was easy to notice Cyril and his younger brother Edward. I’d bump into the duo in the neighbourhood as I walked home after a day at college. A casual hello greeting turned into a conversation and an evolving friendship with the duo at an age when making friends was effortless. However, it was Cyril who reached out to me first. What did the brothers look like? C yril was a younger version of Smokey Robinson and his brother, Edward, a junior Lionel Richie but darker. Both had curly hair, grown long, copying the Afro-American idols of the seventies. Smokey Robinson, Cyril Stan...
A Child of Curiosity How inherent inquisitiveness became a key driver in learning experiences. Denzil Jayasinghe · B orn in the mid-20th century, I am a product of the post-World War II era. My parents, who were teenagers when the war commenced, married in the 1950s. As a representative of the baby boomer generation, I was born under the astrological sign of Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac. My birth took place at Zoysa Nursing Home, a renowned institution in Colombo, Sri Lanka, around 5 in the morning. Sri Lanka, known for its tropical climate, is a beautiful island nation south of India. This climate appealed to me, and I sought similar weather in my twenties, spending them in Dubai, where the winter resembles an Australian summer. Raised by religious parents, I held them in deep affection. However, the church teachings posed a paradox for a young mind, instructing one to love God more than one’s parents. I initially adhered to the Ten Commandments and other societal norms in ...
20 quick-fire questions * If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be? Your life would not turn the way that you planned. It is OK to be naïve and stupidly young. What do you like doing in your spare time? Writing and reading. Both complement each other. What would you change your name to? My family's name is Jayasinghe. ජයසිංහ in Sinhala in the original script. Phonetically, it is pronounced Jaya-Sinha in Sri Lanka. But in English, through generations, it was spelt Jayasinghe, which sounds differently in English. I would change its spelling to Jaya-Sinha to align it with its original sound. Perhaps my grandkids in Australia could do it. What’s your favourite time of day? The morning hours. I am most productive in the mornings. What is your biggest weakness? I could get carried away with what I could be doing. Sometimes, I must pinch myself to stop what I am doing. What is your favourite colour? Green. Always from my kid days. Would you believe I had...
Comments
Post a Comment