Prejudice to Dubai

Denzil describes a few simple joys of Dubai in the seventies.

Attwenty-one, I was sure I was already a grown-up man. I decided what I wanted to do with my life, being used to independence and freedom from my teenage years. My parents were different and encouraged me, defying the norms of the day. So, I left for Dubai, alone, with their backing. I had only ten Dollars with me, hidden in my back pocket. It was a bold move for someone who grew up in a backwater country where most parents dictated to their grown-up children.

My flight to Dubai was my first international flight. It was not without some spectacle and amusement. A kind, mature Afrikaner couple who sat next to me on the flight wanted me to move with them to Capetown. Ignoring them as tactfully and gently as possible, I stayed the course, landing in sunny Dubai.

Dubai, here I was.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote, “wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you”. He wrote this about Paris, but for me, it was Dubai. The most adventurous times of our lives stay in our memories forever, to be retold to the generations beyond us.

My twenties, my most dazzling years, were spent in Dubai before it became a metropolis. One-fourth of my life was spent in Dubai. What I learned and experienced while living in Dubai has given me an edge, allowing me to live a better life here in Australia. I learned diversity early on. I made many friends from many nationalities. I became cosmopolitan. I did not feel lonely, living away from my home country. I was home in Dubai. Dubai was my home. Dubai became my new normal. I embraced Dubai.

I was mesmerised by the emerging global city of Dubai, which offered no shortage of simple charms. They helped me to forge a sense of discovery and curiosity. I learnt a lot from its diverse languages and nationalities. Observing people and learning a few smatterings of Arabic and Hindi/Urdu combo.

I knew Dubai’s street corners, shops, and eateries better than in my original home city, Colombo. In Dubai, I knew my bearings.

I only had a scooter in Sri Lanka and never had a driver's license. I learnt to drive properly in Dubai, thanks to the Police Driving School in Jumeirah and their British policemen instructors. I got my license at my first test, a feat back in the day for an Asian.

Many inspiring places in Dubai attracted me. They gave me simple joys and many a pleasure.

Bargain Shopping

The first was the shopping streets in Dubai. In the days before shopping malls came, Dubai was pure heaven before it became a bustling mega-city. All that glitter and diverse nationalities on the streets of Dubai, in their bazaars and souks, in various national costumes, kanduras, black kabayas, hijabs, white dhotis, colourful sarees, salwar kameez and turbans. The shops were open till late at night. Everybody shopped despite the sweltering heat. Air conditioners were in full swing.

With my friends, I browsed fashion and garment shops, Iranian shops that sold jeans and American boots, and electronic shops that sold stereos, cameras and watches. I bought Japanese-made sarees for my mother from Sindhi-run textile shops that displayed colourful saree draped mannequins. The first thing salesmen did for their customers was to offer tea or soft drinks. A bit of small talk and hospitality were on view. Everything was bloody cheap and affordable. Friendly bargaining was the name of the game. I mastered counting in Hindi and Arabic, a key advantage in getting a good deal.

Food

The second was the diverse eateries, a melting pot of culinary. Wherever you went, there were many eateries and teahouses in the main and cross streets. Indian, Pakistani, and Lebanese restaurants that served freshly cooked, exotic, mouth-watering meals. No reservations were needed, and the service was ultra-quick. The waiters were most helpful out to serve and pleasing their guests. And again, it was cheap. I learnt to taste varied food varieties from the sub-continent, Punjabi, Gujarati, South Indian and vegan. Pakistani food did not come second. I loved their biryanis and goat dishes. Then the fast foods of the day, Lebanese shawarmas and falafels.

That aroma of freshly cooked foods from the bazaars of Dubai has stayed with me forever. The cuisine influence from India was so strong that I am comfortable cooking them while still struggling with Lankan cuisine.

Abras

The third was the abras on the creek. The mini boat industry was dominated by Iranians, who knew how to control and manoeuvre the wooden crafts that ferried people across Deira and Bur Dubai. Today, you’d be aghast to know those mini-crafts had no life jackets. Every boat carried twenty passengers, who sat on the abra’s hull as the suntanned Iranian skipper ordered them while counting passenger numbers. The loud-spoken skippers knew how to navigate their craft among many other boats and dhows plying the creek without causing major accidents. When an abra landed at its destination, either on Deira or Dubai side, it would land with a thud, for there were no rubber dinghies at the landing pads to soften the blow. To get into an abra or to exit one, passengers had to move from hull to hull on resting boats, parked next to each other, without falling into the water. Getting off and getting into an abra was a skill in itself. The rides were cheap again, just 25 fils, about 5 US cents. On a Friday, watching these mini boats, filled to the brim with commuters, navigate in the blue waters of Dubai creek was an exhibition of humanity.

Dubai’s concept of a weekend starting on a Friday is so ingrained into my psyche that thirty years on in Australia, I still find me saying Friday when I mean Sunday.

That old Dubai is where I learnt many of my life skills. As a young man, it set me up well financially. I was well-grounded in Dubai. That’s why I am prejudiced to Dubai. My network is universal, thanks to Dubai. Nobody can take Dubai out of me.

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