Golf, Satwa & National Day – November 2012

This month our home grows by two as my parents visit for most of November. Our eldest is away for four days in Oman for her year 6 residential trip. I have a lump in my throat as I wave her goodbye but I know that she will have the time of her life and of course, she is growing up, as all our babies do. This is just the start of letting go. At home, with a slightly depleted Tribe, I find myself with a smidgen more time – I manage to play basketball with the others and get thrashed at cards before bedtime!

The Eldest returns after her Dibba trip
The Eldest returns after her Dibba trip

The Littlest and Gerald Durrell hanging out at the golf
The Littlest and Gerald Durrell hanging out at the golf

While my parents are here, a golf tournament is on, the culmination of The Race to Dubai with the world’s 60 top players. It is at the Earth course at the Jumeirah Golf Estates – despite Jumeirah being the neighbourhood on the coast where we live, the Golf Estates are nowhere near us, but are one of the new neighbourhoods built in the desert. This is another event where we are able to get free tickets, so I duly order 4 adult and 4 children’s weekend passes. On the second day of play we drive out into the desert with my parents wondering where on earth we are taking them. Parking in a dusty, sandy ‘car park’ I begin to wonder too. But, just over a gentle slope, the scenery changes completely. The course, designed by Greg Norman, was inspired by Europe’s great parkland courses and it is beautiful. Apparently the last 4 holes of the course, are “the most challenging mile in golf”. The fairways of bright, green rye grass are in complete contrast to the pristine, white, sand bunkers. Mature trees and shrubs line the course giving spectators shade as they follow the players around. Our first stop is for a coffee – the Tribe park themselves on Fatboy beanbags as we sit at a table enjoying the peace – there are no queues here and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought we had got the wrong day! We walk around a few of the holes and manage to see both Rose and Donald playing – my father is thrilled! Perhaps he picks up a few tips for next time he is playing back in the UK. We see McIlroy too, although he is in a buggy – maybe next year we’ll get to see him play.

We first visit the neighbourhood of Satwa, located just 10 minutes from where we live, during the day, with the Tribe. It is a very different community with small shops crammed next to each other selling everything imaginable – we bought a basketball hoop from one and a couple of bougainvillea climbers from the one next door. The very ethnic community is made up of people from India, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran and the various South East Asian countries – with the Tribe’s blond hair, we stand out and are probably the only westerners in the area. There is none of the glamour of new Dubai but we love it for exactly that reason. The buildings are a bit shabby but the atmosphere is buzzing and unpretentious. Tailors are found here working in tiny spaces, producing exquisite clothes. This is the side of Dubai that you will never see in the international press. As we walk with the Tribe we notice a number of men standing outside a closed shop front; they are all facing the same way and it looks rather unusual, in fact distinctly odd. Several men rush past us clutching prayer mats and I realise that it is prayer time. They are heading for the impressive Satwa mosque, very much the centre of the neighbourhood. It is quite out of keeping with the rest of the slightly run down buildings of the area. Large and grand, the white domes lined with gold. It is obviously full inside, as men stand outside facing Mecca ready for prayers to begin. More men stand in the streets ready to pray – the number of men outside the closed shop has quadrupled. My mother asked me I felt uncomfortable with the number of men, different races and very different religion. Not in the slightest. In fact, we are more aware of not disturbing their prayers and manage to keep the Tribe quiet. Nighttime however, is when Satwa really comes alive.

Ravi in Satwa
Ravi in Satwa

With my parents here, Father of Tribe and I make the most of our ‘in-house babysitters’ and decide to return to Satwa one evening. Ethnic restaurants line the street but we head straight for the legendary Pakistani restaurant Ravi’s. It has been around for 34 years since Dubai was made up of dirt roads. We sit outside and order tandoori chicken, lemon mint drinks and butter chicken (we had been warned that the dishes could be exceptionally fiery, so decide to play very safe!). The chairs are hard, the table is given a cursory wipe, but the food is amazing and ridiculously cheap. It is the best tandoori chicken we have ever had – tender, succulent and quite simply delicious. The butter chicken is heavenly. We are here early but it is already dark. We are the only westerners – this is when I can forget about making packed lunches, crazy driving on the roads getting children to and from matches and the general hectic pace of life – this is when it feels like we are on holiday, exploring a new country.

National Day celebrations at school
National Day celebrations at school

My parents stay comes to a close, although the day that they are leaving on, we have a National Day assembly where our 7 year old is a flower girl in the Arabic wedding that some of the students are acting out. It is loud, colourful and our music teacher is almost unrecognisable with his ‘Movember’ moustache, pristine khandora and headdress plus a pair of gold mirrored sunglasses! As some of the boy ‘dancers’ come on stage, the lead boy is twirling a plastic rifle! This is an important part of UAE tradition where rifle spinning skills are shown. The girl dancers meanwhile are tossing their long hair in another traditional dance. It is the perfect end to my parents visit.

Rain!!
Rain!!

The day after they leave is the last day of November. I wake early and looking forward to a morning on the beach, put sun cream on before I head across the road for some fresh croissants. Opening the door, I am absolutely staggered to find that it is raining. Properly. And the sky is heavy with clouds. And more rain. We sit outside under a canopy and watch the Tribe laughing as they get soaking wet. The littlest is totally terrified and keeps pointing at the rain and saying ‘water’ – she obviously has no memory of the bitterly cold winter that she was born in, two years ago. Overcoming her fear she soon finds the joys of jumping in puddles, albeit with bare feet rather than wellies! Then the storm starts. The sky goes black, the thunder booms above us and forks of lightening streak through the sky. Even Father of the Tribe jumps. It is a bit scary. As there are no storm drains, the water has nowhere to run, so soon water is lapping at our feet. It is also beginning to get a little chilly. We spend the rest of the day putting up Christmas decorations – they have never been put up this early! But we know that Dubai’s streets will be flooded and gridlocked – similar to when snow hits the UK! The Tribe’s grandparents could not have left at a better time!

Mother of the ‘rather wet’ Tribe

 


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Author: Mother of the Tribe

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