RAS AL KHAIMAH // Two hundred years ago, Ras al Khaimah was burnt to the ground. Today, experts say, that sacking by a British fleet has directly affected the shape of the UAE.
Thirteen lithographs on a wall of the Sharjah Art Museum show each grisly scene of the British attack on Ras al Khaimah on November 13 1809. Black smoke rises about a town engulfed in flames as soldiers fight door-to-door through the streets of 19th-century RAK.
The battle was the beginning of a new era in the Gulf: that of British control. It led to the General Treaty of 1820 that brought 150 years of peace and trade to the Gulf under the British and ensured a maritime truce between independent emirates that later formed the UAE.
But so brutal was the massacre of 1809 that its violence is still remembered in song and story two centuries later. Mention of the battle still brings pain to those from the area.
Yet if it had not been for the battle of 1809 and the resulting treaty in 1820, most historians agree, the UAE of 2009 would be a very different place.
“Because of that treaty, we have independent emirates,” said Dr Hasan al Naboodha, a history professor at UAE University. “It was divide and rule. Just imagine if the British didn’t come and attack the Qawasim, would you hear today about the emirate of Ajman or Umm al Qaiwain?”
The cause of the battle between the British and the Qawasim, the seafaring tribe that ruled coastal areas on the Eastern, Persian and Arabian coasts, is still hotly disputed among historians today. “The British accused the Qawasim of being pirates and attacking ships but we don’t know exactly what went on because we don’t have local sources from this time,” said Dr al Naboodha.
Contemporary British accounts depicted the Qawasim tribe as an unruly and ruthless group of plunderers and pirates.
Dr Sheikh Sultan bin Mohammed, Ruler of Sharjah, challenged this in his 1986 book The Myth of Arab Piracy, which argued that the British were foreign intruders who sought to expand their power in the Gulf for the East India Company.
Until late in the 18th century, skirmishes between the Qawasim and British were rare. In 1797, however, the Viper, a British ship, was attacked by Qawasim dhows while anchored in Bushire an attack for which Sheikh Saqr bin Rashid, then of Ras al Khaimah, apologised and offered settlement.
In 1804 the British ships Trimmer and Shannon were attacked by Sheikh Qadhib al Qasimi of Lingeh.
In 1806, a treaty was agreed upon by the Qawasim, the British and the British-backed Omanis, long-standing rivals of the Qawasim. Within a few months, relations became strained between the Omanis and the Qawasim over territorial disputes at Qishm and the treaty fell apart.
In October 1808 the Qawasim were held responsible for an attack on the Sylph, an eight-gun British schooner, that killed 30.
The next May, the Qawasim seized the Minerva and took it to Ras al Khaimah with an officer’s wife on board. She was held for ransom. One survivor claimed that the Minerva was attacked by more than 50 dhows in a two-day battle that ended in the deaths of 45 of the 77 on board.
The event fuelled British anger against the Qawasim and a larger confrontation loomed.
Such events were popular in the British media, which, according to Dr Sheikh Sultan, exaggerated the numbers of those killed and vilified the Qawasim.
“It was the power of this saga to stir the imagination, as piracy still does, which ensured it would not be forgotten,” wrote Charles Davies in his 1997 book The Red Arab Flag: An Investigation into Qasimi Piracy, 1797-1820. “Contemporary newspapers, travellers, officers and others all felt moved to write about the Qawasim and British measures taken against them.”
But even before the Minerva incident, the Supreme Government in Calcutta had already made a decision to attack Ras al Khaimah.
Reproduced from The National: RAK’s sacking still reverberates
Showing posts with label UAE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UAE. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Friday, 30 October 2009
Palace of myths and legends
The ruins stand atop a 200-metre hill above the village of Shamal in Ras al Khaimah, cloaked in myth and mystery.
“So many legends and stories are associated with this palace, with some people saying it is thousands of years old and others saying it is just a few hundreds years old,” says Dr Hamad bin Seray, an associate professor at the department of history and archaeology at UAE University.
From time to time he pauses on his climb one he has made several times for his studies picking up shards of pottery. By the time he reaches the remains of the building, he has a small collection of shards, which he says are between 400 and 500 years old.
They are tantalising clues about the history of the castle, which is reputed to be the oldest in the UAE.
“There is so much that we don’t know about this palace, except its name,” the historian says.
In fact, even that is debatable.
In English, it is known as Sheba’s Palace. The Queen of Sheba, mentioned in the Bible and the Quran, is said to have ruled the kingdom of Marib in Yemen around 1000BC, though her legend is also told in Ethiopia, across the Red Sea. The Bible dates Sheba’s reign to the 10th century BC. The Quran describes the queen as a sun-worshipper who lived in the Arabian peninsula and was converted to Islam.
“If you choose to believe it belongs to the Queen of Sheba, or Balqis as she is known to us, then it is thousands of years old,” Dr Seray says. “But I am less inclined to believe this as there is no archaeological evidence that the palace is in any way pre- Islamic.”
In Arabic, and among people who live in the area, the palace is better known as the Qasr al Zabba the palace of al Zabba or Queen Zenobia.
Zenobia, the warrior queen of the Roman colony of Palmyra, in what is now Syria, ruled from about 267 to 272AD. She conquered several of Rome’s eastern provinces before she was defeated by the emperor Aurelian.
“The term ‘Zabba’ refers to a masculinised woman, so perhaps there was a local woman ruler here who was tough like a man, and hence was nicknamed by the settlers here as al Zabba,” Dr Seray says. “Not the most flattering title to be crowned with.”
Given the archaeological evidence and his study of the palace, Dr Seray is adamant the site could not belong to either queen, since it is not pre- Islamic. Such was the fame of the two women in Arabia that their names would be linked to ruins built long after their time.
Dr Seray believes the palace most probably dates from the end of the Julfar period. The area of Julfar, now Ras al Khaimah, was a renowned and prosperous trading centre in the lower Gulf from the early Islamic times until around the late 17th century, when it fell into decline during the Portuguese presence in the Gulf.
Keep reading--The National:Palace of myths and legends
“So many legends and stories are associated with this palace, with some people saying it is thousands of years old and others saying it is just a few hundreds years old,” says Dr Hamad bin Seray, an associate professor at the department of history and archaeology at UAE University.
From time to time he pauses on his climb one he has made several times for his studies picking up shards of pottery. By the time he reaches the remains of the building, he has a small collection of shards, which he says are between 400 and 500 years old.
They are tantalising clues about the history of the castle, which is reputed to be the oldest in the UAE.
“There is so much that we don’t know about this palace, except its name,” the historian says.
In fact, even that is debatable.
In English, it is known as Sheba’s Palace. The Queen of Sheba, mentioned in the Bible and the Quran, is said to have ruled the kingdom of Marib in Yemen around 1000BC, though her legend is also told in Ethiopia, across the Red Sea. The Bible dates Sheba’s reign to the 10th century BC. The Quran describes the queen as a sun-worshipper who lived in the Arabian peninsula and was converted to Islam.
“If you choose to believe it belongs to the Queen of Sheba, or Balqis as she is known to us, then it is thousands of years old,” Dr Seray says. “But I am less inclined to believe this as there is no archaeological evidence that the palace is in any way pre- Islamic.”
In Arabic, and among people who live in the area, the palace is better known as the Qasr al Zabba the palace of al Zabba or Queen Zenobia.
Zenobia, the warrior queen of the Roman colony of Palmyra, in what is now Syria, ruled from about 267 to 272AD. She conquered several of Rome’s eastern provinces before she was defeated by the emperor Aurelian.
“The term ‘Zabba’ refers to a masculinised woman, so perhaps there was a local woman ruler here who was tough like a man, and hence was nicknamed by the settlers here as al Zabba,” Dr Seray says. “Not the most flattering title to be crowned with.”
Given the archaeological evidence and his study of the palace, Dr Seray is adamant the site could not belong to either queen, since it is not pre- Islamic. Such was the fame of the two women in Arabia that their names would be linked to ruins built long after their time.
Dr Seray believes the palace most probably dates from the end of the Julfar period. The area of Julfar, now Ras al Khaimah, was a renowned and prosperous trading centre in the lower Gulf from the early Islamic times until around the late 17th century, when it fell into decline during the Portuguese presence in the Gulf.
Keep reading--The National:Palace of myths and legends
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Home is where the history is
RAS AL KHAIMAH // When Lt Ali Darwish built a palm hut outside his house six years ago, he intended nothing more than to create a simple space in which he could commemorate his family’s history.
He covered the walls with family portraits and heirlooms – old rifles, swords and a few pieces of jewellery.
Within two years, the areesh house was overflowing with items he had collected or been given by friends who knew of his love for history. Then other families, schoolchildren and visitors began to hear about his collection and started to visit.
To hold the growing collection, he built a large makhzan, the traditional stone house of the mountain tribes, but within two years that too was full. Undeterred, Lt Darwish again upgraded, this time to a large khaimah, the traditional style of winter palm house. And so it grew.
Today, what is now known as the Bin Darwish Heritage Village includes a replica of a kitchen, a traditional stone flour grinder, two types of well, a restored 1958 Land Rover, three six-metre models of traditional boats, an elevated sleeping platform and two cannon donated by the RAK Police.
Lt Darwish’s museum is not unique; such personal museums can be found in gardens across the UAE, created by Emiratis determined to honour the hard lives of their forebears in the years before oil changed everything.
Some choose to display their private collections in the majlis, or sitting room, of their homes, where they can be admired by visitors, but it has become increasingly popular for families to create small personal museums.
The style of such museums often reflects the ancestry of the family. In some neighbourhoods of RAK, for example, the tops of palm-frond houses, once used by coastal families, can be seen; in others, replicas of small, stone mountain houses.
Lt Darwish’s collection has now swollen to include thousands of items, mainly from the Gulf, and his museum has become something of an institution; two or three groups from schools and universities across the UAE visit every week.
“I built this because I want to teach students about our lives more than 50 or 60 years ago,” says Lt Darwish.
“I started with a small thing and every year it’s grown up to this time. In the beginning I faced some difficulties but a lot of people helped me collect these items.”
Once again, his museum is bursting at the seams: “I want to do more but I don’t have a place.”
His most prized items are two family heirlooms – a hand-painted 300-year-old Quran given to him by his father, and his grandmother’s meshana, a stone slab used for grinding kohl for eyeliner.
Although the objects earn their place in the museum because they have been used by earlier generations, many are still in use, such as rifles and a Shehhi drum, still used at wedding ceremonies. Others, such as coffee pots and clay incense burners, are identical to those in use today and represent, he says, not an end to history but its continuity.
Lt Darwish does not restrict his collection to the UAE. While some heirlooms are of great direct relevance to local heritage, there are many common items from everyday life that came to the region from abroad; these include a dozen different types of clothes irons and a collection of women’s shoes from various countries.
The fact that many of his curios are collected from around the world, says Lt Darwish, is a recognition of the history of the UAE, for centuries at the crossroads of trade between Europe, India and the Far East.
But the most vivid displays are those illuminated by Lt Darwish’s own memories.
He remembers watching his father build khaimah and areesh houses; he remembers how his mother used the clay pots to store water and food and he remembers sleeping with his family on a raised platform made of palm and wood, identical to the one in his museum, because there was no air-conditioning in their home.
And the museum remains part of his life today; he keeps a coffee pot and cups ready for visitors there, and entertains friends daily.
Lt Darwish’s respect for the past is a shared by Aisha Ahmad and her husband, Ahmad Qaidouh.
Mrs Ahmad’s collection began with a few items she had kept in an old wooden chest. Now, it is so large that it is displayed in three buildings: two stone makhzan houses and a palm khaimah.
The largest makhzan serves as both majlis and museum. Inside, metre-high pots from Wadi Bih and the island of Lima in Musandam are stacked beside blackened pots and clay incense burners.
Piles of palm handicrafts line the wall: chicken baskets, prayer mats, fans, a broom. “Before, things were made from palm,” says Mrs Ahmad.
She knows each item intimately. Turning to a set of pots, she speaks of their original uses: “For rice from India, for flour and dates from the mountains. This is for rice, harees and curry. It’s black because they’ve been used many years. This is for frying coffee.”
On another shelf, she has a collection of pottery that has been in her husband’s family for more than 200 years. “From the old family, he made it for his wife when they got married,” she says, holding up a small clay jar used to store perfume.
Along the wall, she shows off tin jars used for honey and dates. “Honey, our family collected it,” she says, proudly.
On the opposite wall, her husband has hung 16 rifles and nine swords alongside a shelf that holds a collection of medicine bottles from Saudi Arabia. Some people, she says, are willing to part with old rifles because they are no longer used. “They tell us, it’s finished. Before, it was a shame for a man to go anywhere without carrying this. Everybody laughed when he carried nothing.”
Today, rifles appear only at special ceremonies. “At weddings, everybody’s shooting when they’re happy,” says Mrs Ahmad.
Her husband draws attention to the swords. “There are many kinds,” he says. He shows the dull edges of one sword: “That’s for dancing. This,” he says, unsheathing a gleaming doubled-edged weapon, “is for killing.”
On another wall are photographs of Mr Qaidouh’s family home in the mountains. “This is my house 35 years ago,” he says, pointing to a small stone building. “We came for hot days here. But until I was big we’d go and come. Our goats were there.”
There is also a prized photograph of Sheikh Zayed shaking hands with Mr Qaidouh’s grandfather. In the picture, his grandfather is wearing one of the knives on display.
She sees the museum as an important bridge to the past, which she fears could be forgotten with the rapid development of the UAE.
“Everything’s changed, people have changed,” she says. “Now everybody wants to make money. They don’t want to lose money on old things, but Sheikh Zayed said people who don’t remember their past have no future.”
It was these very words that inspired Brig Saeed Laha to open his personal museum in 2004.
In the village of Galileh, nestling between the Gulf and the Hajjar mountains, the Zayed Heritage Village is one of the largest private museums in the UAE.
“I decided to teach our people how was our life before Sheikh Zayed took over, how we are living in this country,” says Brig Laha. “We were a very poor country. We used to work everywhere, Saudi Arabia and Oman, everywhere, looking for food. But when Sheikh Zayed took over the life changed.”
Brig Laha, 50, got the idea for the museum while studying at England’s Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Visiting some friends from the academy, he was intrigued by rooms devoted to family history.
“I started collecting from everywhere. I started to build more places for everything and still I have some more but there is no space for it.”
Brig Laha restricts his collection to items from the UAE. On his farm he has built an areesh, a khaimah, a stone deheriz house, a half-underground house built from rocks and sidar wood called a gifiel, and a siplah, a three-sided room made from palm fronds.
The museum also features a lecture hall, with a display of 40 rifles and 40 swords, a room that holds hundreds of pieces of Bedouin jewellery from Oman and the UAE, and a library with more than 5,000 books in Arabic and English. There are also an estimated 500 photocopies of letters between the British government and the rulers of the Trucial states between 1895 and 1955, which he collected from the Commonwealth Club on a visit to London in 1987.
Brig Laha also has photocopies of letters from Ahmad bin Majid, the 15th-century explorer, that a friend brought from archives in Moscow.
Perhaps the most impressive part of the collection is a 6,000-year-old tomb, discovered on his land, which contains 53 bodies, excavated by a team of German archaeologists.
For students and tourists alike, the museum village brings UAE history to life. “The village is responsible for events in many schools, not only in RAK but also in Fujairah,” says Nour Dhanhani, a high school biology teacher from Fujairah. “Last year we went to the village a lot of times.
“Today students can find everything they want. Our parents and grandfathers were poor and their lives were not as easy as our lives today, and our children must remember this.”
Brig Laha says he will spare no expense to preserve the past; he estimates that he has invested more than Dh3 million (US$817,000) in the museum.
“When you love something, close your eyes and open your wallet,” he says, laughing. “My father used to all the time say think about your background, think about your history, think about who you are, think about your country. All the time he said you are nothing without land, without ground, without your country. Your country is your house. Your government is your father and mother. Take care of them.
“We tell our children and our people they should take care of this because they haven’t another place.”
He covered the walls with family portraits and heirlooms – old rifles, swords and a few pieces of jewellery.
Within two years, the areesh house was overflowing with items he had collected or been given by friends who knew of his love for history. Then other families, schoolchildren and visitors began to hear about his collection and started to visit.
To hold the growing collection, he built a large makhzan, the traditional stone house of the mountain tribes, but within two years that too was full. Undeterred, Lt Darwish again upgraded, this time to a large khaimah, the traditional style of winter palm house. And so it grew.
Today, what is now known as the Bin Darwish Heritage Village includes a replica of a kitchen, a traditional stone flour grinder, two types of well, a restored 1958 Land Rover, three six-metre models of traditional boats, an elevated sleeping platform and two cannon donated by the RAK Police.
Lt Darwish’s museum is not unique; such personal museums can be found in gardens across the UAE, created by Emiratis determined to honour the hard lives of their forebears in the years before oil changed everything.
Some choose to display their private collections in the majlis, or sitting room, of their homes, where they can be admired by visitors, but it has become increasingly popular for families to create small personal museums.
The style of such museums often reflects the ancestry of the family. In some neighbourhoods of RAK, for example, the tops of palm-frond houses, once used by coastal families, can be seen; in others, replicas of small, stone mountain houses.
Lt Darwish’s collection has now swollen to include thousands of items, mainly from the Gulf, and his museum has become something of an institution; two or three groups from schools and universities across the UAE visit every week.
“I built this because I want to teach students about our lives more than 50 or 60 years ago,” says Lt Darwish.
“I started with a small thing and every year it’s grown up to this time. In the beginning I faced some difficulties but a lot of people helped me collect these items.”
Once again, his museum is bursting at the seams: “I want to do more but I don’t have a place.”
His most prized items are two family heirlooms – a hand-painted 300-year-old Quran given to him by his father, and his grandmother’s meshana, a stone slab used for grinding kohl for eyeliner.
Although the objects earn their place in the museum because they have been used by earlier generations, many are still in use, such as rifles and a Shehhi drum, still used at wedding ceremonies. Others, such as coffee pots and clay incense burners, are identical to those in use today and represent, he says, not an end to history but its continuity.
Lt Darwish does not restrict his collection to the UAE. While some heirlooms are of great direct relevance to local heritage, there are many common items from everyday life that came to the region from abroad; these include a dozen different types of clothes irons and a collection of women’s shoes from various countries.
The fact that many of his curios are collected from around the world, says Lt Darwish, is a recognition of the history of the UAE, for centuries at the crossroads of trade between Europe, India and the Far East.
But the most vivid displays are those illuminated by Lt Darwish’s own memories.
He remembers watching his father build khaimah and areesh houses; he remembers how his mother used the clay pots to store water and food and he remembers sleeping with his family on a raised platform made of palm and wood, identical to the one in his museum, because there was no air-conditioning in their home.
And the museum remains part of his life today; he keeps a coffee pot and cups ready for visitors there, and entertains friends daily.
Lt Darwish’s respect for the past is a shared by Aisha Ahmad and her husband, Ahmad Qaidouh.
Mrs Ahmad’s collection began with a few items she had kept in an old wooden chest. Now, it is so large that it is displayed in three buildings: two stone makhzan houses and a palm khaimah.
The largest makhzan serves as both majlis and museum. Inside, metre-high pots from Wadi Bih and the island of Lima in Musandam are stacked beside blackened pots and clay incense burners.
Piles of palm handicrafts line the wall: chicken baskets, prayer mats, fans, a broom. “Before, things were made from palm,” says Mrs Ahmad.
She knows each item intimately. Turning to a set of pots, she speaks of their original uses: “For rice from India, for flour and dates from the mountains. This is for rice, harees and curry. It’s black because they’ve been used many years. This is for frying coffee.”
On another shelf, she has a collection of pottery that has been in her husband’s family for more than 200 years. “From the old family, he made it for his wife when they got married,” she says, holding up a small clay jar used to store perfume.
Along the wall, she shows off tin jars used for honey and dates. “Honey, our family collected it,” she says, proudly.
On the opposite wall, her husband has hung 16 rifles and nine swords alongside a shelf that holds a collection of medicine bottles from Saudi Arabia. Some people, she says, are willing to part with old rifles because they are no longer used. “They tell us, it’s finished. Before, it was a shame for a man to go anywhere without carrying this. Everybody laughed when he carried nothing.”
Today, rifles appear only at special ceremonies. “At weddings, everybody’s shooting when they’re happy,” says Mrs Ahmad.
Her husband draws attention to the swords. “There are many kinds,” he says. He shows the dull edges of one sword: “That’s for dancing. This,” he says, unsheathing a gleaming doubled-edged weapon, “is for killing.”
On another wall are photographs of Mr Qaidouh’s family home in the mountains. “This is my house 35 years ago,” he says, pointing to a small stone building. “We came for hot days here. But until I was big we’d go and come. Our goats were there.”
There is also a prized photograph of Sheikh Zayed shaking hands with Mr Qaidouh’s grandfather. In the picture, his grandfather is wearing one of the knives on display.
She sees the museum as an important bridge to the past, which she fears could be forgotten with the rapid development of the UAE.
“Everything’s changed, people have changed,” she says. “Now everybody wants to make money. They don’t want to lose money on old things, but Sheikh Zayed said people who don’t remember their past have no future.”
It was these very words that inspired Brig Saeed Laha to open his personal museum in 2004.
In the village of Galileh, nestling between the Gulf and the Hajjar mountains, the Zayed Heritage Village is one of the largest private museums in the UAE.
“I decided to teach our people how was our life before Sheikh Zayed took over, how we are living in this country,” says Brig Laha. “We were a very poor country. We used to work everywhere, Saudi Arabia and Oman, everywhere, looking for food. But when Sheikh Zayed took over the life changed.”
Brig Laha, 50, got the idea for the museum while studying at England’s Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Visiting some friends from the academy, he was intrigued by rooms devoted to family history.
“I started collecting from everywhere. I started to build more places for everything and still I have some more but there is no space for it.”
Brig Laha restricts his collection to items from the UAE. On his farm he has built an areesh, a khaimah, a stone deheriz house, a half-underground house built from rocks and sidar wood called a gifiel, and a siplah, a three-sided room made from palm fronds.
The museum also features a lecture hall, with a display of 40 rifles and 40 swords, a room that holds hundreds of pieces of Bedouin jewellery from Oman and the UAE, and a library with more than 5,000 books in Arabic and English. There are also an estimated 500 photocopies of letters between the British government and the rulers of the Trucial states between 1895 and 1955, which he collected from the Commonwealth Club on a visit to London in 1987.
Brig Laha also has photocopies of letters from Ahmad bin Majid, the 15th-century explorer, that a friend brought from archives in Moscow.
Perhaps the most impressive part of the collection is a 6,000-year-old tomb, discovered on his land, which contains 53 bodies, excavated by a team of German archaeologists.
For students and tourists alike, the museum village brings UAE history to life. “The village is responsible for events in many schools, not only in RAK but also in Fujairah,” says Nour Dhanhani, a high school biology teacher from Fujairah. “Last year we went to the village a lot of times.
“Today students can find everything they want. Our parents and grandfathers were poor and their lives were not as easy as our lives today, and our children must remember this.”
Brig Laha says he will spare no expense to preserve the past; he estimates that he has invested more than Dh3 million (US$817,000) in the museum.
“When you love something, close your eyes and open your wallet,” he says, laughing. “My father used to all the time say think about your background, think about your history, think about who you are, think about your country. All the time he said you are nothing without land, without ground, without your country. Your country is your house. Your government is your father and mother. Take care of them.
“We tell our children and our people they should take care of this because they haven’t another place.”
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Challenging Sex Taboos, With Help From the Koran
DUBAI, United Arab Emirates
WEDAD LOOTAH does not look like a sexual activist. A Muslim and a native Emirati, she wears a full-length black niqab — with only her brown eyes showing through narrow slits — and sprinkles her conversation with quotes from the Koran.
Yet she is also the author of what for the Middle East is an amazingly frank new book of erotic advice in which she celebrates the female orgasm, confronts taboo topics like homosexuality and urges Arabs to transcend the backward traditions that limit their sexual happiness.
The book, “Top Secret: Sexual Guidance for Married Couples,” is packed with vivid anecdotes from Ms. Lootah’s eight years as a marital counselor in Dubai’s main courthouse. It became an instant scandal after it was published in Arabic in the Emirates in January, drawing praise from some liberals and death threats from conservatives, who say she is guilty of blasphemy or worse.
Ms. Lootah, a strong-willed and talkative 45-year-old, is one of a small but growing number of Arabs pushing for more openness and education about sex. Unlike earlier generations of women who often couched their criticism in a Western language of female emancipation, Ms. Lootah and her peers are hard to dismiss as outsiders because they tend to be religious Muslims who root their message in the Koran.
Ms. Lootah, for instance, studied Islamic jurisprudence in college, not Western psychology, and her book is studded with religious references. She submitted the text to the Mufti of Dubai before publishing it, and he gave his approval (though he warned her that Arab audiences might not be ready for such a book, especially by a woman).
“People have said I was crazy, that I was straying from Islam, that I should be killed,” Ms. Lootah said. “Even my family ask why I must talk about this. I say: ‘These problems happen every day and should not be ignored. This is the reality we are living.’ ”
She is not a liberal by Western standards. One of the themes of her book is the danger of anal sex and homosexuality generally, not because of AIDS but because they are banned by the Koran. But her openness about the issue was itself a shock to many here.
In Saudi Arabia and other countries where the genders are rigorously separated, many men have their first sexual experiences with other men, which affects their attitudes toward sex in marriage, Ms. Lootah said.
“Many men who had anal sex with men before marriage want the same thing with their wives, because they don’t know anything else,” Ms. Lootah said. “This is one reason we need sex education in our schools.”
She is also emphatic about the importance of female sexual pleasure, and the inequity of many Arab marriages in that respect. One of the cases that impelled her to write the book, she said, was a 52-year-old client who had grandchildren but had never known sexual pleasure with her husband.
“Finally, she discovered orgasm!” Ms. Lootah said. “Imagine, all that time she did not know.”
Another important theme of the book is infidelity. The prevalence of foreign women in Dubai and the ease of e-mail and text-message communication has made cheating easier (and easier to detect), Ms. Lootah said, helping push the divorce rate to 30 percent.
The Gulf’s oil-fueled modernization in recent decades has also shattered some old Arab social structures. At the same time, the rise of political Islam has undermined traditional authorities, leaving many Arabs confused about moral issues.
“Before, people lived in one place and the community was like one big family,” Ms. Lootah said. “Now, people have spread to different areas, everything’s mixed up and traditions have changed.”
ONE result is the Family Guidance section in the Dubai Courthouse, which opened in 2001 with Ms. Lootah as its first counselor (there are now six others, all men). Kuwait’s government has had a similar social-services wing since the 1990s, and other Persian Gulf countries are following suit. Private psychologists and marriage counselors also exist throughout the Arab world, though they are still rare.
“We’re making a lot of progress,” said Heba Kotb, who runs an Islam-oriented sex therapy clinic in Cairo, and ran a satellite television talk show on sexual and marital issues from 2006 until 2008. “Ten years ago we were unable to even mention the subject, and now people are getting used to hearing it.”
There are still formidable obstacles. In a region where “honor killings” of women who have sex outside marriage remain fairly common, sex education is widely viewed as a portal to sin. Genital cutting of women still takes place in Egypt, though it is now illegal. Arab writers and artists have begun to tackle these subjects.
Thirty years ago the Egyptian director Saleh Abu Seif wrote a screenplay called “Sex School,” but the censorship bureau had yet to approve it when he died in 1996. His son was finally allowed to direct a modified version of the film, about a sexually dissatisfied couple who go to see a therapist, and it was released in 2002 under the title “The Ostrich and the Peacock.”
Ms. Lootah never expected to become part of this debate. One of nine children born to an illiterate water-seller in Dubai, she married early and taught elementary school for years. Later, she took a job working for an Islamic endowment, where her efforts to introduce education and family-reunion days in prison earned her two government-service awards. When Dubai introduced the Family Guidance section of its courthouse, Dubai’s ruler, Sheik Muhammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum, asked her to be the first counselor.
THE family guidance section was established in part to comply with Islamic precepts calling for couples who want a divorce to try to work out their problems first. In practice, it has become an all-purpose therapy destination for people with marital problems.
Ms. Lootah sees about seven cases a day, individuals and couples. Most of them are native Emiratis, but in the multicultural world of Dubai — where about 90 percent of the population is foreign — she has also counseled some Europeans and Asians. As in the criminal courts next door, a translator sits in on the session, and sometimes even offers advice to bridge cultural gaps.
“Some people are amazed I can work with people with only my eyes showing,” Ms. Lootah said, with a ripple of laughter. “Maybe it’s because of the way I move my hands! But I can tell you that people come here, and they speak very frankly with me.”
She reels off stories from her practice in rapid fire: the Emirati military officer whose wife had an affair because he was away from home too much; the woman who thought fellatio was against Islam (not true at all, Ms. Lootah notes); the wife who discovered her husband dressing up as a woman and going out to gay bars. She seems bent on showing that there is a whole world of sexual confusion that would benefit from open discussion.
Publishing the book, she notes, was a difficult choice. Her father supported her, but other family members sometimes wondered why she had to be so public about it all. After it was published a man called her office phone and threatened to kill her. Other threats appeared on the Internet.
She brushes them off, saying she has declined an offer of protection from the government. Besides, she adds, educating the public is worth the risk.
“A few days ago a woman came in and asked me if it is O.K. to kiss the man all over his body,” she said. “I told her, ‘Read my book!’ ”
WEDAD LOOTAH does not look like a sexual activist. A Muslim and a native Emirati, she wears a full-length black niqab — with only her brown eyes showing through narrow slits — and sprinkles her conversation with quotes from the Koran.
Yet she is also the author of what for the Middle East is an amazingly frank new book of erotic advice in which she celebrates the female orgasm, confronts taboo topics like homosexuality and urges Arabs to transcend the backward traditions that limit their sexual happiness.
The book, “Top Secret: Sexual Guidance for Married Couples,” is packed with vivid anecdotes from Ms. Lootah’s eight years as a marital counselor in Dubai’s main courthouse. It became an instant scandal after it was published in Arabic in the Emirates in January, drawing praise from some liberals and death threats from conservatives, who say she is guilty of blasphemy or worse.
Ms. Lootah, a strong-willed and talkative 45-year-old, is one of a small but growing number of Arabs pushing for more openness and education about sex. Unlike earlier generations of women who often couched their criticism in a Western language of female emancipation, Ms. Lootah and her peers are hard to dismiss as outsiders because they tend to be religious Muslims who root their message in the Koran.
Ms. Lootah, for instance, studied Islamic jurisprudence in college, not Western psychology, and her book is studded with religious references. She submitted the text to the Mufti of Dubai before publishing it, and he gave his approval (though he warned her that Arab audiences might not be ready for such a book, especially by a woman).
“People have said I was crazy, that I was straying from Islam, that I should be killed,” Ms. Lootah said. “Even my family ask why I must talk about this. I say: ‘These problems happen every day and should not be ignored. This is the reality we are living.’ ”
She is not a liberal by Western standards. One of the themes of her book is the danger of anal sex and homosexuality generally, not because of AIDS but because they are banned by the Koran. But her openness about the issue was itself a shock to many here.
In Saudi Arabia and other countries where the genders are rigorously separated, many men have their first sexual experiences with other men, which affects their attitudes toward sex in marriage, Ms. Lootah said.
“Many men who had anal sex with men before marriage want the same thing with their wives, because they don’t know anything else,” Ms. Lootah said. “This is one reason we need sex education in our schools.”
She is also emphatic about the importance of female sexual pleasure, and the inequity of many Arab marriages in that respect. One of the cases that impelled her to write the book, she said, was a 52-year-old client who had grandchildren but had never known sexual pleasure with her husband.
“Finally, she discovered orgasm!” Ms. Lootah said. “Imagine, all that time she did not know.”
Another important theme of the book is infidelity. The prevalence of foreign women in Dubai and the ease of e-mail and text-message communication has made cheating easier (and easier to detect), Ms. Lootah said, helping push the divorce rate to 30 percent.
The Gulf’s oil-fueled modernization in recent decades has also shattered some old Arab social structures. At the same time, the rise of political Islam has undermined traditional authorities, leaving many Arabs confused about moral issues.
“Before, people lived in one place and the community was like one big family,” Ms. Lootah said. “Now, people have spread to different areas, everything’s mixed up and traditions have changed.”
ONE result is the Family Guidance section in the Dubai Courthouse, which opened in 2001 with Ms. Lootah as its first counselor (there are now six others, all men). Kuwait’s government has had a similar social-services wing since the 1990s, and other Persian Gulf countries are following suit. Private psychologists and marriage counselors also exist throughout the Arab world, though they are still rare.
“We’re making a lot of progress,” said Heba Kotb, who runs an Islam-oriented sex therapy clinic in Cairo, and ran a satellite television talk show on sexual and marital issues from 2006 until 2008. “Ten years ago we were unable to even mention the subject, and now people are getting used to hearing it.”
There are still formidable obstacles. In a region where “honor killings” of women who have sex outside marriage remain fairly common, sex education is widely viewed as a portal to sin. Genital cutting of women still takes place in Egypt, though it is now illegal. Arab writers and artists have begun to tackle these subjects.
Thirty years ago the Egyptian director Saleh Abu Seif wrote a screenplay called “Sex School,” but the censorship bureau had yet to approve it when he died in 1996. His son was finally allowed to direct a modified version of the film, about a sexually dissatisfied couple who go to see a therapist, and it was released in 2002 under the title “The Ostrich and the Peacock.”
Ms. Lootah never expected to become part of this debate. One of nine children born to an illiterate water-seller in Dubai, she married early and taught elementary school for years. Later, she took a job working for an Islamic endowment, where her efforts to introduce education and family-reunion days in prison earned her two government-service awards. When Dubai introduced the Family Guidance section of its courthouse, Dubai’s ruler, Sheik Muhammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum, asked her to be the first counselor.
THE family guidance section was established in part to comply with Islamic precepts calling for couples who want a divorce to try to work out their problems first. In practice, it has become an all-purpose therapy destination for people with marital problems.
Ms. Lootah sees about seven cases a day, individuals and couples. Most of them are native Emiratis, but in the multicultural world of Dubai — where about 90 percent of the population is foreign — she has also counseled some Europeans and Asians. As in the criminal courts next door, a translator sits in on the session, and sometimes even offers advice to bridge cultural gaps.
“Some people are amazed I can work with people with only my eyes showing,” Ms. Lootah said, with a ripple of laughter. “Maybe it’s because of the way I move my hands! But I can tell you that people come here, and they speak very frankly with me.”
She reels off stories from her practice in rapid fire: the Emirati military officer whose wife had an affair because he was away from home too much; the woman who thought fellatio was against Islam (not true at all, Ms. Lootah notes); the wife who discovered her husband dressing up as a woman and going out to gay bars. She seems bent on showing that there is a whole world of sexual confusion that would benefit from open discussion.
Publishing the book, she notes, was a difficult choice. Her father supported her, but other family members sometimes wondered why she had to be so public about it all. After it was published a man called her office phone and threatened to kill her. Other threats appeared on the Internet.
She brushes them off, saying she has declined an offer of protection from the government. Besides, she adds, educating the public is worth the risk.
“A few days ago a woman came in and asked me if it is O.K. to kiss the man all over his body,” she said. “I told her, ‘Read my book!’ ”
Friday, 5 June 2009
Arabic Transliteration: Symposium
Symposium
Towards A Transliteration Standard of Arabic: Challenges and Solutions
Abu Dhabi, UAE, 15-16 December 2009
Arabic proper names of individuals, locations, cities, as well as titles of books, or any quotation from Arabic texts are transliterated in Latin script in different ways. Presentation of Arabic letters is realized in different forms that usually lead to confusion and multiplicity of versions and even failing to identify identity. For example,محمد is written inter alia as Muhammad, Muhamed, Mohamed, and Mohammed. How can we differentiate between علاء and آلاء, or عامر and أمير when they are transliterated? They can be written in very similar, if not identical, forms. There is a need to improve the quality of our communication; effective and efficient communication is one of the prerequisites for excellence. Moreover,individuals may face unnecessary inconveniences, at certain points,simply because their names are transliterated/pronounced in different ways, e.g., when cashing a check, who is ِAlaa Amir? Is it علاء عامر, آلاء عامر, آلاء أمير, or علاء أمير?
There are some transliteration systems that are used around the world to write Arabic proper nouns and words in Latin letters using different representations, but there is no one unified standard used to transliterate Arabic names. A standard based on straightforward rules with clear representation is now needed more than ever. You are invited to submit papers that investigate the different aspects of
this issue and propose solutions. Papers on transliteration software and demos are also welcome. Please submit an abstract (200-300 words)outlining the main points that will be dealt with in your paper.
Papers should address the following areas:
1.Historical developments and transliteration systems.
2.Problems and challenges that transliteration of Arabic names face.
3.Solutions viable for those problems and challenges.
4.Laws and governmental guidelines and rules regarding transliteration.
5.Transliteration criteria. Is there a standard or standards? What are the essential characteristics of the transliteration standard?
6.How Arabic language academies have dealt with transliteration.
7.The experiences of other languages in transliteration.
8.Software that carry out transliteration automatically, the standard they adopt, and the rules used in those software.
Aim
The symposium aims at developing a transliteration standard to be used
in writing Arabic proper names in particular and any other quotations
from Arabic in general. The symposium recommendations will be
presented to concerned governmental and nongovernmental organizations.
Target participants/audience
(1)Researchers and professionals in the fields of languages and linguistics, translation, natural language processing and related areas.
(2)Organizations, both public and private, which have name databases that deal with transliteration in their business and will benefit from the standard.
Languages of the symposium: Arabic and English
Time: presenters will have 20 minutes and 10 minutes for discussion.
Proceedings: papers will be published in the proceedings.
Symposium Committee
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi (Advisor, Corporate Learning & Development.
National Drilling Company)
Dr Sattar Izwaini (American University of Sharjah)
Deadlines
1 July 2009: submission of abstracts or expression of intention to attend1 ِAugust 2009: notification of acceptance and providing feedback
1 October 2009: submitting papers
15 November 2009: providing feedback
1 December 2009: submitting the final version of papers
15-16 December 2009: Symposium
Abstracts and full papers are to be sent to BOTH
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi a.alhashemi@ioe.ae
and
Dr Sattar Izwaini sizwaini@aus.edu
Organizers & sponsors
Abu Dhabi International Center for Organizational Excellence (ADICOE)
Emirates Quality Association
Venue: Abu Dhabi City, UAE. Exact venue to be announced.
For more information contact
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi a.alhashemi@ioe.ae
Telephone: (+971 2) 698 33 99
Dr Sattar Izwaini sizwaini@aus.edu
Sattar Izwaini, PhD
Assistant Professor of Translation
Dept. of Arabic & Translation Studies
College of Arts & Sciences
American University of Sharjah
Towards A Transliteration Standard of Arabic: Challenges and Solutions
Abu Dhabi, UAE, 15-16 December 2009
Arabic proper names of individuals, locations, cities, as well as titles of books, or any quotation from Arabic texts are transliterated in Latin script in different ways. Presentation of Arabic letters is realized in different forms that usually lead to confusion and multiplicity of versions and even failing to identify identity. For example,محمد is written inter alia as Muhammad, Muhamed, Mohamed, and Mohammed. How can we differentiate between علاء and آلاء, or عامر and أمير when they are transliterated? They can be written in very similar, if not identical, forms. There is a need to improve the quality of our communication; effective and efficient communication is one of the prerequisites for excellence. Moreover,individuals may face unnecessary inconveniences, at certain points,simply because their names are transliterated/pronounced in different ways, e.g., when cashing a check, who is ِAlaa Amir? Is it علاء عامر, آلاء عامر, آلاء أمير, or علاء أمير?
There are some transliteration systems that are used around the world to write Arabic proper nouns and words in Latin letters using different representations, but there is no one unified standard used to transliterate Arabic names. A standard based on straightforward rules with clear representation is now needed more than ever. You are invited to submit papers that investigate the different aspects of
this issue and propose solutions. Papers on transliteration software and demos are also welcome. Please submit an abstract (200-300 words)outlining the main points that will be dealt with in your paper.
Papers should address the following areas:
1.Historical developments and transliteration systems.
2.Problems and challenges that transliteration of Arabic names face.
3.Solutions viable for those problems and challenges.
4.Laws and governmental guidelines and rules regarding transliteration.
5.Transliteration criteria. Is there a standard or standards? What are the essential characteristics of the transliteration standard?
6.How Arabic language academies have dealt with transliteration.
7.The experiences of other languages in transliteration.
8.Software that carry out transliteration automatically, the standard they adopt, and the rules used in those software.
Aim
The symposium aims at developing a transliteration standard to be used
in writing Arabic proper names in particular and any other quotations
from Arabic in general. The symposium recommendations will be
presented to concerned governmental and nongovernmental organizations.
Target participants/audience
(1)Researchers and professionals in the fields of languages and linguistics, translation, natural language processing and related areas.
(2)Organizations, both public and private, which have name databases that deal with transliteration in their business and will benefit from the standard.
Languages of the symposium: Arabic and English
Time: presenters will have 20 minutes and 10 minutes for discussion.
Proceedings: papers will be published in the proceedings.
Symposium Committee
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi (Advisor, Corporate Learning & Development.
National Drilling Company)
Dr Sattar Izwaini (American University of Sharjah)
Deadlines
1 July 2009: submission of abstracts or expression of intention to attend1 ِAugust 2009: notification of acceptance and providing feedback
1 October 2009: submitting papers
15 November 2009: providing feedback
1 December 2009: submitting the final version of papers
15-16 December 2009: Symposium
Abstracts and full papers are to be sent to BOTH
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi a.alhashemi@ioe.ae
and
Dr Sattar Izwaini sizwaini@aus.edu
Organizers & sponsors
Abu Dhabi International Center for Organizational Excellence (ADICOE)
Emirates Quality Association
Venue: Abu Dhabi City, UAE. Exact venue to be announced.
For more information contact
Dr Abdulrahamn Al-Hashemi a.alhashemi@ioe.ae
Telephone: (+971 2) 698 33 99
Dr Sattar Izwaini sizwaini@aus.edu
Sattar Izwaini, PhD
Assistant Professor of Translation
Dept. of Arabic & Translation Studies
College of Arts & Sciences
American University of Sharjah
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Hooked on books
TV is a diversion. YouTube, a distraction. Movies (the best of them) offer two hours’ immersion. But when it comes to being truly lifted out of ourselves, to learning about worlds and lives not our own, to having our imaginations sparked and to sheer, lose-yourself pleasure, can anything compete with a great book?
Despite gloomy predictions about the end of print, books are alive and well, thank you very much. While sales are down worldwide due to the global financial crisis (the American Association of Publishers reported a 12 per cent decline in the United States last year), we continue to buy, borrow, lend and read books. At an average of Dh60 for a paperback novel, it’s the best entertainment deal in town.
Naren Simone and his wife Gail Dickinson say they both read several books a week. Simone is also a writer who self-published a novel. Sammy Dallal / The National
Book fans don’t just number among the pre-digital generation. The Kids and Family Reading Report, a Scholastic Books project published in 2008, reveals heartening statistics: among the five- to 17-year-olds interviewed, 75 per cent said that no matter what they could do online, they would “always want to read books printed on paper”. Even more reassuring, 63 per cent of those surveyed said they prefer to read books when they “want to use their imaginations”.
Click here to find out more!
The Scholastic study also shows that parents who read “for fun” every day are six times more likely than parents who read less often to have children who also read recreationally every day. And when the child rearing is over and the kids are passing on the reading but to their kids, you can get to the books you always wanted to read but didn’t have time for.
Whether we’re fluent in English or Arabic, Urdu or Tamil, Abu Dhabi is a city of high-frequency readers and unabashed book lovers. We spoke to five families – from two-year-olds to 60-year-olds – to find out who’s reading what, and why.
The al Zaabi family
It’s a warm room of browns and beiges, with comfy chairs and carpets. Eiman al Zaabi turns the pages of a picture book while her young son and daughter sit on her lap. Saeed, her older son, sprawls on an adjacent couch, brow slightly furrowed, listening.
Al Zaabi’s nieces and nephew are sprawled across the carpet at her feet. The youngest hold their own books, small hands turning small pages. Sometimes they look up to listen; sometimes their own books are more interesting.
It’s a room made for reading. While the children are served a before-bed snack of juice and miniature doughnuts, al Zaabi says: “I used to not like to read. I used to watch a lot of movies. My teachers were always saying: ‘Read! Read! Read!’”
Now a teacher herself – of information technology at Abu Dhabi Women’s College, the school she graduated from – al Zaabi has become a passionate reader.
“I actually don’t read fiction,” she says. “I read because I want to learn and I learn the most from non-fiction.”
She’s currently reading Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ by Daniel Goleman. The book explains that “we use emotions to make important decisions” al Zaabi says. “We need our emotions as much as our heads, maybe even more. We need to have empathy, patience, understanding.”
She smiles slightly. “Women are more intelligent emotionally, I think.”
Al Zaabi also recently read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love. “That book read like a novel,” she says. “It was so courageous and funny. I think it will help men understand women – what we’re really like.”
At that moment there’s a misunderstanding across the room. Ibrahim, al Zaabi’s two-year-old nephew, throws his book on the floor, sheds tears. It’s a skirmish over a book, it seems. Someone brings in a pet turtle to show me and tempers are sorted and soothed.
Reading is highly encouraged in this household of cousins (al Zaabi’s sister’s family lives here as well, since the sisters’ husbands are brothers.) There’s even a library upstairs, though it seems every room contains the kind of comfortable couch and warm light that invite reading.
“I so much want them to get into reading,” al Zaabi says as she watches the children. “We give them incentives such as stickers if they read the Quran, say their prayers and read books.”
She really has to push, however, to get the children to read in their mother tongue: “They don’t like reading in Arabic.” Children’s books in Arabic tend to be, in her words, “shallow”. It’s a problem she encounters in her own reading, particularly when it comes to the self-help books she’s drawn to.
Al Zaabi, who hopes to move into the field of personal growth and stress management, says: “It’s a new area here. In the past you didn’t get a book to get help; you didn’t go to see a psychologist. It just wasn’t in the open. But now, with more and more people getting educated, it’s starting to change.”
It’s time for evening prayers and al Zaabi leaves me momentarily in the company of six children. Saeed, nine, eyes me somewhat warily, but the girls – al Zaabi’s nieces, 10-year-old Alya, and three-year-old Salama, and six-year-old daughter, also named Alya – are eager to talk.
“I read Harry Potter in Arabic,” says the elder Alya.
“I like princess books,” says little Alya. “I like them in English.”
“Harry Potter was scary,” continues her cousin.
I ask Saeed if he likes adventure books. He moves his hand back and forth: so-so. “I like Sam’s Duck,” he whispers.
“Is it funny?” I ask.
“No, not sad. Not funny. Normal,” Saeed says.
Ibrahim brings over a tiny board book, Spot in the Garden. His grin tells me this is his favourite.
Little Alya recounts a fairy tale she recently read. It is another meandering plot line. “I think books are a little bit scary and a little bit happy,” she finally concludes.
“She reads the most,” says al Zaabi, re-entering the room. “Oh, this is Abdullah’s favourite.” She hands me an obviously loved book. The end pages are covered in coloured-pencil “drawings”. It’s part of Ted Dewan’s Bing Bunny series for toddlers, Go Picnic.
“How about a picnic in the square?” Bing asks his bunny friend Flop.
“No. Too much dog poo,” says Flop.
And Saeed, the eldest, who’s managed to keep his dignity intact throughout, points at the page and laughs, making sure I get it.
The al Zaabi family’s picks
Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman
Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Sam’s Duck by Michael Morpurgo
Bing Bunny series by Ted Dewan
Spot in the Garden (Little Spot Board Books) by Eric Hill
The Dickinson-Simone family
As a university student in India, Naren Simone wrote poetry. Gail Dickinson majored in English literature in her native British Columbia. Four decades and two demanding careers later – Simone is chief executive officer of an engineering company based in Saudi Arabia, and Dickinson recently retired as an emergency room doctor at Sheikh Khalifa Medical City – are wending their way back to their early loves.
The couple met in Saudi Arabia, where both worked during the 1990s. At the time, Dickinson says, “Naren was only reading professional journals”.
We’re perched on stools at a high, round table strategically placed for the best 14th-storey view of the Corniche. The room is bright with sunshine and contemporary art. Dickinson pours tea.
Simone’s passion for writing had been shelved as he concentrated on his career and raising a family (he has two grown children from a previous marriage). “It took an unfortunate incident – September 11 – to start writing again,” he says. “I was working at the time for a consulting business in Saudi but our clients were American. After September 11, that business world closed.”
Shortly afterward, Dickinson went away for a three-week conference. “I got back and discovered he’d written a novel,” she says, running to get a copy.
“I’ve self-published one, but completed four others,” says Simone, smiling modestly. A conspiracy-theory novel, Truth Seekers, which Dickinson proudly hands me, sold more than 1,000 copies in the first week.
Writing novels has changed what Simone reads. “When Naren began writing again, he began reading serious fiction,” Dickinson says.
Despite gloomy predictions about the end of print, books are alive and well, thank you very much. While sales are down worldwide due to the global financial crisis (the American Association of Publishers reported a 12 per cent decline in the United States last year), we continue to buy, borrow, lend and read books. At an average of Dh60 for a paperback novel, it’s the best entertainment deal in town.
Naren Simone and his wife Gail Dickinson say they both read several books a week. Simone is also a writer who self-published a novel. Sammy Dallal / The National
Book fans don’t just number among the pre-digital generation. The Kids and Family Reading Report, a Scholastic Books project published in 2008, reveals heartening statistics: among the five- to 17-year-olds interviewed, 75 per cent said that no matter what they could do online, they would “always want to read books printed on paper”. Even more reassuring, 63 per cent of those surveyed said they prefer to read books when they “want to use their imaginations”.
Click here to find out more!
The Scholastic study also shows that parents who read “for fun” every day are six times more likely than parents who read less often to have children who also read recreationally every day. And when the child rearing is over and the kids are passing on the reading but to their kids, you can get to the books you always wanted to read but didn’t have time for.
Whether we’re fluent in English or Arabic, Urdu or Tamil, Abu Dhabi is a city of high-frequency readers and unabashed book lovers. We spoke to five families – from two-year-olds to 60-year-olds – to find out who’s reading what, and why.
The al Zaabi family
It’s a warm room of browns and beiges, with comfy chairs and carpets. Eiman al Zaabi turns the pages of a picture book while her young son and daughter sit on her lap. Saeed, her older son, sprawls on an adjacent couch, brow slightly furrowed, listening.
Al Zaabi’s nieces and nephew are sprawled across the carpet at her feet. The youngest hold their own books, small hands turning small pages. Sometimes they look up to listen; sometimes their own books are more interesting.
It’s a room made for reading. While the children are served a before-bed snack of juice and miniature doughnuts, al Zaabi says: “I used to not like to read. I used to watch a lot of movies. My teachers were always saying: ‘Read! Read! Read!’”
Now a teacher herself – of information technology at Abu Dhabi Women’s College, the school she graduated from – al Zaabi has become a passionate reader.
“I actually don’t read fiction,” she says. “I read because I want to learn and I learn the most from non-fiction.”
She’s currently reading Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ by Daniel Goleman. The book explains that “we use emotions to make important decisions” al Zaabi says. “We need our emotions as much as our heads, maybe even more. We need to have empathy, patience, understanding.”
She smiles slightly. “Women are more intelligent emotionally, I think.”
Al Zaabi also recently read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love. “That book read like a novel,” she says. “It was so courageous and funny. I think it will help men understand women – what we’re really like.”
At that moment there’s a misunderstanding across the room. Ibrahim, al Zaabi’s two-year-old nephew, throws his book on the floor, sheds tears. It’s a skirmish over a book, it seems. Someone brings in a pet turtle to show me and tempers are sorted and soothed.
Reading is highly encouraged in this household of cousins (al Zaabi’s sister’s family lives here as well, since the sisters’ husbands are brothers.) There’s even a library upstairs, though it seems every room contains the kind of comfortable couch and warm light that invite reading.
“I so much want them to get into reading,” al Zaabi says as she watches the children. “We give them incentives such as stickers if they read the Quran, say their prayers and read books.”
She really has to push, however, to get the children to read in their mother tongue: “They don’t like reading in Arabic.” Children’s books in Arabic tend to be, in her words, “shallow”. It’s a problem she encounters in her own reading, particularly when it comes to the self-help books she’s drawn to.
Al Zaabi, who hopes to move into the field of personal growth and stress management, says: “It’s a new area here. In the past you didn’t get a book to get help; you didn’t go to see a psychologist. It just wasn’t in the open. But now, with more and more people getting educated, it’s starting to change.”
It’s time for evening prayers and al Zaabi leaves me momentarily in the company of six children. Saeed, nine, eyes me somewhat warily, but the girls – al Zaabi’s nieces, 10-year-old Alya, and three-year-old Salama, and six-year-old daughter, also named Alya – are eager to talk.
“I read Harry Potter in Arabic,” says the elder Alya.
“I like princess books,” says little Alya. “I like them in English.”
“Harry Potter was scary,” continues her cousin.
I ask Saeed if he likes adventure books. He moves his hand back and forth: so-so. “I like Sam’s Duck,” he whispers.
“Is it funny?” I ask.
“No, not sad. Not funny. Normal,” Saeed says.
Ibrahim brings over a tiny board book, Spot in the Garden. His grin tells me this is his favourite.
Little Alya recounts a fairy tale she recently read. It is another meandering plot line. “I think books are a little bit scary and a little bit happy,” she finally concludes.
“She reads the most,” says al Zaabi, re-entering the room. “Oh, this is Abdullah’s favourite.” She hands me an obviously loved book. The end pages are covered in coloured-pencil “drawings”. It’s part of Ted Dewan’s Bing Bunny series for toddlers, Go Picnic.
“How about a picnic in the square?” Bing asks his bunny friend Flop.
“No. Too much dog poo,” says Flop.
And Saeed, the eldest, who’s managed to keep his dignity intact throughout, points at the page and laughs, making sure I get it.
The al Zaabi family’s picks
Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman
Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Sam’s Duck by Michael Morpurgo
Bing Bunny series by Ted Dewan
Spot in the Garden (Little Spot Board Books) by Eric Hill
The Dickinson-Simone family
As a university student in India, Naren Simone wrote poetry. Gail Dickinson majored in English literature in her native British Columbia. Four decades and two demanding careers later – Simone is chief executive officer of an engineering company based in Saudi Arabia, and Dickinson recently retired as an emergency room doctor at Sheikh Khalifa Medical City – are wending their way back to their early loves.
The couple met in Saudi Arabia, where both worked during the 1990s. At the time, Dickinson says, “Naren was only reading professional journals”.
We’re perched on stools at a high, round table strategically placed for the best 14th-storey view of the Corniche. The room is bright with sunshine and contemporary art. Dickinson pours tea.
Simone’s passion for writing had been shelved as he concentrated on his career and raising a family (he has two grown children from a previous marriage). “It took an unfortunate incident – September 11 – to start writing again,” he says. “I was working at the time for a consulting business in Saudi but our clients were American. After September 11, that business world closed.”
Shortly afterward, Dickinson went away for a three-week conference. “I got back and discovered he’d written a novel,” she says, running to get a copy.
“I’ve self-published one, but completed four others,” says Simone, smiling modestly. A conspiracy-theory novel, Truth Seekers, which Dickinson proudly hands me, sold more than 1,000 copies in the first week.
Writing novels has changed what Simone reads. “When Naren began writing again, he began reading serious fiction,” Dickinson says.
A tradition shrouded in mystery
Moza al Muhairi, better known among her people as Umm Nasser, has been wearing the burqa since the age of 12. Now 47, she has worn hundreds of the traditional UAE face masks and even makes them herself whenever she runs out of stock.
“The burqa is our version of the Islamic niqab [veil], where there are different designs for different ages and for different occasions,” she says.
The burqa, pronounced “burga”, one of the oldest items of dress in the Gulf region, is a mask that was traditionally worn by girls when they came of age. Quite different from the head-to-toe one-piece cover used in Afghanistan, also called a burqa, the Gulf burqa is a traditional, metallic-coloured red or golden embroidered cloth used to cover part of the face. Today, it is mainly worn by the older generation.
The inside surface of the mask is rubbed and polished using oyster shell or stone and painted with indigo dye, reputed to have a “beautifying and whitening” effect on the skin, says Umm Nasser, as she rubs the burqa’s cloth on her hand, leaving a dark, bluish mark. Further rubbing brings a shiny, pearly tinge to the skin. “The dye gives the skin a glow,” she says.
While largely perceived from a Western perspective as a mask designed to conceal a woman’s facial features, Umm Nasser says the burqa is in fact “part of our zeena [beauty regime], where it is meant to beautify the woman and hide all her flaws. It is not about suppression.”
Nevertheless, the burqa has left its impression on more than Arabic culture; some of the older types, says Umm Nasser, used to leave a mark on the nose, while some could permanently change the shape of the wearer’s nose.
Because of the lack of written records about the history of the burqa, the origin of the mask is uncertain, and speculation has it coming variously from Yemen, Oman or even further afield, from the Muslim communities in India. Among the Arabic tribes of the Gulf, at some point the metallic finish was added – a development now lost in time but which has been handed down through successive generations.
“The only written records here were made by the British, and often the British men would not have access to the local women and so a lot of the women-related heritage was not recorded,” says Dr Jane Bristol-Rhys, an anthropologist in the department of humanities and social sciences at Zayed University in Abu Dhabi.
“There was also a greater focus on the political and economic aspect of life here, and less so on the social history.”
Some believe the traditional design of the burqa deliberately mimics the features of the falcon, a traditional Arabic symbol of grace, pride and strength, but for Umm Nasser it serves a practical purpose, helping to emphasise some features of the face, while concealing the others. “The wrinkles, broken or discoloured teeth, unattractive eyebrows, the burqa hides it all and helps the eyes stand out,” she says. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the slit around the eyes “is larger in younger women, and gets smaller as they get older”.
Traditionally, the colour of the burqa was red, known locally as “nili”, the colour of a firm, shiny cloth imported from India for more than 100 years. The more modern burqa, made with a material also imported from India, is golden.
Before the UAE came into being in 1971, the old handmade burqa cost about Dh1 to Dh2. Today, modern machine-made examples cost about Dh10, but for her traditionally made burqas, which take about 20 minutes to make, Umm Nasser charges Dh20.
She starts by cutting the eye slit in a folded piece of a nili cloth with a pair of scissors, leaving space for the “saif”, the wooden piece that rests on the nose and is placed vertically between the thicker portion of the mask on the forehead, “al jabha”, and the curved part along the cheeks, “al khad”.
“A jabha is sewn extra thick with many folds to prevent it from getting damaged too quickly from water or sweat,” she says as she quickly stitches in the tiny multiple folds that give the burqa its shape.
After she cuts out the eye slits, she forms a sleeve in the middle into which the stick is inserted which holds the burqa straight. Next, she carefully forms small folds to form the ruffled top edge, through which is fed the “seer”, the thread that ties the burqa in place at the back of the head.
This used to be a simple cotton thread, but the modern ones are synthetic, with more of a shine to them. Some call this the “shubug”, and prefer it to be red, although today others favour silver.
In the past, because of the harsh climate and lack of air conditioning, it was not uncommon to see women with bluish streaks around the openings of the burqa, as the dye ran with the heat, and the burqa would have to be replaced almost daily.
“The burqas of today are more disposable and cheap to buy, so the minute there is any damage, we discard them and put on a new one,” says Um Nasser.
“It was much harder before as we would have to make our own burqa each time and often our hands would be so sore from all the sewing.”
As well as the burqa, Umm Nasser would have to sew all of her own clothing, as well of that of her children. “The old days were hard,” she says, “but we enjoyed making everything with our own hands.”
The design of a burqa varies according to which part of the UAE its owner is from. The Dubai design, the “Zabeel cut”, also worn in Abu Dhabi, has a narrow top and broad, curved bottom. The Al Ain design, on the other hand, features both a narrow top and bottom – a design that Umm Nasser declines to wear because, she says, it “looks like a moustache” and hides the least amount of face. In Sharjah, the burqa resembles the Zabeel cut but is shaped so the top of the mask is inclined forwards.
The burqa is not limited to the UAE. Variations can be found in nearby countries such as Oman, Bahrain, Qatar and Kuwait. The Bahraini and Qatari burqas are square-shaped, whereas the Omani burqa, also worn in Fujairah, is very large. It is broader at the top and its tip rises above the forehead. In Saudi Arabia the niqab, a black cloth that covers the face, with a slit for the eyes is worn, not the burqa.
Umm Nasser’s husband is a retired pearl diver and the family does what it can to keep up the old ways; she says she is fond of Freej, the popular home-grown animated cartoon series, because it brought back the “allure” of the burqa. “The younger generation started asking about the burqa again, and that is a great thing to remind the young of the old ways and dress.”
Although women have dressed modestly since the spread of Islam, the method of covering the face has been less standardised than the clothing they have worn. But whatever style is worn, use of the burqa was widespread just a generation ago, while today some may wear it while others do not, even within the same Emirati family.
One who does is Maitha al Mazroui. Now 35, she has been wearing the burqa since age 10, unlike the rest of the women in her family.
Out of personal interest, she once tried to research the origin of the burqa, but ran up against the lack of documentary evidence. All she could glean from elders in the Al Gharbia region was “my grandmother and the grandmother before me wore it, so then I did. For some reason, nobody thought of keeping records of things like where our dress or heritage pieces came from.” This, she said, is a “downside” to nomadic tradition.
In previous generations, she says, some men would never see their wives without their burqa, which in effect became part of the women’s face.
“It just became a part of us, often we would forget we are wearing it,” she says. “I feel exposed without it.” Laughing, she adds: “And if I take it off now, people might accuse me of going wild.”
Times, says Umm Nasser, have changed. She recalls that Sheikh Zayed used to encourage the preservation of traditional clothing and said that “he will not attend a wedding, unless the bride wears a burqa”.
But although Umm Nasser taught her daughters how to make the burqa, she doubts they will ever wear one in public. The reality, she fears, is that “it is a traditional wear that will fade in 20 years. It will be just a museum piece.”
“The burqa is our version of the Islamic niqab [veil], where there are different designs for different ages and for different occasions,” she says.
The burqa, pronounced “burga”, one of the oldest items of dress in the Gulf region, is a mask that was traditionally worn by girls when they came of age. Quite different from the head-to-toe one-piece cover used in Afghanistan, also called a burqa, the Gulf burqa is a traditional, metallic-coloured red or golden embroidered cloth used to cover part of the face. Today, it is mainly worn by the older generation.
The inside surface of the mask is rubbed and polished using oyster shell or stone and painted with indigo dye, reputed to have a “beautifying and whitening” effect on the skin, says Umm Nasser, as she rubs the burqa’s cloth on her hand, leaving a dark, bluish mark. Further rubbing brings a shiny, pearly tinge to the skin. “The dye gives the skin a glow,” she says.
While largely perceived from a Western perspective as a mask designed to conceal a woman’s facial features, Umm Nasser says the burqa is in fact “part of our zeena [beauty regime], where it is meant to beautify the woman and hide all her flaws. It is not about suppression.”
Nevertheless, the burqa has left its impression on more than Arabic culture; some of the older types, says Umm Nasser, used to leave a mark on the nose, while some could permanently change the shape of the wearer’s nose.
Because of the lack of written records about the history of the burqa, the origin of the mask is uncertain, and speculation has it coming variously from Yemen, Oman or even further afield, from the Muslim communities in India. Among the Arabic tribes of the Gulf, at some point the metallic finish was added – a development now lost in time but which has been handed down through successive generations.
“The only written records here were made by the British, and often the British men would not have access to the local women and so a lot of the women-related heritage was not recorded,” says Dr Jane Bristol-Rhys, an anthropologist in the department of humanities and social sciences at Zayed University in Abu Dhabi.
“There was also a greater focus on the political and economic aspect of life here, and less so on the social history.”
Some believe the traditional design of the burqa deliberately mimics the features of the falcon, a traditional Arabic symbol of grace, pride and strength, but for Umm Nasser it serves a practical purpose, helping to emphasise some features of the face, while concealing the others. “The wrinkles, broken or discoloured teeth, unattractive eyebrows, the burqa hides it all and helps the eyes stand out,” she says. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the slit around the eyes “is larger in younger women, and gets smaller as they get older”.
Traditionally, the colour of the burqa was red, known locally as “nili”, the colour of a firm, shiny cloth imported from India for more than 100 years. The more modern burqa, made with a material also imported from India, is golden.
Before the UAE came into being in 1971, the old handmade burqa cost about Dh1 to Dh2. Today, modern machine-made examples cost about Dh10, but for her traditionally made burqas, which take about 20 minutes to make, Umm Nasser charges Dh20.
She starts by cutting the eye slit in a folded piece of a nili cloth with a pair of scissors, leaving space for the “saif”, the wooden piece that rests on the nose and is placed vertically between the thicker portion of the mask on the forehead, “al jabha”, and the curved part along the cheeks, “al khad”.
“A jabha is sewn extra thick with many folds to prevent it from getting damaged too quickly from water or sweat,” she says as she quickly stitches in the tiny multiple folds that give the burqa its shape.
After she cuts out the eye slits, she forms a sleeve in the middle into which the stick is inserted which holds the burqa straight. Next, she carefully forms small folds to form the ruffled top edge, through which is fed the “seer”, the thread that ties the burqa in place at the back of the head.
This used to be a simple cotton thread, but the modern ones are synthetic, with more of a shine to them. Some call this the “shubug”, and prefer it to be red, although today others favour silver.
In the past, because of the harsh climate and lack of air conditioning, it was not uncommon to see women with bluish streaks around the openings of the burqa, as the dye ran with the heat, and the burqa would have to be replaced almost daily.
“The burqas of today are more disposable and cheap to buy, so the minute there is any damage, we discard them and put on a new one,” says Um Nasser.
“It was much harder before as we would have to make our own burqa each time and often our hands would be so sore from all the sewing.”
As well as the burqa, Umm Nasser would have to sew all of her own clothing, as well of that of her children. “The old days were hard,” she says, “but we enjoyed making everything with our own hands.”
The design of a burqa varies according to which part of the UAE its owner is from. The Dubai design, the “Zabeel cut”, also worn in Abu Dhabi, has a narrow top and broad, curved bottom. The Al Ain design, on the other hand, features both a narrow top and bottom – a design that Umm Nasser declines to wear because, she says, it “looks like a moustache” and hides the least amount of face. In Sharjah, the burqa resembles the Zabeel cut but is shaped so the top of the mask is inclined forwards.
The burqa is not limited to the UAE. Variations can be found in nearby countries such as Oman, Bahrain, Qatar and Kuwait. The Bahraini and Qatari burqas are square-shaped, whereas the Omani burqa, also worn in Fujairah, is very large. It is broader at the top and its tip rises above the forehead. In Saudi Arabia the niqab, a black cloth that covers the face, with a slit for the eyes is worn, not the burqa.
Umm Nasser’s husband is a retired pearl diver and the family does what it can to keep up the old ways; she says she is fond of Freej, the popular home-grown animated cartoon series, because it brought back the “allure” of the burqa. “The younger generation started asking about the burqa again, and that is a great thing to remind the young of the old ways and dress.”
Although women have dressed modestly since the spread of Islam, the method of covering the face has been less standardised than the clothing they have worn. But whatever style is worn, use of the burqa was widespread just a generation ago, while today some may wear it while others do not, even within the same Emirati family.
One who does is Maitha al Mazroui. Now 35, she has been wearing the burqa since age 10, unlike the rest of the women in her family.
Out of personal interest, she once tried to research the origin of the burqa, but ran up against the lack of documentary evidence. All she could glean from elders in the Al Gharbia region was “my grandmother and the grandmother before me wore it, so then I did. For some reason, nobody thought of keeping records of things like where our dress or heritage pieces came from.” This, she said, is a “downside” to nomadic tradition.
In previous generations, she says, some men would never see their wives without their burqa, which in effect became part of the women’s face.
“It just became a part of us, often we would forget we are wearing it,” she says. “I feel exposed without it.” Laughing, she adds: “And if I take it off now, people might accuse me of going wild.”
Times, says Umm Nasser, have changed. She recalls that Sheikh Zayed used to encourage the preservation of traditional clothing and said that “he will not attend a wedding, unless the bride wears a burqa”.
But although Umm Nasser taught her daughters how to make the burqa, she doubts they will ever wear one in public. The reality, she fears, is that “it is a traditional wear that will fade in 20 years. It will be just a museum piece.”
Friday, 8 May 2009
The sands of time
The Emirati actors playing Sir Wilfred Thesiger’s Bedouin guides have a problem.
Abdullah al Shamsi has the right long flowing hair to play the part of Salim bin Ghabaisha, the famous Bedouin guide from 60 years ago, but modern haircare regimes have rendered it too neat to pass for the head of someone who has just made an epic crossing of the dunes of the Empty Quarter. With the help of fellow actor Khaled al Farsi, who plays Salim bin Kabina, they scruff it into a messier and more authentic style.
Beside them Dylan Dolan, a Dubai-based corporate trainer who bears an uncanny physical resemblance to Thesiger, is finding the rough rocks of Jebel Hafeet are playing havoc with his bare feet, just as they did in the late 1940s for the English adventurer he is portraying.
Al Shamsi and al Farsi, both students from nearby Al Ain, are suffering similarly. Unlike the guides, whose feet were hardened by a lifetime of living barefoot in the desert, the headlong modernisation that is the focus of the dramatised documentary in which they are acting means this pair were born into an easier way of life far removed from their Bedouin ancestors.
The story of Thesiger’s group forms about a third of Changing Sands, a 60-minute television documentary being produced by Abu Dhabi-based Pyramovies which will cover an 85-year span from the camel age through to the culmination of the Abu Dhabi 2030 city plan.
The Dh2.2 million production has just finished its four-week shoot and is in negotiations for a worldwide distribution deal after its planned debut at the Middle East International Film Festival in October. But the British-Yemeni director Bader Ben Hirsi says one of the goals is to introduce young Emiratis to their own history as well as the global audience.
Grand Hyatt Doha now open - click for more information
Al Shamsi and al Farsi are an example of that. Before they were recruited to be in the documentary, they had never heard of the characters they are playing, or the story of how bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha guided Thesiger – known to them as Mubarak bin London, which translates as the Blessed, son of London – on what has been called the last and greatest expedition of Arabian travel.
Hirsi has also interviewed bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, now in their eighties, for Changing Sands, with the aim of using their example to explain the implications of Abu Dhabi’s rapid development. “Really the focus is on the fastest developed nation in recent history, and it’s about how they can create a balance between modernity and keep hold of the customs and traditions and national identity, especially since Emiratis are in the minority,” he says.
“It starts in the 1940s with the guys meeting the late Sheikh Zayed and then it goes to the formation of the UAE and Sheikh Zayed’s involvement, the discovery of oil and then the sudden rapid changes in the 1970s through three decades. Now there’s an MTV, McDonald’s and Coca Cola culture. How can they cope with that rapid change and also maintain their identity of who they are and where they come from?
“We’ve interviewed a historian who remembers walking around barefoot, and now (Emiratis) go to malls where they’ve got Dior and Gucci and diamond-studded shoes.
“Some of the Emirati actors knew of the Wilfred Thesiger story, and some didn’t, but they were fascinated and learnt some more, and they realised that Wilfred Thesiger and bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha are very important to their national identity. They’ve realised it’s important and they’ve loved the experience.
“I think this is very, very important, more important than I perhaps anticipated.”
On the filming location beside the road ascending Jebel Hafeet, the actors playing Thesiger, bin Ghabaisha and bin Kabina switch with remarkable ease from new to old.
Pristine white dishdashas, blindingly bright on a scorching late April afternoon, are swapped for the deliberately threadbare and dirty ones more in keeping with the kind they would have worn on the crossing.
Dolan slips on his own grimy dishdash to hide his modern jeans, enlists Emirati expertise to tie his ghutra and reluctantly surrenders his trainers for bare feet when filming begins.
The rifle used by Thesiger on his crossing has been borrowed from a museum in
Al Ain for the day, and the actors vary between being impressed by its history
and impressed by its weight.
Shortly before filming begins, al Shamsi is dressed just like bin Ghabaisha but beside the khanjar on his belt is his mobile phone, on which he is chatting via an earpiece. Al Farsi puts on an ammunition belt while other Emiratis playing bit parts mess around with the old rifles and blink at the glare when they have to give up their designer sunglasses in preparation for the camera rolling.
The month-long process of filming, all three lead actors admit with varying degrees of candour, has been arduous.
Their feet have not just been assailed by the sharp rocks of Jebel Hafeet but also by the burning sands of the dunes while filming beside the Al Ain motorway.
Dolan remembers the first day of filming in the dunes, when he spent a few hours walking barefoot through the sand just as Thesiger had during his years of aspiring to live exactly the same way as his Bedouin companions.
“It was so hot I got blisters on my feet,” he says. “We were out in the desert for eight to 10 hours a day, and if we didn’t get water within 10 minutes of going ‘I need water’, we were freaking out. Between shoots, we got to sit down in the shade. But we’re just getting a taste of what they went through. I’m not walking through the middle of the Empty Quarter like Thesiger did.”
Al Farsi says he had grown up in cities and had little experience of the traditional ways or the physical hardiness required by Bedouin life.
“I haven’t really experienced true Bedouin life, (but) my grandfather lived like this. We all used to live like this,” he says.
“The sand was hot in the beginning but I managed to get used to it. At the beginning of the shoot, it was difficult for me but now I can walk over these rocks.”
Even al Shamsi coyly accepts the acting “has been a little hard on my feet” but says the greater impression on him was the appreciation of what life had been like a few generations ago.
The film set features the usual mix of fleeting domestic dramas behind the camera – someone has forgotten to charge some crucial batteries, a 1940s-era stills camera has gone missing shortly before it’s needed for a scene in which Thesiger photographs bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, and another person loses his temper and launches into a brief tirade before apologising for the disruption. All of this Hirsi works through with an almost transcendent equanimity, speaking quietly as he orchestrates a scene that he knows will take half a day to film but is likely to contribute less than half a minute to the 60-minute documentary.
All this is part of his goal to bring Arab culture to a wider audience. As someone
born and raised in Britain but of Yemeni heritage – his father left because of the civil war in the 1960s – he has always tried to bridge the gulf between the Arab world
and the West with his films.
One year after the release of his first major documentary – The English Sheik And The Yemeni Gentleman, about being reintroduced to his ancestral culture by Tim Mackintosh-Smith, a longtime English resident of Sana’a – the September 11 terror attacks dramatically widened the gap between the West and the Arab world and correspondingly increased the need for those who understood both worlds.
“I’ve got a responsibility really to educate, having been brought up in the UK and born and bred there,” he says. “In the UK, I find myself defending the Arab world and in the Middle East I find myself defending the West. Especially after 9/11, my focus became trying to show the Arab and Islamic world.”
He also directed a film called 9/11 Through Saudi Eyes, based on exclusive access to the hijackers’ families and friends, to provide a different view of what led to the attacks in New York and Washington, and another film about the pilgrimage to Mecca.
His 2005 feature film based in Yemen, A New Day In Old Sana’a, won the award as the best Arab film at the Cairo Film Festival, which helped him land the job of producing Million’s Poet for Pyramedia in Abu Dhabi two years ago. That in turn led to the opportunity to create a documentary on the Arabian oryx and then the chance to make Changing Sands.
Wilfred Thesiger died in 2003, aged 93, but Hirsi was fortunate that both bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha remain alive and alert, if frail. Neither of the two knows his birthday but they were teenagers when they joined Thesiger’s crossings of the Empty Quarter soon after the war and the general agreement is they must be in their eighties now.
When Al Ain’s Jahili Fort reopened last December, bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha were among the VIPs invited to revisit the place where they met and were hosted by Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan, the future founder of the UAE but then the Abu Dhabi royal family’s representative in the emirate’s eastern region, after their crossing of the Empty Quarter.
Hirsi says he initially wanted to focus on bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha to anchor the tale of the UAE’s history but later broadened the scope to include Thesiger’s role as well, which helped to incorporate Sheikh Zayed and his role in the formation of what became the UAE in 1971.
He then had to cast the Thesiger role, a task he expected to be a challenge but found unexpectedly simple when it came to the attention of a friend of Dolan’s, who took one look at the photographs of Thesiger and forwarded it to him.
Dolan says he was aware of Thesiger but knew few details about him. “I’d heard of him vaguely. When you go into a bookshop in the Emirates, you always see his book but I hadn’t seen a picture of him,” he says. “When I got a photo, I showed my wife and she said ‘They’ve got to have you,’ so I sent my CV with photos to Ben.”
Hirsi was on location in the dunes at Liwa when the email from Dolan arrived. At the time, he was not banking on finding an actor who looked like Thesiger and was willing to settle on someone who could act the part. “You could hunt for months and months and months, if you had that luxury. We had two or three other hopefuls who didn’t look anything like Thesiger,” he says. “As soon as I saw [Dolan’s] photo on my BlackBerry, I nearly dropped the phone. It doesn’t happen like this.”
Dolan not only had a striking physical resemblance to Thesiger but also is an amateur actor who lives in the Emirates and, at 37, is the same age as the Englishman at the time of his crossings of the Empty Quarter.
Finding the Emirati actors proved to be a tougher task, but after a lot of networking, Hirsi found al Shamsi and al Farsi for the roles of bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, as well as others for the lesser roles, from two amateur dramatic groups in Al Ain.
Dolan says the reaction of Emiratis when he disclosed he was going to play Mubarak bin London in the documentary varied depending on age. “For the locals, there was instant recognition, although it was definitely the more senior guys, people of my age or older, who recognised the name,” he says.
“Most of the younger guys on the shoot hadn’t known about it but that’s the value of these things. It only takes one movie for them to learn about it. I think that’s really important, especially in the times we’re now in where there’s so much focus on ensuring there is an understanding of Emirati heritage culture and language.
“It shows people where they’re coming from, rather than driving around highways in a 4x4. They’ve got a lot of stuff to be proud of – look how far they’ve come. This doesn’t happen overnight. A lot of blood, sweat and tears goes into making this happen, but you can’t step away from culture and heritage.”
Both al Shamsi and al Farsi say they had been impressed by learning the story of the crossings of the Empty Quarter by Thesiger and his companions.
“It’s the first time I’ve understood about them but it’s been a good experience,” al Farsi says. “I’ve learnt about how the Bedouin lived before and how they’ve managed to transfer from that time to the present. I’ve been able to understand the changes better and how Sheikh Zayed led and his vision to this point.”
Al Shamsi says his grandfather lived like
a Bedouin and his family tried to keep that spirit alive, but it took the experience of playing bin Ghabaisha to fully appreciate
the traditional way of life.
“I didn’t know anything about them but I learnt, as part of this movie, I read some books,” he says. “They have a strong heart, really. Who wants to go through cold weather and hot weather? Who wants to live in the desert and eat like they did, where it takes three hours and first he has to hunt some animals?”
The experience has also enhanced his knowledge about the UAE’s founder. “Sheikh Zayed said if you don’t understand your past, you don’t know anything about your future,” al Shamsi adds.
“Put that first. Out of all this,” he adds, gesturing at my page of shorthand notes from our conversation to where I had just written that line, “put that first”.
Middle East Film Festival
Abdullah al Shamsi has the right long flowing hair to play the part of Salim bin Ghabaisha, the famous Bedouin guide from 60 years ago, but modern haircare regimes have rendered it too neat to pass for the head of someone who has just made an epic crossing of the dunes of the Empty Quarter. With the help of fellow actor Khaled al Farsi, who plays Salim bin Kabina, they scruff it into a messier and more authentic style.
Beside them Dylan Dolan, a Dubai-based corporate trainer who bears an uncanny physical resemblance to Thesiger, is finding the rough rocks of Jebel Hafeet are playing havoc with his bare feet, just as they did in the late 1940s for the English adventurer he is portraying.
Al Shamsi and al Farsi, both students from nearby Al Ain, are suffering similarly. Unlike the guides, whose feet were hardened by a lifetime of living barefoot in the desert, the headlong modernisation that is the focus of the dramatised documentary in which they are acting means this pair were born into an easier way of life far removed from their Bedouin ancestors.
The story of Thesiger’s group forms about a third of Changing Sands, a 60-minute television documentary being produced by Abu Dhabi-based Pyramovies which will cover an 85-year span from the camel age through to the culmination of the Abu Dhabi 2030 city plan.
The Dh2.2 million production has just finished its four-week shoot and is in negotiations for a worldwide distribution deal after its planned debut at the Middle East International Film Festival in October. But the British-Yemeni director Bader Ben Hirsi says one of the goals is to introduce young Emiratis to their own history as well as the global audience.
Grand Hyatt Doha now open - click for more information
Al Shamsi and al Farsi are an example of that. Before they were recruited to be in the documentary, they had never heard of the characters they are playing, or the story of how bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha guided Thesiger – known to them as Mubarak bin London, which translates as the Blessed, son of London – on what has been called the last and greatest expedition of Arabian travel.
Hirsi has also interviewed bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, now in their eighties, for Changing Sands, with the aim of using their example to explain the implications of Abu Dhabi’s rapid development. “Really the focus is on the fastest developed nation in recent history, and it’s about how they can create a balance between modernity and keep hold of the customs and traditions and national identity, especially since Emiratis are in the minority,” he says.
“It starts in the 1940s with the guys meeting the late Sheikh Zayed and then it goes to the formation of the UAE and Sheikh Zayed’s involvement, the discovery of oil and then the sudden rapid changes in the 1970s through three decades. Now there’s an MTV, McDonald’s and Coca Cola culture. How can they cope with that rapid change and also maintain their identity of who they are and where they come from?
“We’ve interviewed a historian who remembers walking around barefoot, and now (Emiratis) go to malls where they’ve got Dior and Gucci and diamond-studded shoes.
“Some of the Emirati actors knew of the Wilfred Thesiger story, and some didn’t, but they were fascinated and learnt some more, and they realised that Wilfred Thesiger and bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha are very important to their national identity. They’ve realised it’s important and they’ve loved the experience.
“I think this is very, very important, more important than I perhaps anticipated.”
On the filming location beside the road ascending Jebel Hafeet, the actors playing Thesiger, bin Ghabaisha and bin Kabina switch with remarkable ease from new to old.
Pristine white dishdashas, blindingly bright on a scorching late April afternoon, are swapped for the deliberately threadbare and dirty ones more in keeping with the kind they would have worn on the crossing.
Dolan slips on his own grimy dishdash to hide his modern jeans, enlists Emirati expertise to tie his ghutra and reluctantly surrenders his trainers for bare feet when filming begins.
The rifle used by Thesiger on his crossing has been borrowed from a museum in
Al Ain for the day, and the actors vary between being impressed by its history
and impressed by its weight.
Shortly before filming begins, al Shamsi is dressed just like bin Ghabaisha but beside the khanjar on his belt is his mobile phone, on which he is chatting via an earpiece. Al Farsi puts on an ammunition belt while other Emiratis playing bit parts mess around with the old rifles and blink at the glare when they have to give up their designer sunglasses in preparation for the camera rolling.
The month-long process of filming, all three lead actors admit with varying degrees of candour, has been arduous.
Their feet have not just been assailed by the sharp rocks of Jebel Hafeet but also by the burning sands of the dunes while filming beside the Al Ain motorway.
Dolan remembers the first day of filming in the dunes, when he spent a few hours walking barefoot through the sand just as Thesiger had during his years of aspiring to live exactly the same way as his Bedouin companions.
“It was so hot I got blisters on my feet,” he says. “We were out in the desert for eight to 10 hours a day, and if we didn’t get water within 10 minutes of going ‘I need water’, we were freaking out. Between shoots, we got to sit down in the shade. But we’re just getting a taste of what they went through. I’m not walking through the middle of the Empty Quarter like Thesiger did.”
Al Farsi says he had grown up in cities and had little experience of the traditional ways or the physical hardiness required by Bedouin life.
“I haven’t really experienced true Bedouin life, (but) my grandfather lived like this. We all used to live like this,” he says.
“The sand was hot in the beginning but I managed to get used to it. At the beginning of the shoot, it was difficult for me but now I can walk over these rocks.”
Even al Shamsi coyly accepts the acting “has been a little hard on my feet” but says the greater impression on him was the appreciation of what life had been like a few generations ago.
The film set features the usual mix of fleeting domestic dramas behind the camera – someone has forgotten to charge some crucial batteries, a 1940s-era stills camera has gone missing shortly before it’s needed for a scene in which Thesiger photographs bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, and another person loses his temper and launches into a brief tirade before apologising for the disruption. All of this Hirsi works through with an almost transcendent equanimity, speaking quietly as he orchestrates a scene that he knows will take half a day to film but is likely to contribute less than half a minute to the 60-minute documentary.
All this is part of his goal to bring Arab culture to a wider audience. As someone
born and raised in Britain but of Yemeni heritage – his father left because of the civil war in the 1960s – he has always tried to bridge the gulf between the Arab world
and the West with his films.
One year after the release of his first major documentary – The English Sheik And The Yemeni Gentleman, about being reintroduced to his ancestral culture by Tim Mackintosh-Smith, a longtime English resident of Sana’a – the September 11 terror attacks dramatically widened the gap between the West and the Arab world and correspondingly increased the need for those who understood both worlds.
“I’ve got a responsibility really to educate, having been brought up in the UK and born and bred there,” he says. “In the UK, I find myself defending the Arab world and in the Middle East I find myself defending the West. Especially after 9/11, my focus became trying to show the Arab and Islamic world.”
He also directed a film called 9/11 Through Saudi Eyes, based on exclusive access to the hijackers’ families and friends, to provide a different view of what led to the attacks in New York and Washington, and another film about the pilgrimage to Mecca.
His 2005 feature film based in Yemen, A New Day In Old Sana’a, won the award as the best Arab film at the Cairo Film Festival, which helped him land the job of producing Million’s Poet for Pyramedia in Abu Dhabi two years ago. That in turn led to the opportunity to create a documentary on the Arabian oryx and then the chance to make Changing Sands.
Wilfred Thesiger died in 2003, aged 93, but Hirsi was fortunate that both bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha remain alive and alert, if frail. Neither of the two knows his birthday but they were teenagers when they joined Thesiger’s crossings of the Empty Quarter soon after the war and the general agreement is they must be in their eighties now.
When Al Ain’s Jahili Fort reopened last December, bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha were among the VIPs invited to revisit the place where they met and were hosted by Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan, the future founder of the UAE but then the Abu Dhabi royal family’s representative in the emirate’s eastern region, after their crossing of the Empty Quarter.
Hirsi says he initially wanted to focus on bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha to anchor the tale of the UAE’s history but later broadened the scope to include Thesiger’s role as well, which helped to incorporate Sheikh Zayed and his role in the formation of what became the UAE in 1971.
He then had to cast the Thesiger role, a task he expected to be a challenge but found unexpectedly simple when it came to the attention of a friend of Dolan’s, who took one look at the photographs of Thesiger and forwarded it to him.
Dolan says he was aware of Thesiger but knew few details about him. “I’d heard of him vaguely. When you go into a bookshop in the Emirates, you always see his book but I hadn’t seen a picture of him,” he says. “When I got a photo, I showed my wife and she said ‘They’ve got to have you,’ so I sent my CV with photos to Ben.”
Hirsi was on location in the dunes at Liwa when the email from Dolan arrived. At the time, he was not banking on finding an actor who looked like Thesiger and was willing to settle on someone who could act the part. “You could hunt for months and months and months, if you had that luxury. We had two or three other hopefuls who didn’t look anything like Thesiger,” he says. “As soon as I saw [Dolan’s] photo on my BlackBerry, I nearly dropped the phone. It doesn’t happen like this.”
Dolan not only had a striking physical resemblance to Thesiger but also is an amateur actor who lives in the Emirates and, at 37, is the same age as the Englishman at the time of his crossings of the Empty Quarter.
Finding the Emirati actors proved to be a tougher task, but after a lot of networking, Hirsi found al Shamsi and al Farsi for the roles of bin Kabina and bin Ghabaisha, as well as others for the lesser roles, from two amateur dramatic groups in Al Ain.
Dolan says the reaction of Emiratis when he disclosed he was going to play Mubarak bin London in the documentary varied depending on age. “For the locals, there was instant recognition, although it was definitely the more senior guys, people of my age or older, who recognised the name,” he says.
“Most of the younger guys on the shoot hadn’t known about it but that’s the value of these things. It only takes one movie for them to learn about it. I think that’s really important, especially in the times we’re now in where there’s so much focus on ensuring there is an understanding of Emirati heritage culture and language.
“It shows people where they’re coming from, rather than driving around highways in a 4x4. They’ve got a lot of stuff to be proud of – look how far they’ve come. This doesn’t happen overnight. A lot of blood, sweat and tears goes into making this happen, but you can’t step away from culture and heritage.”
Both al Shamsi and al Farsi say they had been impressed by learning the story of the crossings of the Empty Quarter by Thesiger and his companions.
“It’s the first time I’ve understood about them but it’s been a good experience,” al Farsi says. “I’ve learnt about how the Bedouin lived before and how they’ve managed to transfer from that time to the present. I’ve been able to understand the changes better and how Sheikh Zayed led and his vision to this point.”
Al Shamsi says his grandfather lived like
a Bedouin and his family tried to keep that spirit alive, but it took the experience of playing bin Ghabaisha to fully appreciate
the traditional way of life.
“I didn’t know anything about them but I learnt, as part of this movie, I read some books,” he says. “They have a strong heart, really. Who wants to go through cold weather and hot weather? Who wants to live in the desert and eat like they did, where it takes three hours and first he has to hunt some animals?”
The experience has also enhanced his knowledge about the UAE’s founder. “Sheikh Zayed said if you don’t understand your past, you don’t know anything about your future,” al Shamsi adds.
“Put that first. Out of all this,” he adds, gesturing at my page of shorthand notes from our conversation to where I had just written that line, “put that first”.
Middle East Film Festival
Monday, 30 March 2009
A Lebanese diva shines at the Palace
“You couldn’t say she’s less than a diva. She’s very special to everyone,” explained Bilal, one of the hordes of concertgoers who poured into the lobby of the Emirates Palace auditorium a clear hour ahead of this charity engagement. “As soon as you’re saying Magida el Roumi... it’s like you’re saying Andrea Bocelli or Pavarotti.” And yet, in the West, she’s scarcely known at all.
Here’s a primer. El Roumi came to prominence in the early Seventies when she won a Lebanese TV talent show. From the start of her professional singing career, she offered a potent blend of classical and pop styles, delivered with a stirring side order of nationalism. Poets wrote for her, most notably the Syrian love-lyricist Nizar Qabbani; the greatest Arabic songwriters and arrangers shaped her sinuous, disco-inflected sound. And to match that dramatic music was a stormy life story: divorce, bereavement, a turn to the consolations of faith, a comeback. Such careers seem drawn from some mystic well of universal archetypes – the chanteuse with a thousand faces.
Yet, the capacity audience at the Emirates Palace had come to see just one. And at first sight, it isn’t clear why el Roumi should command such adoration. She’s shy, oddly reticent. As she slipped out in front of her 30-piece band, she seemed almost apologetic. The crowd stood and applauded and she floated her way through the thunderous Ya Bladna, demurely acknowledging the pounding handclaps, at times offering the ghost of a shimmy, her arms hanging limp by her sides. Her voice was unforced, conversational.
During her next number, something of the strange mutability of her sound became apparent: slinky bossa nova rhythms and a wonderfully twangy pop-orchestra electric guitar gave way to rattling, skeletal percussion. Strings swooped and darted like something from an Isaac Hayes soul epic. And el Roumi’s voice began to lift in shuddering melismas, falling away with infinite world-weariness.
During Ghanni Lel Hob, her Seventies roots were revealed in further detail. The band locked into what was unmistakably a disco beat. A wah-wah guitar percolated away beneath bongos, and el Roumi’s voice climbed to a racking intensity. Though still almost motionless, her onstage persona had shifted slightly: chorus followed crashing, tear-stained chorus, and she hovered between Dancing Queen excess and the stalking grandeur of fado.
Throughout the show, her sharp band negotiated the swerves and tempo-changes of her material with aplomb. A sextet of sad-eyed, tuxedoed backing singers provided a funereal backdrop for the increasingly animated star – funereal, that is, until three of them locked arms and began a synchronised jig across the stage, tumbling to and fro like sailors on a pitching deck.
At one point, a fez was delivered to the star. She put it on for a number which exhibited as well as anything the strange breadth of her style. A sparkling jazz melody laid over a near-dubbish rhythm section gave way to one of the singer’s Olympian choruses, surging like something out of the Elvis comeback special. Then – a great and inexplicable touch – an African woodblock melody floated in.
More startling still was her sudden blast of operatic singing in Amb Bihlamak, a piercing, imploring aria. She rolled it out for the encore, too, draped in the Lebanese flag, laden with flowers, the audience standing and clapping along. It was madly incongruous, moving, in short, fabulous and all that connotes. No, you couldn’t say she’s less than a diva.
Here’s a primer. El Roumi came to prominence in the early Seventies when she won a Lebanese TV talent show. From the start of her professional singing career, she offered a potent blend of classical and pop styles, delivered with a stirring side order of nationalism. Poets wrote for her, most notably the Syrian love-lyricist Nizar Qabbani; the greatest Arabic songwriters and arrangers shaped her sinuous, disco-inflected sound. And to match that dramatic music was a stormy life story: divorce, bereavement, a turn to the consolations of faith, a comeback. Such careers seem drawn from some mystic well of universal archetypes – the chanteuse with a thousand faces.
Yet, the capacity audience at the Emirates Palace had come to see just one. And at first sight, it isn’t clear why el Roumi should command such adoration. She’s shy, oddly reticent. As she slipped out in front of her 30-piece band, she seemed almost apologetic. The crowd stood and applauded and she floated her way through the thunderous Ya Bladna, demurely acknowledging the pounding handclaps, at times offering the ghost of a shimmy, her arms hanging limp by her sides. Her voice was unforced, conversational.
During her next number, something of the strange mutability of her sound became apparent: slinky bossa nova rhythms and a wonderfully twangy pop-orchestra electric guitar gave way to rattling, skeletal percussion. Strings swooped and darted like something from an Isaac Hayes soul epic. And el Roumi’s voice began to lift in shuddering melismas, falling away with infinite world-weariness.
During Ghanni Lel Hob, her Seventies roots were revealed in further detail. The band locked into what was unmistakably a disco beat. A wah-wah guitar percolated away beneath bongos, and el Roumi’s voice climbed to a racking intensity. Though still almost motionless, her onstage persona had shifted slightly: chorus followed crashing, tear-stained chorus, and she hovered between Dancing Queen excess and the stalking grandeur of fado.
Throughout the show, her sharp band negotiated the swerves and tempo-changes of her material with aplomb. A sextet of sad-eyed, tuxedoed backing singers provided a funereal backdrop for the increasingly animated star – funereal, that is, until three of them locked arms and began a synchronised jig across the stage, tumbling to and fro like sailors on a pitching deck.
At one point, a fez was delivered to the star. She put it on for a number which exhibited as well as anything the strange breadth of her style. A sparkling jazz melody laid over a near-dubbish rhythm section gave way to one of the singer’s Olympian choruses, surging like something out of the Elvis comeback special. Then – a great and inexplicable touch – an African woodblock melody floated in.
More startling still was her sudden blast of operatic singing in Amb Bihlamak, a piercing, imploring aria. She rolled it out for the encore, too, draped in the Lebanese flag, laden with flowers, the audience standing and clapping along. It was madly incongruous, moving, in short, fabulous and all that connotes. No, you couldn’t say she’s less than a diva.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Now forgotten, the place where, the UAE was born
Roughly half way along the highway between Abu Dhabi and Dubai, there is an interchange at a place called Semeih. One can turn off here to a large camel-racing track hidden in the desert behind the plantations and small farms, but otherwise, it doesn’t appear of much interest to the passer-by: no houses, no roadside cafe, simply a small plantation of trees and a lake formed by surplus irrigation water draining out of other, larger, plantations nearby. Occasionally I and other birdwatchers will pull off here to look at the lake, but it’s rarely produced anything of interest in the way of rare birds. For the most part, travellers just speed past, and one can’t really blame them for doing so.
Yet this unremarkable place was the site of one of the most important events in the history of the United Arab Emirates. It was here, 41 years ago tomorrow, that the two fathers of the UAE federation, Sheikh Zayed of Abu Dhabi and Sheikh Rashid of Dubai, met on February 18 1968, to lay the foundations of the state of today.
A few weeks earlier, a British Foreign Office minister had visited what were then known as the Trucial States to inform the Rulers that, contrary to promises made as recently as a couple of months before, Britain would be bringing an end to its presence in the Gulf, in December 1971. In consequence, it would be terminating the agreements signed in 1820 – and subsequently supplemented by others – that had ensured protection for, and had guaranteed the sovereignty and survival of, the emirates. The seven states, still poor and underdeveloped – though Abu Dhabi had commenced oil exports six years earlier – would henceforth have to make their own way in the world.
The timing was scarcely auspicious. The previous year, the June war between Israel and Egypt, Jordan and Syria had ended in disastrous defeat for the Arab side, with the West Bank and Gaza, both parts of Palestine, and the Sinai peninsula coming under Israeli occupation. In December 1967, the British had withdrawn in haste from Aden and the former protectorates of South Arabia, with the radical, Marxist-inspired, National Liberation Front coming to power and supporting a spreading of insurgency into Oman. Three of the emirates, Abu Dhabi, Sharjah and Ras al-Khaimah, had parts of their territory being claimed by neighbouring states.
Sheikh Zayed, who had become Abu Dhabi’s Ruler in August 1966, and Sheikh Rashid were taken aback by the British decision, and by the explicit advice that they and their fellow Rulers should now plan for a future on their own.
Deciding to meet to discuss what to do next, they fixed on Semeih as the meeting point. Half way between the two towns – for they were not yet cities – it was a place replete with symbolism. The small well at Semeih had, for generations, been the place where Abu Dhabi’s tribes had gathered before engaging in warfare. The last time that had occurred was only just over 20 years earlier, prior to a conflict between Abu Dhabi and Dubai in which both Sheikh Zayed and Sheikh Rashid had taken part.
At their meeting at Semeih on February 18 1968, the two rulers agreed to form a union of their two emirates, with a common approach to foreign affairs, defence, security and social services, as well as to immigration. Settling a long-standing disagreement over their land and maritime borders, they also invited the rulers of the other Trucial States to join their union, as well as Qatar and Bahrain, which were also to be affected by the termination of the agreements with Britain.
There was a prompt response. On February 25, a week later, the rulers of all nine states met in Dubai and agreed to form a federation. Qatar and Bahrain eventually, in mid-1971, decided to go their own way, and the federation of the United Arab Emirates was formally established in December 1971, with Sheikh Zayed as the first President and Sheikh Rashid the first Vice President. Thus the Semeih meeting can, rightly, be said to have represented the birth of the federation.
Yet if one stops at Semeih, there is nothing to mark this historic event. The modest rest-house that once existed there was demolished years ago, and its role in the modern history of the country is largely forgotten.
We hear much about efforts to preserve the country’s history and heritage, and, of course, to promote the country’s national identity. Billions of dirhams are being spent on planning new museums, which, in some cases, have little if anything to do with the UAE itself. Welcome though these projects may be, would it not also be a good idea to create a small museum at Semeih? It needn’t be a dramatic or expensive structure – a simple building with a commemorative display of photographs and a few old film clips of the federation’s founding fathers would suffice, supported by staff members who could explain the displays and the significance of the location to visitors.
It probably wouldn’t attract many tourists, although one might hope that some travel agencies might pick it as a regular stop for their tour buses – but it should become a place that is a focus of trips by any school, whether for Emiratis or expatriates, that has a programme of teaching local history. What better location to talk about the wisdom and vision of Sheikh Zayed and Sheikh Rashid than Semeih, where they together, in simple surroundings in what was then just desert, laid down the keel of what has become today’s ship of state?
Peter Hellyer is a writer and consultant specialising in the UAE’s heritage and environment. He has also written extensively on the country’s social, political and economic development.
Yet this unremarkable place was the site of one of the most important events in the history of the United Arab Emirates. It was here, 41 years ago tomorrow, that the two fathers of the UAE federation, Sheikh Zayed of Abu Dhabi and Sheikh Rashid of Dubai, met on February 18 1968, to lay the foundations of the state of today.
A few weeks earlier, a British Foreign Office minister had visited what were then known as the Trucial States to inform the Rulers that, contrary to promises made as recently as a couple of months before, Britain would be bringing an end to its presence in the Gulf, in December 1971. In consequence, it would be terminating the agreements signed in 1820 – and subsequently supplemented by others – that had ensured protection for, and had guaranteed the sovereignty and survival of, the emirates. The seven states, still poor and underdeveloped – though Abu Dhabi had commenced oil exports six years earlier – would henceforth have to make their own way in the world.
The timing was scarcely auspicious. The previous year, the June war between Israel and Egypt, Jordan and Syria had ended in disastrous defeat for the Arab side, with the West Bank and Gaza, both parts of Palestine, and the Sinai peninsula coming under Israeli occupation. In December 1967, the British had withdrawn in haste from Aden and the former protectorates of South Arabia, with the radical, Marxist-inspired, National Liberation Front coming to power and supporting a spreading of insurgency into Oman. Three of the emirates, Abu Dhabi, Sharjah and Ras al-Khaimah, had parts of their territory being claimed by neighbouring states.
Sheikh Zayed, who had become Abu Dhabi’s Ruler in August 1966, and Sheikh Rashid were taken aback by the British decision, and by the explicit advice that they and their fellow Rulers should now plan for a future on their own.
Deciding to meet to discuss what to do next, they fixed on Semeih as the meeting point. Half way between the two towns – for they were not yet cities – it was a place replete with symbolism. The small well at Semeih had, for generations, been the place where Abu Dhabi’s tribes had gathered before engaging in warfare. The last time that had occurred was only just over 20 years earlier, prior to a conflict between Abu Dhabi and Dubai in which both Sheikh Zayed and Sheikh Rashid had taken part.
At their meeting at Semeih on February 18 1968, the two rulers agreed to form a union of their two emirates, with a common approach to foreign affairs, defence, security and social services, as well as to immigration. Settling a long-standing disagreement over their land and maritime borders, they also invited the rulers of the other Trucial States to join their union, as well as Qatar and Bahrain, which were also to be affected by the termination of the agreements with Britain.
There was a prompt response. On February 25, a week later, the rulers of all nine states met in Dubai and agreed to form a federation. Qatar and Bahrain eventually, in mid-1971, decided to go their own way, and the federation of the United Arab Emirates was formally established in December 1971, with Sheikh Zayed as the first President and Sheikh Rashid the first Vice President. Thus the Semeih meeting can, rightly, be said to have represented the birth of the federation.
Yet if one stops at Semeih, there is nothing to mark this historic event. The modest rest-house that once existed there was demolished years ago, and its role in the modern history of the country is largely forgotten.
We hear much about efforts to preserve the country’s history and heritage, and, of course, to promote the country’s national identity. Billions of dirhams are being spent on planning new museums, which, in some cases, have little if anything to do with the UAE itself. Welcome though these projects may be, would it not also be a good idea to create a small museum at Semeih? It needn’t be a dramatic or expensive structure – a simple building with a commemorative display of photographs and a few old film clips of the federation’s founding fathers would suffice, supported by staff members who could explain the displays and the significance of the location to visitors.
It probably wouldn’t attract many tourists, although one might hope that some travel agencies might pick it as a regular stop for their tour buses – but it should become a place that is a focus of trips by any school, whether for Emiratis or expatriates, that has a programme of teaching local history. What better location to talk about the wisdom and vision of Sheikh Zayed and Sheikh Rashid than Semeih, where they together, in simple surroundings in what was then just desert, laid down the keel of what has become today’s ship of state?
Peter Hellyer is a writer and consultant specialising in the UAE’s heritage and environment. He has also written extensively on the country’s social, political and economic development.
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Online archive will preserve the past
In the ghost village of Jazirat al Hamra, once a thriving pearling community in Ras al Khaimah, a visitor tries to show her daughter the beach where she played as a young girl. She finds it inaccessible behind a wire fence.
Jazirat al Hamra, thought to have been occupied since the 16th century, is one of the few remaining coastal villages in the Gulf region that predate the discovery of oil.
Yet today the abandoned houses of coral, sand and seashell, hemmed in on all sides by the pressure of encroaching modern development, are in danger of being lost altogether. The fate of the sandcastle village sums up the dilemma facing the UAE today: how to embrace the future while cherishing and preserving the heritage that is the foundation of today’s nation and is in danger of being lost.
Today, The National launches UAE Heritage, a project designed to capture and record living memories of the region’s past.
The weekly feature, which begins today on page a20 with the story of how Umm al Qaiwain was transformed in the lifetime of Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed, will be a gateway to a growing online collection of stories, photographs, video and oral histories.
And we want to hear from you. Saleh Hanbalouh, of the coastal village of Galileh, recently shared with us his memory of fishermen’s songs, learnt on his father’s boat as a child. His story, and some of the songs, can be heard in The National’s online UAE Heritage archive. Perhaps, like Saleh, your relatives also handed down their memories.
E-mail heritage@thenational.ae with your personal histories
Click here to read the first story from the UAE Heritage project – feature on how Umm al Qaiwain was transformed in the lifetime of Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed.
Jazirat al Hamra, thought to have been occupied since the 16th century, is one of the few remaining coastal villages in the Gulf region that predate the discovery of oil.
Yet today the abandoned houses of coral, sand and seashell, hemmed in on all sides by the pressure of encroaching modern development, are in danger of being lost altogether. The fate of the sandcastle village sums up the dilemma facing the UAE today: how to embrace the future while cherishing and preserving the heritage that is the foundation of today’s nation and is in danger of being lost.
Today, The National launches UAE Heritage, a project designed to capture and record living memories of the region’s past.
The weekly feature, which begins today on page a20 with the story of how Umm al Qaiwain was transformed in the lifetime of Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed, will be a gateway to a growing online collection of stories, photographs, video and oral histories.
And we want to hear from you. Saleh Hanbalouh, of the coastal village of Galileh, recently shared with us his memory of fishermen’s songs, learnt on his father’s boat as a child. His story, and some of the songs, can be heard in The National’s online UAE Heritage archive. Perhaps, like Saleh, your relatives also handed down their memories.
E-mail heritage@thenational.ae with your personal histories
Click here to read the first story from the UAE Heritage project – feature on how Umm al Qaiwain was transformed in the lifetime of Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed.
Saturday, 4 October 2008
'Consumerism and foreigners' greatest identity threats
Residents of the UAE say the burgeoning expatriate population and consumerism are the greatest threats to national identity, according to a study published today.
In the survey, conducted by the market-research company YouGov Siraj, 60 per cent of Emiratis questioned said they felt a sense of isolation as their cultural identity became increasingly diluted by large numbers of expatriates. In contrast, 71 per cent of the western expatriates surveyed said that the biggest threat to Emirati culture and
identity was the country’s “highly materialistic and consumerist society”.
Despite those sentiments, 81 per cent of the 628 respondents – Emirati and expatriate – said they belonged in the UAE. More than half said the country’s safety record was the main attraction.
Most of those surveyed agreed that a sense of national identity could be developed by creating a “consolidated vision across the emirates that all citizens and residents can relate to equally” and by communicating traditional values.
High rents, traffic and inflation emerged as the three main problems residents have. Traffic was considered the biggest problem in Sharjah, where 56 per cent of those surveyed said it reduced the quality of their lives.
The survey found that nationals were the most likely group to say the UAE is a good place to raise a family. A fifth of all Asians questioned cited discrimination as a key complaint.
Most Western and Asian expatriates said their inability to speak Arabic had not been an obstacle to their career aspirations.
The survey will be featured this evening on Emirates Tonight, on the Arabic-language Emirates Channel.
In the survey, conducted by the market-research company YouGov Siraj, 60 per cent of Emiratis questioned said they felt a sense of isolation as their cultural identity became increasingly diluted by large numbers of expatriates. In contrast, 71 per cent of the western expatriates surveyed said that the biggest threat to Emirati culture and
identity was the country’s “highly materialistic and consumerist society”.
Despite those sentiments, 81 per cent of the 628 respondents – Emirati and expatriate – said they belonged in the UAE. More than half said the country’s safety record was the main attraction.
Most of those surveyed agreed that a sense of national identity could be developed by creating a “consolidated vision across the emirates that all citizens and residents can relate to equally” and by communicating traditional values.
High rents, traffic and inflation emerged as the three main problems residents have. Traffic was considered the biggest problem in Sharjah, where 56 per cent of those surveyed said it reduced the quality of their lives.
The survey found that nationals were the most likely group to say the UAE is a good place to raise a family. A fifth of all Asians questioned cited discrimination as a key complaint.
Most Western and Asian expatriates said their inability to speak Arabic had not been an obstacle to their career aspirations.
The survey will be featured this evening on Emirates Tonight, on the Arabic-language Emirates Channel.
Our big worries: rent, traffic, prices
ABU DHABI // High rents, traffic and inflation are the three most pressing problems facing UAE residents, a wide-ranging survey on life in the Emirates finds.
The survey, conducted by the market research company YouGov Siraj, asked Emiratis and expatriates to list the best and worst aspects of life in the country.
Respondents were divided by emirate of residence, age, income group, gender and ethnic group.
While they praised the country’s safety, and cited job opportunities as the reason for moving here, the survey highlighted the different perceptions among Emiratis and other ethnic groups.
“Emiratis, Asians and westerners seem to have quite different experiences,” said Maria Joao Neves, a regional research director at YouGov Siraj.
For example, the fact that the UAE is an Islamic country was one of the top three things praised by Emiratis and expatriate Arabs. That was low on the lists of Westerners, who said better career opportunities and lack of taxation were the things they liked most.
Expatriates from the subcontinent also cited tax-free status, as well as the clean environment and lack of political conflict.
Nationwide, high rents were the most commonly expressed problem, although heavy traffic was the main complaint from residents of Sharjah.
“Inflation is a big concern for everybody, including Emiratis,” Ms Neves said. “If the Government were to do something to check the rate of inflation, that would improve people’s perception.”
Westerners also referred to encountering rude and arrogant behaviour and uncertainty over legal rights.
Ms Neves said Westerners were probably more concerned about legalities because they were more likely than other expatriates to buy property. “Until very recently they didn’t know where they stood in terms of land rights.”
The third most popular reason for living in the UAE was that the respondents were born and brought up here.
“Locals do have privileges that a lot of expatriates don’t have and that does make people feel like they are outsiders,” Ms Neves said. “Expatriates can’t become citizens and that’s important to a lot of people.”
Khalid, a Yemeni born in the UAE who was not among the survey respondents, said inequality between Emiratis and residents like himself was troubling. He complained about the lack of citizenship rights for those who have no other home.
“I’ve never been to Yemen and I’m not going any time soon,” he said. “I’ve lived here all my life. My brother has lived here. He just went to university and now to come back he needs a visit visa.”
Recent changes to the visa system require those seeking visit visas to await the paperwork in their home countries. For people like Khalid, that would mean going to Yemen.
“I don’t know anyone there,” he said.
Sixteen per cent of the Emiratis surveyed said the country was too liberal.
Emiratis were the most likely group to say the UAE is a good place to raise a family.
One fifth of all Asians said they most disliked the discrimination against them.
While 59 per cent of all the people surveyed said they would recommend to others that they move to the UAE, the country’s most avid supporters lived in either Abu Dhabi or the Northern Emirates.
The lower the respondents’ monthly income, the more likely they were to say they felt a sense of belonging in the UAE. Less than 34 per cent of those who earned more than US$8,000 (Dh29,400 a month) said they felt at home here, compared with 59 per cent of those who made less than US$1,066.
“Before, people would stay for three to four years and then leave. Now the UAE is moving toward a more stable community,” Ms Neves said.
“It’s interesting that despite the transitory nature of the community … there was a sense of belonging. When asked ‘Do you feel at home?’ 85 per cent of people said yes, or that they felt a little at home … that means the country is certainly moving in the right direction. People are staying longer in Dubai and the UAE.”
The survey, conducted by the market research company YouGov Siraj, asked Emiratis and expatriates to list the best and worst aspects of life in the country.
Respondents were divided by emirate of residence, age, income group, gender and ethnic group.
While they praised the country’s safety, and cited job opportunities as the reason for moving here, the survey highlighted the different perceptions among Emiratis and other ethnic groups.
“Emiratis, Asians and westerners seem to have quite different experiences,” said Maria Joao Neves, a regional research director at YouGov Siraj.
For example, the fact that the UAE is an Islamic country was one of the top three things praised by Emiratis and expatriate Arabs. That was low on the lists of Westerners, who said better career opportunities and lack of taxation were the things they liked most.
Expatriates from the subcontinent also cited tax-free status, as well as the clean environment and lack of political conflict.
Nationwide, high rents were the most commonly expressed problem, although heavy traffic was the main complaint from residents of Sharjah.
“Inflation is a big concern for everybody, including Emiratis,” Ms Neves said. “If the Government were to do something to check the rate of inflation, that would improve people’s perception.”
Westerners also referred to encountering rude and arrogant behaviour and uncertainty over legal rights.
Ms Neves said Westerners were probably more concerned about legalities because they were more likely than other expatriates to buy property. “Until very recently they didn’t know where they stood in terms of land rights.”
The third most popular reason for living in the UAE was that the respondents were born and brought up here.
“Locals do have privileges that a lot of expatriates don’t have and that does make people feel like they are outsiders,” Ms Neves said. “Expatriates can’t become citizens and that’s important to a lot of people.”
Khalid, a Yemeni born in the UAE who was not among the survey respondents, said inequality between Emiratis and residents like himself was troubling. He complained about the lack of citizenship rights for those who have no other home.
“I’ve never been to Yemen and I’m not going any time soon,” he said. “I’ve lived here all my life. My brother has lived here. He just went to university and now to come back he needs a visit visa.”
Recent changes to the visa system require those seeking visit visas to await the paperwork in their home countries. For people like Khalid, that would mean going to Yemen.
“I don’t know anyone there,” he said.
Sixteen per cent of the Emiratis surveyed said the country was too liberal.
Emiratis were the most likely group to say the UAE is a good place to raise a family.
One fifth of all Asians said they most disliked the discrimination against them.
While 59 per cent of all the people surveyed said they would recommend to others that they move to the UAE, the country’s most avid supporters lived in either Abu Dhabi or the Northern Emirates.
The lower the respondents’ monthly income, the more likely they were to say they felt a sense of belonging in the UAE. Less than 34 per cent of those who earned more than US$8,000 (Dh29,400 a month) said they felt at home here, compared with 59 per cent of those who made less than US$1,066.
“Before, people would stay for three to four years and then leave. Now the UAE is moving toward a more stable community,” Ms Neves said.
“It’s interesting that despite the transitory nature of the community … there was a sense of belonging. When asked ‘Do you feel at home?’ 85 per cent of people said yes, or that they felt a little at home … that means the country is certainly moving in the right direction. People are staying longer in Dubai and the UAE.”
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
UAE marks Eid al Fitr today
Eid al Fitr celebrations begin today following confirmation last night of the official sighting of the new moon, marking the end of Ramadan.
The moon-sighting committee announced the beginning of Eid from the Abu Dhabi Judiciary building at about 8.30pm.
According to Islamic tradition, the sighting of a new moon determines the end of Ramadan and start of a new month.
Families who have been fasting during daylight hours for the holy month were to gather at Abu Dhabi mosques at 4.49am tomorrow for the dawn prayer. This is followed by the Eid prayer which, traditionally, takes place outdoors. Then families congregate for a day of feasts and celebration, as couples visit their parents and children receive gifts.
“It has been determined that Eid begins on Tuesday,” said Dr Hadef bin Jua’an al Dhaheri, the Minister of Justice, at the official announcement after last night’s meeting of the Shawwal Crescent Committee.
The sighting marks the official start of a three-day holiday period. Today, tomorrow and Thursday are public holidays, followed by a normal weekend. All businesses and government departments are expected to go back to work after the festive period on Sunday.
Today also marks the beginning of Shawwal, the 10th month in the Islamic calendar.
“After exhausting all legitimate methods and making contacts with neighbouring countries, the Shawwal moon was sighted,” the committee said in a statement released by the state news agency, WAM.
To mark the start of the festivities, the committee’s members extended congratulations to the country’s rulers, the people of the UAE and Muslims around the world.
“The Islamic month is tied to the moon,” said Hasan al Hariri, head of the Dubai Astronomy Group. “This way, God made it easy for humanity. No calendar, no counting days, just follow the moon.”
Astronomical calculations dating back to early Islamic times can determine with some accuracy when the moon will be sighted by the naked eye.
“Astronomers do not come up with contradictory calculations. They use maths and science to arrive at the same answer,” said Mr Hariri. “But astronomers do not call Ramadan and Eid. That is the job of muftis.”
The moon-sighting committee meets if there is the slightest chance of a sighting because, by tradition, when the new moon can be seen by the naked eye, a new month has begun.
Uncertainty about when Eid will begin remains until the very last minute, with contradictory reports, rumours and media speculation.
However, last night's committee’s meeting was not in vain and the sighting of a tiny sliver of the new moon was confirmed.
Different countries often call Ramadan and Eid on different days. This year, Iran and Oman began Ramadan a day after the UAE and other GCC countries.
Each year the UAE ensures its timings match Saudi Arabia as a display of “unity for the Arabian peninsula”, according to one official.
The Emirates is an hour behind Saudi Arabia, which means the Emirati moon-sighting committee broke their fast then waited for the Saudi committee to break theirs before they could begin communicating.
Other nations, however, are likely to choose a different date. Nigeria, for example, started its Eid celebrations yesterday.
The moon-sighting committee announced the beginning of Eid from the Abu Dhabi Judiciary building at about 8.30pm.
According to Islamic tradition, the sighting of a new moon determines the end of Ramadan and start of a new month.
Families who have been fasting during daylight hours for the holy month were to gather at Abu Dhabi mosques at 4.49am tomorrow for the dawn prayer. This is followed by the Eid prayer which, traditionally, takes place outdoors. Then families congregate for a day of feasts and celebration, as couples visit their parents and children receive gifts.
“It has been determined that Eid begins on Tuesday,” said Dr Hadef bin Jua’an al Dhaheri, the Minister of Justice, at the official announcement after last night’s meeting of the Shawwal Crescent Committee.
The sighting marks the official start of a three-day holiday period. Today, tomorrow and Thursday are public holidays, followed by a normal weekend. All businesses and government departments are expected to go back to work after the festive period on Sunday.
Today also marks the beginning of Shawwal, the 10th month in the Islamic calendar.
“After exhausting all legitimate methods and making contacts with neighbouring countries, the Shawwal moon was sighted,” the committee said in a statement released by the state news agency, WAM.
To mark the start of the festivities, the committee’s members extended congratulations to the country’s rulers, the people of the UAE and Muslims around the world.
“The Islamic month is tied to the moon,” said Hasan al Hariri, head of the Dubai Astronomy Group. “This way, God made it easy for humanity. No calendar, no counting days, just follow the moon.”
Astronomical calculations dating back to early Islamic times can determine with some accuracy when the moon will be sighted by the naked eye.
“Astronomers do not come up with contradictory calculations. They use maths and science to arrive at the same answer,” said Mr Hariri. “But astronomers do not call Ramadan and Eid. That is the job of muftis.”
The moon-sighting committee meets if there is the slightest chance of a sighting because, by tradition, when the new moon can be seen by the naked eye, a new month has begun.
Uncertainty about when Eid will begin remains until the very last minute, with contradictory reports, rumours and media speculation.
However, last night's committee’s meeting was not in vain and the sighting of a tiny sliver of the new moon was confirmed.
Different countries often call Ramadan and Eid on different days. This year, Iran and Oman began Ramadan a day after the UAE and other GCC countries.
Each year the UAE ensures its timings match Saudi Arabia as a display of “unity for the Arabian peninsula”, according to one official.
The Emirates is an hour behind Saudi Arabia, which means the Emirati moon-sighting committee broke their fast then waited for the Saudi committee to break theirs before they could begin communicating.
Other nations, however, are likely to choose a different date. Nigeria, for example, started its Eid celebrations yesterday.
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Academic City plans campus facilities
Student facilities similar to those on major university campuses are to be built at Dubai International Academic City.
Social centres, sport facilities and student housing are planned for the education free-zone, which is intended to house 40 institutions and 40,000 students.
The new facilities would transform the site from a collection of academic buildings to a fully-fledged student community.
The addition of housing would help students financially. University officials have said that high housing costs could deter potential students from enrolling for classes. Lecturers also would be provided with housing.
Several branch campuses are based at DIAC, among them the French Fashion University Esmod, Heriot-Watt University and Michigan State University.
There are 10,000 students based at DIAC and Dubai Knowledge Village. Most universities in Knowledge Village plan to move to DIAC in the coming years as other institutions from overseas set up in Knowledge Village.
Dr Warren Fox, chairman of the University Quality Assurance International Board, said the new facilities would make DIAC a more appealing place for students.
“We will have facilities for students so that when they’re studying they will have social and other facilities,” he said.
A food court will open soon, to be followed within a year by the student housing and a social centre. There will also be a sport centre, a library and internet facilities. Housing could be shared by several institutions.
Denis Ravizza, art director and associate dean at Esmod, which opened at DIAC in 2006, said: “It will bring a real student life, with students meeting each other and sharing in the development of the multicultural aspect of the campus, because there are so many nationalities. Student facilities will bring an interesting cultural life to the campus.”
The significant increase in Dubai rents has forced some universities to charge students more. Michigan State University, for example, raised its annual housing charge from Dh22,000 (US$6,000) to Dh31,000 (US$8,400) this year.
Mr Ravizza said the cost of housing “really has an impact” on whether students register.
“That’s the number one issue,” he said.
Dr Fox said DIAC would be the centrepiece of Dubai’s bid to emerge as a regional hub for higher education.
“When you look at the population around the Gulf – from India up to the Arab world – there’s a large area from which you can draw,” he said.
“We do expect, as the institutions develop, they will be drawing from the region.
“People will want to come here because this is where the action is. By tying our programmes to the areas where Dubai has a world reputation, we’ll become a regional hub and students will want to come here and be part of what’s happening.”
Subjects such as tourism, hotel management, shipping and finance are likely to be particularly popular among students, Dr Fox said.
Social centres, sport facilities and student housing are planned for the education free-zone, which is intended to house 40 institutions and 40,000 students.
The new facilities would transform the site from a collection of academic buildings to a fully-fledged student community.
The addition of housing would help students financially. University officials have said that high housing costs could deter potential students from enrolling for classes. Lecturers also would be provided with housing.
Several branch campuses are based at DIAC, among them the French Fashion University Esmod, Heriot-Watt University and Michigan State University.
There are 10,000 students based at DIAC and Dubai Knowledge Village. Most universities in Knowledge Village plan to move to DIAC in the coming years as other institutions from overseas set up in Knowledge Village.
Dr Warren Fox, chairman of the University Quality Assurance International Board, said the new facilities would make DIAC a more appealing place for students.
“We will have facilities for students so that when they’re studying they will have social and other facilities,” he said.
A food court will open soon, to be followed within a year by the student housing and a social centre. There will also be a sport centre, a library and internet facilities. Housing could be shared by several institutions.
Denis Ravizza, art director and associate dean at Esmod, which opened at DIAC in 2006, said: “It will bring a real student life, with students meeting each other and sharing in the development of the multicultural aspect of the campus, because there are so many nationalities. Student facilities will bring an interesting cultural life to the campus.”
The significant increase in Dubai rents has forced some universities to charge students more. Michigan State University, for example, raised its annual housing charge from Dh22,000 (US$6,000) to Dh31,000 (US$8,400) this year.
Mr Ravizza said the cost of housing “really has an impact” on whether students register.
“That’s the number one issue,” he said.
Dr Fox said DIAC would be the centrepiece of Dubai’s bid to emerge as a regional hub for higher education.
“When you look at the population around the Gulf – from India up to the Arab world – there’s a large area from which you can draw,” he said.
“We do expect, as the institutions develop, they will be drawing from the region.
“People will want to come here because this is where the action is. By tying our programmes to the areas where Dubai has a world reputation, we’ll become a regional hub and students will want to come here and be part of what’s happening.”
Subjects such as tourism, hotel management, shipping and finance are likely to be particularly popular among students, Dr Fox said.
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Convention spoils plate record bid
A bid to trumpet the UAE’s date growing industry around the world with a record-breaking plate of dates may be in tatters after world-record judges disqualified the entry.
The organisers of the Liwa Date Festival sought to put the pride of the show and the region on the global map with an enormous platter filled with dates. Judges from Guinness World Records, however, found a hitch: the 12- by two-metre dish was not made from porcelain, crystal or clay, but stainless steel.
The record-breaking bid was meant as the culmination of 17 days of festivities, including numerous auctions of dates, poetry evenings, a group wedding, the Mazayin al Ratb competition to find the best dates and lectures on date palm cultivation. Yet there is, in fact, no official record for the biggest plate of dates; Liwa would have competed in the largest plate category, a record clinched in August 1996 in Gifu, Japan, where the Inatsu town planning association created a ceramic plate that measured 2.8 metres in diameter.
“We are very disappointed,” said Mohammed al Qubaisi, one of the festival organisers, as his team tried a final push to persuade the judges to waive the criteria yesterday. “We had the stainless steel plate made about a month ago but were only told two weeks ago that the dish had to be porcelain, crystal or clay. We tried to explain that it is traditional for dates to be displayed in steel plates or wicker baskets, but they would not listen.
“With only two weeks’ notice before the festival started, there was not enough time to make a regulation plate. We do not have an oven big enough to create a clay plate and the crystal or china plates would be even harder for us to get hold of.”
Mr Qubaisi said festival officials, who first put in their record-breaking bid at the beginning of June, still planned to display the huge platter of dates on Aug 1, but would have to be satisfied with not making the record books.
“It is not the fault of Guinness, but their agents who did not tell us the right information,” he said.
Farah al Masri, the Dubai-based agent for Guinness World Records, denied the festival organisers had been told of the criteria too late, saying: “We are obliged to follow the rules and have no other choice. Steel is simply not acceptable as plates are not usually made of it. They should be made from porcelain, clay or glass.
“We gave them the options at the beginning of this month.”
She said Liwa officials had initially wanted to set a record for the largest bowl of dates but, as the category does not exist, they were advised to go for the biggest plate. Liwa’s bid may also have fallen foul in other ways as the dish is rectangular rather than round.
“It sounds like something has been lost in translation,” a spokesman for Guinness World Records said. “Any [record-breaking] item must be made from exactly the same material as the original.”
Guinness World Records was last night reconsidering whether the attempt could be allowed or a new category added to accommodate the entry.
“There seems to have been a misunderstanding,” said the spokesman. “The claimants need to contact us directly so we can assess the situation.”
The organisers of the Liwa Date Festival sought to put the pride of the show and the region on the global map with an enormous platter filled with dates. Judges from Guinness World Records, however, found a hitch: the 12- by two-metre dish was not made from porcelain, crystal or clay, but stainless steel.
The record-breaking bid was meant as the culmination of 17 days of festivities, including numerous auctions of dates, poetry evenings, a group wedding, the Mazayin al Ratb competition to find the best dates and lectures on date palm cultivation. Yet there is, in fact, no official record for the biggest plate of dates; Liwa would have competed in the largest plate category, a record clinched in August 1996 in Gifu, Japan, where the Inatsu town planning association created a ceramic plate that measured 2.8 metres in diameter.
“We are very disappointed,” said Mohammed al Qubaisi, one of the festival organisers, as his team tried a final push to persuade the judges to waive the criteria yesterday. “We had the stainless steel plate made about a month ago but were only told two weeks ago that the dish had to be porcelain, crystal or clay. We tried to explain that it is traditional for dates to be displayed in steel plates or wicker baskets, but they would not listen.
“With only two weeks’ notice before the festival started, there was not enough time to make a regulation plate. We do not have an oven big enough to create a clay plate and the crystal or china plates would be even harder for us to get hold of.”
Mr Qubaisi said festival officials, who first put in their record-breaking bid at the beginning of June, still planned to display the huge platter of dates on Aug 1, but would have to be satisfied with not making the record books.
“It is not the fault of Guinness, but their agents who did not tell us the right information,” he said.
Farah al Masri, the Dubai-based agent for Guinness World Records, denied the festival organisers had been told of the criteria too late, saying: “We are obliged to follow the rules and have no other choice. Steel is simply not acceptable as plates are not usually made of it. They should be made from porcelain, clay or glass.
“We gave them the options at the beginning of this month.”
She said Liwa officials had initially wanted to set a record for the largest bowl of dates but, as the category does not exist, they were advised to go for the biggest plate. Liwa’s bid may also have fallen foul in other ways as the dish is rectangular rather than round.
“It sounds like something has been lost in translation,” a spokesman for Guinness World Records said. “Any [record-breaking] item must be made from exactly the same material as the original.”
Guinness World Records was last night reconsidering whether the attempt could be allowed or a new category added to accommodate the entry.
“There seems to have been a misunderstanding,” said the spokesman. “The claimants need to contact us directly so we can assess the situation.”
Gulf food security: is there enough, and at what price?(BUSINESS & FINANCE)
DESPITE ESCALATING WEALTH, the Gulf states are facing a potential food crisis as world prices for everything from wheat and rice to fruit, vegetables, dairy goods and cooking oils rise dramatically. And while some prices may come down from their peaks later this year as bumper harvests are recorded, world shortages are expected to persist. As a result, governments throughout the region are putting food security at the top of their agendas. Both public and private sector investors in the Gulf are also looking at ways to improve local food supplies, by investing in a range of outlets from arable farm land in the Sudan, Algeria and Pakistan to introduce new technology to enhance the local production of foodstuffs and grains, livestock, poultry and fish.
Global food prices have doubled in the past three years, according to the World Bank. For developing countries, the cost of food imports is expected to rise this year by at least 40%, according to the UN's Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO). "Food is no longer the cheap commodity it once was," states Hafez Ghanem, the FAO's assistant director general. "Rising food prices are bound to worsen the already unacceptable level of food deprivation suffered by 854m people," he added. "We are facing the risk that the number of hungry will increase by many more millions of people." Along with climate change, the steep increases in global food prices are expected to top the agenda at the G8 meeting in Japan this month [July] of the heads of state of the world's wealthiest countries.
[ILLUSTRATIONS OMITTED]
In some parts of the Arab world like Egypt, the world's number one importer of wheat, prices have already risen 50% or more in the past year, prompting waves of social unrest as queues formed to obtain insufficient supplies of bread and other staples. In the Gulf, which imports up to 90% of its food at a cost of some $10bn a year, the rises have also been dramatic. While many households in the region enjoy far higher incomes than in Egypt and elsewhere in the Arab world, food costs are now a major contributor to the Gulf's escalating rate of inflation.
In the case of rice, for example, a main staple of the local diet, the price of basmati from Pakistan and India has gone up by 70% on average. In Qatar, the average cost of food rose by 19% in first three months of this year alone, more than three times the rise recorded in the same period last year. Bread and cereals were up by 15%, meat by 31%, milk and eggs by 17%, oils and fats by 16%, fruits and vegetables by 19%, sugar by 10% and tea, coffee and cocoa by 6%. Potatoes cost 18% more, while fish and seafood were up an average of 12%, according to government figures. Similar increases have been recorded in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, the UAE and Oman.
In Kuwait, where the rises have been less due to the emirate's lower reliance on the US dollar as its trading currency, the government is nevertheless considering increasing its subsidies on grains and other foods, or enacting measures to limit price rises. Randa Azar-Khoury, group chief economist of the National Bank of Kuwait, warned however, that while the government could put caps in place, "you are not going to see it by September". Such "things take time," she added.
In the UAE, the government has already signed agreements with local supermarkets to hold prices on more than 30 basic commodities to last year's levels. Some of the larger retailers, such as Carrefour, Lulu, the Baniyas Co-operative Society and the Union Cooperative Society had already implemented voluntary price caps on essentials such as rice, milk, eggs and flour before the government move. But the Emirates Society for Consumer Protection estimates basic food prices will still climb by some 40% this year. Importers in the country are now demanding that the government increases its subsidies on foodstuffs to help limit the price increases.
As a result, measures to ensure adequate food supplies over the longer term, as well as to lessen the impact of future price rises, are now taking centre stage throughout the region. Several Gulf states, along with Egypt and Jordan, have turned to Sudan, the largest country in the Arab world, as a source of underused arable farm land. Talks are also reported to have been held with Somalia, which, like the Sudan, has seen its large agricultural potential go unrealised due to social unrest and civil war.
Offers of substantial funds from neighbouring oil producing states to modernise and expand its agricultural sector and to build dams and other necessary infrastructure appear to have galvanised the government of Sudan to take steps to ensure such investments are protected and exports assured. In addition to access to new sources of supplies, food exports from Sudan would help Gulf governments reduce the role of middlemen in the food trade and bypass speculation on world food exchanges.
Earlier this year, Egypt signed an agreement with the government of Sudanese president Omar Al Bashir to grow two million tons of wheat a year in the north of the country, near Wadi Halfa. "People now are thinking more about re-investing in agriculture," Egyptian Prime Minister Ahmed Nazif said. "I think the key is for governments and the business community to start formulating projects, fundable projects, projects with real value to those owning the money, so that they can invest in it."
Saudi Arabia's minister of agriculture, Fahd bin Abdul-Rahman Balghunaim, and the minister of commerce and industry, Abdullah bin Ahmed Zenel, visited the Sudan in June to survey potential investment sites in the country. The two are also encouraging Khartoum to adopt new regulations aimed at promoting private Saudi investment in livestock as well as in agriculture. Qatar is also said to be looking at the Sudan, although details of its possible investments have not yet been announced.
The Abu Dhabi Development Fund is planning to set up a company with another Arab partner to develop at least 70,000 acres (28,329 hectares) in northern Sudan. Production would centre on corn, alfalfa for animal feed and possibly wheat, with the total investment amounting to "hundreds of millions of dirhams". Initial studies are due to be completed by November, the Fund said, noting that it was also considering other agricultural investments in Senegal and Uzbekistan.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Dubai-based Abraaj Capital has been quietly buying farmland in Pakistan as part of the UAE's efforts to increase its food security and to lower inflation. Abraaj, together with the government of Abu Dhabi, was reported to have held talks with Islamabad about expanding the production of wheat and rice for export. "Our aim is not to do away with precious farmland but to raise the productivity of our farms and turn barren land into fertile farmland," a senior Pakistani official was quoted as saying.
A spokesman for Abraaj disclosed that the private equity firm had already acquired some 800,000 acres of farmland in the country during the past year. Other UAE entities are said to be ready to follow suit, including the Emirates Investment Group and the Abu Dhabi Group. So far, Abu Dhabi's investments in Pakistan's agriculture are reported to be worth some $3bn.
Companies and private investors from the UAE are also investing in the Philippines. The projects include a $50m plan to develop a 3,000-hectare banana plantation in Mindanao, a pineapple cannery in Camarines Norte and fish and grain farms in Luzon, the Philippines trade attache in Dubai, Gil Herico, said. Other UAE businesses are looking at growing organic fruits and vegetables, coconuts and seafood, the official added.
Bahrain is also turning to the Philippines, as well as Thailand, to secure its needs for imported rice, the minister of industry and commerce, Dr. Hassan Fakhro, said. "An agreement was reached with the Philippines to allocate large plots of land to grow basmati rice in a bid to secure the kingdom's needs at reasonable prices," he said. Seeral private Bahrain companies are now expected to invest in the Philippines' agricultural sector and in livestock processing facilities, the minister continued.
In Thailand, Fakhro revealed the government was discussing the formation of a joint public or private sector company to help meet Bahrain's need for basic foodstuffs. Manama had already signed an agreement with a big rice exporter in the country to secure supplies of jasmine rice at favourable prices as an alternative to basmati, the minister added.
In the longer term, governments, private companies and scientific institutes in the GCC are looking to new technology to help the region develop more of its own food supplies at costs consumers can afford. When Saudi Arabia launched a major push to produce its own wheat in the 1980s, "a ton was six times the international price", commented Samir Radwan, managing director of the Egypt-based Economic Research Forum. The higher cost of food imports in the GCC means more funds will be invested profitably in agriculture, livestock, poultry and fish farming than when world prices were low, officials in the Gulf have noted.
One Australian company, for example, has developed a low-cost, nutritious flesh fodder for livestock that can feed up to 100 animals a day after only nine days growth in arid climates. Companies in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Jordan and Morocco have already placed orders for the fodder, according to reports in Amman.
Research by a team from the Institute for Research for Development (IRD) in France could help farmers in Morocco to reduce their dependence on irrigated water. Using images taken by a satellite over the fertile Tensift Plain around Marrakech, they discovered they could measure the transfer of water between the soil, vegetation and atmosphere, as well as assess grain yields with greater accuracy. This would help farmers control water evaporation and plant growth rates to achieve the best production levels. Local authorities could also use the satellite data to monitor water distribution and allocate it to where it is needed most.
Plans by the GCC states and other Arab governments to set up a general fund to assist poorer Arab countries faced with rising food prices and food shortages are also under study. The UAE has already helped Egypt to import crucially needed supplies of wheat, while Saudi Arabia has given more than $500m to the UN's World Food Programme. The kingdom's funds enabled the WFP to reach its $755m target for a new programme aimed at ensuring the least developed countries in the world meet their extra food aid costs. Yemen, Ethiopia, Somalia and Kenya are among the countries which are expected to benefit.
RELATED ARTICLE: Fuel for the rich, or food for the poor?
The huge increase in the cultivation of "biofuels" in the past few years, as crude oil prices have hit record levels, has given rise to a worldwide debate about whether such crops decrease the amount of arable land available to grow food at a time of global food shortages. "Is it logical, or even acceptable, that agricultural crops are used to produce ethanol, leading to a worse crisis in food prices?" Egypt's president, Hosni Mubarak, asked a prestigious audience at the World Economic Forum (WEF) on the Middle East. Huge price rises in the cost of food had "greatly affected poor nations and poor people", he insisted at the three-day meeting in the Red Sea resort of Sharm El Sheik.
Hafez Ghanem, assistant director-general of the Food and Agriculture Organisation at the UN, said at its summit on World Food Security in Rome that "What we need to look at are ways of producing biofuels that have the least impact on food prices. At the same time," he added, "we also need to look at our agricultural system around the world and see how we can improve productivity and increase production so that agriculture can actually meet the demand, this new demand."
Palm and Soya oils, which provide much of the calories in Asian diets, are also being increasingly diverted to the production of biofuels, according to agriculture experts, along with crops such as corn, sugar beet and sugar cane. The result, they say, is that there has been an alarming drop in the world's supplies of these foodstuffs for people in developing countries as the prices for these cooking oils have soared. A drought in Indonesia and flooding in Malaysia, where palm oil is mainly grown, has also hit production.
"If you put three economists in a room, you'll get four different theories on the role of biofuels, but we all agree that they have an effect," commented Ghanem at the WEF meeting. But he is optimistic. "The world has enough resources and the right technology to produce enough crops to meet the demand for food and biofuel," he maintained.
RELATED ARTICLE: Why is food so expensive now?
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Demand is rising as the global population grows and as people in rapidly growing economies such as China and India, as well as the Gulf states, use their increasing affluence to buy more meat, eggs and dairy products.
Over 30% of the world's grain now goes to feed animals rather than people directly. Farming one acre of good arable land can produce about 63 kilos of protein from grain. In contrast, one acre devoted to beef farming will produce just nine kilos of protein.
Droughts in big grain-producing areas, such as Australia, the Ukraine, parts of the American Midwest and in North Africa, have led to lower harvests in the past few years. Global grain stocks are now at historic lows. By mid-April, they were estimated to last from eight to 12 weeks at most.
Biofuels, made from corn, sugar beet, sugar cane, oilseeds and other agricultural products, are competing with food for arable land. Between 2005 and mid-2007, the global production of biofuels rose more than fourfold, to 8.5bn litres. About 30% of the US corn crop is expected to be diverted to biofuels this year.
Record prices for oil, and the decline of the US dollar, have helped to push up the cost of food production dramatically. Fertilisers and pesticides, made from oil and phosphates, are up, on average, more than 70% in the past year, while fuel for tractors and farm machinery is up 30%.
Financial trading in agricultural commodities has grown dramatically. Several big investment banks in the US and Europe have launched index and other funds for agricultural commodities. More than $150bn is currently invested in these funds, compared to less than $15bn four years ago.
RELATED ARTICLE: Rice exports curbed.
[GRAPHIC OMITTED]
Of all the food staples hit by rising prices, rice is one of the worst affected. The UN'S Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) said that its price rose by 76% between last December and April this year alone. Although India, the largest supplier to the Gulf states, has set the minimum export price for premium traditional Basmati at $1,000 a metric ton, it is currently fetching two and half times that ($2,500) in regional markets. Lower grades are also expensive: medium-type Basmati costs between $1,700 and $1,800 a ton.
Several of the world's leading exporters, including India and Egypt, have now banned all or some of their exports this year, in an effort to ensure adequate supplies at home. In Egypt, the local price of rice more than doubled, from $200 a metric ton last October to $430 by early April. The curbs on rice exports follow the banning of wheat exports and other staple foods by leading grain producers, such as Russia, the Ukraine, Argentina and Kazakhstan.
The good news is that in its latest report on the global food outlook, the FAO expects rice output to rise by 2.3%, while the production of cereals could increase by 3.8% once the harvest is in later this year. That could encourage some countries to lift their ban on exports, comments FAO economist Abdulreza Abbassian, who adds, "Should that happen, the likelihood of rice prices coming down then increases."
However, he and other FAO experts say that consumers should not expect too much too soon. Escalating fuel costs and the need to replenish stocks, as well as rising demand around the world, mean that prices are unlikely to fall below the already high levels they reached in 2007.
Global food prices have doubled in the past three years, according to the World Bank. For developing countries, the cost of food imports is expected to rise this year by at least 40%, according to the UN's Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO). "Food is no longer the cheap commodity it once was," states Hafez Ghanem, the FAO's assistant director general. "Rising food prices are bound to worsen the already unacceptable level of food deprivation suffered by 854m people," he added. "We are facing the risk that the number of hungry will increase by many more millions of people." Along with climate change, the steep increases in global food prices are expected to top the agenda at the G8 meeting in Japan this month [July] of the heads of state of the world's wealthiest countries.
[ILLUSTRATIONS OMITTED]
In some parts of the Arab world like Egypt, the world's number one importer of wheat, prices have already risen 50% or more in the past year, prompting waves of social unrest as queues formed to obtain insufficient supplies of bread and other staples. In the Gulf, which imports up to 90% of its food at a cost of some $10bn a year, the rises have also been dramatic. While many households in the region enjoy far higher incomes than in Egypt and elsewhere in the Arab world, food costs are now a major contributor to the Gulf's escalating rate of inflation.
In the case of rice, for example, a main staple of the local diet, the price of basmati from Pakistan and India has gone up by 70% on average. In Qatar, the average cost of food rose by 19% in first three months of this year alone, more than three times the rise recorded in the same period last year. Bread and cereals were up by 15%, meat by 31%, milk and eggs by 17%, oils and fats by 16%, fruits and vegetables by 19%, sugar by 10% and tea, coffee and cocoa by 6%. Potatoes cost 18% more, while fish and seafood were up an average of 12%, according to government figures. Similar increases have been recorded in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, the UAE and Oman.
In Kuwait, where the rises have been less due to the emirate's lower reliance on the US dollar as its trading currency, the government is nevertheless considering increasing its subsidies on grains and other foods, or enacting measures to limit price rises. Randa Azar-Khoury, group chief economist of the National Bank of Kuwait, warned however, that while the government could put caps in place, "you are not going to see it by September". Such "things take time," she added.
In the UAE, the government has already signed agreements with local supermarkets to hold prices on more than 30 basic commodities to last year's levels. Some of the larger retailers, such as Carrefour, Lulu, the Baniyas Co-operative Society and the Union Cooperative Society had already implemented voluntary price caps on essentials such as rice, milk, eggs and flour before the government move. But the Emirates Society for Consumer Protection estimates basic food prices will still climb by some 40% this year. Importers in the country are now demanding that the government increases its subsidies on foodstuffs to help limit the price increases.
As a result, measures to ensure adequate food supplies over the longer term, as well as to lessen the impact of future price rises, are now taking centre stage throughout the region. Several Gulf states, along with Egypt and Jordan, have turned to Sudan, the largest country in the Arab world, as a source of underused arable farm land. Talks are also reported to have been held with Somalia, which, like the Sudan, has seen its large agricultural potential go unrealised due to social unrest and civil war.
Offers of substantial funds from neighbouring oil producing states to modernise and expand its agricultural sector and to build dams and other necessary infrastructure appear to have galvanised the government of Sudan to take steps to ensure such investments are protected and exports assured. In addition to access to new sources of supplies, food exports from Sudan would help Gulf governments reduce the role of middlemen in the food trade and bypass speculation on world food exchanges.
Earlier this year, Egypt signed an agreement with the government of Sudanese president Omar Al Bashir to grow two million tons of wheat a year in the north of the country, near Wadi Halfa. "People now are thinking more about re-investing in agriculture," Egyptian Prime Minister Ahmed Nazif said. "I think the key is for governments and the business community to start formulating projects, fundable projects, projects with real value to those owning the money, so that they can invest in it."
Saudi Arabia's minister of agriculture, Fahd bin Abdul-Rahman Balghunaim, and the minister of commerce and industry, Abdullah bin Ahmed Zenel, visited the Sudan in June to survey potential investment sites in the country. The two are also encouraging Khartoum to adopt new regulations aimed at promoting private Saudi investment in livestock as well as in agriculture. Qatar is also said to be looking at the Sudan, although details of its possible investments have not yet been announced.
The Abu Dhabi Development Fund is planning to set up a company with another Arab partner to develop at least 70,000 acres (28,329 hectares) in northern Sudan. Production would centre on corn, alfalfa for animal feed and possibly wheat, with the total investment amounting to "hundreds of millions of dirhams". Initial studies are due to be completed by November, the Fund said, noting that it was also considering other agricultural investments in Senegal and Uzbekistan.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Dubai-based Abraaj Capital has been quietly buying farmland in Pakistan as part of the UAE's efforts to increase its food security and to lower inflation. Abraaj, together with the government of Abu Dhabi, was reported to have held talks with Islamabad about expanding the production of wheat and rice for export. "Our aim is not to do away with precious farmland but to raise the productivity of our farms and turn barren land into fertile farmland," a senior Pakistani official was quoted as saying.
A spokesman for Abraaj disclosed that the private equity firm had already acquired some 800,000 acres of farmland in the country during the past year. Other UAE entities are said to be ready to follow suit, including the Emirates Investment Group and the Abu Dhabi Group. So far, Abu Dhabi's investments in Pakistan's agriculture are reported to be worth some $3bn.
Companies and private investors from the UAE are also investing in the Philippines. The projects include a $50m plan to develop a 3,000-hectare banana plantation in Mindanao, a pineapple cannery in Camarines Norte and fish and grain farms in Luzon, the Philippines trade attache in Dubai, Gil Herico, said. Other UAE businesses are looking at growing organic fruits and vegetables, coconuts and seafood, the official added.
Bahrain is also turning to the Philippines, as well as Thailand, to secure its needs for imported rice, the minister of industry and commerce, Dr. Hassan Fakhro, said. "An agreement was reached with the Philippines to allocate large plots of land to grow basmati rice in a bid to secure the kingdom's needs at reasonable prices," he said. Seeral private Bahrain companies are now expected to invest in the Philippines' agricultural sector and in livestock processing facilities, the minister continued.
In Thailand, Fakhro revealed the government was discussing the formation of a joint public or private sector company to help meet Bahrain's need for basic foodstuffs. Manama had already signed an agreement with a big rice exporter in the country to secure supplies of jasmine rice at favourable prices as an alternative to basmati, the minister added.
In the longer term, governments, private companies and scientific institutes in the GCC are looking to new technology to help the region develop more of its own food supplies at costs consumers can afford. When Saudi Arabia launched a major push to produce its own wheat in the 1980s, "a ton was six times the international price", commented Samir Radwan, managing director of the Egypt-based Economic Research Forum. The higher cost of food imports in the GCC means more funds will be invested profitably in agriculture, livestock, poultry and fish farming than when world prices were low, officials in the Gulf have noted.
One Australian company, for example, has developed a low-cost, nutritious flesh fodder for livestock that can feed up to 100 animals a day after only nine days growth in arid climates. Companies in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Jordan and Morocco have already placed orders for the fodder, according to reports in Amman.
Research by a team from the Institute for Research for Development (IRD) in France could help farmers in Morocco to reduce their dependence on irrigated water. Using images taken by a satellite over the fertile Tensift Plain around Marrakech, they discovered they could measure the transfer of water between the soil, vegetation and atmosphere, as well as assess grain yields with greater accuracy. This would help farmers control water evaporation and plant growth rates to achieve the best production levels. Local authorities could also use the satellite data to monitor water distribution and allocate it to where it is needed most.
Plans by the GCC states and other Arab governments to set up a general fund to assist poorer Arab countries faced with rising food prices and food shortages are also under study. The UAE has already helped Egypt to import crucially needed supplies of wheat, while Saudi Arabia has given more than $500m to the UN's World Food Programme. The kingdom's funds enabled the WFP to reach its $755m target for a new programme aimed at ensuring the least developed countries in the world meet their extra food aid costs. Yemen, Ethiopia, Somalia and Kenya are among the countries which are expected to benefit.
RELATED ARTICLE: Fuel for the rich, or food for the poor?
The huge increase in the cultivation of "biofuels" in the past few years, as crude oil prices have hit record levels, has given rise to a worldwide debate about whether such crops decrease the amount of arable land available to grow food at a time of global food shortages. "Is it logical, or even acceptable, that agricultural crops are used to produce ethanol, leading to a worse crisis in food prices?" Egypt's president, Hosni Mubarak, asked a prestigious audience at the World Economic Forum (WEF) on the Middle East. Huge price rises in the cost of food had "greatly affected poor nations and poor people", he insisted at the three-day meeting in the Red Sea resort of Sharm El Sheik.
Hafez Ghanem, assistant director-general of the Food and Agriculture Organisation at the UN, said at its summit on World Food Security in Rome that "What we need to look at are ways of producing biofuels that have the least impact on food prices. At the same time," he added, "we also need to look at our agricultural system around the world and see how we can improve productivity and increase production so that agriculture can actually meet the demand, this new demand."
Palm and Soya oils, which provide much of the calories in Asian diets, are also being increasingly diverted to the production of biofuels, according to agriculture experts, along with crops such as corn, sugar beet and sugar cane. The result, they say, is that there has been an alarming drop in the world's supplies of these foodstuffs for people in developing countries as the prices for these cooking oils have soared. A drought in Indonesia and flooding in Malaysia, where palm oil is mainly grown, has also hit production.
"If you put three economists in a room, you'll get four different theories on the role of biofuels, but we all agree that they have an effect," commented Ghanem at the WEF meeting. But he is optimistic. "The world has enough resources and the right technology to produce enough crops to meet the demand for food and biofuel," he maintained.
RELATED ARTICLE: Why is food so expensive now?
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Demand is rising as the global population grows and as people in rapidly growing economies such as China and India, as well as the Gulf states, use their increasing affluence to buy more meat, eggs and dairy products.
Over 30% of the world's grain now goes to feed animals rather than people directly. Farming one acre of good arable land can produce about 63 kilos of protein from grain. In contrast, one acre devoted to beef farming will produce just nine kilos of protein.
Droughts in big grain-producing areas, such as Australia, the Ukraine, parts of the American Midwest and in North Africa, have led to lower harvests in the past few years. Global grain stocks are now at historic lows. By mid-April, they were estimated to last from eight to 12 weeks at most.
Biofuels, made from corn, sugar beet, sugar cane, oilseeds and other agricultural products, are competing with food for arable land. Between 2005 and mid-2007, the global production of biofuels rose more than fourfold, to 8.5bn litres. About 30% of the US corn crop is expected to be diverted to biofuels this year.
Record prices for oil, and the decline of the US dollar, have helped to push up the cost of food production dramatically. Fertilisers and pesticides, made from oil and phosphates, are up, on average, more than 70% in the past year, while fuel for tractors and farm machinery is up 30%.
Financial trading in agricultural commodities has grown dramatically. Several big investment banks in the US and Europe have launched index and other funds for agricultural commodities. More than $150bn is currently invested in these funds, compared to less than $15bn four years ago.
RELATED ARTICLE: Rice exports curbed.
[GRAPHIC OMITTED]
Of all the food staples hit by rising prices, rice is one of the worst affected. The UN'S Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) said that its price rose by 76% between last December and April this year alone. Although India, the largest supplier to the Gulf states, has set the minimum export price for premium traditional Basmati at $1,000 a metric ton, it is currently fetching two and half times that ($2,500) in regional markets. Lower grades are also expensive: medium-type Basmati costs between $1,700 and $1,800 a ton.
Several of the world's leading exporters, including India and Egypt, have now banned all or some of their exports this year, in an effort to ensure adequate supplies at home. In Egypt, the local price of rice more than doubled, from $200 a metric ton last October to $430 by early April. The curbs on rice exports follow the banning of wheat exports and other staple foods by leading grain producers, such as Russia, the Ukraine, Argentina and Kazakhstan.
The good news is that in its latest report on the global food outlook, the FAO expects rice output to rise by 2.3%, while the production of cereals could increase by 3.8% once the harvest is in later this year. That could encourage some countries to lift their ban on exports, comments FAO economist Abdulreza Abbassian, who adds, "Should that happen, the likelihood of rice prices coming down then increases."
However, he and other FAO experts say that consumers should not expect too much too soon. Escalating fuel costs and the need to replenish stocks, as well as rising demand around the world, mean that prices are unlikely to fall below the already high levels they reached in 2007.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
